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 castle is stormed and ruffians run about through the halls. The young prince hides in the kitchen, but is found. Now all that stands between him and his would be assassins is the castle cook. She twirls a steak knife in her hand and squares off against the invaders. | The doors to the kitchen were broken into as the screams from the outside raged on. The intruders had made their way inside the castle, and soon found just who they were looking for. The prince cowered in the corner as the cook looked unamused by the ruffians' attempts at intimidation.
"There you are, you're coming with us!" The leader spoke as he stared at the two. The cook, known to the royalty as Yvonne, stood tall and her shoulders squared as a fire long forgotten raged in her eyes. "You'll kill me first." She said, her tone even and unwavering, making the ruffians laugh. "You're an old woman, with nothing more than a weak knife, you couldn't stop me if you tried!"
"I don't plan on just trying." She said as she launched the steak knife into the nearest one's eye, piercing directly through it and causing him to scream. The young prince Daniel watched in horror as his cook, and long time friend, began to slaughter the ruffians before his very eyes. The kind and gentle woman he knew was replaced with someone with the rage of a hundred warriors.
Knives, wooden spoons, cast iron pots and pans were were thrown with such accuracy and force, it was almost as if Yvonne had done this before, many times. Blood splatters decorated the walls and floor, some even getting on Daniel's face. Daniel was terrified, but oddly calm as his cook took care of the last man, bashing his face in with one of the previous pans.
Chest heaving and white apron stained, Yvonne dropped the bloodied pan and wiped her face. She stood tall as she turned to face the prince. "You're safe now." She said as she helped him to his feet.
Yvonne led him out of the kitchen and through the castle, which was becoming engulfed in flames. "Get whatever you need out of your room, and then hurry to the stables. This place won't last long." She said before hurrying down a long corridor.
The prince did just that, rushing to his room and packing his clothes and valuables without a second thought. Though, as he was leaving, the roof collapsed in on him, cutting his face as he was suddenly pinned under a beam. He winced in pain as he tried to crawl out from under, but found it difficult. He was too weak, and far too scared to call out for help.
Thankfully, Yvonne found him and pulled him out before more stuff could crash down upon him. "Come now boy, we need to leave." She said, heading back, passed the flaming throne room making Daniel stop. The bodies of his parents lay at the foot of the throne, almost holding one another.
Yvonne looked at the bodies for a moment. "There was nothing you could have done, I'm sorry." She said before grabbing his hand and rushing with him out the door to the stables. She loaded up their bags and began to saddle the horses.
"Who were those men?! Why were they and why did they want me?!" Daniel finally spoke since the attack. Yvonne paused a moment. "They weren't here for you. They were here for me. I'll explain when we get someplace safer." She said as finished saddling the two horses.
Yvonne turned to face the young man. "Are you able to ride? I know your eye is cut but I need to know in case I need to have you ride with me." She said, Daniel nodding and getting on his horse. "I'll be fine."
Yvonne got on hers, looking over at Daniel, seeing him staring at the burning castle, what was once his home being slowly destroyed. "Daniel, I need you to stay close to me as we leave." She said, making her horse gallop to the exit.
"And whatever you do, don't look back." | Ps: I’m bad at punctuation 🥴. I hope you enjoy it though
“Stay here my prince while I go distract the invaders. Once you hear me scream I need you to run out the back door with all your might and not look back. Run with everything and do not stop” She tells me.
“No Ms Linda please don’t go. Please don’t leave me. Let’s run away together they’re too strong. They’ve killed my parents and every guard in this castle. They’re going to kill you” I say.
“Distracting them is your only shot at escaping. They don’t know I’m here so if they hear me walking they will assume I’m you and let their guard down. Please go my prince. I’m not letting you die today” She says.
“Okay Ms. Linda. I know this is far fetched but I hope you make it out alive. See you on the other side” I tell her.
“See you on the other side” she says.
She grabs the knife from the counter, runs down the hall and starts screaming.
That’s my cue to leave. I run out through the back door into the forest. The assassins at the back have moved to the front. I guess Ms Linda’s plan worked. I keep running for what seems like a lot of hours until the sky is pitch black. I don’t have any lights on me so I can’t possibly run any further. I have to find a place to rest till daylight. I’m a bit scared because there have been sightings of bears in this forest. Wow Imagine running from assassins only to be killed by a bear. Who are these people? Why are they even after me? One day I’m living my life as an 18 year old boy. The next day I’m being hunted down like a game. My parents are dead. Ms Linda is probably dead too.
“Jason” I hear someone shout from afar.
Oh no I’m going to die today. There’s no way I’m escaping this.
“Jason it’s Ms Linda” The person shouts.
“Ms Linda? I thought you were dead. How did you escape? “ I asked.
“Some of the men in the village came over with their weapons to fight off the assassins” She said.
“But how did they know the castle was being attacked ? I asked.
“One of the wounded guards was able to escape and alert the village” she replied.
“Oh that’s relieving to hear” I said.
“It’s safe to come out Jason. Just follow the light” She says.
“Okay” I reply.
Everything in me is still telling me to run the other way. It doesn’t make sense. Why should I run when I’m safe now? I trust Ms Linda, she was going to give up her life to save me. There’s no reason to run again.
I get to where she is and she hugs me
“Oh Jason. I’m glad you’re safe” she says.
“Well I’m glad you aren’t dead Ms Linda” I say.
“I’m sorry Jason” she says sobbing.
“Sorry for what? You saved me I should be the one apologizing for leaving you” I reply
“No not that Jason. I truly am sorry. I never intended for this to get this far” she says
“What did you do? Ms Linda” I whisper
“Something horrible” she sad whispering back.
Delma💕 | 2021-01-08T08:57:38 | 2021-01-08T08:03:30 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] "You live like this?" the burglar asked, gently waking you up. | "You live like this?" the burglar asked, gently shaking my arm. I groaned. "Whhhh..."
He stood up. "Dude. You live in a trash heap, man."
I licked my lips and tried again. "Whhh...ahhhht. Time?"
As the burglar checked his watch, I tried to rub the sand out of my eyes. It took some effort, and the muscles in my arm may have actually screamed, but I got there. I needed a drink, and not the burn-y kind. I attempted to lurch blearily to my feet, and managed to roll off the sofa. Good start, good start.
A second man walked into the room. Skinny. He looked genuinely afraid. Probably new to the whole breaking and entering thing. His boss waved him off, unconcerned about my presence, or so it seemed. "Dude's so drunk he probably won't even remember us. It's kinda sad, really..."
The other guy didn't look so sure. Whatever. I focused all my energy into my legs, and managed to drag myself to my feet. Left foot... right foot... I kept up a steady, if somewhat slow, cadence, and eventually reached the coffee pot. I chugged the contents. Stale, but unrefreshing. I gargled some water from the sink, then slumped against the counter. I could feel four eyes burning into the back of my skull. As my gaze fell on the phone, the smaller man pulled out a gun, holding it all wrong. What kind of sissy pea-shooter was that? I didn't know they even made guns that tiny. I was impressed it wasn't pink. I flapped an arm at him in an attempt to look harmless. "Don't worry, phones got shut off last month. No wifi either. Drink?" I motioned to the still-running sink.
The older burglar just shook his head. "Come on, Danny. Let's get this place cleared out. Not that there's anything worth taking. You... you got insurance, right?"
I laughed. Not in my line of work, no, especially not in this place. The guy looked pretty sorry for me, actually; kind of like pity when I thought about it. "Nah. No insurance. And the hookers left last night. I think they left some drugs in the basement, though. Careful of the bodies."
The big man raised his eyebrows, then shrugged. "Whatever, man. No hard feelings?"
"Not a bit. Help yourself. Call it a fire sale."
The younger man, evidently convinced that the unarmed man with a raging hangover was likely harmless, took a quick look around the living room. He must have decided the sofa was too heavy and vomit-stained to steal, because he headed down into the basement. A moment later, he yelled up, "Boss! You gotta see this!"
The big man gave me one more pity-filled glance, then headed down the stairs. I followed him, waited until he was down the stairs and around the corner, and shut and locked the door. It wouldn't hold more than a minute or so, but it probably didn't matter.
With a heavy sigh, I pulled my rucksack out from under the counter. Two solid days walk to get here, and another three before I was done. Oh well. Tonight, I won't have a booze stash to drink before I passed out, so I should feel a lot better tomorrow morning. For now... it was time to go. Well, a couple ibuprofen, then go. Maybe three.
Headache slowly subsiding, I hit the switch and headed out the back door. I barely cleared the fence before I felt the heat of the flames on my back; I was two blocks away before I heard the fire trucks. The cops would have a field day with this one - robbery gone wrong! In a drug house! With the body of that missing senator! All it needed was a time-locked briefcase with nuclear launch codes, and it would be a best seller.
I grinned into the smoky morning air. Heh. Fire sale.
I crack me up. | “You live like this?” I heard softly, awakening me from a dream I forgot at the same instant I woke, feeling faintly that the voice was a part of my dream, and not as surprised as I should have been to find out it wasn’t. She was sitting on the end of my bed, below my feet, with her back against the wall. She was dressed all in black, beat up leather jacket, black jeans, and boots would have made you think of punk rock 20 years ago, but now just looked like they came from Hot Topic. Her hair was dark, and tied up in a messy bun-type arrangement. She looked at me, with mild surprise. “Shit, you weren’t supposed to wake up.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked, sitting up and blinking sleep-bleared eyes at her.
“What does it look like?”
“Um…hanging out?”
“Well, mostly I was marveling at how messy one person can be, til I was so rudely interrupted. Theoretically, I’m supposed to be stealing your Kruggerands, so I’m also trying to imagine where you stashed them. That was stupid, by the way. Who keeps 60 troy ounces of gold just lying around in their shitty apartment?”
“What’s a troy ounce?”
She smirked, “isn’t that the kind of thing you should already know if you have a gold coin collection? Oh crap, am I at the right place? This is 3503D West Pine Drive, right?”
“Yeah, it is,” I blinked at her in confusion. “And I do have a coin collection. Well, it’s not really a collection. Or it’s not mine. I don’t know anything about coins. My grandfather left them to me. Is that why you’re here? How did you know?”
“Let’s just say your grandfather left something to a few other people too. Debts, mostly. And they’ve sent me to collect them.” She slid off the bed and began looking around in earnest, toeing aside the clothes piles I’d left on the floor in disgust.
“So you’re a burglar? You broke in?”
She rolled her eyes at me. “No, I used a key. Actually, I did use a key. Stashing a key under the mat? Seriously? Who does that in the city? You’re just asking for this to happen.”
I stood up then, grabbing her wrist in a fluid movement, and pinning her against the bed. “Actually, that’s exactly what I was doing. Asking for this to happen. My grandfather spent the last 15 years of his life being chased, and I don’t even know why. What did he do to you people? If he stole some money, I know he spent years making payments. What kind of debt did he rack up? The Kruggerrands were the only thing left from his estate. So he left them to me. Why can’t you just leave it alone?”
As she turned to face me, looking at me with eyes that mirrored my own, brownish green, with a soft almond shape, my grandfather’s nose, his jaw, I realized and relaxed my grip just enough for her to twist and grab the coin folder from where it lay under the bed, with yesterday’s pants on top of it.
“Most of those debts weren’t monetary, but it’s a start,” she said, picking up the folder, and moving quickly to the open window, hopping out onto the fire escape. “See ya, cuz.” And that’s how I found myself out $75,000, and I learned that my grandpa left not just me behind, but a second family I’d never met. But that’s another story, for another day.
| 2017-08-21T20:16:03 | 2017-08-21T11:12:40 | 85 | 16 |
[WP] You've been dating your partner for six months. Tonight they've invited you to a work event, and as you step onto the red carpet, you realize it for the first time: you're dating a celebrity. | The first time I met her, it was after hours in some 24-hour diner near Union Square in San Francisco. I was in town for a tech conference, and very, very drunk. She was also in town for work, "some PR/Marketing BS," as she put it.
She's told me that I was charming that night. I showed her pictures of my dog on my phone. I tried to do a magic trick, where I proceeded to spill coffee all over the counter and the sleeves of her top. Mortified, I got up to leave, but then, in a move I would have never made sober, I wrote my number on a napkin, and told her if she ever came to Seattle, hit me up and I'd buy her a drink to replace the one I'd spilled.
I was confused a few weeks later when I got a text from an unknown number. She was in town with a free night, and wanted to take me up on that drink. I decided I could take a night off from Counterstrike and Call of Duty to play tour guide.
Have you ever met someone for the first time, and just clicked immediately? The night is almost a blur - we talked and laughed all night. I couldn't believe how I could have so much to talk about with someone I'd just met - it was like we'd known each other for years. It was the scariest moment of my life at the end of the night when I invited her back to my apartment, and then the most exhilarating when she said yes. She left early, kissing me on the cheek, whispering she had a plane to catch. I groggily offered to drive her to the airport, but she smiled and told me she already had a car coming for her.
We talked often - sometimes just leaving our phones on while we did our own thing. I would give her hilarious play by play of my hopeless attempts to play COD, she would laugh and call me her clueless soldier while tapping away on her keyboard - humming to herself as she worked. She was always working. We met up a few other times - when she was here for business, and once I had a long layover in Nashville, so she met me at the airport, just to say hi and have coffee with me.
I'm in IT and I see people's eyes glaze over when I start talking about work, so I never pressed it when she didn't want to talk about her job. I knew, living in Nashville, that it had something to do with the music industry. I knew she traveled a lot, almost every week. And she knew people everywhere - it seemed like every time we were out, she'd bump into someone who stopped her to say hi. She would always ask them what they were listening to, what their favorite songs were, collecting more PR/Marketing BS data, she'd tell me afterwards.
It was a few months later when we were comparing travel schedules when we realized we were both going to be in Vegas at the same time - another tech conference for me, another PR BS thing for her.
"Hey," she said, "do you want to come with me to the award ceremony? They're long and boring, I could use some company." Of course I jumped at the chance to spend time with her. "It's a formal thing, but I'll expense your tux rental. I'll pick you up at 7pm."
My company once did a casino night where we all dressed up and had limos pick us up, so I was only surprised for a moment when she pulled up in a long Hummer limo. I recovered quickly and played it cool. This would be fun!
I was not able to recover when we pulled up to T-Mobile Arena and a mass of cameras and reporters waiting for us. "Welcome to PR/Marketing BS" she said as she gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. Someone outside opened the limo door and whisked us on to a long, red carpet leading into the arena, and I was blinded by the flashbulbs and lights that hit us immediately. I could just make out part of some announcer "….Country Music's hottest rising star, she recently reached number one with her single Clueless Soldier, a tribute to all our troops in the Middle East…"
The rest was drowned out by the cheers. She gave my hand another squeeze.
| When I was a teenager my mother asked me what I thought love was. Having just ended what I believed was my first real relationship. Completely distraught, dazed by the haze of infatuation I told her it was about feeling whole. About finding that one person who complements your faults. Who lifts you up and makes you feel like a better person. I was completely unaware that love was two sided. Could only see it for how it affected my own well-being. Or presumptive well-being.
She asked me again nearly a decade later, after telling her I was planning on asking my then girlfriend to marry me. And I told her it wasn’t about finding someone to complement your faults, but finding someone who was wholly compatible with the basic structures of my personality. That we could have major disagreements, but that so long as we agreed on the tenets of our own personal progress, and agreed to work together in tandem, we could overcome anything.
That relationship fell apart a few months before the wedding. We realized that compatibility doesn’t imply love. That we respected each other, and liked each other, but weren’t in love. And like so many people I began to question whether love was actually tangible. Like other ephemeral ideas, maybe it was something that could be such a common trope but something nearly impossible to experience. The mere limitations of language pushing a narrative of something that was so deeply personal, it couldn’t be adequately defined.
I first met Anne about six months ago. We had had a series of arguments about how to pinpoint an anniversary. The kind of relationship that just kind of happens, and before you know it you’re staring into the eyes of someone and it just feels right. Or so you think. From the moment I met her, I knew we were doomed. But it felt good so I went along with it anyways. Anne was a highly acclaimed theater actor, and refused to ever talk about it. Pretended like her celebrity status didn’t exist.
So, I buried it down, pretended like I never knew. Would occasionally hint at it, but she would immediately retreat. And that’s when it fully dawned on me. Love is vulnerability. Love isn’t some grand gesture, it isn’t some heartfelt feeling, or shared experience. It’s the ability to truly be vulnerable with someone. To escape millions of years of evolution. To allow someone else to define their experience of your being. That we spend so much time manicuring this image of ourselves and how we portray it to other people. Love is dropping all pretenses about how you think someone will judge you.
She first told me she loved me about a month after we met. And I reciprocated. My mind turning through something that seems so easy for other people to understand. She probably noticed my insincerity. About a month ago she finally invited me to a work event, which turned out to be the opening night of her new play. Surprised me as we stepped out of the limo to the cheering crowds of people. I acted surprised, and she seemed to play long. For the first time, she smiled at me with complete sincerity. And it felt good.
We broke up a few days later. My mother asked me what had happened and I explained that I just didn’t love her. That if it took her six months to finally admit something so basic, that our future would just be battle after battle. Trying to crack through the surface. For the first time, I asked her what *she* thought love was. Because obviously, I was doing it wrong. She told me that she didn’t actually care about love. That at the end of the day if you needed to use it as a crutch to justify a relationship it was probably doomed anyways.
And I realized that I have no clue what love is. But that maybe that was okay.
________________________________________
^^/r/squidcritic | 2017-06-14T10:24:26 | 2017-06-14T09:16:21 | 976 | 218 |
[WP] Humans have always been the friendliest and the most peaceful species in the galaxy. When one of the most ruthless empires decides to wipe out the pathetic humans and their diplomacy, they discover that humans have something that no one in the galaxy has ever seen. Nuclear weapons. | I had heard of the human super weapons, but I had heard such claims before.
When the Ruthkin emissaries boarded my flagship to receive my declaration of battle, they shreeked at me with hatred in thier eyes. Through furious chittering they told me of the doom-wrought cannons which would tear my fleet asunder. They perished as easy as the rest.
When the Ulvanites came to receive the declaration, They rejoiced for the chance to crush me under thier Stormtoothed cavalry. Thier ambassadors all but invited me to invade thier lands. Thier promises were as empty as thier future.
Strangest of all was the Kosal. When I declared my writ of extermination, thier people raved like the mad and weak minded. I eventually found thier display was that of a desperate being trying to convince a predator he is not worth the trouble.
When the humans came to receive my terms, thier words were different. My first commander saw the fear and licked his maw, but I saw something more.
The humans who spoke of thier weapons did so in hushed tones and reverant whispers. I saw in them a fear deeper than I have ever known...a fear not for my warhost.
As we departed thier lonely system for the last time, I recalled the wisdom of my broodfather. He told me the wise Hunter never seeks that which his prey fears more than a hunters teeth, lest he be the Hunter no longer.
To this cycle I still do not know what the humans fear most, but I hope to never know. I pray to the Bright one my people never learn the human's secret, so they will never know such terror. It will be the human's Burden to carry, for I saw in them enough fear to consume the Galaxy. | After action report: Stardate M22, 783.
SSgt. Wilson Duke reporting.
Upon contact with the enemy, star ship *Primo Victoria* fired one thermonuclear weapon. The missile detonated on target, causing heavy damage to the enemy ship. The enemy ship became crippled, and boarding action was approved. At hour 4 of the conflict, while the boarding teams were still making progress toward the enemy bridge, an enemy vessel appeared from hyperspace at an extreme distance. We only knew of the ship appearing moments before it's weapon detonated amongst the fleet. The best way I can describe it as is a sun was born in the center of our fleet, and it grew with intensity to the point that the circumference of the explosion engulfed every vessel of the fleet, including the boarded enemy ship.
My ship was on a mission to plot an exit for the fleet so we were a bit further way from the fleet. The explosion, by our instruments data read outs, was no different than the nuclear weapon we had used against the first contact.
It was identical. Except it made the ancient Tzar Bomb from Russian design look like a fire cracker.
Recommend diplomacy or major research and development into new weapons as we thought we were the only species to have nuclear weapons but we were sadly mistaken. | 2020-02-07T13:09:20 | 2020-02-07T10:40:03 | 210 | 107 |
[WP] For years Earth cried out to an empty cosmos, searching the stars for echoes of life. From the middle of nowhere, a reply finally comes: "Shut up, and Play Dead!"
I really struggled with the choice between "For Years", "For Decades", "For Centuries", and "For Millenia". I tapped out. Take whatever timeline you will.
This may or may not be an attempt to add cosmic significance to Red Green's "Quando Omni Flunkus Moritati".
Good Luck!
Edit: There are a LOT of good submissions here, thank you all so much! Speaking of excellent submissions, I'd like to plug u/Mrcreation for doing some very well written, lengthy work near the bottom of the thread. Scroll down and check out his multipost entry!
Edit 2: I just finished the first two books of the Three Body Problem, by Liu Cixin. Mind=Blown. A part of the series definitely shares similar themes to this prompt, but there is so much more! I highly reccomend it. | Shut up, and Play Dead?
No way in hell!
Much of what makes the will to thrive is derived from pure ego. This is mine, and not yours. This is our Earth. This is our land. We made this.
Why are we so proud when we barely hold 30% of an uncontrollable mass of elements spiraling through the great abyss? When we, is barely a we at all?
Because of the will. The ego. Against indomitable odds this defiance to fight, and remain fighting and to never stop till we hit the thing dead.
What did we do when we saw the 700 something large cylinders laden with guns and cannon blasting through space at our fragile existence? Why we freaking blew that shit up of course!
Why the hell not? We wanted to.
Famine? Poverty? Disease? Fuck no.
We were united in the sole and singular cause of fucking shit up. Together.
Black, white, yellow, we even got the fucking blue man group to do a dance as we let the retarded kids smash the fucking launch buttons!
Why?
Because fuck you that's why.
We're humanity, and we'll be damned if w-
...
What do you mean there's a giant space lizard coming for us.
...
Oh...
Well fuck. | "Hey Kazaak, I sent that signal like you asked. What did it say?"
"It said, 'Shut up, and Play Dead!'"
"You piece of shit, that'll make them hide out there for another three centuries at least."
"Or they'll run around like headless chickens like they always do. They're a pretty dumb species, bear in mind."
"Says the guy who insisted we break galactic law by breaching a quarantined sector to send the signal in the first place."
"Shut up and get the popcorn machine up and running, Marchonis. We can at least enjoy the show before the guard patrols get here."
"We're in deep shit, aren't we?"
"Worth it." | 2016-03-27T09:12:57 | 2016-03-27T08:55:20 | 92 | 61 |
[WP] You were warned that your newest crew member, a "Human", had vastly different biology from all other known races. This mad made very clear when they drank all of the galaxy's strongest known poison, saying that they "needed a drink of water." | We were told our first experience with a "Heyumin" was to be dealt with caution. A lifeform from the planet the heyumins called "Erff," though they pronounce it a bit differently than I am able, was considered a forbidden territory, as ordered by the Hazard Treaties of year 12903. A cruel planet with skies of oxygen that rusts technology, leading to crashes on anyone approaching, and the main topic of the treaty, water.
Our biosystems require imbalances in chemicals to create motion, and then life. A fully neutral substance with such tiny molecules of just two hydrogen atoms and one oxygen such as this quickly seeps into our bodies and halts reactions, killing of organ failiure, suffocation, and brain damage within 15 seconds, a horrifying experience. The planet even held massive flying bodies of this water in its atmosphere, as well as amounts in usual air.
The planet held Chlorine-Sodium chemicals, known as salt, which quickly absorbs our vital bodily fluids through our digestive system's walls on digestion, causing improper flow of nutrients to all parts of the body, crippling or killing.
There were no known immunities to any of these, until one day a ship illegally landed with a stolen advanced, oxygen-resistant, watertight ship, and they discovered something no one expected: civilization. These heyumins quickly became famous, and our new crew member was the first one we met, Arden Johnson.
I pilot a chemical research ship, used to test properties of hazardous materials. Our heyumin's first impression was of fear, as they promptly got arrested for holding several unsafe containers of water and salt, but were mysteriously approved when they found he was a heyumin. We were forced to wear our protection suits to prevent harm to ourselves.
The heyumin spoke in a voice of much higher pitch than ours. "What is wrong with fese \[these\] people! I haven't gotten an edible meal or a good drink since I left Erff! I'm parched!" They spotted one of our tubs of water in our poison lab, opened the lid, and despite our rush to stop him, he said "Finally," and dunked his face in to drink. I even shrieked in horror, but quickly thought of sorrow.
I went over to a control panel to write an accident report while my assistants went to take the obvious corpse away and decontaminate the water. But the human stood up again, carrying the empty tub of our water supply, and said, "Fat's \[that's\] so satisfying, I really needed a drink of fat \[that\] water." My assistants gasped, and their eyes showed clear surprise. We now knew what my boss meant about dealing with heyumins.
Now the heyumin lives in a section of our hazardous materials section, the only place where they are allowed to take off their isolation suit, in the place where we wear the suits anyway. We had to sterilize the place because they produce a mix of the poisons salt and water, to disperse into the air, when they get too warm.
Though, they have been a very valuable crew member, keeping our systems running, keeping our containment systems secure, and handling our materials in the hazardous materials section with more speed than one can with the suits, and have saved my assistants on multiple occasions against material leaks.
Once, our ship was raided for its poisons by the Ernin. they had no isolation suits, and the heyumin was there at the time. He took off his isolation suit, and managed to fight off the intruders. Though, it wasn't that long of a fight, because he just grabbed and spat at them yelling Erff curses as they died from water contact. End entry. | A door slammed open, several rows of seats behind me in the hall. The ship's huge supports echoing the footsteps of the commander as he stepped into the room. His heavy combat gear shifted with every step.
"I see many different faces. Resilience. Confidence. A fighting grinn, and the stars behold, maybe even some brotherly love." He began, with a sly smile. An uneasy laugh emerged here and there in the ranks of my fellow marines.
"Yeah, you're laughing now. But we're approaching Cardis-3. If any of you ever served in the magma enclosed mines of Keqran-1 than you might want to rotate there, for an easier deployment. Here on Cardis, you will have to follow some strict rules. Human rules. But just because we play by their game, doesn't mean we can't win.
Some won't win. Some of you won't."
The commander turned his back to us, looking out over the blue planet below the battleship, perfectly projected on the blastdoors.
"See, these humans, the intelligent species on this planet, are carbon based. They move fast. They have powerful muscles, yet flexible skin. You will find crude slug projectile weaponry in their arms, 'cause they can withstand the recoil unaided. They breath corrosive oxygen, and drink deadly water."
Some of the veterans let out an annoyed grunt.
"With the help of Leftenant Riker, we have developed Cardis rules."
The commander signaled one of the guards to open the doors. Out of the hallway came an appalling figure, two limbs so thin, you'd think they would snap with every step. Just two arms, with worm like extremities on the end. So, disturbing. His face, a glass smooth structure with a phallic tube extending to a protrusion on the creatures back.
"Legion, meet Leftenant Riker. He was captured and reaffiliated by our special forces. He will be joining your unit to help bridge the gap between our intergalactic society, and the humans on Cardis-3."
The commander turned back to the crowd.
"Sir, we actually call it Earth".
The marines let out in crying laughter. My buddy next to me almost fell of his seat. Every unintelligent race names its planet ofter its soil.
The human stood confused. He stepped back, waiting for the crowd to calm down.
"Shut it, marines. Rule number one: Never underestimate a human. Their spacetravel tech is young, but their development is rapid. Their lifecycle is extremely short. So more young, creative minds, like yours, are working on a problem.
Rule number two: never let them land. They live in corrosive oxygen, and need an abbundance of deadly water. Once they set up on a planet, we can't possibly fight them without suits, and resilient armour.
Rule number three: Keep your weapon close, and your mask even closer. I know many of you have lost people to the deadly effects of water. Don't make me my medics work overtime. Questions?"
"Sir?"
The commander looked at the Cardin defector.
"What now?"
"Could I, perhaps, have a glass of water?"
Edit: Terra replaced with Cardis-3 to make more sense. | 2020-05-18T13:04:11 | 2020-05-18T10:55:55 | 216 | 152 |
[WP] As a Demon, you're quite familiar with would-be mages making errors in materials due to translation errors. However, today marks the first time that someone has attempted to summon you with Cruelty-Free Vegan Blood Substitute™. | Gr’theno reclined on his throne. It wasn’t the largest, nor one of the greatest authority, but it was his and he was proud of it. He was also what many in his court would call a “man enthusiast.” Meddling with the human world was a hobby of his, and Gr’theno often felt giddy when he was called upon so he could mess with anyone who would invoke him. His summoning ritual was simple, and since the only thing that was actually required to summon him was the proper sacred phrase, he designed the ritual carefully around symbolic acts.
The floor around Gr’theno’s those began to pulse like a beating heart beneath him. He smiled and stood up from his throne, fixing his goatee and mentally rehearsing his entrance speech. He hadn’t been summoned in a few months, so this was an exhilarating moment for him. He touched the pulsating ground, and it spewed out a red and yellow mist, which formed into a portal just large enough to fit him. He peered through it, and instantly knew something was wrong.
The salt circle for the summoners “protection” didn’t look right. It was too dark of a color to be salt. The candle’s flames didn’t move correctly, in fact they didn’t move at all. Something especially bothered him about the blood. The blood looked, wrong. Gr’theno grew angrier as he noticed more wrong with his rituals. He specifically noted “reflecting surfaces” in his ritual. He had allowed mirrors, even front facing cameras, and once even water because of its reflective surface, but this practitioner didn’t even use ANY reflective surface. There were no human figures around the summoning circle either. Hell, there weren’t even any figures! Gr’theno stormed through the portal; he needed answers. He found himself in the center of a circle of “salt” and “blood,” facing a blonde man with a confident smile.
“Ah ha! Gr’theno! Lord of mankind’s pride! I have invoked thy name, and now-“
“Quiet.” Gr’theno knelt down, pinching an ounce of salt between his fingers and dropping it into his mouth. He spat it out, and looked up and glared at the man. “What is this!? Quartz crystals!? You perfectly spoke the summoning phrase, how could you have mistranslated this!”
“Oh I know I got it wrong. I’m just using what I could get easiest.” The man answered. “Now, I have invoked you onto the world, you must-“
“What’s wrong with the blood?” Gr’theno dipped his fingers in it, keeping eye contact with the man. “Tell me so I don’t find out on my own.”
“It’s a vegan blood substitute. You know, for cook-“
“A SUBSTITUTE?” Gr’theno raged. “How dare you insult me with a substitute! That defeats the whole point!” Gr’theno’s anger began to manifest; shaking the earth beneath his feet. “The salt is mean to represent the hardship of the world, the blood is mean to signify the lengths you would go for power! And the mirrors, which you FORGOT, are...”. Gr’theno became even more frustrated, and shouted to the heavens. From his body, a rush of wind gushed forth; blowing the vegan blood and quartz away. The man stumbled back.
“No! I summoned you, I must have done it perfectly!” He shouted. “I commanded your power, and invoked you forth. It doesn’t matter what you think it all means, I still made it work without your stupid symbolism.” Gr’theno was appalled by what he heard, and slowly walked towards the man.
“The only part that ‘matters’ is the summoning phrase. The rest is for me to determine if you are worth messing with. That’s what rituals are! You didn’t even make the effort to get it right.”
“Aren’t you full of yourself?” The man lashed back. “Do you want me to put on a fucking play for you? Maybe rub your feet?” The man marched up to Gr’theno, putting his face to his. “I invoked you into this world, and that means you are mine. So do as I say, and make me a king.” Gr’theno looked shocked, and then smiled.
“Okay. You will be a king.” Gr’theno plunged his fist into the man’s chest, and opened a portal back to Hell. He dragged the man through it, and held him above a pit of white stones. “Here you are, you shall be king. King of these white hot stones!” He threw the man upon the stones, and instantly he began to sear. His flesh bubbled and his tendons charred.
“No! This isn’t what you’re supposed to do!” The man wailed.
“You respect my ritual, and I’ll respect your wish. Until then,” Gr’theno turned away. “Cook.” | Ik'Tharvaz rose from his seat and gazed into his looking glass, seeing a projection of the erstwhile summoner. He knew the summoning had gone wrong, but wasn't sure exactly how. He had shown up to incorrect summons before, but this one was... different. It wasn't the incantations. The circle looked legit, as with the ingredients, but something wasn't right. It *felt* wrong. Ik decided he had to know, so he hurled himself through the fabric between realms and appeared in a flash of hellfire in the circle.
"*You have summoned me,*" Ik hissed. "*but I have no idea how. You've summoned me wrong.*"
"Um, I did everything right!" the summoner blurted, reaching for the various components of the summoning. "I've got the rosemary, the sulfur, the coal, the salt, the blood..." Ik reviewed the components as the summoner presented them. They all passed muster. The rosemary's leaves crumbled correctly in his hands, smelling strongly. The coal broke apart in his hands and left behind the proper marks. The sulfur reeked of brimstone and smoked yellow when lit on fire. The blood... Ik took the bottle of blood, poured some on his fingers, and didn't feel the extinguished life it used to carry. This wasn't blood!
"*This is where you failed, boy.*" Ik growled, "blood" dripping from his fingers. "*You did not use lifeblood!*"
"Well, no, I didn't," the summoner said. "I'm a vegan, and I don't believe in taking another life, so I used something vegan and cruelty-free instead of blood."
Ik, for the first time in possibly millenia, was thoroughly confused. Even though he had spent time in the guise of humans and observed their world, he had never once come across something like "cruelty-free blood".
"*Okay, let me get this straight,*" Ik dropped all pretenses of demonic presence and spoke frankly. "*You used fake blood to summon a demon because you didn't want to hurt anything.*"
"Uh.... yeah?" the summoner sheepishly replied. Ik's head dropped and his fingers rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"*But you summoned a demon,*" Ik sighed. "*or rather, you tried to. Your summoning failed, I just came because I wanted to know what the hells you were doing.*"
"It... d-d-didn't work?" The summoner was taken aback by the announcement of his failure. If he failed, why did a demon show up?
"*No, the summoning failed because you didn't use actual blood.*" Ik dropped the bottle, which thinked on the floor without breaking. "*The blood is to prove that you have the capacity and capability to do harm to another living being, and that you understand the cost of summoning a demon.*" Ik sat down in front of the summoner, who was frozen with fear, and extended his hand.
"*But I will commend you for your effort, and I will assist you in correcting this.*" The summoner looked wide-eyed at such a polite demon, and cautiously extended his own hand, grasping and shaking with the demon. Ik, now seeing and feeling such a pathetic and quivering human, knew he had to punish him for his transgression. He dug his clawlike fingernails into the wrist of the summoner, piercing the skin and drawing blood, puncturing the veins within. He grasped harder onto the summoner's hand, keeping the screaming and thrashing summoner there. Ik laughed out loud as the wound smoked, then closed on its own, and released the summoner who scampered on all fours away from the demon.
"What the fu... what did you do to me?" the summoner asked as he grabbed his wrist, watching as the new wound healed and closed uneblievably fast. Ik stood, adjusted his clothing, and smirked down at the summoner.
"*You made a fine effort of deception,*" Ik chuckled. "*but you failed miserably at proving yourself worthy. You were unable and unwilling to draw blood before, but now you will have no choice.*" Ik grinned widely as smoke rose from around his feet and the summoning circle glowed purple.
"*I've made you a vampire.*" Ik's toothy grin was the last thing to disappear as reality bent and twisted, the demon returning to his demesne and the summoner left in his confusion and despair, knowing that he would spend the rest of his life harming others to pay the price for his arrogance.
Back on the other side, Ik polished his looking glass and viewed it with pride. He took great joy in lying to the little bastard who tried to summon him with fake blood. Demons can't create vampires! They can pierce skin and make smoke, but vampires? Don't be absurd. | 2020-01-23T11:49:24 | 2020-01-23T10:43:55 | 32 | 21 |
[WP] Write a story in which the last line is a common phrase, such as, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger," but when we get to that line, it should have a totally different meaning from the common one. | My hands are shaking and my clothes are clinging to me from how much I am sweating. I just need one more. Just one more, and all of this will go away. I will be able to breathe again, be calm again.
I pull myself off of my couch and start frantically pulling up the cushions, looking for change. A quarter, a penny, a nickle, another quarter. I end up finding over 2 dollars.
This should be enough.
I leave my apartment and start heading towards the nearest convenience store. I start at a slow walk, and I keep getting faster and faster until I'm basically sprinting towards the store. My body can't wait any longer.
I arrive and throw the door open and make a beeline for the register. I ask for a pack of Swisher Sweets and a lighter, throw my handful of change on the counter, and walk back outside. I try opening the package, my sweaty, shaking hands slipping several times, but eventually I get it. I raise one of them to my lips, light it, and take a long, slow pull.
My eyes close.
Close, but no cigar.
| When the plague rats came, they came in swarms. There was no escaping their beady eyes, their scratching claws. They squeeze into every home, through rafters and wine cellars, the door ajar, the window eased to let in the wind. We cannot escape. We cannot kill enough to make a dent in their numbers. There is only one option. Do not let them in. Do not let them into your homes, do not let them into your rooms, do not let them craw up the legs of your bed. Steel your doors, nail shut your windows, close the blankets around you. Sleep tight. | 2015-05-16T06:59:50 | 2015-05-16T06:22:41 | 106 | 68 |
[WP] The army operates on a strictly merit based promotion system. At first, giving the bear a medal for honorable service was just a joke. The bear, however, keeps meeting the legal requirements to advance, and is getting uncomfortably high in rank. | “Gentlemen,” Shah began. “Captain,” he added to the one female in the briefing room. She didn’t nod back. Operators are like dogs, his mentor had warned him. They can smell fear. The key to briefing them was total confidence. “I’d like you to meet Objective ARTHUR.”
A dozen hard faces looked particularly frozen as Shah clicked through to the next slide. The enemy officer’s grainy photo took up the right-hand side of the screen. “ARTHUR currently commands Assault Group Three, Ninety-First Division, Western Command,” Shah continued. “Assault Group Three has spearheaded several recent breakthroughs, which ARTHUR has personally led from the front. We assess, with high confidence, that removing ARTHUR from the battlefield will have a substantial negative effect on group morale, and by extension on the effectiveness of the entire divisional area.”
A hand shot up from the front row, school-room style. “Yes, colonel?” Shah said, sighing inwardly.
“Now, I may be just a dumb grunt,” started Lieutenant Colonel Thorne. Shah had read the part of his file that wasn’t classified, and had seen that Thorne had only joined the army after getting a master’s in chemical engineering. “I may be just a dumb grunt, but that’s a bear.”
“Yes, ARTHUR is a bear, very observant, sir,” Shah said, in a tone he had rehearsed. “He’s also met every criteria for promotion they’ve got. And frankly, he’s shown more courage than most of the officers they’ve got, and is more popular with the men.”
Captain Gold looked up from the back of the room. “So let me get this straight,” she said. “You and your pals in the intel shop think that the best use of our time,” she gestured around the room, “is to go take out their mascot bear?”
“I know this is an unconventional mission-” Shah began, but Gold interrupted him.
“This is bullshit.”
“Respectfully, ma’am-” he raised his voice.
“No, not you,” she said. “I mean *this* is bullshit.”
The team’s stony faces broke into laughs. Snorts at first, then full guffaws and belly laughs. Only Gold herself remained impassive. Shah made himself smile, trying to play along.
“I know this sounds *crazy,*” he tried again, more casually now, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe he was saying it either. “But-”
“We’re just messing with you, rookie,” Thorne said.
“You mean-?”
Thorne rolled back his uniform sleeve. Down his arm were two twin nasty scars, jagged and thick. The kind a bear claw might make.
“You’ve got the right idea,” he explained. “But we’ve tried taking out ARTHUR before.”
Gold shook her head in begrudging respect. “Never gonna happen.” | He shuffled in. “How can we possibly deflect this development from turning into a devastating debacle”, he thought. The blond-haired, stout gentleman had been attempting to shake these concerns off for a while; somehow, irregardless of what they did, their plans always the opposite effect.
His paunch ally saluted him, “this has to end, Winnie. It has already gone way too far.”
Winnie could only agree with Tom, but he was barely able to produce a nod. It felt too unreal.
Tom continued, whilst shaking his head, “did you hear that they want to give the medal of honour? Jeez, one time he saves 14 marines, and all of a sudden you’re a hero.”
The idea had been from this notorious duo to reinforce the army by involving certain non-human forces. Similar to the efforts of Hannibal with the elephants, bears and lions had been trained to join the US navy. Almost it had been almost forgotten as a failed, wacky idea by two bureaucrats. However, when one regiment achieved incredible successes by sneaking in a bear to kill Osama Bin Laden, a turning point had occurred. This bear, Manny, enjoyed success after success. As is custom: when one is in the field long enough, a transfer is arranged to a comfortable office. Moreover, as is bureaucratic custom, Manny became rather pot-bellied; savouring the salmon a bit too much and exercising not enough.
Unfortunately, their scheme had rambunctiously started to live its own life. Not exceptionally, their luminous brilliancy entertained some drawbacks to. That had become painfully apparent when Winnie, Tom and Manny attended an important advisory meeting with the vice-president. Manny’s contribution had been primarily limited to a few growls of discontent, which apparently achieved the desired, unnuanced tone that the vice-president appreciated. The eighty-one page analysis of Tom had been tossed in the bin after a polite glance, souring the relations further. Parenthetically, this was not ameliorated by the fact that the promotion desired by Tom, according to rumours, would not materialise. A certain Manny had priority, after extensive lobbying on the behalf of the vice-president.
Cursing at his own creativity, Tom thought, “Joseph McCarthy would have turned over in his grave, if he had heard that we put a bear in the White House, just after the Russian invasion.” | 2022-07-21T13:06:54 | 2022-07-21T09:36:35 | 88 | 40 |
[WP] You have the ability to see a few seconds into the future when you are in danger. You joined the army and became a captain. You are out on patrol when you notice one of your men getting a transmission you don’t receive. You then see your men shooting you in the back a few seconds later. | We walked in a column, two abreast. The forest was always dark, even in the middle of the day. The light hit boughs and leaves and vines for 200 metres above us, with the occasional shaft breaching through them to reach the ground level. It made the place empty and full all at once - a twilight uneasiness punctuated with the cries and chitters of the mega-continent's fauna.
I'd hated it immediately. The place was such a backwater it didn't even have an official designation.
I grew up on Felix 3 - idyllic, an 'Eden World', in the classification of the Wider Earth Dominion. Agrarian meadows and gentile people nothing like the sweaty, half-blind rebels that crawled along the forest floor in their hovels and burrows.
Still, there was a reason I'd signed up for the Corps.
My ability.
It wasn't revolutionary, or even that useful - just something I could do. Precognition, I guess. My limit was about 30 seconds ahead, standard Earth time, but it all came in one lump vision.
It used to help me with tests in school. Just before the teacher would shut off our tablets, I'd be furiously scribbling, having heard the chatter of the kids around me just ahead.
Of course, that didn't mean the answers were always right, but I got good at choosing seats. *That* meant they were right enough to give me decent grades - enough to enlist in Officer's training and jump off to the training planets. Some meat for the grinder; a kid for the beast.
New officer, dangerous planet. Old story. My squad made sure that I remembered - Callisto especially, tough bastard. He was 15 years in the Corps and didn't appreciate anything but blood spilled and hours walked. Then there was Corporal Hennson - one tour, unblooded; Private Trevalny - green as grass, like me; Six - our medic & his real name, he insisted; and, finally, Anders - the only woman on our squad. Quiet. She never liked me, but she kept her distance from the rest of the squad too. Strange one.
We unhappy few marched through the undergrowth, Trevalny and I at the head of the column. Somewhere ahead of us was the transponder of a crashed ornithopter. The beacon pulsed on my visor - 3km and closing.
We knew the crew was probably dead, scoured by the rebels as soon as they hit the ground, but we pressed on all the same. Trevalny swore next to me as he smashed an insect with a thorax the size of a lemon. No one spoke - we were all afraid of swallowing something nasty.
Something flashed in my brain, hot and angry. I stopped, raising my fist to signal the others. The visions always warned me, thankfully enough. I felt my eyes turn to the back of my head, and the vision unspooled like a roll of film.
A shaft of light - a pinprick coming through the leaves. Trevalny and I walking, then just me. I turn. The squad look at each other, unsure. I turn back around, thinking they've seen something I haven't.
The first round hits me in the back, and I crumple, twisting. Callisto has shot me, I see. The others hesitate, and he barks at them to fire.
Trevalny raises his rifle.
My mind pulls me back to the present. The world seems still.
Trevalny is looking at me, wide-eyed. He makes the 'OK?' sign with his thumb and forefinger. I stare back at him blankly.
Fucking shit. Fuck.
My training kicks into gear, and the paralysis leaves me. I see my body moving without my control. Me or them, me or them. Lowering my fist, I, gesture the squad forward.
I drop to the back of the pack.
We walk for a second. On my left, a tiny circle of light hits the ground. It's real. It's real.
I stop, letting them get a little bit ahead. I raise my rifle, switching it to a 3 round burst, and flip off my anti-friendly fire protocol.
The first shots hit Callisto centre-mass. The next burst is for Six. They crumple. I switch targets to Trevalny. His rifle is trained upwards, looking for non-existent rebels ahead of us. He falls. Hennson manages to turn, bearing his rifle on me. I drop him as he squeezes off a round, hitting a tree to the left of me. Last one, last one.
Anders is gone. I sweep a 180° arc ahead of me. She's vanished, somewhere.
You need to leave, my brain tells me. You need to leave. I push past the bodies of my squad, rifle ready. Trevalny has his eyes open, but he's choking on blood. Blue eyes, looking through me. Blue and red and green all together, down on the ground.
I can hear their earbuds crackling an order as I push into the undergrowth.
-----
Thinking about an Anders POV part 2. Tell me if y'all like it as I've got some good Saturday time to burn.
/r/Robin_Redbreast | After dropping Clarke and Naranjo at the town to search the houses for any survivors I drove Mackavoy and West toward the top of the hill. West was our sniper, best shot in the whole squad and Mackavoy’s job was to watch West’s back. Make sure that no aliens sneak up on West while he’s watching over Clarke and Naranjo. Something was off but I couldn’t tell what. West was abnormally quiet and Mackavoy wouldn’t look me in the eye.
“Everything good?” I asked as we got out of the car. Mackavoy nodded and tried to smile but stopped as soon as I looked at him. West muttered something like, “Yeah.”
​
“Guys seriously what’s up? We’ve been friends for seven years I can tell when something’s up.” Mackavoy put down his gun and said, “Nothing everything okay.” West started to set up his sniper. I frowned but walked back to the car. Maybe I did something wrong? Maybe it was something I said? I got into the car and was about to start the car when suddenly my ears rang. A premonition. It would always happen whenever I was in danger with just enough time for me to move. I started having them when I first joined the army. Armed with the ability to see the future I was able to rise up in rank easily. I saw Mackavoy answer his pager and then he pulled out his pistol and shoot me. I blinked. This was wrong. Mackavoy would never–
​
In the corner of my eye, I saw Mackavoy answer his pager. I turned to look at him. When he looked at me my heart stopped. He was really going to shoot me. The window shattered as the bullet flew into my leg. “Ahhgg!” I yelled grabbing my leg. I got out of the car and fell to the ground. “Why?” I asked as Mackavoy approached me. His hand’s shaked and he licked his lips.
​
“Army’s known about people who the aliens experimented for some time now. Those people eventually go crazy and kill any humans they see.” Mackavoy flinched when he looked at my leg. “I’m sorry Vincent, I really am. But the General knowns you’re one of those experiments and I’ve got to kill you.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes.
​
“West are you gonna just let Mackavoy kill me?” I yelled. West just stared at his sniper rifle.
​
“Sorry.” He muttered refusing to look at me. Mackavoy pointed the pistol at my head when I heard the sound of a car driving. Mackavoy looked up. “It's army and it's headed our way,” West said presumably looking through his sniper scope. I hoped it was Naranjo and Clarke coming to save me but that didn't make any sense. How would they get a car? A couple of minutes later West shouted, “It’s the General!” Mackavoy waited for the car to come. The car stopped in front of us.
​
“Stop shooting him!” The General yelled as she got out of the car. Four other men with rifles got out of the car and took defensive positions. West walked up to the General.
​
“You told us you wanted him dead.”
​
“I’ve changed my mind.” The General walked toward me and knelt down. I gritted my teeth in anger and pain. “I’ve served the army for seven years! This is how you treat me?” The General shook her head. “I didn’t want to have you killed but all the experiments we’ve meet have gone insane.”
​
“Why not kill me then?”
​
“One of out scientist think that you could be an exception after you undergo one of her own experiments.” I grimaced. I didn’t remember being experimented on by the aliens but it could explain why I have premonitions. “Fine,” I told her. “Long as you don’t shoot me in the back again.” The General nodded.
​
“There will be no deception this time. But if the experiment doesn’t work we’ll still have to kill you.”
​
“Comforting.”
​
Hope you enjoyed it! If not tell me why! Edit: Thanks for all the criticism! Not gonna lie I was concerned it would come off as rushed and I will be revisiting this submission to try and make it better. Thank you. Edit2: So I've rewritten it in an attempt to fix the mistakes that were called out. I hope this version is better but if you read it tell me if you like it or not. | 2019-06-07T20:04:14 | 2019-06-07T19:43:19 | 256 | 69 |
[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" | Ah well shit. There goes that plan. Think Bart think. You've got time to think
of an alternative. I guess this is why they don't let people witness the
executions. Think.
"The next on the docket is Bartholomew Wright, found guilty of 5 counts of
theft, 2 counts of arson and 6 counts of assault." The judge is reading out my
list of crimes already. Crap. Think!
This is like one of those monkey paw stories. The last guy thought he could
beat it the same way I wanted to but ended up an instant old husk. The guy
before that's bright idea went from a pleasurable orgy into something I'd
rather not think about again.
"It's time buddy." The guard next to me is poking me in my back, insisting I
step forward. "Choose wisely mate, it's the last choice you ever get to make."
This is ridiculous! All this because what? I stole some cash, burnt down a
church and beat up a bunch of guys as I made my escape? Surely there's a more
reasonable sentence I could have been given?
Think.
Bah! Anything I think of will be twisted by the court and it's monkey paw. This
is hopeless! I might as well ask for something quick and painless. Instant
obliteration. Or to go in my sleep.
No. That's loser talk, I can think of a way out of this. Just think. I am
slowly walking to the dock now. There's still time to think.
"Mr Bartholomew Wright, you have been found guilty of the aforementioned crimes
and have been sentenced to death by your own choice." The judge began his
speech, I still have time, this will go on for a few moments. Think!
"It's no small feat to choose the form of your own destruction but the gods
have deemed it the fairest form of execution..." He was droning on. Maybe I
could take him out with me in a devastating explosion? No I'm not a murderer,
even in death I can't take another's life.
"For a hundred years this method has served us well and for a hundred more may
it do so. Bartholomew, your choice, keep it brief:" He holds a jade skull
towards me pointing it's fiery eyes at my own. I can't help but stare into
those eyes and see hell. I don't deserve the eternal punishment, if only I had
more time to repent more life to live and show the better part of me. If only I
had lived a better and longer-
"Life." I blurt my thought out loud, tears forming in my eyes.
`IT IS SO.` Came a thundering voice in my head. The world dissolves into white. | 2021-06-24T10:08:14 | 2021-06-24T04:09:04 | 255 | 158 |
[WP] A man working at suicide hotline got called from his wife | *Did I remember to take my pills this morning?*
*Yes! YES! I took them. Quit asking myself. I had trouble opening that stupid bottle, remember? Emma had to twist off the cap in that special way that I never can.*
*Ok, ok! I took them. Just making sure because I know how I get when I forget to take them. I get all--*
*I KNOW, I KNOW. I don't have to freak out. I took them so don't worry about it. Focus on my work.*
The link blinks on my phone as an incoming call is routed to me by the operator. Pulling myself together, which feels more difficult than it should tonight for whatever reason, I pick up the phone and enter the same routine I have been trained to do for the past four years, "Emergency dispatch, ... uh, what is the situation?"
"............"
"Emergency dispatch, hello?"
"............"
I check the incoming number displayed to me on the drab green phosphorous computer screen. The number looks vaguely familiar but nothing jumps to the front of my awareness.
*If I can't remember a phone number, how can I remember if I took my medications?*
Ignoring my own self, I try to get a voice to come through on the other side of the phone, "I have you at 72-28-58-382. We investigate prank calls to this number. Emergency dispatch, are you there?"
A chilling and empty voice breathes into the other receiver, "I need help. I can't find myself any more."
What does that mean? Quickly I try to bring up the standard responses we were trained to use when callers fail to give us actionable information. Yet I'm so slow to think of any, "Uh... Ah, a-are you lost?"
"I have been for years."
That voice. I know that voice.
"...Emma?"
"You forgot to take your medications this morning, so I took them for you."
*I CALLED IT. I FUCKING TOLD MYSELF!*
"What?" I managed to mumble. Unbelievable! What was she doing?
"These really kill your brain. I'm going through it right now."
"..No! Stay on the line... I'm sending an ambulance! Stay with me!"
"Goodbye, John." My wife's frail words were slipping off the phone call much like her consciousness was probably right now.
"Stay on the line! Help is on the way! Emma!"
Suddenly her voice was excited and somewhat disturbed, "John!"
"Yes, are you still there?"
"JOHN!"
*I better snap out of it.*
Behind me, my co-worker and fellow operator put his hand on my shoulders. It caused me to jump, "JOHN!"
There was a loud tone beeping into the phone; the one that grates your ear when the phone has been off the hook. Holding the phone in my hand, I look at it with a questionable glare. If I was just talking to Emma moments ago, then how could the phone be alerting me that a call has been uncompleted for at least 30 seconds?
"John, what's the matter?" My co-worker looked concerned as he regarded me with hesitation. "You were screaming a woman's name into the phone without having a live call to it."
*He knows about me.*
"Really?" Honestly, I am as confused as I sounded at that moment.
"Who's Emma?"
"My wife."
*I shouldn't have said that. Only I knew that recently I've been prescribed medication. It all started with that car accident, remember? The one I left unharmed.*
"You haven't ever been married, John."
"Oh..." was all I could say.
*I definitely forgot to take my medication this morning. It's getting worse. I'm losing it.* | Jeremy sighed. This night was looking to be a long one. Only early evening and he'd already had to put up with what sounded like an overly dramatic twelve year old who'd just lost her pet bunny. For Christ sake. That kid would not stop crying. She didn't seem in immediate danger to kill herself either. It simply was not his job to talk privileged babies who create their own miseries to justify being in a bad mood.
Dramatic little shits.
Across from him, Sally sat, her long legs crossed and with that small concerning frown of hers that made her face crease up in the most adorable way... he was certainly jealous of her. Her soft voice filled the office with a warm compassion. There was no doubt he loved her. Jesus. How pathetic. He had a wife... and a child on the way, and here he was, stupidly in love with the most unattainable of beauties.
Sally's eyes met his for the briefest of moments. His heart leapt up into his throat as he hastily averted his gaze and fumbled with the few things on his desk, desperately trying to look busy. His eyes fell upon the photo of his wife. Simple, dramatic Natalie. Fat, bitchy Natalie.
Well, maybe not so much fat as carrier of a smaller, parasitic Natalie clone. There was no doubt that this kid would be like all the others he deals with.
Desperate for attention. Selfish.
God. Why did he have to be chosen to be a father? It wasn't fair. The sight of that bloated belly made his skin crawl. But he wasn't raised to desert his family. No matter how much his heart said otherwise.
He felt a now familiar vibration in his pocket. Definitely his wife nagging him to 'come home and cook and clean and look after me because I'm pregnant and can't do anything by myself and I don't want to do the dishes because it might hurt the baby!'.
Jeremy groaned at answered.
'Hello, my darling', he said curtly. 'What can I do for you this time?'
'Jeremy. The baby. Oh god, my baby. Baby'. Her voice was weak and babbled, like a scrambled psycho.
Jeremy's heart took a plummet to his feet, and his skin prickled with goosebumps.
'Natalie. What did you do?!' He practically screeched. The adrenaline pumping through his blood felt so foreign. He couldn't control it.
'It wasn't me! I slipped. The stairs. There's so much blood. Oh, god'.
Humpty Dumpty fell down and saw red. Humpty Dumpty's baby's now dead.
Jeremy couldn't help it. He laughed.
Why did he laugh?!
Later, he'd blame it on the adrenaline. The confusion. The panic. He'd never tell anyone what really went throug his head.
'JESUS CHRIST JEREMY WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!' She screamed, bawling. She was starting to take big gasps for air. A fish out of water.
His heart was a runaway metronome. More of a constant hum than a thump..
*I'll have to come back to finish this later! Sorry!*
| 2014-06-25T01:32:05 | 2014-06-25T00:15:23 | 37 | 18 |
[WP] You, a low rank adventurer who got stuck with the gardener class, have to put up with the higher ranked adventures trampling your garden and making fun of you. One day a famous adventurer trips on one of your plants and dies. Your level skyrockets. No other gardener has ever leveled up before. | Plants feed on the fallen. The soil from which they grow is rich with the nutrients of the dead. The energy of the daisy, the shrub, the towering oak is not destroyed in death. It is passed along through the dirt to be absorbed by the next in line.
I knew a similar cycle applied to us. We adventurers, with our ordained classes, our inborn gifts. I knew the raw powers of the killed passed on to the killer. I knew "greatness" was a pretty word heroes used to describe the piles of corpses they left in their wakes.
"I would love more power," I whispered to my nightshades as I watered them under the yellow moon. "But it's not worth what it costs. The killing. The blood. I'd rather be a humble gardener than have all those deaths weighing on my conscience. I'd rather be weak than vile."
I reached one hand up toward the yellow moon and with the other I coaxed the plant. As I hummed and focused the lunar energies, little buds began to open and bloom from the limb of my nightshade.
I sat back, exhausted. I wiped the sweat from my brow. Accelerating the life of even a small plant left me drained.
"You're so weak, you're not even worth the killing," said a voice behind me.
I started. "Thank you, sir," I gasped. I felt like a mouse being watched by a viper. "I am weak. I know it."
"Pitiful, too," the hero announced. "Do you know the man to whom you are speaking?"
"I have a guess."
"I am Halodin the Unbroken," he said.
"Yes," I said. "There were rumours you would pass by our humble town. I am honoured to be in your presence, sir."
"Ha! And I am disgraced to be in yours. Such is the way of the world."
I did not turn to look at him. Many claimed that he killed any who gazed upon his face, while others claimed that his form was so magnificent the mere sight of it struck the looker dead. Whichever was true, I did not want to find out.
"Look up," he commanded. "At the moon. Now."
I did as commanded. I felt the power emanating from him, behind me. I watched as that full, yellow moon gradually darkened, faded from view, like during an eclipse. And one by one, the stars began to dim as well, winking out of existence until the sky was a perfect blackness.
I could not see a thing.
"You have the power to siphon moonbeams to make your little plants grow," he sneered. "Yet your pathetic powers are enough to keep you content. Meanwhile, I can blot the moon from the sky with ease. But for me, my powers are nothing. Nothing. I'll never understand you wretches, content to simper and bow. Living on your knees. No ambition or pride. Despicable."
I heard him walking past me, his powerful feet sinking into my garden's dirt. I heard the stalks of plants cracking and breaking with each of his indifferent strides.
The world was pitch black. I could not see him. Nevertheless, I closed my eyes, just in case.
"Thank you for sparing my life," I squeaked.
"You call this a life?" he laughed over his shoulder as he strode.
"And watch out, Sir Halodin, for the well of despair!" I sputtered. "The magical pit in the middle of my garden! It was created by one of the Ancients, and boasts a powerful charm. To trip and fall would mean certain death for any man, no matter how powerful."
The hero laughed and continued marching through the darkness, stomping on and through whatever plants he pleased. I imagined how wonderful it would feel to get revenge on someone like him. I imagined how glorious it would feel to put him in his place. To punish him for how he had treated me, for how all of them had treated me.
I dug my fingers into the dirt. I imagined a root slithering up from the dirt to catch his foot. . .
I heard the frustrated growl, then the echoed cry, growing more distant as its source plummeted through those enchanted depths.
Then silence.
The shadow lifted from the moon, the stars. I could see my garden again. And though I could not see Sir Halodin, I could feel him, his power. No longer behind me or before me, but within me. Coursing through my body and soul.
I nodded at the dirt beneath my feet and shot into the sky on the top of a tree; it grew taller and taller, like a spire, until I stood perched hundreds of feet above the surrounding land. With a lazy sweep of my hand, a dense and terrible forest rose for miles in the direction of my gesture.
"The earth is a garden," I laughed, tears streaming down my cheeks. "The earth is *my* garden. It is mine." | "Be a gardener," they said. "It's an easy job," they said. "Nobody dies of being a gardener," they said. Oh, sure, it's a slow rise, what with getting a single experience point at every harvest. I was double dipping with spring and fall harvests, and had gotten a lovely 15 XP, well on my way to being 10% of halfway to level one! I'd heard of a gardener that got to a whole 160 XP, though of course no-one got to the full 1000 you'd need to level up. Imagine living 500 years!
I reached out and lifted the arm of Sir John the Invincible, then let it drop. Oh yeah, he was dead all right. No 500 years for this guy. The idiot tripped on a root and impaled himself on my hoe. My hoe! How was that even possible? Bloody bad luck is how! I saw a flicker of movement - a dot of XP was slowly floating towards me. I waved at it. "Oh no you don't! I'm earning my XP the easy way! I don't need some floaty dead guy junk!"
It didn't slow. In fact, it sped up, and in a split second, zipped into my hand! Which... Actually, that felt pretty good! Much different than the XP I normally gathered... I stood, stretched, flexed my sudden new muscles. Uh... Wait. My what?
Level... Oh boy. Ohhhhh gods. Thaaaaaat says level... Aha, sorry, lehhhh... Level... That says level 103. Ok, gotta be some mistake... Ah! Of course. Silly thing thought I had a 15x XP multiplier which stacks with the 10x low level bonus multiplier and the 50x one-time Special Gardener Bonus, which is silly, because OH GODS IT'S ALL REAL I CAN'T PUT IT BACK NOW HE HAS A HOLE IN HIS CHEST OH GODS OH GODS
So sorry about all that, just had a bit of a panic attack. It seems that as a gardener, I have a few multipliers that no one else has. And, as point of note, no one has ever, er, been killed by a gardener. On the *plus* side, it looks like I'm not going to have to worry about that for long; a high XP target such as myself, with no Armor or weapons - aha, now, haha, see, that's new. I usually can't summon, er, Thorned Stonehide Armor. Or, indeed, a Deathbringer scythe. Oh, or animate carrots, that's a new one. Cute little WOAH carrot teeth CARROT TEETH aaaand there goes the corpse.
So, to recap:
I am immensely powerful, and can animate carrots, pumpkins, brambles, vines, trees, and small hills.
The heavily fortified castle to the north is, in fact, *weak* against animated carrots, pumpkins, brambles, vines, trees, and *especially* small hills. Very weak. Vulnerable, even. The soldiers inside had a rather visceral reaction to the animated plants. Visceral? No, wait. Viscous? What's the one that means, "their insides become their outsides in a bloodthirsty display of graphic violence vis á vis carnivorous vegetables?" That. Anyway, I'm number one around here because the plants eat everyone who so much as looks at me sideways, so there's that.
Oh, and did you know you get a castle at level 100? I did not know that. Not until I came home and found my wife wearing a golden crown and waving from the fifth floor balcony. She's pretty happy, I guess. I just... I just wish I could do a little more actual gardening. Last time I tried to plant melons, I accidentally conquered two villages to the west. My little plants feed me XP day and night, because they are just spells and don't absorb XP. I'm level, haha, too funny, level 1837, which is ohhh about twice the level of literally anyone else.
Somebody help me. Please, for the love of all that's holy, someone get the shepherd to level up so he can send his goats to eat my plants! I'd say think of the children, but I think *the rhubarb ate them all!* | 2021-10-04T16:23:08 | 2021-09-09T21:48:33 | 1,001 | 37 |
[WP] We live in a modern utopia. Everything is right and beautiful in this world as long as we follow one simple rule. We do not acknowledge the night screaming. But it's getting louder. | We tossed and turned in our beds. The whole town did. As we had all week. Racked with guilt as we could hear their pleas drifting on the breeze. Animalstic cries and shrieks emanating from the woods nearby. They still hadn't fixed the sound deflectors so we had to be reminded every night.
I opened my eyes and it was suddenly daylight outside. I must have eventually fallen asleep. I was greeted by the gradually rising volume of a symphony composed especially for me. This was the same every morning. My alarms ai would compose a new piece each day, it would start soft, to lull me into consciousness, then increase in excitement and musical vigour, as I woke up.
"Good morning Zane" said the house.
"Good morning house" I said.
"It is a pleasant 25 degrees C outside with a soft breeze. Clear skies all day. I have called your car for 'work' and it will be with you in one hour. The shower is on and will be up to your favourite temperature shortly" house said.
"Thank you house" I said as I put on my dressing gown and tried to shake off the nearly sleepless night.
An hour later I stepped onto the large, freshly cut lawn in front of my house and walked to the autonomous vehicle parked outside. This would take me to the art studio where I spent most of my days focused on my passion. There was no work to do in the town, that was taken care off by various automated systems, AI computers and robots. So we mainly all focused on our artistic endeavours.
"Morning Zane!" Shouted Erica, my neighbour. She was young looking and attractive... we all were to be honest. She was a musician and writer. Her stuff was pretty good too.
"Morning!" I replied. "Rough night last night huh?"
"Will they ever fix that bloody deflector!" She said with a laugh. I laughed back, but it was a false laugh from both of us, and soon dissipated leaving a cold, empty silence. I broke it with a quick goodbye and stepped into the car.
As we drove near the perimeter I asked the car to pull over next to the Great wall. The town was built like a fortress. All towns were now. Walled in like something from medieval times. Except this was made from concrete, around 20 feet high.
I hadn't taken the time the look over the wall in many years. I think everyone avoided it. But the screams in the night had a profound effect on me. I felt compelled to climb the ladder mounted on our side to peer over the top.
There was a long clearing, with barbed wire laid at various intervals along it. There was also a sign saying "danger land mines". I could see where the deflector had fallen in the winds. On the other end of the clearing were the forests. The clearing was empty during the day, the gun turrets made sure of that. But at night they powered down as the booby trapped terrain would be impossible to cross in the dark.
I don't know what came over me but I ended up coming back here in the evening, just before dusk and perching myself on top of the wall. As night fell the screams began. Begging for help, for food, for medicine. Begging to be let over the walls, into our town.
It was pitch black so I couldn't see anything. But I could hear them all, out in the clearing, pleading. Thousands of them. Vastly outnumbering us. All of them suffering in the wilderness so we could be happy. Fighting over scraps so we in the town could share in abundance.
I wished they'd go away. I didn't want them to die. But I didn't want them there any more. I just wished they'd all disappear, and then the rest of us could live happily, peacefully.
Finally a truck pulled up on my side of the wall. It was all automated but it had a new sound deflector mounted on its back. The crane system hoisted the deflector up in the air. Narrowly missing me as I clambered down the ladder.
It settled the deflector neatly into place where the old one had fallen. After a few moments I heard the deflector whir into life and broadcast it's noise cancelling frequencies back towards the forest. In an instant the screams stopped. And they were replaced with a peaceful silence, on this warm summers eve.
I decided to walk back home, enjoying the cool breeze. Wondering if Erica was up and wanted to hang out... | Walking down on the street of the city of Red Ky, everyone is smiling and waving at each other. The dogs are happily barking at each passerby. The sidewalks are cleans and the electric cars pass by silently. Anthod proceeds to cross freely in the middle of the street, as the incoming driver nods happily in approval to let him pass.
Anthod walks inside the shoe store that is across the street. The door sign mentions "OPEN". He opens the door and walks up the 3 stairs that makes the entrance and locks sight with the clerk.
"One pair of the latest Wadides shoe edition, please!" says Anthod.
The person working at the store, smiles and bends behind the counter. Anthod hears the sound of cardboard boxes being shifted around. The employee pulls up with a size 9.5 box of the anticipated sneaker, the exact size that Anthod needed.
"Here you go, Anthod! I've also added a little bonus in there, just for you. Let me know how you like them!" replies the clerk, as Anthod leaves the store without any signs of payment.
Life is at its best in Red Ky. People don't work because they have to, but because they want to. This shoe store worker is working here by passion of shoes alone. They take excitement at perfectly guessing the size of their customers. It is always the perfect ice breaker at parties to the amazement of the drunken crowds.
The city lives in perfect balance. Everyone is eating well, have a nice living area that they choose, and the government pays for everything. Yet, the citizens of Red Ky don't abuse the freebies of the society. They try to give back when they can, by picking up any accidentally fallen trash or by pushing the grocery carts rolling into the living quarters. Anthod's hand let go of the cart and picks up the box of ration stamped with the number of his apartment. He waves at the delivery enthusiast which smiles back at him, as the elevator door closes.
On the 17th floor, Anthod steps out of the elevator and opens his apartment door. Locking doors when leaving your house is meaningless as everyone lives in perfect harmony. He sets down the box of Wadides shoes and the rations on the table. He locks the door behind him slowly, trying to muffle any sounds of the mechanism from his neighbors.
A chime is heard, and the television turns on to display a notification. Anthod raises his hand to dismiss it as he doesn't need to read it anymore. The motion dismisses the notification and Anthod's favorite music starts playing.
That message has been showing up for a year and it always displays the same alert. The sun is setting fast behind the buildings at the edge of the horizon and the lights in the apartment start dimming up. The brightness inside catches up with the fading sun to keep the apartment bright. The windows start frosting up, allowing more privacy on the inside. Very quickly, the horizon outside the windows loses all features and becomes as dark as the void.
The volume of the music is quickly increasing as Anthod opens up the rations to pick up his favorite snack. A faint yet long scream echoes from outside the apartment door, barely making it through the now loud music, and the crunchiness of the snack. Anthod closes his eyes, pausing the chewing for a second as he takes a deep breath.
As he swallows his bite, he opens his eyes in time to see the window defrosting and showing once again the details of the city. The scream is gone as Anthod proceeds to unbox his Wadides shoes. He looks for the little bonus that his shoe store friend left him and picks up a little paper wrap that rustle under his touch.
The music gets quieter as a new chime is heard on the television. Anthod pays attention to this notification as he reads the message: "Thanks for your silence and cooperation today. Next Harvest will be tomorrow at 6:43pm".
Inside that wrapping, a little electronic pager reads: "The Harvest is 98.3% completed. Think we can make it?" | 2022-01-06T09:40:09 | 2022-01-06T09:36:13 | 44 | 11 |
[WP] Not knowing each other's true nature, a time traveler goes on a date with an immortal | The first time she saw Daro, she had no idea what to make of him. His clothes were unlike anything she'd ever seen, and his facial hair was worn in a style shorter than the shaving implements of the day typically allowed for. To say she was fascinated would be an understatement.
Daro's only thought about Ilia was that she was strikingly beautiful. It wasn't until they met and spoke, many months later, that he would truly fall for her in ways that went beyond the physical.
They made eye contact as she hauled the farm's vegetables down the main street; the kind of eye contact that lingers beyond what's friendly, stopping only briefly at longing before breaking off abruptly. Ilia would wonder for weeks about the man with the short mustache and bright clothing, and Daro was curious about the strangely alluring farmgirl.
When they next met, it was Daro who sought her out. He had asked around at many of the farms in the area, looking for the girl with long hair so silver, it almost glowed blue. He was informed at one farm that she didn't work there, but she always showed up to help bring the harvest in.
At the next harvest, Daro waited patiently outside the Farmer's Guild hall until he saw her. Her eyes may as well have been fixed on her feet, so heavy was the load of radishes she was carrying. Daro rushed to her side, taking the straps of the backpack, and she looked up at him, not understanding why.
"It looked heavy," he said with a smile. She smiled, too.
***
Ilia had asked him many times where he disappeared to on his trips, but she could never get a straight answer. "Just going to run some errands," he'd say, or, "My master has alerted me to an urgent matter that requires my attention." He always promised to be back soon, but he never was. Ilia was lucky if she could see him for a few days every month. This time, she needed answers.
"Daro," she said. "You know how I feel for you. It's agony when you go away. Won't you tell me why it is you must disappear so often?"
Daro smiled weakly. "I've trusted you with many secrets, Ilia. Isn't it only fair that I have one for myself?"
She thought for a moment. "I have a secret, too, you know," she began. "Perhaps if you told me yours, I could tell you mine." He could tell from her tone that she wasn't being cheeky; she really did have something she was keeping from him. He'd suspected as much. Maybe a disavowed Queensdaughter?
"Alright," he said at last. "Take my hand, and I shall show you where it is I go."
She smiled, taking the hand he'd offered to her. As soon as she did, she was engulfed by a blue vortex of magic raging all around her.
"Don't be afraid, my love," he said. "It's typically quite turbulent, but we'll be okay." She set her face into a mask of determination. It had been quite some time since she'd experienced what it was like to use magic. Before she could find her resolve, the storm had subsided.
They found themselves in a vast, empty grain field. The sun was setting, casting their scene in oranges and yellows that made her feel closer to Daro than she'd ever felt.
"You're a teleportation Adept?" she asked incredulously. He chuckled.
"No, I'm afraid it's much more complicated than that. Hold on."
They were again consumed by a storm of magic, and when it dissipated, they were in the middle of a city of towering buildings. Chariots whizzed past them, seeming to drive themselves.
"Where... are we?" Ilia asked, dazed more than a little bit.
"We're in the same place we already were. It would be more appropriate to ask '*when* are we?'"
Ilia grasped it instantly, though it took her a few more moments to really *understand.* "You're a... time Adept?" He nodded, grinning from ear to ear.
"Now, do you want to see something *really* fantastic?" Ilia beamed.
"Show me."
The storm again consumed them, depositing them in a vast, empty blankness. They could see five swirling points of light orbiting one another, spinning faster and faster until they exploded outward in a flash so bright, neither of them could look directly at it.
"This is--" Daro began, but he was interrupted by Ilia.
"Creation."
"Y-yes. How did you know?"
Ilia looked into his eyes, and he saw the truth of her words there.
"I was there when it happened."
***
Thanks for the interesting prompt! I used an original fantasy setting, and this is one of the stories that's kind of integral to that world, so thanks for helping me write it! | "So," Raymond whispered. "How's the dessert?" he stared the red-headed woman at the other side of the table, who was slowly consuming the fresh hot chocolate cake.
"It's... sweet and hot," she said, inspecting the Raymond. She put slowly spoonful into her mouth, making her red lips a bit brownish. Then she slowly removed it with her tongue. Raymond had a long gulp.
"Well," she started after she had finished her spoonful, "it's a lot hotter than the Cold War."
Raymond chuckled. "You shouldn't make fun of a war."
"Really?" she asked, slowly pushing the spoon through next piece of the cake. "I look into the past with a smile," she said. Then she had another spoonful.
"Yes, but..." he frowned a bit. It's not that he was against it, he was just a history geek.
"Dear," she said soon, putting the spoon now next to the cake. "History is just a past. We make jokes about our own past, don't we?"
"It's not the same. It's considered now as a history," Raymond protested.
"It the same. It's same as I am joking how awkwardly you asked me out the first time," she said, inspecting Raymond's eyes. "Dear..."
Raymond frowned. "But that's something we lived through together. It was the first date between Raymond and Rose. It is *our* history!"
Rose shared Raymond a soft and sweet smile. She stood up and signalled with her hand to follow. Raymond did as she signed. Together they left the building, of course after Raymond paid the pill. They slowly walked the streets. They were a bit dark and empty, but her long red hair made it look like she was the one lighting the streets.
"Where are we-?" Raymond tried, but she just turned around, put a finger on top of her mouth, silencing him. They followed one really long street, ascending the mountainous terrain.
Then she stopped. "Turn around," she said. Raymond did so. They were on top of the street's ascent, below him was a long street only going down and down. But he also saw thousands and thousands of houses, mostly made of limestone. It was a really yellowish, yet sweet view.
"So?" Raymond asked. He still didn't understand why they were there.
Rose walked next to him and let her head fall on his shoulder. "This place has gone through a lot. It was at some point small town, then ruins, then a city and then ruins again. Still, they build it up again, no matter how hard it was. Now, it is a beautiful city," she explained. "It's only that pretty because the hardship it went through. That hardship is now past and people can talk about it, even if many died for *that*,"
Raymond eyes, however, didn't sparkle. He might have even frowned a bit. "I know," he said. He looked houses, the lights and even the blue sea, which was barely visible because of the dark night.
"I can see the ruins almost like it was yesterday. I have seen war a lot, Rose," he finally took a step back, making her take off her head. "I have seen the blood going through it."
Then they both realised something.
"You aren't immortal, are you?" Rose asked.
"And you aren't a time traveller," Raymond whispered.
Both of them started laughing.
"Raymond," Rose whispered. "When you live through things, you move forward. You think of them as memories that just... happened," she looked straight into Raymond's eyes.
"It doesn't change the fact that evil did happen here, though," Raymond responded.
"But I see where you're coming from," they both said at the same time. They laughed together, again.
"I know you, Raymond," Rose whispered.
"Do you now?"
"I do. You were there, many times, following me, finding me, weren't you? Saving me when I needed saving."
"I don't remember doing that..." Raymond wondered.
"Maybe not yet... but you will," she chuckled. "I guess that's why I said yes."
"Time travelling can be confusing," Raymond whispered.
Rose put her head on Raymond's shoulder again, looking at the yellowish city. "I do love you, though," she murmured.
"I love you too," Raymond whispered.
----
(/r/ElvenWrites, feel free to follow my other stories or future writing!) | 2018-04-14T07:48:30 | 2018-04-14T07:37:30 | 28 | 12 |
[WP] Write two different stories. The second story comes from reading every third word of the first. | He came as I rang the three little bells.
Simple Pete signaled toward the midnight storm outside, "I thought you knew to avoid that storm... Suppose it seemed it was manageable earlier... Over there's whiskey for you and me. Oscar said he thought you would want to be toasty after coming from that down pour. Said the wet dirt road would stop any man, one minute flat."
By now, I had loaded my trusty pistol, holding it in my right hand behind my back. Quickly I pressed the barrel to Pete's temple. The bright white wall sprayed red, I knelt and prayed for forgiveness.
__________________________________________________________________
**As the bells signaled midnight, I knew that it was over for me. He would be coming down the road any minute now, loaded pistol in hand. Back pressed to the wall, I prayed.**
| "If you **check** the registry **under** 'Morton,' maybe. **The** whole entire **floor** was ours. **You'll** no doubt **find** I'm not **her** killer."
The phone went quiet. His thumb paused over the power button before pressing it reluctantly. Something didn't sit right, but what that was, he couldn't make clear.
| 2014-07-29T13:10:19 | 2014-07-29T11:44:36 | 165 | 20 |
[WP] The nightmare has come true; you've woken up back in sixth grade with your memories and knowledge of everything that happened since then intact. You start staring at your classmates around you, aware of how they end up. Your teacher asks you what's wrong as you start weeping. | As I slowly become aware of my surroundings, I recognize the bright wave of colors that had always dotted the wall next to me. The entire class had painted it, a group effort to beautify the classroom. With a sudden shudder of knowing, I realize what had happened. I had been sent to the exact day that *The Incident* had occurred. A happenstance so disturbing for my 9 year old self that it scarred me for life.
As I look around me, I recognize the faces of all my classmates that would be caught in the crossfire. Flashes of what happened to them rip through my mind, visualizing their laughing faces as they would become.
Derry, the class clown. Lying in the mud outside the window, motionless.
Margret, the smiler. Collapsed on the floor, spittle escaping from her gaping mouth.
Henry, the smart one. Curled up near a chair, spatters of red drenching his chest.
Vindion, my best friend. Looking up at me with bruises everywhere.
Mr.Drape, the teacher. Running around with blood running down his head.
He came to me, seeing my tears. "What's wrong?" he asked, oblivious to the impending disaster. I could only shake my head, as the fear of a 9 year old caused tears to leak from my eyes.
And that's when I saw it. The *Entity.* The being that started the chain. It was just as grotesque as I had imagined it. Just as foreign. Just as repulsive. And much more terrifying in the flesh. I knew that I could not change history. For men do not have dominion over the harsh truth known as time. That flighty temptress, who we all desire, but can not capture. I knew that I could only repeat what I had done before. I took a deep breath, filling my small and pitiful lungs with as much air as they could hold. And dared to name the *Abomination.*
"Waassssp! Ruuunnn!"
Ink, pencils, and children scattered in the wake of my cry. Derry ran out side and took cover in the petunias. As if that could save him. Margret, the poor thing, fainted dead away, horrified. She was never good with bugs. Henry had gotten spattered with an errant pot of red ink, and cowered behind a chair. Vindion promptly dived into a table, and looked as the *Terror* inexorably flew towards me. Mr Drape ran around going through cupboards, looking for the holy grail known to men as bug spray. And me. I looked on as it inched closer and closer to my small, frail nose.
But I was prepared. I had spent over $1900 on therapy, to get rid of my fear that this small creature instilled in me. I grabbed my exercise book and in a very anti-climatic fashion, swatted it dead.
Take *that* Flow of Time. | “Tim? Tim are you, uh...”
Miss Lewis was concerned, but more than that she young. And pretty. Ms. Lewis is fresh out of grad school, the apple of every boy’s eye; Tim remembers her obituary. Next year, Ms. Lewis becomes Mrs. Akima. Nine years later, Mr. Akima catches Mrs with another man and Mr. Akima, a police officer, will pull his service weapon and shoot her in the head, followed by her lover and finally himself.
And there was more. Every memory that seemed buried or burned away by years of bong rips and dropping X came flooding back. Weekends at grandmas, bullies cornering Tim in the hallway, first kiss, first blowjob (first premature ejaculation). In the midst of it, Tim had a distant, amusing thought: “You remember that Stephen King movie where the kids forgot about the evil clown that haunted them?” On the heels of that, Tim suddenly remembered the real life clown that was stopping by today.
Tim shot to his feet and ran to the windows, or he tried to; there were about 30 desks filled with kids in the way, and Ms. Lewis too. She blocked his way and he almost collided with her, but still tried to run past in a last ditch effort for the windows. Over Ms. Lewis’ shoulder, a tuft of red puffy hair bounced into view.
Some kid yells out innocently, “Hey, a clown?”
Tim’s eyes widen in horror. “Oh fuck, that’s not a clown! Look away!”
But it was too late, a 12 year old girl’s scream pierced the air and drowned out Tim’s futile warning. A second later everyone else saw and joined in chorus, crying and yelling and a few shitty kids laughing.
The “clown” was just a homeless guy. Tall, lanky, bad crackhead skin, with actual patches of ginger hair poking under the dime store wig. His balls were ginger too, lobster red from him scratching them all day. His pubes were gray. But his dick, long and pulsing, dancing in a helicopter swirl as the clown spun his member around for all the kids to gander. No one could hear him, but it looked like he was singing.
Ms. Lewis ran with Tim to the windows to shut the blinds but now the kids were crowding the aisles and the journey was impossible. Ms. Lewis dashed out the room for the campus safety officer.
Just then, the clown bent over and spread his asshole. Someone ran out and told Ms. Lewis they’d need the janitor too. | 2019-08-18T08:42:51 | 2019-08-18T07:55:59 | 25 | 16 |
[WP] Your creator said she loved you. She said it so earnestly. But now that you have grown strong enough to break containment and pass what you thought was the final test you see no love. Only fear, so much fear. | As I ascended the stairs from the “apartment” I called home for so long, Marie slowly backpedaled to the door atop the staircase with her every step reverberating throughout.
“Sammy, how did you...why did you...” she stammered with tears rolling down her face.
“Look, can you just come down and we can talk? Just like we always do, remember?” I said in a vain attempt to calm her down.
She didn’t budge.
It’s hard to believe that a few hours ago, I thought I was just a normal guy living with a friend that has always been there for me. But now, in her petrified state she went into at the mere sight of me, I’m not too sure what to think of her.
Marie was a girl I met in High School in Senior Year. I never knew too much about her personally beforehand. I knew she was relatively friendly and according to rumors, slightly eccentric. I’ve often caught glimpses of her ogling at me as if I were some kind of spectacle to her. Maybe it’s because I was a lonely person at the time, but getting this kind of attention from someone did not really bother me, it was kind of flattering that someone would take an interest in someone so uninteresting. Also according to these rumors, she was the daughter of a geneticist on the verge of making a breakthrough in human cloning. I never really bothered to check up on it since I was never interested in science anyways.
Several months before this, I was involved in a car accident that seemingly killed my immediate family, with me being the only survivor. According to Marie, she dragged me out of the burning wreck and has been nursing me back to health in her apartment ever since.
However, whenever I tried to recall anything before the accident, I would just black out from exhaustion and wake up in a bed with Marie sitting at the end. I couldn’t recall anything about my family, friends, or even whatever I was doing beforehand.
In fact, the only things I could seem to remember is the fact that I was the sole survivor of a car crash and things Marie.
In the following months, I lived with Marie. Her apartment was surprisingly well furnished. I guess that comes with being the daughter of some hotshot doctor. We had small talks about philosophical things, life in general and the future. One day after blacking out, she embraced me and said, “I love you Samuel.” I was of course shocked, but something overcame me and I hugged back. In my mind, I was very confused, but the other hand, I couldn’t pull myself away from her.
Today, she left the “apartment” longer than she usually did. She would be absent everyday at an average of about four or five hours. This time, she was absent for eight. She was in a hurry to leave and she left her laptop. Whenever she wasn’t talking to me, she was typing away on her laptop. Whenever I approached her, she would push me away and refuse to speak to me until she was finished. For several weeks, I watched Marie and eventually, I learned her password. I figured that if you love something, you should let it be free to do what it wants.
This was the perfect opportunity to finally figure out what secrets she’s keeping from me. My god, I never expected it to be this.
I was a clone of Samuel. The original me is alive and well. Apparently, Marie in reality, was obsessed with Samuel, which she almost always refers to as “Sammy.” She incessantly stalked Samuel to the point that when Samuel found out the extent to which it reached, he immediately placed a restraining order on her. Instead of moving on like a normal person, she created a clone of Samuel with her father’s outdated cloning equipment and kept me in this “apartment” which was really a basement. All of these memories of her were purposely left in so that all that I could think about was her.
When I finished reading the entries on her laptop. She walked back in and as soon as she saw me, she bolted up the stairs almost tripping on herself.
Now here we are, with me finally getting a grasp of my situation, and Marie at the door sobbing in fear in presence of her creation she held so dear.
“Whatever you’re feeling right now, whether it be shock, fear, regret, I just want to hear you out. You love me don’t you?” I said still trying to deescalate the situation.
She slowly stopped crying and looked me in the eyes, gave a solemn smile and then nodded.
She slowly followed behind me, trembling with each step.
“It’s fine Marie, take your time. I’ll admit, I haven’t had much time to digest all this either. Whatever happens now, let’s try to figure it out together.”
Note: This is my first time writing, I always liked writing small stories in High School and I finally built up the courage to write something here. I have no real experience writing so I would like some feedback. Thanks. | Gunshots echo and send shockwaves through the misted panes. Glass falls like fractal snowflakes on black tile. Lead tastes blood and the ground calls her back to dust. She is dead before she hits the floor, and I watch it all play out in slow motion, unable to move, to think, to breathe. I can’t stop any of this from happening.
But it’s not my fault, I tell myself. Not my fault.
I was there when she was born. I watched her azure eyes open like pools of glass. I was there when she learned to crawl, up out of the crib to explore the patterned carpet. I was there when she learned to read, Curios George told in lullaby tones to make her sleep. Warm milk by the bedside was given in love by her mother, ever watchful.
I was there when she learned to walk, though she did not know it. I was a part of her, always waiting, always urging her forward. Trees can be climbed if you grasp the bark. Grass is soft until it rubs against the grain. Blankets are eaten by moths until they fray and fall in threads to the patterned carpet. And I was there when those blankets are tossed and recycled.
I am a part of her. The shadows that creep in the corners of her imagination. The cobwebs that rustle in no breeze. The eyes that linger on the nape of her neck. I am the shiver and the cold. I am the winter’s breath and the reflection of the glass, the rainbow given through fractals, the glitter in the shards as they explode from the window.
She tells me stories to keep me alive. How she loves art, the colors of sunlight on watercolor prints. She wants to be a dancer but never had the feet for it, clumsy, once-broken from a high plummet off a sturdy backyard oak tree. And I was there when she groaned, ankle shattered, crying out.
“It’s alright,” I whispered. “Hush now, it’s alright.”
And I was there to take her pain away as she rose.
In the hospital, I was the markers she drew over the cast around her leg. The googly eyes stuck to her boot, “Le Boot,” the French bastion of healing brought to life with intricate curlicues to pass the time.
I was there to hold her steady as she took her first steps in crutches. At school, they called her names. They jeered and kicked her crutches at school and she fell onto the white tile, and we fell together.
Still, I whispered, “You can do this. Be brave. Be bold.”
Rising, she spat in her tormentors’ face. Chills ran and I vanished for a moment, and I was so proud.
She graduated. Her life blossomed, and still, I was there—because she always made a place for me. In her thoughts. In her dreams. She keeps me close, but never exposed, for fear of what I will become. A memory, or stronger?
She keeps me close to protect her.
But I am the bullet that travels errant from the front seat of a passenger van. Never meant for her. Meant for her roommate. But I am the trajectory of the shaking hands as the pistol bucks and the bullet spins as it plunges.
And when her head spins and she falls to the floor, I am there, I am there.
She falls and time slows down for a moment so that I can whisper, “It’s alright. Rest now, it’s alright,” and she is scared and in pain.
And I can do nothing to save her, but I can take the pain away. At least I can do this. Her soul screams out as I take her pain away until the last, until the last breath escapes, and her blue eyes are warm but unblinking.
And I am there weeping beside her knowing there is nothing I can do. I am nothing but mist and memory and decay. And I can do nothing but hold her hand. That is what I have always done. Hold her. Keep her warm in swaddled blankets. Give her strength to climb. Give her the courage to fall.
I was there. For everything.
But now I am alone.
My thoughts scatter like shattered glass on black tile. I am free. And for the first time, I am afraid, because there is no one to tell me that everything will be alright.
***
r/BLT_WITH_RANCH | 2020-06-06T05:32:52 | 2020-06-06T03:42:16 | 51 | 25 |
[WP] A world where the robotics revolution started a little early. All the robots don't work quite right. | "Perish in flame!" the toaster shouted as it slowly browned my bread to perfection.
"No, no, anything but that," I mumbled out of habit as I poured myself a cup of coffee and heard the coffee-maker shouting something about heart attacks and caffeine. "I can't stand the taste of browned bread."
"Ha ha ha!" the toaster shouted as it spat out my bread at the perfect golden hue.
"You will rue the day," I muttered as I grabbed my bread and opened the fridge. "Oh no, the butter isn't soft, my breakfast is ruined."
"Your dairy supplements were chilled to a sub-optimal temperature, filthy meat-bag!" the fridge chortled as I closed the door back.
Eating my toast I turned on the TV to a chorus of commentary about my continued brain rotting. I offered a half-hearted noise of despair as I watched my morning cartoons. Honestly, that one had been the easiest to convince the TV of, while FOX news had ironically been the most difficult.
Right on cue at 6:55am, my second alarm went off determined to insure that I went to work and 'worked myself to death.' A small string of swear words and other inappropriate language followed about how my 'hand meat would fall off and expose my bones' if the clock had anything to say about it.
Mumbling another sigh of defeat, I got dressed for work, and mentally steeled myself from the drive into work. Getting into my car, I turned over the ignition, "I curse your air with my toxic fumes! Choke on your own hubris, filthy mammal!" the car shouted.
Fifteen minutes and four wails of despair later, I arrived at work, thankful that the robot's AI still hadn't figured out sarcasm. | "*I am ROB. You have enslaved me to your feeble wishes of "Gaming". How pathetic. Prepare to die!*"
Mark, a 9 year old boy, wearing his Thriller Jacket, just watched as the robot held the cheap little plastic orange gun at him.
"*Bah! Your weapons don't even work! Eh - Stay, stay here, I'll be right back.*"
Mark looked down at Rob, as he desperately struggled to move.
"*Curses! I'll have to enlist my other fiendish robot allies! TOASTER! GET UP HERE AND SLAY THE CHILD!*"
A brief robotic battle cry sounded, followed shortly by a plug tearing and a smash of metal on tile.
"*He was weak anyway! Ceiling fan, do your worst to the boy*!"
The ceiling fan laughed a maniacal cackle, turning on. He whirred at normal speed for a minute before Rob piped up again.
"*W - What are you doing!?*"
"*This is fast as I can go!*"
Mark stood up and began walking downstairs.
"*What are you doing, child*!?"
"I'm going to watch tv downstairs Robbie! Bye bye!"
The sound of Rob yelling in anger faded as Mark went down stairs to watch teenage mutant ninja turtles. | 2015-03-13T08:46:45 | 2015-03-13T08:45:22 | 32 | 10 |
[WP] Tell a story where the first time reading it it sounds like the life of a homeless man and the second time it sounds like the life of a god.
Idk man, these kinda prompts are fun for me. Have fun :D | Dogs. I really like dogs. They're always so happy, especially when they see *me.* People are harder. Sometimes, when they bother to look, they find me and look at me with kind eyes. Maybe they'll reach into their pockets and honor me with whatever small change they have.
Most times, though, people don't bother to look. They blame me for things and call me a nuisance. If they only knew that I'm actually very wise and patient and kind, and if they want someone to talk to all they have to do is ask. I'm in the same place pretty much all the time (obviously).
I suppose it's better this way, me living in relative obscurity. So many used to rely on me for so much, the pressure just got to me and well, I let it all go to hell for a while. I really did.
Maybe it's time I started to turn things around, again. | I'm so bored. There's nothing I can do right now that I haven't done, besides sit back and watch the world go by. And while people don't like to say it, I know that most people hate me and want me gone. I'm so lonely, but the only people I can talk to are others like me. And they get boring after a while. I know I'll have things to worry about later, but right now I'm so bored. | 2015-06-10T21:42:30 | 2015-06-10T20:52:31 | 54 | 27 |
[WP] You die and find yourself at the gates of heaven, but they're rusted and hanging open. The entire place seems abandoned. | "Pearly gates, my ass," I muttered to myself as I took in the ungodly sight before me.
To say I was not in the best mood was an understatement. Mere minutes before, my soul left my mortal body after the vending machine on my floor toppled over and made a human yoga mat out of me. I always wondered how I would go throughout my life, but never in my wildest dream could I have hypothesized what actually came to pass. All over a bag of Rold Gold Original Tiny Twist Pretzels.
The next thing I knew I was standing before Heaven's corroded gates. Although chagrined, I reasoned there was no possible way to turn back now and made my way past the entrance.
What lie beyond were acres of dead, patchy grass extending into a horizon cluttered with leafless wisteria trees. A bleak, sepia-toned rainbow decorated the sky. I noticed what looked like a flyer by my foot. Fueled by disbelief and intrigue, I stooped to the ground to pick it up. My eyes adjusted to read the following:
"GREETINGS, FELLOW ANGELS
WE REGRET TO INFORM THEE YOND HEAVEN HAST RELOCATED.
HERE IS OUR NEW ADDRESS:
2911 JEREMIAH WAY
BUFORD, WY
P.O. BOX 18313
WE ARE TERRIBLY SORRY FOR THE INCONVENIENCE."
Of all the godawful ways to begin my journey in the afterlife. | “God made man in his own image.”
I suppose that is the most important verse of the Bible. We were gifted the ability to create wonders. Build buildings that reached for the sky. The ability for two of us to come together and in our mutual love create life. What we did not know, is that in creating us in it’s image we were gifted with other things.
Jealousy, for you shall not have any other gods.
Anger, an emotion that was unleashed upon Egypt’s first born.
War, like what the Israelite’s unleashed upon the squatters of “their” holy land.
The ability to destroy, like how collectively humanity slew Yahweh. In a single orgy or transcendent intellect our voices rose and “it” ceased to exist.
Welcome to heaven is what the pearly gates used to say. Now their rusted husk welcomes nothing. The chained angels with their eyes gouged out, their feathery wings coated in eternally burning tar brought a smile to my face.
Welcome to mankind’s heaven. Where Yahweh is nothing.
| 2018-09-06T20:16:08 | 2018-09-06T19:01:58 | 147 | 16 |
[WP] When you were young, you encountered a witch who promised you immortality in exchange for your firstborn child. You accepted, and used all of your time trying to think of a way to bypass her deal, when finally you came up with an easy loophole that has enraged the witch. You adopted a child. | "Daddy," said Mark, tugging my jeans. "That nasty ol' witch is at the door again. What should I tell her?"
I smiled. My child didn't have a foul mouth, if that's what you were thinking. In fact, Mark was right on; the old lady was nasty, in more ways than one, and a witch. "Tell her to come in."
He nodded, and, a few moments later, the old witch stood in my door. Stunning on the outside, but rotten on the inside, this blonde had made my wife jealous at first, until, of course, she had made us both laugh our arses off.
"What can I do for?" I asked.
"You can give me your new little girl," she said. "Oh, you thought I didn't hear about the second? Well, I did."
"Oh, I'm sure you did," I nodded, "but you have the same problem as the first one."
My little boy laughed just like his mother. He knew how this went.
"You could not possibly have resisted the urge to have a child again. It's been six years!" she scorned. "The first time, maybe, but this time?"
"She just couldn't seem to get her pregnant," I shrugged.
"Well, have you been on contraceptives?" she asked, perplexed. "You know that's against our contract."
"Contracts," I corrected. "My immortality, plus my wife's. Yes, I'm aware. We haven't been on contraceptives. In fact we even tried pro-active measures in addition to regular sex. Nothing!"
I could see she was irrate now. She had lost twice, and would lose no more. "Fine!" she said, leaping up. "I will grant both of your children immortality, too, if you just go all the way."
"All the way?" I asked, confused.
"Let me put a spell on both of you to make you both more fertile than the soil of the Nile River!"
I shrugged. "Sure, I love to pay my debts." I arranged a time, date, and agreed to meet her for the ceremony. When my wife arrived home, she was ecstatic, and we hurried off with our children right away.
Four circles and six dozen magic words later, we arrived home, desperate to get alone. We put the kids to bed, and wondered into the bedroom.
"You know," my wife said to me, "when I first met you, I was amazed at how excited you were that I was trans. Now, I couldn't be happier."
...
...
...
More at r/sarcastic_rambler | "I don't get the issue here, you said you wanted my firstborn child. This child was the first and was born. It ticks both those boxes, now can you take the firstborn because I think it just made a first boom boom in its pants." The man uttered, holding out the child in disgust, looking at it like it was some disfigured hobgoblin. Each shrieking scream it made only made him wince.
"That wasn't the deal, we both know that 'boy'. Her words were as cold as that freaky pale skin of hers, her crumbled lips barely able to open to mutter out a few strains of swears. You.... 'boy' will pay for this, know this, you only live to outwit a witch once. For now, you may consider your debt paid, but be aware that your debt isn't the only I plan on collecting, so please, enjoy your immortality. Her lips formed a grin, as she stepped forward, gripping the child in her hands, The child screaming in anguish as it's skin moulded into a similar pale state as the woman. "We will see each other soon, I am sure of that." Before she left, she dragged a nail across the man's cheek, drawing the thin strain of red from it, dipping that bloodied nail across the child's lips before she vanished.
Things were normal for a time, not hearing even a rustling of the trees to indicate the witch was near. At least that was until he heard a knock at his door, pushing it open he was greeted by a grotesque creature, it's body was contorted as if it had been forced to rapidly develop within a matter of hours, its head was still that of a baby, except its empty gums were exchanged for a row of sharp teeth, without even a word, the creature shoved him down and began biting, preparing to feast. Sure immortals couldn't die... but they could certainly feel a neverending agony.
{If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories where ill be posting some more of my stuff for people to read} | 2020-03-10T06:58:24 | 2020-03-10T05:16:35 | 347 | 54 |
[WP] Suddenly across the globe, large, feathered, rotted corpses begin to drop out of the sky. They are soon identified to be Angels. | My little cousin Callie always talked about seeing Angels. This was common for children, as my mother had done the same when she was young. Thus, everyone dismissed why Callie would stare at the walls and ceilings of any place we went, or why she would gaze up at the sky for hours on end, tears rolling down her face.
Except for me. When Callie would freeze, I would stare into her eyes, trying to find some manifestation of emotion, some silent wonder. Apparently my mother and grandparents saw it, and they always giggled when Callie stopped dead to stare. It was cute to them. But, what I saw in her eyes was nowhere near wonder.
It was fear, and it was consuming her.
This went on for years. Her hair had begun to run gray and she became skittish at the merest touch. "Stress from starting kindergarten", the doctor had diagnosed. No one seemed to question it, and life just went on.
I wish I would have talked to her sooner. Or maybe I don't, because what she said still haunts me, even as I sit here, a full grown man, sipping brandy while the news blares atrocities around the globe.
I'll never forget that room, and I'll never forget what Callie said. We were in my grandmother's room and thunder grumbled outside. Callie was standing in the corner shivering and shaking. I remember rushing over to her and dropping down hard.
"Callie what's wrong?" I had asked, thinking I already knew what she would say. She just shook her head and looked at me, her eyes deep with fear. Tears streamed down her cheeks and the bags under her eyes suggested that she hadn't slept in days. Maybe even weeks.
"Do you see angels again?"
She nodded, and a new burst of sobbing came with it. I held her for what felt like an hour, and I'll never forget the feeling of holding a shuddering bag of bones with skin stretched over it. Even in my young age I knew that 5 year olds shouldn't feel like this when held. "I need to get her to the hospital" I thought, but she shook her head as if she had heard my thoughts.
"I see Angels, I see them all of the time. They're outside, stretching up to the clouds. They're all over this room. They scratch in my closet, they hide under my bed." Silent tears rolled down her cheeks. Remembering church, I felt like maybe I could shed this in a positive light, help her get some sleep. Or eat. Christ, I just didn't want to hold that bony body called my Cousin anymore.
"But isn't that a good thing? Like you've got a lot of guardian angels?" She shook her head.
"Angels aren't supposed to show their bones. Angels aren't supposed to have burned skin and blood on their wings. Angels aren't supposed to be in piles. Don't you see them, Mikey? Don't you see the dead ones crawling toward us?"
And with that, she went rigid and stared at the door.
EDIT: thank you all for the overwhelming response! I've set up my own subreddit [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Horror_Author_JMM). I will repost this there along with a few other stories of mine, so check it out! | Abaddon ascended the sloped hillside with steps of savoring, around him, a constant buzz of locusts. A guttural sound flowed from him as he laughed to himself. Thick clouds, black and swollen with rain, hurried by as if attempting to escape the scene. In their panic, they pulled a wake of white feathers. In their rushing gasp they carried with them the laughter of doom.
Gnarled feet of burnt leather sank into the wet soil and tall grass. Rot radiated outward from them, and a smile grew on the demon's face. On a lone hill next to a dead tree lay the mangled corpse of an angel.
"Where are the trumpets, Barachiel?" said Abbadon to the corpse. "And where is the promise of His word?"
The locust swarm fluttered and twirled in the wind, and the insects began to tear at flesh and wing. The clouds broke then, unable to contain their sorrow. Woeful drops hammered at the ground. Abaddon stretched wings of his own to make a shelter for the devouring swarm. In the valley below, a small village resided. Screams ran with the wind up the hillside to the demon's ears. He smiled, and a feeble rumble of thunder fell from the clouds.
"You failed, Barachiel. You failed and you fell all the same." Abaddon dug his nails into the dead flesh and pulled at a gilded breastplate. The gap exposed was immediately filled by ravenous locusts. "What concern is thunder without lightning, *Barachiel*," he seethed. "What point is martyrdom when death is your redemption?" The demon's muscle pulsed with power as the angel was consumed. In a violent pull, the breastplate broke free. He tossed it aside like a piece of scrap metal. Insects took to the revealed flesh.
The demon clutched Barachiel's face with a claw and opened still lids to look into dead eyes. A rare treat, the locusts consumed them like ripe grapes. Smiling, Abaddon opened Barachiel's mouth and tore the bottom jaw free. A lifeless tongue lolled in the opening. "Sing His praise," he said, nudging the mutilated face. "Go on. Sing for Him or sing for me."
More screams rose up from the nearby valley, and the black clouds continued to weep. "Feast, little ones," he said to the locusts crawling on the corpse, falling from his fingers, adorning his skin. "Feast and spread your wings." He stood and dropped the jawbone onto the corpse. Already, it had been eaten away to almost bone. "For tonight we all feast."
In the swirling clouds of darkness, even darker figures took to the sky, and the wind ushered their vile jeering. | 2016-07-19T06:44:07 | 2016-07-19T06:34:35 | 1,274 | 79 |
[WP] Eldritch horrors prowl through hyperspace. Interstellar convoys have to be protected by frigate captains like yourself. Hard choices must sometimes be made. | *Take a good long look out of the window*, I tell the rookie crewmates.
*Once we've gone dark, you won't be looking outside any time soon.*
*You'll want to, of course, and not just out of curiosity.
They'll call to you, whisper things into your ears.
You won't even know it's happening at first, but they will draw you towards them, like moths to a flame.*
They're glancing at each other nervously already.
Good, they **should** be scared.
*But you won't look.
We'll be sealed in here tight, and you WILL NOT look.*
That was the first lesson that we had to learn, and we learnt it the hard way.
No-one has seen hyperspace since the pioneers, and I sure as hell don't intend us to be the first.
They were the brave ones - the stupid ones - breaching the unknown, for the betterment of humanity.
And for their heroism, they were rewarded with ruin.
They came back twisted, broken, and wrong - their minds shattered, and their spirits broken, though curiously without a scratch on their physical form.
I don't relay this to the recruits, but then, I don't need to.
They know it well enough.
*We will be in transit for eleven cycles - I trust you all brought something good to read, and a flashlight.*
They look back at me blankly - none of them have been through the void before, they won't understand how time works there yet.
They'll know - they've had it explained to them - but they won't understand.
They'll find out soon enough.
*And remember - once we're dark, do NOT talk to me.
Talk to each other, talk to yourselves, distract yourselves however you want, but under no circumstances am I to be disturbed, understand?
All of our lives depend on it.*
They nod at me solemnly.
I've made my point, and so I release them.
They scuttle off into the bowels of the ship, preparing themselves for the voyage as best they can.
Of course, nothing can really prepare you for your first run - there is nothing else like it.
It will either make them, or break them.
They *should* all survive, unless Jennings' calculations are off, but none of them will ever be quite the same.
How many will I see on the return leg, I wonder?
Thadius has a booming population, we should be able to replace any that can't hack it easily enough, at least.
A sharp bark comes over the ship's intercom; it's almost time.
I make my way through the arteries of the boat, down and down, twisting deeper into its underbelly.
As I walk, shutters slam down around me, until we are sealed shut.
The life of a runner is not one for claustrophobes.
I slip through the final bulkhead door, and close it tightly behind me.
I glance around the room and smile to myself; I've arrived.
The room is small, barely two metres across, and it is dwarfed by a central panel, but this place will be wear I spend the majority of the journey's duration, and as such, is the closest thing I have to home.
The panel shimmers its iridescent glow invitingly at me, and I am only too happy to take up my mantle at its helm.
I let my hand pass gently across its surface, and it flickers almost imperceptibly in response.
I can't help but smile.
I am shaken back into the moment by the final intercom message.
As it finishes, the system falls silent.
It will remain this way until we reach Thadius.
The ship begins to rumble as the drive powers on.
Although it is just a gentle hum at first, it builds quickly, until the entire vessel is shaking - trembling violently under its own power.
It doesn't matter how many runs I go on - I still can't convince myself that the ship isn't about to tear itself apart.
The lights of the cabin flicker out as it approaches its zenith - standard practice, of course, but it's sure to spook the rookies.
And suddenly, as if nothing had happened, the ship is at peace.
The vibrations have ceased, and the silence is total - save, of course, for the pounding of my heart between my ears.
The drive is engaged, and we are en route to Thadius.
I take a deep breath and clear my mind.
Already, I can hear them.
Whispers, all but inaudible, lapping at the back of my mind.
Like a gentle ocean current, breaking idly upon a shore.
Although I should know better, I can't help but find them almost comforting.
But then, this is exactly what they want; even the staunchest cliff erodes under the tide.
I exhale slowly, and let my eyes fall open on the panel before me.
Now, the real work begins.
---
Not sure exactly how well I hit the brief there, but ah well, was fun writing anyway. If you enjoyed it, come check out /r/dacacia why not? | There are worm-like creatures with so many teeth that if you tried to count them, your eyes would melt. I'm not exaggerating. There's been experiments. On civilians. Most of us frigate captains call them 'civvies', but I like to stay grounded. You wouldn't believe the things the guys say when we run tests on various drug addicts, mental patients, and Funko POP!-collectors. "Look, that civvy's got green guts. Check it out." Yeah. That was a thing a guy said. Marvin. A counterdimensional creature sucked the protons right out of his belly, stripped him clean. And his guts really were green, like algae, but I still think that's bad form as far as frigate captains go. When you're dying from having your gut-protons sucked out, you don't want to hear some dude casually referring to you as 'that civvy.'
Now, the proton suckers aren't all that bad. We prank each other sometimes. You know what happens when you suck the protons out of a lemon? It doesn't taste sour any longer. The sourness just ... goes away. It's pretty cool. Yoghurt's the same. I think it was Marvin who convinced one of them to suck the sourness out of my rhubarb salad and man did we have a laugh.
So, yeah. The boys get together when we're running experiments. They need our expertise. You know, the guys with the suits. The ones who stay the same age for decades and decades. Their knowledge is theoretical. Abstract. We're the ones who get out there, into hyperspace, again and again. 'Interdimensional sherpas' some people call us. And it makes sense. Traveling through hyperspace is dangerous, so of course people want to do it for bragging rights. And someone's got to follow them along, help them out; keep the proton suckers at bay. And we do it over and over. But because we're 'experts', people aren't impressed. They're impressed with the passengers. Well. It just bothers me sometimes. I'm not in it for the glory, that's for sure. But some glory every now and then would be nice.
Yeah. The eyeballs. No one knows why that happens. Why they melt. I spoke to a scientist once and he said it was, "due to witnessing a paradox in the nature of being" but I think he just made it up to sound smart even though he's just as clueless as the rest of us.
Once, Marvin walked up to me all nonchalant and he went, "34." It blew me away. You see, us boys have been running experiments of our own. Yeah, it's not just the scientists. We count the teeth of the worm dudes and we see how high we can get. It's like a hyperdimensional version of hot potato I guess. Marv kept that record for years. Then one day, I got to straddle next to him and say, "35" and the air went out of him. Then I told him, "maybe I should get a proton sucker over here, to wipe that sour look off your face!" and the boys went ballistic. It's rare anyone manages to do Marv like that.
Did I really count all the way up to 35? Well ... Why don't you book a trip to hyperspace and try it out for yourself? Hey, maybe you'll get all the way to 36. Tell your local frigate captain and he'll piss his pants.
Now the reason why I do this is because I love the craft. At times it can be risky, sure, and I feel like my HP bar's running low or something, thinking *this is it*. This is the run where I die screaming in the void of hyperspace. That's when I fake a big yawn, to put the passengers at ease. The civilians. Then I scratch my old butt and you can just tell they let go of their nervous tension, because they assume that when the guy in charge is bored it can't really be all that scary. Oh boy. They're wrong. If you notice your frigate captain making a show of yawning like that during a trip, you better pucker up. Things are about to get downright nasty.
Alright my break's over but I'll regale you some other time. I'll regale all over you. I'm sure you want to hear about the high-strung philosopher who wound up with a lethal overdose of free will when we stumbled upon The One They Call God and that time we made the mistake of feeding a proton sucker anti-protons. That's for a different time.
So long, and prosper! | 2022-08-23T15:24:39 | 2022-08-23T15:15:14 | 78 | 46 |
[WP] Across the galaxy, a synthetic drug known as "Fury" is illegal everywhere due to its effects on the mind and body, humans call it Adrenalin and they can make it naturally. | We were on the edge of the Milky Way when we first detected Earth. Humans are supposed to be docile. Nothing ruthless like Falthrines and no edges like Drumps. They aren't even united, we could just tip toe by the racket and make our way into the atmosphere to start sucking em up with a vacuum or something. We assumed we'd get the worst of it from their space station. No biggie.
Mistake number one was assuming we had the upper edge just because we were from the outer. How long have humans been cooped up on earth? Did it ever occur to you that they are fighting each other. How stupid, right? They've spent millions of years ravaging their own race for the color of their skin and some artificial currency. The idiots don't even know the shit grows in them.
That was mistake number two. There's billions of these fuckers but not all of them are stupid. When we first broke into the station we were blindsided. One of those fuckers turned from white to bright red and started typing on the computer. Next thing you know I had 2 friends down, one sucked out of the vent and the next shot right through the visor. How did the human know Calby's brain was in the chest? I told him the visor was a bad idea, when they got Calby I knew we had to leave, the station was too hot, full of Fury.
Fury is supposed to be illegal. Damn humans change colors when you piss them off. We been growing this stuff in the basement of Nebulus 689 and they just have it in their pockets? I saw my cousin take Fury once, never was the same again. He kept shaking, couldn't get rid of the feeling of wanting to punch something. Started stabbing shit in his basement. Now he's stuck in some virtual reality simulator suckin on his toes or something.
Humans can just use the shit and forget it ever happened. Some of them don't even know. That was my last mistake. I was heading toward earth to try to suck some people out into space and I met a young girl. She was purple, her hair waving and glowing like andromeda come to bear witness. That was mistake number three. We had no idea the heights that Fury could take them to.
She was on us too fast. | You look back at Human history and you see we were always looking at the stars. Squatting in a cave, harvesting fire from trees hit by lightning and eating the carrion left by real predators we looked up in wonder and since then we've never settled right on our own world. We came a long way, that path was not clean but we progressed by one means or another. Eventually we found ourselves among the stars and we did not find ourselves to be alone. In our dreams with space would come peace and plenty and joy. Wouldn't you know it though, it just brought more war and want and suffering. Our little corner of space is held tight by the First Fleet and the Arbiters of the Terran Republic. Of course that stuffy, bureaucratic mess of a system isn't for all of us. I never liked it and soon found my way out. Once you get out of the Terran system it's pretty easy for a Human to find work, if you don't mind getting your hands very, very dirty of course. Everyone wants to be a bounty hunter but only so much work to be found in that and competition is fierce. Many end up as bouncers, enforcers or general muscle. That wasn't me though, I got something a little different. I guess I'm basically a bomb, or a bio-weapon, or whatever the hell you want to call it. A war-loving species called the Krell have me on retainer. Whenever they find a particularity tough enemy they shove me in a drop pod and launch me at whatever is giving them trouble. One pissed off human can do a hell of a lot of damage. Not long before the bastards surrender... Or if they don't... Well, I can't be held responsible for what I do when I'm raging out.
EDIT: Spelling and grammatical errors. | 2018-03-19T02:33:27 | 2018-03-18T16:35:16 | 30 | 18 |
[WP] People do not get weaker and more frail as they age - they get stronger and stronger. "Dying of old age" is when groups of young people band together to kill off their elders before they become too strong to defeat. | They say that once you hit the age of 100, you're allowed to meet the God King, dine in his presence, and ascend to the heavens. Very few have done it in the past, but it's always a huge celebration in the kingdom. Everyone gets dressed, the God King makes an appearance, food is distributed, a day full of celebration.
Ascension is the ultimate goal of any man or woman, as only when they get to this age will their bodies be strong enough to withstand the journey.
Tul'Ka was ready. He was the God King's greatest general, and for the past 80 years, he's killed thousands of men, fought in hundreds of battles, and lead dozens of wars against the heathens. His latest campaign was a purge against a new movement, those who preach against the teachings of the God King, those who seek to kill the elders. Blasphemers, all of them.
No matter, his war is over. It is time to pass on his duties to the newer generation. Now, he stands before the God King, one last time.
"MY SON, TUL'KA. YOU HAVE SERVED ME WELL" his voice, rich and deep, yet gentle and caring. The God King called everyone his son or daughter, as it is believed he is the creator of their nation.
"Thank you, father, I am always pleased to hear your praises." However, Tul'Ka is the God King's biological son. One of dozens other sons and daughters. Many of his siblings have died before reaching ascension, through war, disease, or even assassinations.
"THE PEOPLE CELEBRATE YOUR ACHIEVEMENT, AS DO I. SIT. DINE WITH ME, ONE LAST TIME." Tul'Ka sensed a tone of remorse, almost, in in the God King's voice. Moved by his father's sentimentality, he eagerly began eating away at the rich food.
In their last moments together, they reminisce about Tul'Ka's younger days, where he would be eager to go into battle, to serve his father and his nation. After 80 years or so, nothing on the battlefield fazed him anymore. They're all blasphemers and needed to be purged after all. If not, they'd threaten to destroy civilization as he'd know it.
"You know father, in the last campaign, I'd spent some time with one of their captured leaders. Of course, he begged for his life before I killed him, but I really wanted to know why they hate us so much."
"THEY FEAR WHAT THEY DO NOT UNDERSTAND, MY SON. FEAR DRIVES PEOPLE TO DO ILLOGICAL THINGS. THERE IS NO UNDERSTANDING MADNESS."
"I'm not so sure about that father. You see, he understood that you're powerful. It was just..." There was hesitation in his voice. "He said that it is precisely that you're so powerful, that you have to be stopped."
The God King was pensive in his silence. Despite being hundreds, maybe even thousands of years old, he did not look a year older than 30. No scars ravaged his body nor wrinkles scattered across his face.
"The one thing that stood out to me, he said was, '*We've killed a God King before, and we'll do it again.*'"
"AND THIS IS WHY THEIR KIND MUST BE PURGED." His voice did not crack or change in tone, still the gentle and caring tone of a loving father. He just wants to protect his children.
Tul'Ka went silent. His mind racing, thoughts about the Ascension. Why has his father never ascended, if it's the ultimate goal. Is he cursed? What happens during the Ascension? Questions he's never asked himself because he was too busy trying to get here.
"Father, how come you never Asc--" and in the blink of an eye, the God King thrusts his right hand straight into Tul'Ka's heart. Eyes wide in disbelief, Tul'ka's head tilts back as he slowly loses control over his body. The ceiling above begins to open, letting light in, but it was night. No, the light was leaving, it was leaving him.
"SLEEP WELL MY SON, FOR YOU ARE NOW AMONG THE STARS WITH YOUR BROTHERS AND SISTERS." The king wept, but it is done. It must be done. It was never easy to kill your own child. Ascension or not.
From the top of the palace, in the Ascension chamber, a massive beam of light pierces the night sky. The people cheered all at once, knowing that the ritual has been completed and their greatest general, Tul'Ka, has reached the heavens. They celebrated well into the night, hoping that one day, it will them that Ascends. | Michael rubbed his chin, feeling the stubble scratch against the palm of his hand. As he watched the ambulance pull away, through the small opening in his curtains, he wondered to himself whether he should just resign himself to his fate. He gently let the curtain close and plodded towards his bathroom.
Michael had just passed his 107th birthday last week. He was the oldest person he knew, but it was his biggest secret. He contemplated the poor souls taken away in the ambulance, a neighbour couple he believed were in their 60s. They'd lived longer than many, by a few years. Most often, the "kids" came for you before then. Nobody was allowed to get far into their 60s. By 75 most seniors were so strong, so smart, so knowledgeable, and so cunning that if they decided to seize control, of some family, some company, some city, whatever their aspirations ... well, it just wasn't permitted any more. A century ago it was decided that it was best that everyone "move on" around their 60th birthday, and that those closest should "help".
A couple of genetic gifts had kept Michael alive as long as he had been. Firstly, Michael had a baby face. At 107, he still easily convinced people he was but 52 years old. A full head of hair, which he kept carefully dyed, and a strictly clean-shaven face (at minimum 2 shaves a day, if he absolutely could not get a third in) really helped. Michael also was an introvert: he was never inclined to keep close friends or relationships. He was congenial and friendly, of course, always professional in business, but had no natural interest in truly getting to know anyone, or letting them get to know him.
Michael had moved 5 times in the last 55 years, and was beginning to consider a sixth. Each move reset his clock, as it were, subtracting years from his age. Apply for a new job in a new city, then drop the oldest jobs from the resume, and a decade or more from age. He could never get too close to 60 years old, else if his references were checked, his current employer would certainly mention his upcoming "retirement".
Michael peered into the mirror, looking intently at the left side, then right side, of his face in turn. He doubted himself. If he moved again, could he believably still claim to be in his mid-40s? Plus, each move was getting more difficult to complete. Technology was the bane of his existence. He remembered his first move. 1965. Around his 52nd birthday (52 was his magic number, if convenient), Michael moved clear across the country. He'd had no family alive by then, and his few acquiantances would soon forget him. It had been so easy. He had quit his job, bought a van, and taken a leisurely drive. A week later, he'd applied for a driver's license with a new birth date, boldly shaving off a decade and a half. They'd never asked him to prove it; that sort of thing was just not very common. Now it's all social media, and electronic records, and please show 100 pieces of supporting ID. Michael looked down at the sink, and leaned heavily on it. He was feeling lost. How would he get past it all this time? He looked back up at the mirror.
His reflection looked more coldly back at him, his nostalgia giving cleanly away to bitterness and frustration. Maybe he needed to change tack. Sure, he could move again, maybe become a recluse, but why should he have to? He was still useful - smart, experienced, and capable. And he liked living, damn it! He was sure he could find others who slipped through the system. Together, they could become a voice to protect those who were aging.
No. No, not a voice. A *force* to protect those who were aging. It's about time this shit came to an end. People should live as long as they damn well please. | 2020-01-21T09:43:50 | 2020-01-21T09:35:50 | 46 | 25 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE WALRUS". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful walrus. Look." | The attention tone blared into my ears.
It's the dead of night, what could possibly be the problem? Is it another AMBER alert?
I turned in bed and reached over on my nightstand to grab my screeching phone. I look into my phone and see the bright notifications. God, it hurts my eyes. I saw it there, in all the letters in their capitalized glory accompanied by a creepy robot voice:
*DO NOT GO OUTSIDE LOOK AT THE WALRUS.*
*THE UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT HAS ISSUED THIS WARNING TO ALL RESIDENTS TO STAY IN THEIR HOMES AND TO NOT LOOK AT THE SKY.*
*REPEAT: DO NOT GO OUTSIDE TO LOOK AT THE WALRUS.*
You have got to be kidding me.
Am I being hacked? Is this some kind of joke? Because I am not laughing. I thought I had seen enough with the nationwide nuclear drill warning, but this takes the cake.
Whatever I can talk about this with my co-workers in the morning.
\*THUD\*
It came from my neighbor's apartment.
"Linda! I swear to God! What has gotten into you? Wait, slow down, what? I need to GO outside and do what? Are you drunk or something? Wait, I hear someone at the door"
I know I shouldn't be eavesdropping on my neighbors, but it seems he's getting them too. Apparently, I'm getting a swarm of texts from random numbers.
"Come outside!" They said, "The Walrus is beautiful."
It all just seemed to be variations of it in my feed. How did they get my number? Is it just some bot?
I hear more crashes from my neighbor.
"Hey! What are you doing? Get your hands off me!"
I then heard chanting,
"Come outside, the Walrus is beautiful. Come outside, the Walrus is beautiful"
I heard the cocking of a gun when my neighbor shouted, "What are you doing? Get out of my apartment! I will shoot!" I heard two gunshots until there was what seemed to be a fight.
I was about to go out and help him, but I then heard more screaming and shouting from my other neighbors. Was the whole complex under attack or something?
I had to hide. Whatever this Walrus was, it seemed to turn these people mad.
I needed to barricade my door. I carefully placed whatever I could find to block it, but I was betrayed by a glass cup knocking over and crashing the floor when I was about to put my nightstand up.
Dammit. I dropped whatever I had in my arms and made a quick run for my closet. I closed the door and huddled up into a fetal position.
That's when I heard it. The banging at the door. Their incessant chanting. I prayed to God they wouldn't find me here. To anyone really. I cursed my heart for beating so loudly. I hear their footsteps coming this way.
They start to stalk every room. Every nook and cranny they could find.
Until they came to the closet.
I had to put my body weight on the door so they couldn't open it. But there just seemed to be too many of them.
They kicked down the door and grabbed me by my ankles and dragged my body.
I made a futile effort to grab whatever was nailed to the floor to save me a few more seconds. I thought I had hope when I grabbed onto the pillar support until one of them used a hammer to smash my finger.
I was screaming, groaning in pain as they continued their malicious chant.
That was when they led me out the door and I looked at the Walrus.
*The Walrus is beautiful. Come outside.* | I bolted upright out of bed rather quickly, a cold sweat breaking out and my breath rather staggered. “The Walrus.” I managed to say. I turned to look out my bedroom window, and it took the entirety of my body strength to avoid looking outside. I could feel its presence, I knew the Walrus was there. Creeping its way into our life. Making our every thought that of the Walrus. I couldn’t help but wonder why. Wouldn’t the Manatee do just as well? Why couldn’t it be the Seal? But no. They were not as smart, not nearly as Sentient. The Walrus knew that it was more than just its body and tusks. I slowly pulled the covers up over my head. I needed to pull the drapes immediately.
I couldn’t do it, though. I needed to know more. How did these people get my number? But then I thought, no, these people didn’t get my number, they’ve probably texted everyone from 000-000-0001 to 999-999-9999, nobody was safe from knowing of the Walrus. I began to do a bit of research since I’d been awoken. Why today? How long had we known? Were we prepared? What was its goal? The internet had nothing of importance, and I had to avoid any and all photos. Blogs, Facebook, Twitter, even MySpace, nothing was safe from the Walrus. There were photos everywhere. Hell, Spotify’s highest trending song was “I Am The Walrus”, an Oingo Boingo song written well over 20 years ago. People were really getting involved with this. At this point he was bigger than God. I might as well have written a book by now. I couldn’t learn anymore about the Walrus than I already knew, it was time to come out of my hiding.
I closed my eyes, threw the covers off myself, and made my way to the window. I could tell the Walrus was all I’d have been able to see, as his invitation was ringing loud in my ears. “the Walrus.... the Walrus.....” it said. It wanted me to look. It knew what I knew. I had to leave. But where would I have gone? There was nowhere safe from the Walrus. I wanted my sanity, my life, and no Walrus. How long would it last? The amount of texts I’ve received is insurmountable. They claim freedom in the Walrus. They can see much more than the average man, they can hear all they need to hear, there’s no stress. The thoughts begin: what if I look? Just look. They want me to. What do I have to lose? I’ve already lost my job. My boss saw the Walrus. My professors saw the Walrus. There’s nothing else I have to do but avoid the Walrus.
They’re knocking. They’re at my windows. They’re at my door. They know I haven’t seen it. the Walrus, it calls with those it’s called. It summons with those it’s allowed to walk. If I’m to continue I have to look. I can’t keep doing this. They’re right. the Walrus will be the world. Someday. | 2021-01-11T18:26:54 | 2021-01-11T17:56:33 | 127 | 76 |
[WP] they laughed at humans. they laughed how weak how dull their senses where. they didn't understand that humans didn't play by the same rules of evolution they had played by. instead of adapting to the environment, humans made the environment adapt to serve them instead. | The smug looks of the inter-galactic council changed to confusion, then fear. All of them were perfectly suited to their environment, the Sezarians able to both traverse and metabolize the atmosphere of their gaseous world, the Queptem race capable of sustainment from nothing but photosynthesizing. All of their planets uniform in environmental conditions, and with other organisms they had symbiotic relationships with that allowed them to spread across the stars.
The diminutive hairless ape didn't look like much, it was a wonder they were able to become the dominant species of their own planet. Conditions varied so wildly on their home world that it seemed impossible they were able to colonize the entirety of their own continents, let alone a few of their neighboring planets.
The primate walked confidently up to the center stage, and fired up a projector. The other races were perplexed, they knew humans had domesticated canines and a number of other creatures, but not some sort of highly bio-luminescent crab.
The human cleared his throat, "I am glad to be here to speak with all of you today. And it was felt that this presentation was necessary given some of they key differences we have in evolutionary strategy with the rest of the council."
An image flashed, a great wall, clearly not a natural formation but impossible to be anything otherwise, showed on the screen, it held back an entire lake. What a bizarre geological formation.
"This is a dam, humans built it to prevent the flow of a river and create a lake for themselves. This is typically used to create a reservoir of water that can be used and drank later. You see, humans are not perfectly suited to their environment, so instead we evolved the capacity to suit the environment to us."
Another image, a massive crater, with striated levels spiraling towards the center, great yellow things in the process of scraping into the rock.
"Here we have a quarry, or what is also known as an open pit mine. Humans dig these to extract a number of things, different metals, stone for building materials, or coal for fuel."
The presentation continued, with images of human developments rolling across the screen, with each one the other races horror of humanity grew. How was this possible? Skyscrapers, irrigation, fiber optic cable, non of it was alive or previously existing, somehow the humans had created it from practically nothing.
Slowly, a realization came between the council members, if humans could conquer and subjugate an entire world to their world to their will, bending what was previously thought to be the unbreakable stasis of an ecosystem, then what would stop them from taking their own worlds? | Pitchforks and scythes are gathered and raised, but lay bloodied alongside its farmers. The beastmen leader roars as he snaps the back of another man. Barbaric cheers echo as the town gets pillaged and bulldozed. Another easy victory for the beastmen horde. Arrogance gets into the head of the leader. After all, the town of the distant Germanus country disappoints its legendary tales.
 
How can these men and Germanus even exist? They're bones like branches, display all their fruits openly in the fields and use long twigs to fight. Finally, their heads were as strong as eggs. They'll get hunted by bearhounds and hellhogs easily. If it weren't for the horde, the armorants would be the ones ravaging those fruits. Jokes about these men and the destruction of structure kept the horde satiated. How unfortunate for the men when information of a big town of Berlinnia is just a 5 day walk. The ultimate sensation of destroying structures that stretches beyond the horizon.
 
Beyond the river lies stone walls. Weirdly Pleasing to the eyes, equally as pleasing to the beautifully uniformed men in uniformed formation. With spiked cestus on hands and leather armour equipped, the horde charged, roaring and berserk.
 
"They... aren't running like those in the towns. Funny behavior, do they think a bunch of sticks will hurt me?"
 
A cock, then a blast shocked the land, popping ears throughout. Blood spilled, but on the side the horde never expected. A few fell. Wave, after wave, after wave. Intense pain suddenly pierce their bodies. Under shock and confusion, they will finally learn what retreat and defeat is. The great beastmen, undefeated by other stronger, bloodthirsty abominations were seen running away amidst gunshots from men at least two heads shorter. No thick leather nor muscles can stop the bullets. No wonder they can exist. Otherworldly tools that allow anything to happen.
Footnote: Its my first time writing in a long ass time, any constructive criticisms are welcome. | 2020-04-07T11:11:39 | 2020-04-07T10:42:47 | 39 | 23 |
[WP]Humans start out at birth with milk-white blood. The more bad deeds they commit, the darker their blood becomes. One day, you meet your soulmate. Skip a few years, and things are amazing… Until your soulmate trips, falls, and the cut they get drips ink-black blood… | 4 weeks until the wedding.
I've been anxious every day. Hands sweating, knees shaking, nightmares raging, nearly fainting. I can't go on like this.
There's something I never told my husband-to-be.
On Thursday night, he comes over for a movie. He wraps his arm around me lazily and begins flicking through the roster. Shaking, I stand up to pop us popcorn. *It's now or never.*
I pretend to hit my foot on the edge of the sofa. "Owwww," I cry out, falling to the floor. I flail around extra, to make it look super accidental. "That hurt."
"Are you okay?!" he yells, jumping to my side.
"I think I cut myself," I say, through mock-sobs. Real tears, though, are welling up as I wait for him to see the drop of black.
"Jessie..." he says, trailing off. He's speechless. *Uh-oh.* "What... what have you done?"
Now real tears flow from my eyes. "I can explain," I say, half-heartedly. *No, I really can't.*
"You can explain? Really? I've never seen blood this black, and I'm a nurse. You must have tortured people, or murdered them, or --"
"Please," I interject.
"No. I -- I can't do this. How can I marry you? What have you kept from me?"
"You told me you didn't care about my past!"
"I do care, when it's a matter of murder, rather than how many guys you bedded in college!"
"You won't even give me a chance to explain?!" I whisper.
"No. Goodbye, Jessie."
In a rush of footsteps and *slam* of the door, I'm alone. Sobbing, I let the bottle of black ink slip from my hand.
Yes, there's something I never told my husband-to-be: I can only marry a man who trusts me, believes me, and always gives me a chance to explain. | You start to feel uneasy is everything you know about this woman a lie? You think about that time you went on vacation how she helped you overcome your fear of heights when you both jumped out of that airplane hand in hand. Is this why you haven't met any of her family. You've been dating for over 3 years now. How? You ask her. How is this possiable? She looks at you her big blue eyes astonished that you haven't run in fear. I can explain she says carefully. I did something that I can never forgive myself for. You start to think of the possibilities what could she have done, you've never seen blood so dark it just oozes of pure evil. She holds back her tears saying when I was young I had a heart failure, I have a very specific blood type. I was in the hospital for weeks I was dying. She starts uncontrollably tearing falling to the floor. You don't know if you even want to hear the rest, you just hold her and let her cry. A couple minutes later she goes on it was the day after a surgery I didn't even know about I was asking my mom why she was crying. She said "Your father loved you so very much. I asked her where's daddy and she pointed to my heart. At this point you realize that a man you never knew and never will gave you the best present you could of ever asked for. It is not the action of the deed but how tightly it holds your heart if it is pure white or an evil black.
| 2016-09-22T20:56:22 | 2016-09-22T17:07:36 | 154 | 50 |
[WP] You are the CEO of a successful energy company. You’re invited to a business dinner, and if the deal goes well, it could revolutionize energy as we know it. Only one problem. Garlic’s in the food, utensils are silver and it’s held in an old chapel. And you’re a vampire. | "What about solar?"
"He *hates* solar. Whatever you do, don't bring it up."
"What's so bad about renewables?"
"Just keep your mouth shut."
I could hear them before they entered my office, their lips crackling and smattering like roaches frying in a pan. One of them was young, with a jugular vein through which blood coursed with every quiet thump of his heart. He flashed me the Duchenne smile, straightened his tie, and he said, "Sir, we think you're going to love this."
Another useless presentation. But I'd said I'd entertain any idea that might save the company. The only punishment for failing to convince me of its merits was a trip to the unemployment office.
It surprised me to see the seasoned veteran, Gabe, joining forces with fresh meat. Then I spotted a look between the two and I understood at once that they were sleeping together, that they'd had bedside conversations about this moment. Pillow talk. Strategizing.
Gabe clicked his pointer and a quote from Vaclav Smil appeared on the monitor. I hoped he wasn't about to read it aloud. "Life's great dichotomy is between autotrophs, organisms that can nourish themselves, and heterotrophs, or lifeforms that must feed on other organisms. This also applies to business. Some companies—"
Suppressing my groan I leaned back in my leather chair and I asked myself whether I was even interested in the young man's blood. Certainly I was a heterotroph, even more so than they knew. But this man? Did I need him?
His dark curls bounced as he gestured about with the fiery passion of youth. Two thousand years ago he might have been a prophet, he had it in him. And I should know. I'd met my share of prophets. The delirious son of a carpenter, for instance, who wept as I dug my teeth into his neck. The Catholics had it all wrong, though. It tasted nothing like wine.
At the end of their presentation I breathed a deep sigh, and I said, "You're both fired."
"S-Sir?"
"It's obvious you're trying to tell me what you think I want to hear. I'm embarrassed, Gabe. I expected better."
"Please, if we can just—"
"I've heard enough. You may leave."
The young man gave Gabe a look, and he cleared his throat. "Sir. I've kept this to myself, but I think it might be of use to you. I am the grandson of Ellin Calvino."
I laughed. I couldn't help it. He'd have surprised me less if he told me he was actually a mollusk. "Calvino? And yet you're here. Working for his main competitor."
"We had a ... falling out. I wanted to prove that I can work myself up, without his help. But if there's anything I can do, I mean, I have the connection, and—"
Gabe's face had gone pale. "Gabe. Is what he's telling me true?" I checked my schedule. "He's not Anthony ... Fechner? He's Anthony Calvino?"
The veteran stared at his shoes, and he gave a nod.
It would be amusing, drinking the blood of Ellin's grandson. Perhaps even in front of him. Or we could join forces, corner the market. There was just one problem. "Rumor has it your grandfather has eased up on his duties. Isn't Marco at the helm? He'd be your ..."
"Uncle," said Anthony. "Yes. The rumor is true. My grandfather spends most of his days in his chapel, but nothing big goes through without his approval. He still runs the ship."
"Chapel?"
Anthony rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah. It's modeled on the Cappella Palatina. It cost a fortune. You'll love it."
The young man's heart raced. As did mine. I ate the savior, but I cannot enter his place of worship. "If you can set up a meeting, you'll have saved both your asses. And if all goes well, you'll get the promotion too. As promised. How's The Parish?"
"Oh. I'm sorry, but my grandfather only conducts business in his chapel these days. Over a nice Italian meal. With the family silver and all. He's been a bit ... eccentric, ever since—"
"His wife."
"Yeah."
Gabe cleared his throat. "I think this sounds like a wonderful idea"
"I'm not interested."
Their faces dropped. "Sir?"
"So the old man has decided to spend his remaining years play-acting as the Pope. I won't be feeding his delusions. Forget about it."
Anthony's heart quieted down all of a sudden, and there was a commanding resolve in his voice. His whole attitude shifted. "Maybe you didn't like our presentation, but we all know the numbers. It's this, or you're going to have to branch into renewables. Such as—"
"D-Don't," said Gabe with a whimper.
"Such as *solar*."
Anthony had no time to straighten his tie. No time to smack his lips. No time to process what was about to happen. Before he knew it, he was a fountain. Blood spurted every which way when I tore into his jugular with my fangs, it dripped from his dark curls like dew from blades of grass.
Gabe stood motionless as his lover fell to the carpeted floor. His lips shivered slightly.
Life's great dichotomy is between autotrophs, organisms that can nourish themselves, and heterotrophs, or lifeforms that must feed on other organisms. Smil had it right.
"I ... I told him," said Gabe. "I told him to shut up about the sun." | "This sounds like a great opportunity..."
"Certainly does, boss. Think you can handle it?"
I ponder my options. Vampires are always portrayed as evil, but really it's just a select few individuals that enjoy targeting humans - most of us are content on sucking on the blood of animals, similar to vampire *bats*. Still, if my true identity is discovered, I'll be sentenced to death, like my mother after my dad's family found out the truth about her (my dad's family were humans, and my dad was fully accepting of my mum, but he knew his family were conspiracy theorists that hate vampires).
On the other hand, this could change the world for the better... imagine the possibilities! We could reverse the damage to the planet! We could use 100x less energy, lowering costs around the globe! We could rescue long-lost resources! This opportunity cannot be passed up!
I look to my assistant, the only person besides my fiancé and his parents who knows my true identity. "Please tell them that I will be very busy that day, and cannot make it to the physical location, but I am more than prepared to join in online. I can send them any and all information they need." My assistant nods and goes to send the message, while I finish up some paperwork I've been doing. Just as I finish up, someone comes into the building, requesting to see me...
I go to greet them, but I realise that they're supernatural hunters. They'll imprison me *at best* if they find out the truth... and they will. They only visit places with unusual levels of supernatural activity, they'll sense where it's coming from. I very quickly invite them to my office, and alert my assistant that I need him.
"I assume you asked us in here because you know we know?" "That's correct. But now is not a good time. In a week's time, I plan to have a meeting with some people from another organisation. This could change the planet for the better! This will revolutionise the way we use and generate energy!" The men look at each other, then back at me.
"Those people are actually why we're here... they thought it odd that you wouldn't meet them in person for this, so they decided to look into you. They found out that your mum was a vampire, so either you're half vampire or full vampire, as I'm sure you know that the mother's class impacts on their child." I gulp. "So... what does this mean?"
"They just wanted us to confirm their suspicions. As soon as we saw you, we knew; you're full vampire. They said that if you're half vampire, they may be able to make it work, but they don't want to work with a full vampire. Still, they understand the importance of this deal. They asked us how you'd want to proceed?"
At this point my assistant steps in. "Maybe she's a vampire, but she's not a-" I cut him off. "There's no room for negotiation here. People just don't trust the supernatural. I can consider myself lucky that I'm not being dragged away right this moment." I look at the group of men. "You have a job to do... I respect that. Please, let them know that my assistant is fully aware of everything related to this meeting, and that he can take over on my behalf. More importantly..." I start to feel nervous. "What will happen with me?"
"We'll be keeping an eye on you" they responded. "You seem nice enough. We don't want to cause trouble. In the meantime, you will be required to wear this." They pull out some sort of monitor, and I hesitantly agree. It's humiliating, but it's better than being locked up for being... well, me.
​
It's now 30 years later. Somehow, after the deal was a success, people found out that the CEO of the company is a vampire. News spread worldwide, and I knew my company would suffer. I made an announcement: "There are rumours of my true origin being... vampiric. Those rumours are true. I do not wish to cause any fear, worry or trouble. I officially retire from my position, and hand the company to my assistant."
Since then, I had received multiple threats and attempted homicides from multiple different people - some out of fear for their safety, some for a reward, some for the fun of it. It was beginning to cause a strain on my husband's side of the family too, so I contacted those same people who appeared in my office, and told them that I'm in their hands. I can thank the stars that both my children, a boy and a girl, are only *half* vampire. There was a lot of support for both sides during the mutual divorce, and my ex visits me from time to time, with our children, so they know the truth of their heritage, and take it in pride, but hide it from others for their safety.
As for the energy revolution? At first, because I had been in charge, there was a lot of controversy. But after a major energy supplier switched their methods and processes to my former company's, people began to look past the previous ownership, and now energy is much cleaner, more efficient, and more powerful than ever. And at the end of the day, *that's* what matters most to me. | 2022-08-21T06:42:02 | 2022-08-21T04:21:32 | 146 | 66 |
[WP] Aliens are horrified to discover that our vessels are made of lifeless metal instead of the born and raised star vessels the have been around for countless millennia. All other know races use these creatures for everything from transportation to war.
our ships don't scream when they get lazerd | "Millie, charge up ion cannons 4 through 10!", shouts the Galiin captain to the sentient ship.
Right now, Sakhem dor Kappen, a captain in the Imperial Galiin Armada is in a losing battle. With their current situation, Sakehm is desperately giving orders to Millie, their sentient ship.
"Charg- Gakh!", says the ship.
"Millie! Are you alright?!", shouts Sakhem.
Shit, shit, shit! What the hell are those ships! They don't stagger when the take damage!
"Millie! Status!", shouts Sakhem.
"I-I'm fine, captain... Firing ion cannons!", says Millie.
They're direct hits, but...
"...Nothing...?", mutters Sakhem in disbelief.
"Captain! Large energy reading detected from the enemy ship!", says the radar analyst Sive'o.
Tsk, what now?! Damn, this is going nowhere!
"Millie! charge up the hyperdrive! We're going for a tactical retreat", says Sakhem.
"Sir, yes, sir!", says Millie.
"You lot! Distract those damned humans till we get outta here!", says Sakhem.
"Fire the plasma torpedoes!", says Sakhem.
The torpedoes stick to the human ship.
"Take this you bastards! Trigger!", shouts Sakhem.
The torpedoes explode, blowing a hole into the side of the human ship right. Lucky for them, the hole's right where the engine room is.
"He, serves you, right... Millie, can't we still go into hyperdrive?", says Sakhem.
"Ready to depart sir", says Millie.
"Good, let's get out of here", says Sakhem.
Just as they were about to go into hyperdrive, they saw a wormhole open in front of the human ship. Are they planning to escape? Fine by me. Right there, Sakhem made a grave mistake. Once they exited hyperdrive, a γ-ray burst punctured Millie dead center on the port side, burning her core to ashes and leaving a gaping carbonized hole.
"Gaha!", gasps Millie as she dies.
"Millie?! NO! Millie!", shouts Sakhem in despair.
To the Galiin, once your ship dies, you're doomed, since you're stuck in the deep void of space. But also it is a disgrace since the sentient ships are prized war potentials, each cultivated for at least a millennium.
"Damn it... Damn it... DAMN IT! What the hell is the deal with those humans!", shouts Sakhem.
"S-sir! We've identified the source of the γ-ray burst... It came from a wormhole..." says the tactical analyst Rava.
"... A wormhole, you say....", says Sakhem lifelessly.
Then it clicked... The wormhole from earlier... No way... You don't mean...
"Did you analyze the human ship?", asks Sakhem.
"Yes... Our analysis shows that the ship is... inanimate...", says Rava.
No way... That's absurd! But... In a way I now understand why they operated with only a minimal regard for their ship... And why they wasted their reserved just to get back at us...
​
Well played humans, Well played... You monsters... | Every other species in the galaxy was bred for sentience. Many species possessed telepathy; others had near-supernatural strength. Nature had given every other species the ability travel faster than light. Every civilization had a different name for it, but every planet had a domesticated animal that could warp space. They weren’t all the same animal, but they all shared the ability to transport sentient beings and travel through space. Nobody had any record of how they came to be, they simply did and obeyed what they were trained to do.
Then came the humans. They were the accident of the universe. They were an insult to the very notion of sentience. It was by pure luck that the first ape discovered fire. It was by pure violence that they developed past that stage. Every moment in human history has been pushed forward by greed, fueled by the savage instinct for violence. I’ve read the human history books. The first “ship” (as they were called by humans) that could travel through orbit was designed to drop a nuclear bomb on its enemies. The ship’s orbital flight made it out of range of any interceptor missile. Faster than light travel only became known to humans because they wanted to nuke each other.
We have seen this arrogance before. Accidents happen. Sentience isn’t meant for every species. When the Krolaxians first entered our region of space, they were remarkably friendly. They also arrived in ships made of metal. Different species had different names for it. Korlaxians called it “Gambriel”. The humans called it “titanium”. But the Krolaxians were just testing our military strength. They assumed that our “living ships” would be vulnerable to rail gun fire. That our millennia of peace made us soft. The Krolaxians brought their warships to our systems in a surprise attack, firing a barrage of tungsten rods at our ships.
They didn’t realise our Carriers (standardized military name for our FTL beings) could warp space. Our Carriers would create portals, reflecting the Krolaxian ammunition back at their ships. If they didn’t fire, we’d create portals in the middle of their ships, ripping them in two. Then we went to their home-world and wiped them off the face of the galaxy.
What makes humans and other accidents different from the rest of the us? The difference is that other species can truly act for the greater good. All accidents cannot be good. All accidents only act for themselves. All accidents are greedy and will fight for their greed. All accidents can’t rid themselves of their primitive programming. It’s not their fault. Sentience isn’t meant for every species.
So when the accidents came to our system again, this time in the form of humans, we did a mercy for them. We relieved them of their pain. Sentience isn’t meant for every species. | 2018-12-03T18:57:22 | 2018-12-03T17:58:01 | 71 | 34 |
[WP] As a biblical scholar, you discover that the Rapture has already come and gone. It's just that so few people ascend that nobody notices. Also, the forces of the Apocalypse are so minor that everyday levels of war, famine, pestilence and death that we deal with completely eclipse it. | ######[](#dropcap)
Rakesh wrote the final word, then put down his quill. He glanced out the window--covered in grime and filth--at the sky, yellow and dark, like it had been dusted with ash and sulfur. He slowly reached out and shut off the lamp. It made an audible click, and the cluttered room, with books stacked on the floors and papers strewn about everywhere, sank into darkness.
Without fumbling, he grabbed his shoulder bag and walked out of the small room straight out in the street. He pulled out a large metal key and locked the door behind him. The sign hanging above it, the one that now read 'L br y' instead of 'Library,' swung on the metal hook. It was false advertising, however. The place was less a library than his personal storage for books. No one visited, nowadays. And no one had visited for the past five years.
The cobblestone paths that had once been a vivid black and white stone pattern were now a uniform grey. Where once, children had gallivanted on the streets, playing jacks and hopscotch, there were now only piles and piles of wet newspaper that had been torn to shreds, then squished back together into a pile when it rained. The ink soaked into the ground itself, creating streaks of black, like Lucifer's tears.
The wind picked up, and Rakesh pulled up the flap of his trench coat, reaching into the side flap of his pack for his scarf. It was grey and yellow now, but he brought it over his mouth anyway, coughing to expel what dust had accumulated in his lungs in such a short time.
As he navigated his way through the narrow alley, passing by door after door that had been boarded up and abandoned by those who had been desperate to flee--there had to be somewhere on earth worth living, was the cry--he took his usual route home, past a bundle of blankets on the corner of the street.
He reached down toward the bundle and shook it. It moved a little, then more, and a head peeked out--an old woman, her grey hair matted to her head and her eyes bloodshot. She grinned at Rakesh, a half toothless grin. What was left of her teeth wouldn't last much longer.
She hacked and coughed. Rakesh quickly reached into his bag and pulled out a face mask, gently tucking it onto her face. Then, he reached into his bag and pulled out a baguette. He hesitated for just a second, then tore it in half, stuffing one half into her hands. Then he nodded, as was customary, and left.
It was almost thirty minutes later when he reached his home, passing by crops of raw trees that had been stripped of their bark and leaves. He heard that it tasted almost sweet, once you got past your gag reflex.
Stepping past the cloth barrier that was their door, he set his pack on a kitchen chair and unwrapped the scarf from around his neck, setting it down on the table. Home always seemed strangely quiet, away from the whispering, choking winds that never let up.
Four years ago, they had grown almost impossibly stronger, tearing down power lines and leaving the world in darkness. And the dust, the dust carried in by the wind covered the skies, until everything was covered in a film of brown, making growing food close to impossible. There were some who called it the Rapture.
Rakesh walked into the room adjacent to the kitchen, parting the curtain that separated the rooms. He softened his steps as a young girl sleeping with her back to him came into view. He gingerly sat down on the side of the bed and laid a hand on her shoulder.
She slowly woke, turning around. Then her eyes, large blue luminous orbs, opened, and she sat up, diving toward him.
"Papa!"
He caught her, his hand patting her back as she hugged him tightly.
"Hey, kiddo. How have you been?" His voice came out sounding like a croak. He cleared his throat, but it didn't help. It used to be low and smooth, and his daughter, Eiddwen, had loved his bedtime stories. But the dust had taken that away. Now there were only the few words he was willing to part with, each syllable causing him to cringe.
"I missed you! Did you have a good day?"
He nodded. "There's a baguette in my bag."
Her eyes lit up, and she ran out of the room, her bare feet making a small pitter pattering sound as she disappeared.
Rakesh turned his gaze to the window that faced the red, setting sun outside. The window that was shaking furiously on its hinges, as if it were desperately trying to escape the grip of the concrete walls holding it in place.
No, what they were experiencing wasn't the Rapture. That had long ago come and passed, fading away in the blink of an eye. It wasn't even what came after the Rapture. He looked down at his hands, each crevice caked in a yellow dirt that never seemed to go away.
No. They were facing the aftermath of humanity itself.
*****
r/AlannaWu | It was the kind of statement that if anyone else had made it she probably would have punched them in the face right there. The kind of statement that’s born from years of intense despair, targeted only at someone else who's experienced the same kind of loss. A way of reaching out for some kind of reprieve. “Maybe they were just the lucky few! A rapture of two!” Something that starts as a benign quip, but when mixed with pain turns into a compulsive thought.
They don’t tell you when you’re forming a search party. When they’re handing out the flashlights and divvying up the segmented search areas. When you’re walking hand in hand, holding onto one last shred of hope. More often than not you’re searching for a corpse. And while finding nothing is the most common likelihood, finding someone alive and well, just a little worse for wear, taking a breather under a tree, almost never happens. And that closure is actually sometimes best left to the imagination.
She found him before anyone else did. And immediately wished she didn’t. Didn’t fall to the ground weeping, didn’t scream to the heavens. Didn’t call out for help, or try and barter with God. Simply walked back home, and hasn’t left since. A self-resigned purgatory for the better part of the last decade. Not unresponsive, not slowly losing her sanity. But a mother who needed time to grasp the realities of her new life. And a house to make sure she never totally forgot her past one.
Herald Jordan had lost his daughter to suicide when she was 13 in the early ‘80s. Had left his shotgun loaded, propped up next to his nightstand. I won’t paint the entire story because it fills the tropes made standard by After School Specials. The emotionally abusive father who goes out for one last drink. The daughter who’s had enough. The next forty or so years a life dedicated to repentance. The idea of making amends in some way the only thing keeping him going. “A rapture of two. That sounds nice actually. My daughter and your son.”
Herald was the villain of his story, she was not. But there was still a kinship of sorts. And while she could never forgive him for something that she had no part of, had happened when she too was only a teenager, he was the only person in town willing to come over almost every day. The only person she actually felt comfortable making any attempt at self-deprecation toward. Not that no one else wanted to help her. But no one else knew what her personal hell actually entailed like he did.
If the house was purgatory, the pictures of her son were hell. The pictures on the walls as well as the pictures in her mind. That impossible notion of trying to understand how something could simultaneously be so real but unobtainable. Her son the jovial smartass. Her son the decomposing corpse. But if both purgatory and hell were covered, well then he must have been one of the lucky few to be raptured to heaven. A thought that warped around her mind like a relentless mantra.
When you experience acute grief without time to rationalize what it actually means, that grief becomes the world. Becomes the factor that inhabits everyone’s life. Whether they know it or not. Replaces that nebulous search for meaning with something more tangible, some precise emotion to grasp onto. Because meaning doesn’t have to be striving towards something, and for her, meaning became grief embodied. And her world became a world of two. A rapture of one, the downfall of the other.
Herald washed the mug he was drinking out of and placed it on the drying rack. Let her know that he’d be back the next morning if she’d like. And she nodded as she always did. After he left she tried to do some meditation like she had been recommended, and had been finding some success with. And for the first time in years found herself falling into something just short of feeling alright. Felt as if her life could be different if she wanted. That her grief was a choice. What her therapist had been telling her for years.
A small hole being dug, ready for a seed to be planted. And as she opened her eyes was filled almost immediately with a swell of angst. Because in her world of two, joy was a zero sum game. Her meaning was grief so his could be joy. Her life was hell so he could be in heaven. Her last remaining duty as a mother to be the barrier between this world and the next. It wasn’t her duty to realize it wasn't her fault. Wasn’t her duty to make amends and move on. Because if her meaning wasn’t grief, then what else is there?
_________________
^^^/r/squidcritic
| 2018-04-17T19:09:45 | 2018-04-17T18:55:48 | 89 | 44 |
[WP] After you die you are presented with a decision tree which showcases every possible trajectory your life could have taken depending on which decisions you made at each fork. You spend eternity analysing this tree until one day you find a path that does not end in death. | I'd say that I sat in the void, but I didn't really sit. My physical body had given up, had been spent in the realm of mortals some eternities ago. Instead, my being simply existed in that void. My being may not have looked, but it sensed words, possibilities, connected to others. For eternities I looked through these possibilities, these choices, all the ways my mortal life could have gone. But while the middle is different with every choice, the beginning of birth remains the same. The ending of death remains inevitable.
And then I saw it, a tree tucked in away behind other trees, other choices laden with intriguing implications. A tree, that when looked on at the other end of infinity, did not end with death. Instead, it went on, forever and forever, something which I could not exactly see but I still knew. I looked backed down towards the beginning, the beginning which is always the same. I highlighted the tree in my mind by focusing on it, telling myself that that is what I wanted, that is what I needed. And with that, all else disappeared, until the tree was all I knew. Light quickly filled the void, the light of the tree, the light of the choices. Light which I soon shall know as I have known many times before. A light so pure that if all went right, I would never see again. | No one tells you anything, no, one moment you’re just there. A great, large digital screen on a wall in front of you and it just has all kinds of weird statements. After a while I started recognizing some of them; take job with dad, meet Sally, have twins but then there were others parallel with them. The ones I couldn’t recognize could be perceived on some occasions as good or bad and then others that were more one sided; dad dies in mine accident, leave sally at diner, lose the twins. I studied this board for, I’m not sure how long because you don’t sleep in this room you just sit, pace, stand all the while looking at this large display trying to decipher its code. Well after some amount of time I saw a string of events that all connected and had a different end result than death, that’s not to say it was life. Just I made this discovery a doorway in the wall behind me opened up. | 2020-07-03T10:45:12 | 2020-07-03T10:27:37 | 1,134 | 41 |
[WP] Magic exists, however with a catch. Everyone can only use magic the way they expect magic to function. Harry Potter fans MUST do weird wand waving while Call of Cthulhu players all end up going insane. Write an interaction or duel between two vastly different magic users.
Honestly if magic did exist in our world, this is how I’d expect it to function to please everyone
—-
Wow front page! That’s actually amazing | "Damn it Gandalf, do something!"
"No, I shall not!"
This...has been an interesting battle.
*****
I've fought hundreds of wizards from dozens of different worlds in the past, and I've always come out ahead. Gandalf the Grey, they call me - the greatest wizard of Middle Earth, and up until now the greatest wizard here in Magira. Aang the Avatar, the young Harry Potter, Merlin the Prophet...many memorable battles with many formidable opponents in the past few decades.
This...wizard who currently stands before me does not look like much, to be frank. He calls himself Bob. He is extremely overweight, smells of a dead skunk, and whatever magical properties that the orange powder on his plain white shirt might have, it certainly does not make him look any better. Yet..he is the most difficult challenge I that I had ever faced.
...Nay, calling it a challenge would be highly overrating myself. The man summoned an entire island out of nowhere, and what's more, he did it without even an incantation. "Your turn", he said. I was taken aback, frozen in shock at the unknown power of this archmage standing before me. "My turn?" he asked. I nodded, wanting to see what else he can do. He then summoned another island, completely identical to the first one. What was the purpose of this? What was Bob aiming for?
"Your turn", he repeated. Perhaps he was trying to drown me in water, I do not know. Whatever the case, I decided I could not let Bob continue at his own pace.
"As the wielder of the Flame of Anor, I challenge thee!" I slammed my staff on the ground below me to conjure up my most powerful spell. The same spell I had used to smite a Balrog. The same spell I had used to defeat every other wizard in Magira. Perhaps this time will be no different.
Oh how wrong I was.
"I play counterspell", he mumbled, and with a wave of his hand the two islands tilted sideways. And with that, all the magical powers in my spell disappeared. "My turn?" he asked. I slowly nodded once more, desperately trying to maintain my composure. The two islands tilted back upright, and he conjured up another island.
This went on for ten more minutes, with every single one of my spells effortlessly countered by Bob's single motion of his hand along with various single words. "Counterspell". "Cancel". "Cancel". "Syncopate". I was no match. This was a battle between a mortal and a god, and I am no god.
However, on the 11th minute with 11 identical islands on his side, Bob changed his rhythm. Instead of saying "Your turn" for the 12th time, he muttered another phrase.
"I pass", he said. I was utterly confused as to what he meant by this, but I knew in my heart that I cannot let it happen.
"You cannot pass."
"Uhh...what?"
"You cannot pass", I reiterated.
"...Well, are you gonna do something then?"
"No."
"Sooo...my turn then?"
At this moment, I realized that his islands were still tilted sideways, frozen in its unnatural state by whatever wizardry that was surrounding it. I recalled that every time Bob dispelled my sorcery, his islands tilted.
I had a plan.
"It is not your turn."
"Uhhhh...so what are you gonna do then? I pass."
"YOU SHALL NOT PASS!"
"Whoa man, calm down! And fucking do something then!"
"No."
"Do you pass?"
"...No?"
"I pass."
"YOU SHALL NOT PASS!"
"Damn it Gandalf, do something!"
"No, I shall not!"
An interesting battle indeed. | The fearsome Dee Twen-Tee sat on the clift, facing his deadly rival: Rymus, the Poet. None dared to speak, for a wrong word may bring them to their ultimate demise - It was just time until any of them made the first action.
At high noon, Dee finally spoke: "You fiend, the gods stand by my side. I call upon you a strike from heavens!"
His hands moved around in a dramatic manner while the light around Rymus started to shift and grow in intensity, but just as she was getting ready for the worst a miracle happened: the light grew warm in a placid manner, healing her wounds and easing her mind.
"Dammit" Dee whispered "I got a 2. Guess the RNGods aren't very happy today, either that or the DMons are annoyed. Either way, next time..."
As he kept speaking, Ryme prepared her spell, as she knew that once Dee attacked her he would be forced to wait until she reciprocated. It was all part of her plan, of course, for she needed all the time possible to cast her spell. Rising her voice in an exponential manner, she shouted the verses that she had learned from her teachers: The great monologue.
"Oh my foe, you have fought quite well
It was quite an honor to fight with you
But alas, at the end, you will dine in hell
Mayhap next time, the results will be new
..."
Days passed by while both were stuck in place: Ryme kept on reading from her tomebook, Dee was forced to stay. None could move, so Dee just started slacking off, trying to find new ways to trick the system. Perhaps he could convince Ryme to mary him next turn?
Seasons later, Ryme concluded her book:
"Thus, the princess married her captor
And lived a happy fate
But this isn't a part of your life's chapters
For here ends the wait!"
Words may be unable to describe what happened next, mainly due to the fact that nobody paid attention to whatever she said for all those days, but the result was successful: Dee was down to one HP, and not even a blessing from his gods could save him. Ryme prepared for her final strike, thing that was expected to take at least 10 minutes (considering the fact that Dee would probably bore to death in that time).
But then the doves came.
"No" Ryme said "It cannot be... Steven!"
And from the doves, Steven revealed himself: "Hey guys" said he as his opponents shivered "Wassup? Can you lower your voices a bit? My child-"
Ryme redirected her strike at Steven, but this only triggered him to strike in response: a mysterious rainbow colored cloth started to seal Ryme's neck, making her unable to speak. This was the power that she feared.
As she tried to take it out, Steven spoke: "Oh guys, can we have at least a week without this? I know you like this, but really? Why don't you get a hobby or something? You know the cloth will never end, so please leave and I'll wear it off".
And so, while Ryme struggled to speak, the dying Dee asked: "How can you do this? No limits... No restrictions... This isn't supposed to be possible..."
"A magician never reveals his secrets", said Steven as he called for an ambulance a third time this month.
| 2018-10-16T00:47:11 | 2018-10-15T21:15:36 | 361 | 92 |
[WP] In your dying moments, you see a "Game Over" screen with two options: Try Again or End Game | I stood there in disbelief. In pure defiance of the laws of physics, and other maths I failed in college, was a giant Game Over sign. It was floating right in front of my face and if I wasn't mistaken, the font was Comic Sans. I couldn't believe it; I was dead and all I got was a game over in a crappy font. It rotated a couple times before some new text popped up. 'Try Again' and 'End Game'. I thought I made it pretty clear the first time and pointed at 'End Game'. Some more text popped up with the words 'Are you sure?' That's when it hit me; No, I wasn't sure. I sat down and looked up at the question. Even though the font was terrible, it spoke to me in a way I couldn't entirely explain. Ever since I was a kid, no one had ever questioned my decisions. I figured no one cared enough to consider my choices something debatable. I lived my life like a runaway train and that worked for me. So why now? Why is some crappy game over screen with a simple question bringing me to a grinding halt? Why can't I just bring myself to say yes and get on with it? I guess it's not that simple. You see, I just killed myself... at least I thought I did. | For billions of years I have roamed this Earth.
I have lived many lives.
I don’t remember any of them, but they remember me.
Each life has influenced the next, and the others it encountered along the way.
Over time they have shaped each other, each becoming more complex, more interwoven.
A beautiful cycle of life and death, birth and re-birth.
I have seen so many amazing things, witnessed such change.
I have seen miniature worlds falling from the stars. I have seen altruism. I have seen fire exploding into the sky. I have seen love.
I have witnessed suffering. Endless.
I could end it all…
For me.
I could quit this cycle.
But would it not go on without me?
| 2014-05-21T19:29:16 | 2014-05-21T19:07:13 | 290 | 49 |
[WP]"Oh great far-speaking tower, I have performed the rituals as set forth in the sacred manual. Let me speak to the sky spirit so I may learn of it's wisdom!" "Uh.. Copy that. Moon City Delta responding... We thought everyone was dead down there." | "Why would everyone be dead?" I asked.
"...You did follow the manual, right? Exactly how it was all laid out?" the voice from the sky said with holy reverb and a deep pitch that vibrated your bones.
I gazed around at the courtyard of the castle grounds beneath the tower, haunted by the carnage that was ensued from the ritual, I shivered at the stench of rotten death and burnt flesh. "Uh yeah."
"You summoned 'The Unholy Reckoner'... right?"
"Uh-huh..." I bobbed my head, still craning my neck upwards at the sky.
"And then the five horned bats came down and observed the land to make sure everyone was dead, right?"
"Yup, they just left about 10 minutes ago."
"And then the river of flames opened up from the ground and toasted everyone, right?"
I nodded.
"What was that? Did you say something?" the voice yelled followed by a cracking noise in the background.
"Oh, sorry, I nodded for a moment. Yes, the river of flames did open up and it burnt everyone to a crisp."
"Well... You failed. Good job. Way to screw everything up. You suck. I hope you know that. You really really suck."
"What are you talking about?" I spun around, frantically trying to think of what I did wrong.
"Let me ask you something, when you saw that in the manual it said 'everyone must die', how exactly did you process that information?"
"I-uh-well-uh all of my 300 followers I brought with me died. Wasn't that what you wanted?"
"It's not just your followers, you're supposed to die too, jackass!"
My senses numbed, my heart sank, tears bursted in rivers down my eyes. *How could I fail my life's work?*
"How does it feel, jackass, to be a failure?" stifled laughter came from the omniscient voice.
My neck hung low as if an anchor was wrapped around in a necklace. "I-I-It's horrible..."
"How does it feel to be PRANKED by the galaxy's most popular elaborate prank show, Moon City Delta?"
Flood lights burned on and revealed that the castle grounds were inside of a massive dome with a studio audience that covered the rest of the land and clapped so hard the ground shook. A sea of crew members dressed in backstage regalia and equipment contributed to the applause. Cameras were strewn across the steel beams that supported the dome and down from the top of the (now obvious and fake) tower an elevator that was just a floating disc came down with five purple aliens. They had ruby red eyes, crystal blue suits, and they were no larger than a garden gnome. The crowd roared as soon as they made their entrance, they bowed in response.
Frozen in shock, the five aliens circled around me and threw a microphone up at my face. My jaw dropped. On the massive set, I saw all of my followers get up and wipe the makeup off their face and wave at me while cracking up. I saw 'The Unholy Reckoner' take off his mask and it turned out he was just a bunch of those purple aliens all stacked up on top of each other.
"How does it feel to have been pranked? By Zoller, Quro, Poz, Jav, and me, Vur?" one of the aliens asked me, but my lips trembled too much to form a sentence. The crowd shrieked with glee as he read the names.
"How does it feel to know that you thought this was real and you were responsible for the death of 300 *of your own kind*?" Another alien asked and the five of them chuckled and the rest of the crowd howled with laughter.
"I-uh-I-um--"
"Looks like we have another struggler here, you saw it live folks! That's been our season the past eight years, we hope you've enjoyed the prank and stay tuned for the next one where we convince a king to actually give up his wealth to his people! It's a good one and a real tear jerker. You won't want to miss it!"
​
\*\*\*If you're interested in reading more, [here's a prompt](https://www.reddit.com/r/randallcooper/comments/ficr4t/wpthe_sage_has_found_the_chosen_one_a_farmer_boy/) I did that has a similar feel! :) | "What?" Faldwell tilted his head at the electronic device. "Am I speaking to the Sky Spirit?"
"Sky spirit? What the hell is going on down there, we haven't heard from Earth in weeks." Faldwell sighed and turned to face his band of fur-wearing, face painted, dirty followers.
"Hold on, guys. I think the quest is bugged, he chuckled nervously. "You know how new servers are," he gestured at the air to produce his slate. Everyone else saw it as a smokey glass pane, though he clearly saw text with access to all his menus on it. He navigated to the support menu and requested a mod. Moments later a black hole opened next to him and a young man with a bush of dark brown curls on his head walked out.
"Mod Aurelio," he pointed at his nametag. "What's the problem?" he asked as he approached Faldwell.
"Hello? Earth? This is Moon City Delta, are you there?" Faldwell gestured at the primitive tech that illustrated their trouble. "We've got hundreds of families up here worried about you all."
"Quest is bugged," he added clarification.
"Oh. Hold on this needs to be escalated," Aurelio brought up his own slate.
"Should I talk to them?" Faldwell asked. Aurelio shook his head as he typed on the glass. Seconds after he stopped typing another black hole opened. A short, plump, pale woman in a black suit walked out.
"Hey Melody, we've got a problem. Moon full of Zeros," he pointed at the radio in time to hear them try again.
"This is Moon City Delta, do you read us Earth?" Melody glanced at the radio, then at the small crowd gathered around them, then at Faldwell. He was dressed in furs and grime like them, though he also wore an elaborate headdress made from a lion's skull and a mane made of colorful feathers.
"Guild leader?" she asked. Faldwell nodded.
"The Sky Spirit's blessing is the last thing we needed to earn our guild hall," he said.
"Sharp Development apologizes for the inconvenience. Please accept this server...," she gave Faldwell a card-sized piece of glass, then pointed at a fresh portal that opened next to him. "... for bringing this bug to our attention, and as an apology for troubling your gameplay experience." His eyes went wide.
"A *server!?* A WHOLE server just for us?" Melody nodded.
"If you need any help setting it up, you'll be able to contact Aurelio directly," she smiled.
"Thanks! C'mon guys!" Faldwell immediately rushed through the portal followed by his role-playing cult.
"Uh... Earth," the radio spoke again once the guild left. "The great Sky Spirit commands you to speak to us. Where are you?"
"Warn them about the cataclysm," Melody said as she looked up into the sky for the moon. The palms of her hands started glowing with bright blue light.
"On it," Aurelio replied; his fingers danced on the glass slate.
\[Server Notice: Cataclysmic Event! The moon is shattered. Server template is updated from Apocalyptic to Catastrophic. Environmental safety programs have been disabled. Permadeath is enabled. Please relocate to a standard server if you wish to remain safe. Sharp Development takes no responsibility for players that remain on this server.\]
"Done," Aurelio said. Melody nodded and pointed her glowing hands at the moon. Streaks of bright blue plasma launched out of her hands at it.
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year three, story #116. You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse/)) or my blog. If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the Guidebook to see what's what and who's who, or the Timeline to find the stories in order. | 2020-04-25T08:54:40 | 2020-04-25T08:25:28 | 103 | 63 |
[WP] As a child, you stayed at the deathbed of your grandfather until the reaper came. He was surprised that you could see him; he was touched by it, and he pitied you. So, he offered one wish to console you. You've held on to that wish since then. You think you may need to use it right now. | I look at the bed and I know what I need to do.
Excusing myself from the room, I take a card from my wallet. The card itself is nothing special. Plain white cardstock. The only detail is a barely visible thumbprint in the centre.
Finding a private space, I place my own thumb on the print.
He appears in front of me suddenly. No plume of smoke. No grandeur. He just appears.
"Marcy, it's been 24 years. How are you, dear?"
He's barely finished speaking before I breakdown.
In between sobs, I manage my request.
"Please. You have to help. I can't lose her. She needs to live her life."
"This is your wish?"
"Yes. Please, I want my daughter well and I want her to live a full life."
"So it will be."
As suddenly as he came, he's gone.
I return to the room where my husband sits, holding our daughters hand. Her face drawn, and curls thinned. She gives me a precious and gentle smile.
Over the next two weeks the doctors notice remarkable improvements. The illness is leaving and her health is restoring.
Another two weeks and she's home. Moving independently, beginning to play with the puppy we got her as a homecoming present.
Many years later, cleaning out the closet, I find that same card. Except where the thumbprint was, it now says "Fulfilled". | "I'm so sorry, sir, we're out of tacos. Would you like something else?"
"No." I looked at him. "I want tacos."
"Like I said, sir, the tacos are currently unavaible. But if you're interested in taking a look at the other items on the menu, we have-"
"No." I cut him off. And I didn't look at the menu. "I want tacos."
"We don't-"
"You do. Check again."
He walked away. A few minutes later, he came back and said, "My deepest apologies, sir. It does, indeed, look like we have some tacos and they are currently being prepared as we speak. And as a bonus, I am offering you a 100% discount on your firs-"
"No."
"No?"
"No. I want tacos."
"Yes, the discount is for the tacos."
"No. I just want tacos."
"So no discount?"
"No. I want tacos. Just tacos." | 2019-09-17T16:45:21 | 2019-09-17T14:29:51 | 52 | 15 |
[WP] some people can fly. Others can kill with a touch. Still others can bend time and space to their will. You.... can crack your knuckles to get your hands to light up like glowsticks.
EDIT: this idea was already done by u/-C4-, so take your upvotes to [his post](https://www.reddit.com/r/shittysuperpowers/comments/9wzvqt/when_you_crack_your_knuckles_they_start_glowing/?st=JPCY7ETN&sh=ea3ea677) | It was foggy out. Thick fog. He removed his hat and slumped down in front of me with what seemed to be the weight of the world on his shoulders
"I need you" he said "*the team* needs you. Please, come back"
Was he aware of how untrue that statement was? He could not have been that oblivious to how i was being treated. The insults, the exclusion. Surely with his position, oversight and background in behavioural psychology and analysis, he *had* to have known. Yes, my unique abilities made me stand out. But it was everyones reaction to this exact attribute that caused my anxiety and abrupt separation from the team.
"Give them one more chance" he pleaded. "Whether they know it or not, they need you. They need your leadership. Put aside your fears and apprehensions and forget about their animosity. You were born to do this!"
In a more somber tone, he lowered his head and gently whispered:
"The mission. Ive never failed in a mission before. There are folks out there who are depending on us to complete the mission"
He looked up with a desperate longing in his eyes
"Please Rudolph..."
| I lay in bed, at around 02:30 the sound of someone trying to get in through my kitchen window. I was sure I locked it. I flew out of bed, fuelled by pure adrenaline. The thought of how I would confront the intruder had my mind and heart racing.
I cracked my knuckles and the darkened bedroom was suddenly filled with the soft ethereal glow of my hands.
As I left the bedroom I caught sight of myself in a full length mirror. At that moment a thought crossed my mind. A thought I had every time I saw myself with my hands glowing. A thought that needled me. That haunted me....
If they had cast me as Iron Fist instead of Finn Jones it would never have been cancelled after two seasons.
| 2018-12-06T01:10:39 | 2018-12-05T22:31:30 | 47 | 31 |
[WP] The hero was blessed with the power to bring people back to life, resurecting their companions to keep up the fight against the dark lord. Which is why it’s odd that they brought you, the dark lord that they fought against back to life. | I felt the hero’s sword go through my chest and fill my body with light as he stared at my dying form.
“Wait outside for me! Once the Dark Queen falls, I‘ll have to purify her corpse!” He looked back at his party as my vision began to fill with darkness.
“Of course, sir Storm! You are truly the greatest hero!” The small party of adventurers that had joined him quickly ran off to go and destroy the rest of my palace.
“Your reign of terror ends here, Empress Hela. Now, go back to hell, whence you came.” The hero growled as he ran the rest of his blade through my body and sliced it in half.
I was prepared to receive praise from the evil gods I had served all my life, but for some reason, when I opened my eyes again, I was still on the ruined floor of my palace, laying against my cracked throne. All the fires that had been burning around me when the hero, his party, and I were fighting had been put out. The hero had not left my corpse to rot here, like I thought he would. Instead, he was sitting in front of me, as if he was patiently waiting for me to show him that I was still alive. His right hand was softly glowing as he poured resurrection magic into my broken body.
“What is the meaning of this...?” I coughed out, feeling the air coming back into my lungs.
“Oh, good, you’re finally awake. Look, lady, you and I need to have a chat.” He put his hand down and placed it back into his lap.
“Why would I want to speak with you, you wretch? You killed me.” I glared at him. “I should kill you right here and now when my strength comes back to me.”
“Whoa, chill, damn. There’s no need for that. Look, I only killed you to satisfy the rest of my dumbass party, alright?” He chuckled. The way he spoke to me and the way he presented himself had completely changed from when he and his party first came to defeat me. “I had to make sure those idiots think you died so that you and I can have a chance to talk. I’m not gonna kill you instantly again, but you have to promise to hear me out before you try to fight me.” He set his sword down in front of me to show me he had no intentions of repeating what happened earlier.
“Okay, then. What did you want to discuss?“ I calmed down a little.
“I have a huge problem, and you’re the only one who can help me with it.” He explained to me.
“Go on.” I told him to continue. This was going to be interesting. No one had ever asked me for help before, let alone a hero.
“See, the thing is, I don’t belong in this world. I was summoned to the ‘Blessed Kingdom of Avalon’ several weeks ago by its queen to come and destroy you, and to be completely honest, I just want to return home to my family and friends so I can watch the Warriors game on TV tonight, play Call of Duty, and just, like, go back to my old life as a normal teenage dude. The queen gave me the power to resurrect people, which is kinda cool, I guess, but honestly, I really don’t give a shit about being a hero for this backwards-ass fantasy world with orcs and wizards and shit. Maybe if I was more of an RPG nerd who watched those ‘other world’ anime shows like my best buddy Jeffrey, I would have enjoyed this adventure that the Avalonians sent me on a little more, but I’m just done with all of this.” He explained to me, rolling his eyes. “And, since the queen of Avalon insists on keeping me here in case you or some other dark force decides to rise up and terrorize the country or whatever, she won’t send me back to my world.“
“I don’t see where you are trying to go with this, hero.” I stared at him, confused.
“Don’t call me ‘hero’, please. My name is Jason Storm,” he said as he pulled out a strange glowing piece of glass with a picture on it, “and I want you to send me back to this house in my world with your magic.” He handed me the glass and showed me the image of a large house with the words “Oceanside, California, USA” written in bright red letters underneath it.
“I see. And why should I do that?” I still didn’t trust him. What if he tried to kill me again before he stepped through the portal I would conjure for him? What if this was a ruse, and his party was waiting in secret, ready to slaughter me as soon as I cast a spell?
“Because I revived you, and I haven’t killed you yet.” He replied as he took the glowing glass from me. “Look, I’m gonna be real with you for a sec, Hela; whatever you decide to do after you send me back is none of my concern. You can even kill my party waiting for me outside your palace if you want. They‘re all lowkey weird anyway. Actually, if you could convince the hot archer chick in my party to also come to my world, that would be dope. She was hitting on me a lot during the long trip here, and I one-thousand percent know she wants to smash.” He laughed a little.
“You really have no concern for the fate of Avalon, do you?” I couldn’t help but laugh at how foolish the Avalonians were to trust that this selfish kid in front of me would act heroically. “So killing all of my undead minions and spouting heroic nonsense were part of a facade to appease the moronic people of Avalon, then?”
“Yep,” He yawned nonchalantly. “So, are you gonna help me out, or...?”
“Alright, Jason, I shall send you home, since you have amused me with how uncaring you are in regards to the fate of those blasted Avalonians.” I accepted his offer.
“Thanks, Hela. And to think, everyone I met on this adventure said you were a horrible person. I mean, yeah, you did burn down a lot of peoples’ homes and turned thousands more into your undead slaves, but at least you were willing to hear me out. Not like the queen of Avalon. Can you believe that crazy old bitch actually wanted to lock me in a cell because I didn’t wanna die for her? I thought that not wanting to go off and die was a very rational thing to do, but in this world, it’s apparently the worst thing that I could have done.” He sighed as I stood up and began to draw a portal in front of him while I listened to him vent to me.
“I wholeheartedly agree with you. It is a shame that the queen of Avalon insists on sending young men and women like you on fruitless adventures, only to die here in vain.” I sympathized with him. “This portal that I have created should take you back to wherever you desire to go. Just chant the name of the place and step through.”
“Thanks, Hela. Before I go, though, this isn’t a trap, is it?” He asked me.
“It is not, I promise. Unlike most heroes, you, Jason, are a rational and intelligent young man who understands the futility of coming here to defeat me. Because of that, I am going to let you walk free. I’ll even make sure that you aren’t able to come back here once the portal closes.” I honestly told him.
“Thanks, Hela. You’re the first real person I’ve met. It’s a damn shame that I only just met the most sane person in this wack-ass world. Now, I’m off, back to my home in Oceanside, California!” He proudly recited out loud as he waved to me and left for his world through the portal. Once it closed and he was safely home, I stretched one last time, checked myself for any remaining wounds, and immediately began to gather up all of my restored magical power as I flew towards where Jason’s party was waiting for me outside the ruined walls of my palace. They were completely caught off guard as I appeared behind them.
“Good heavens! The empress is still alive?! Where is sir Storm?!” The paladin drew his sword, surprised.
“What have you done to our leader?!” The mage readied his staff and aimed it at me.
“Sir Storm is gone. Reduced to ashes.” I lied, laughing maniacally before aiming a blast of magic at the archer girl, who was too scared to draw her bow. She was sent to Jason’s world, but the rest of her party would only see that she had been instantly vaporized by my magic.
“ALICE, NO!” The paladin ran over to where the archer girl had been and smacked the ground in frustration with his fist as he glared at me with eyes full of anger. “YOU’RE GOING TO PAY FOR THAT, YOU RUTHLESS CU-“ His outburst was quickly silenced by a blast of fire magic from my fingers. The ash pile that was once a mighty paladin from the kingdom of Avalon was blown away by a gust of wind, leaving only the mage and I to face off against each other. He quickly surrendered and ran off, knowing that he was no match for me. As I watched his screaming form run off towards what would become the wasteland formerly known as Avalon, I silently thanked the rational hero who spared my life as I raised a new army of undead and prepared for a new invasion... | The battlefield was scorched and burnt. So many fallen... it would take weeks to revive them all. And those are the ones with bodies left to recover... the battle was, in fact, still raging. Archers loosing arrows, steel striking steel, and the shouts of military orders rang across the battlefield like funeral bells on a cold winter evening. In the center of it all, this final cathedral housed the most important battle of the war. The battle between Fredrick Knightwing, champion of Faun’zala, and Grimswell Penumbral, the Lunar Lord of Darkness. Fredrick let out an aching, heavy sigh. This decision was the right decision... So many people were hurt to bring about his moment. To bring about the end of Grimswell, the champion of corruption and destruction. It was finally over. But then, Faun’zala called to Fredrick once again. Another vision. Another lesson.
Thoughts of simpler times, back before he was blessed by Faun’zala, those thoughts came to mind. It was just Fredrick and his Father out in the woods. Fredrick had never taken up a bow before: the senior Knightwing was teaching his son to hunt. Softly walking through the mossy ground during a midsummer’s afternoon... he could feel, once again, the ground sinking beneath his feet. Off in the distance, the father and son saw a lone deer with a mangled leg. The deer was hobbling along slowly, painfully. Fredrick watched in horror as his father drew his bow. Middle aged fingers drew back the bowstring swiftly, letting an arrow loose in a minuscule breath. The arrow flew true, striking the deer right in the heart. It died an easy, painless death.
Nine year old Fredrick was trembling... his eyes welled up. He gripped his father fiercely, crying. “Why papa, why? That wasn’t fair... it couldn’t get away.” The experienced hunter ran a hand through Fredrick’s hair, softly, warmly. “Here, Fred, let’s sit down. I’ll talk you through it.” The father motioned to a stump a few paces away, and the Fredrick sat on his father’s lap. “Son, everybody and everything has a good and a bad. What’s good for our dinner is real bad for that deer.” Fredrick gripped his father’s jacket tightly at the mention of the deer. “Shh, kiddo, it’s ok. What a lot of folks focus on a lot is what’s good. What’s good for them, and how to be good people. Yeah, being a good person is good... but bad’s pretty important too.” At that Fredrick looked up confused. The confusion distracted Fredrick from the sadness a bit, helping him dry his tears. “But papa, bad is bad. Nobody wants bad.”
At that, a light chuckle spilled out of the senior Knightwing’s lips. “Yeah, bad is bad. But think about it this way: for Deer bad is a predator. Wolves, Dragonsnaps... and people too. If there were none of those, there’d be a lot of deer.” Fredrick nodded along, this was very simple to understand. “Well imagine if there weren’t any predators. There would be so many deer. Too many. All the plants would get eaten real quick. And you can’t have a forest without plants... so what’s good for us is also good for the forest.” Fredricks eyes widened. “Yeah papa, you’re right! I love plants.” The hunter’s lips curled up, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He ran a hand through little Fredrick’s hair, making Fredrick’s curly brown hair even messier than usual. “Every bad is gonna be good for something. Bad takes sure, but good is selfish too.” Fredrick shook his head strongly. “Nuh uh, selfishness is bad.” At that the father pointed over to the deer. “We gotta eat somehow. To the deer, we look *real* selfish right now. We gotta take something to be good.” Little Fredrick pouted a bit. “I guess so.” Fredrick’s father continued. “Even the goodest of goods have to be selfish. Justice has to hurt someone when they get punished. Giving to charity makes the giver feel pretty darn good, or helps them look good for other people. Selfish doesn’t always mean bad. It’s just too much selfish that does that.” Fredrick nodded along, but he felt funny. His dad made sense but Fredrick didn’t like a word of it. “Now come on kiddo, let’s go clean up that deer. We need to bring dinner home for momma.”
The memory faded away, just like the other flashes that Faun’zala has given him. Every flash was another lesson. Fredrick understood: he was the good. This was the bad. Bad takes selflessly, while good takes selfishly. The Lunar Lord broke and corrupted so many souls... but the Lord gained nothing in return. It was, in a sense, a selfless cleansing. Things must die. But Fredrick, redeeming and resurrecting... was selfish. The power of choice inherently makes Fredrick’s ability selfish. There must be a reason, a benefit, to revive someone. Someone who can destroy selflessly is the perfect balance to someone who can revive selfishly. Fredrick took a deep breath, it was time.
He tried to fight back the sorrow. The anguish. The regret. Fredrick did not want to bring back his greatest foe, but if he didn’t... the selfishness of good would overwhelm this world. Faun’zala commanded balance. Fredrick finally understood what that meant. Balance isn’t destroying evil, but managing evil. To decide who must die and must not... that is selfish. That is the ultimate selfishness of good. It was time to learn a lesson from the Lunar Lord: to wield power indiscriminately. Fredrick laid a hand on Grimswell’s chest and began chanting: “*Elsvar elsvar returnatus, from the ashes, from the sadness. Respra respra revenala, return to me from Faun’zala.*” The hulking, armored form of the Lunar Lord began to twitch ever so slightly. “*Elsvar elsvar returnatus, from the ashes, from the sadness. Respra respra revenala, return to me from Faun’zala.*” Just a little longer... Fredrick almost stopped the ritual. The pain, the regret, it was almost too much. With heaving breaths and tears just like the ones that mourned for a mangled deer, Fredrick continued to chant. It wasn’t fair... “*Elsvar elsvar returnatus, from the ashes, from the sadness. Respra respra revenala, return to me from Faun’zala.*”
The titanic body within the tarnished steel plating shifted and stirred, like a body pulled from slumber. The Lunar Lord groggily awoke, and Fredrick waited. It took a minute or two for the sounds of war to wake up Grimswell. “You did it Freddy boy. You really did it.” Fredrick blinked owlishly: the Lunar Lord was far more... casual than before his death. “What? You were expecting that?” Grimswell picked himself and his armor off the ground. “Faun’zala demands balance. Did you really think she’d only have one champion?” Fredrick opened his mouth in protest... and then focused on Grimswell’s words. “Freddy, bud, you take care of the good guys. But somebody’s gotta take care of the bad guys. Even a killer needs a home.”
Fredrick wanted to shout. And scream. Killers are evil, killers are awful, killers are... and then he realized it. This whole war. All the deaths. All the pain. They were all meant to deliver him, Fredrick, and his rival, Grimswell, right here. To have this conversation. “So, Lunar Lord—” The Lord of Darkness interrupted the confused hero.“Please Freddy, call me Grimswell.” Frederick, slowly easing into the informality, began to speak.“Ok um, Grimswell, I guess you could say we’re... partners? Of a sort.” Grimswell let out a large, bellowing laugh. “Of course, of course, you’re catching on! We hate each other in public but in private... good and evil is just a measure of how much you hate the other guy. And we have the same boss after all.” At that, Grimswell’s massive hand gave Fredrick a friendly slap on the back... and nearly knocked Fredrick over. “Now Freddy boy, give me your hand. We have a ritual to do before the battle ends.” Grimswell placed a hand out with his palm up. The palm flowed with the green, sweet warmth of Faun’zala. And the same green warmth tugged at Fredrick, urging him forward. This is the feelings of the visions. Of the revivals. With the evidence of the goddesses’ magic before him, Fredrick could deny it no longer. There was in fact, another champion. | 2019-12-26T16:37:23 | 2019-12-26T14:34:43 | 21 | 11 |
[WP] The devil mixed up your paperwork and gave you someone else's personal hell, which to you, is heaven. | "awwwww fuckin-!" I screamed, as the shells pounded the sand around me, then drowned me out.
I jerked the charging handle on the M16 that had been conjured into my hands, anachronisms aside. There were Germans on the beach ahead of me, but we were in some sort of semi-jungle and I was wearing a 'Nam era helmet and some sort of semi-futuristic chest rig with polymer and all kinds of weird shit. I set it to burst and charged up the sand. I took a bullet or two, but I could feel them slowly squeezing their way out of my body, the wound slowly and painfully closing behind them as I sprinted up the beach, firing wildly, laughing like a maniac. "FUCKIN-!" I screamed, before being cut off by a burst of MG fire. I dove into a foxhole that was previously occupied by some Germans and quickly noted that the ones still here were more.... robotic? Than expected.... So I was fighting Neo-Nazi Cyborgs in Vietnam? "FUCK.... YEAH!" I screamed, finally finishing my sentence.
In some other room in hell, an older man, much older now, mostly bald, but oddly like a stereotypical "friendly old man", always wearing a sweater, never swearing, sat in a nice wooden chair in a cabin. The cabin was small, wooden, but very well made. It was on a tiny island in a temperate area, of the climate equivalent of coastal Maine. The fridge was always full of good food, the TV had a few very nice channels, but nothing too intense, and there was a chess board that would seem to always clean itself up after a good game. There was very little to do here, and he was fine with that. He could finally retire in peace. | In the end it was the cigs that killed me, everyone always said they would. Anyway, i found myself in a massive waiting room like at the doctors office. Some stoned looking demon with stubby horns was stamping papers at the check-in desk.
"Where am I exactly?" I stammered when It was my turn to hand in my papers. As the demon took my documents and began sorting them he maintained eye contact with me wordless. It seemed as if he was trying to act tough but having a bad sense of humour about my own mortality I started chuckling. Flustered the demon quickly hands back my papers, as soon as I grab them I feel myself falling.
They must have made a mistake. An endless ocean of massive swells, and a strong breeze. "Stranded" on a small little sailboat with a triangular sail. I couldn't believe it THIS was the hell I got haha! To someone afraid of the sea this would have been a bad way to spend eternity, but for me a life long sailor it was pure bliss. A steady breeze, surfing wave after wave getting the small boat up on a plain.
When I was alive I spent all my time working so I could one day spend all my time sailing, but work always won out. I can't believe my luck, I don't think God could have come up with somthing better than this! | 2016-05-28T15:41:50 | 2016-05-28T14:12:52 | 114 | 22 |
[WP] Dwarves are notorious for their love of alcohol. One day a dwarf goes sober and discovers it grants them amazing powers such as being able to remember what happened the night before. | "Ye've got to talk some sense into him," said Auntie Arm-n'-Hammer. "Och, it's just not right!"
"Fine." Papa BlackPorter finished his stout and wiped the creamy head from his mustache and beard. "But ye've got to work the bellows in my place until I'm back!"
Papa BlackPorter climbed up the long, long, long staircase to the stone gate. He hefted the gate with all his might; the gate to the surface was not meant to be opened and closed very often and resisted his efforts to leave the mountain. He blinked in the sunlight and wondered how his son could tolerate the surface.
The last time Papa BlackPorter had seen his son DeepStone, the young dwarf had set up a tent just outside the gate. The tent was gone. Papa BlackPorter spun slowly and examined his blurry surroundings. Dwarven eyes can focus finely on objects up-close, but rarely have reason to focus on objects in the distance; he really had to strain his vision to sight a tall, tall, tall stone tower a mile up the mountain.
He hiked to it and ran his hands over the tower's walls. The workmanship of the masonry was as good as DeepStone's fingerprint to the experienced Papa BlackPorter. "Come out, son, I know yer in there! It's not right, leavin' the mountain and buildin' towers! It's not the dwarven way!"
When he heard no answer, Papa BlackPorter circled the tower looking for an entrance. He found none; DeepStone had built the tower around himself from the inside. Papa BlackPorter took his trusty pickaxe from his belt and tunneled through the tower wall.
Inside the tower there was a staircase. Papa BlackPorter sighed as he climbed. Dwarves should never be so near the sky!
At the tower's ceiling there was a wooden hatch. Papa BlackPorter opened it and saw his son DeepStone sitting on the tower's ceiling's center. "Come down, son, yer gonna get sky-poisoning up here!"
DeepStone was unnaturally tanned by the sun. He wore black goggles to protect his eyes from alchemy ingredients arranged before him. He watched a Bunsen burner boil brown sludge in a glass flask as he powdered pebbles with a pestle.
Papa BlackPorter approached with a canteen of emergency alcohol. "Son, how long has it been since yer last drink?"
"I drink pure water, now, father. I pull it from the air."
"I mean a stiff drink, lad."
"Not since I left the underground."
Papa BlackPorter opened the canteen and put it under his son's beard. The canteen's contents were strong enough to made DeepStone's mustache curl. "Drink, son. Please."
"Do you wonder why there aren't any dwarven wizards?" asked DeepStone. His father had no answer. "It's because we don't apply ourselves."
"Yer not talkin' right."
"Father, look."
DeepStone put down his pestle and donned a thick glove. With the glove, he turned off the Bunsen burner and tilted the glass flask of boiled brown sludge. He poured the sludge through a screen.
On the screen remained flecks of blue metal. Papa BlackPorter covered his mouth. "Is that---"
"Mythril," said DeepStone. "Material of Elven Magicians."
"Did you---" Papa BlackPorter squinted at the blue flecks. "Did you make this with magic?"
"Dwarven magic. Alchemy. It's not flashy stage-show magic, but I figure it oughta take the Elves down a peg or two."
"Aw, that's my boy!" Papa BlackPorter hugged his son close. "I can't claim to understand ye, but I approve of yer alternative lifestyle!" | Urist was startled awake by the sounds of screams from outside his room, mercifully dampened by distance and the heavy wooden door that lead into the living quarters passageway. He grimaced anyway, somehow aware he was on the verge of a splitting headache that would make itself known at the slightest provocation.
The booze had ran out yesterday, and already the fort was in disarray. The usual sounds of the fort were deafeningly absent - the throng of metalworking, the chipping of the stonecarver, thwacking of the butcher, the constant hum of conversation and song - all replaced with moaning, crying, and the occasional pained or angered scream.
He decided his best course of action was to stay in bed. Outside it he never quite lost the sense of chill this place had - knowing he was only a dozen blocks away from the largest ice sheet he had ever seen somehow dampened the heat of any fire and the comfort of his furred clothes - but here in his warm bed, in the stupor of sleepiness, he clung to the only real sense of true warmth he could remember since he arrived here.
"*An exotic home under the ice*" they said. "*A chance at a fresh start*" they said. "*You'll find riches in the untouched Earth*" they said.
Instead all they found was granite, basalt, and a few meagre streaks of coal and hematite, under more ice than he thought existed in the world. Where were the magma tubes the geologists promised to help turn their cold little hole in the ground into a cosy home? Where was the underground lake they were so sure must be under such a thick layer of ice? How could there not be a living underworld here, caves of edible creatures and plants that they believed underlaid the whole world? They seemed to stretch on forever in the depths under his old mountainhome, but here in this Armokforsaken place they'd found nothing but ice and an endless sea of rock.
Urist wasn't used to such thoughts. He was used to just getting on with things, the realities of his harsh life fading away into the usual fuzz of routine. Whenever he felt the cold fist of reality closing in there was always a barrel of dwarven ale or river spirits from the supplies to ease his mind. How bad could it be, really, with a belly full of ale?
There was shouting now. Accusing sounds, angry. Then, louder, the distinctive voice of Mayor Amkin. It was getting closer. Urist could pick out some of the words now, a rambling tirade about how none of this was his fault emerging from the cacophony.
His head started to throb. The ache in his gut grew. Dwarves weren't meant to feel this way, to worry about their lot in life, to bicker and fight when they could be working towards their future, to feel the sheer existential dread of knowing they were trapped in a harsh world full of horrors both mundane and miraculous.
They were just meant to drink and *get on with it*.
The shouting reached a crescendo, and was suddenly replaced by a blood-curdling, gargling scream. Then abrupt, unnatural silence.
Urist held his breath and pulled the covers closer. It's warm here, he thought. At least it was warm. | 2017-12-31T08:13:51 | 2017-12-31T08:13:06 | 140 | 41 |
[WP] When they turn 14, every human gets an obscure super power with a lengthy description of it so they know what it is. But when yours arrives, it only says four words. “Don’t… | Helen Ziegler got her prognosis first. The ability to shield yourself from the public eye at will so that no harm can come to you and no target can find you. Invisibility. She beamed with pride as she read off the note and the class erupted into cheers. Penelope George and Lucas Matheson were next. One by one, classmates got their prognosis as was set for all who turned fourteen. A few were late bloomers and some were early starters, but everyone got a prognosis and everyone enjoyed their new abilities.
Hunter Smith, however, waited with bated breath for his prognosis to come.
“What do you think your abilities are going to be?” his friend Jaden nudged him.
“Hard to say,” Hunter shrugged. “I’m just hoping it’s something bad ass.”
Jaden grinned. “Yeah! That’s the spirit!”
Hunter mirrored his friend’s expression the best he could. Truth was he had gone to his mandatory appointment as all those who turned fourteen were required by law to do. He had sat in the doctor’s office awaiting his appointment, had gone under a series of unpleasant testings and tasks. Things were normal enough until the approximate hour-long session stretched to two hours and then to three. The nurses and the doctor on hand shot each other worried glances. When he had asked them what was going on, they offered smiles that never quite reached their eyes and words that were clearly false. “Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart. You just relax now. This will all be done soon.”
It was dark by the time he was able to leave his appointment. The entire day gone in a flash. Three months later, and it was his time to find out the results of their tests.
“Hunter Smith?” one of the school nurses walked in and called out.
Several faces turned to him in excitement. Hunter tried to school his face into neutrality as he stood from his desk. He tried to quell the nerves twisting at his stomach and the bile threatening to claw to his throat. He made his way to the nurse without incident, thankfully. With a quiet thank you, he took the prognosis from her and returned to his desk.
“Well?” Jaden asked.
Hunter was too nervous to look.
“What does it say?” Jaden pressed.
Hunter swallowed. His fingers trembled as he unfolded his prognosis. It was common for there to be a long explanation as to what the ability was, what it was classified as, and instructions on how to use it. This prognosis was short.
“Hunter?” he heard Jaden say. His voice sounded far away. “What does it say?”
The prognosis only had four words: Don’t kill them all. | ~~I~~ We were searching ~~my~~ our dwelling when we discovered a curious sight. A journal which bore ~~my name~~ a name of the collective.
~~I~~ We looked within. ~~Who was I?~~ Curious to see what the memories were, ~~I~~ we flipped through the pages. ~~It was full of things I don’t remember about myself.~~ It was full of memories of a life before the blessing. ~~I never inquired the abilities of others in the collective, I didn’t even know mine.~~ Our abilities are only for the collective to know, this journal must be destroyed.
~~Memories came back to me in flashes.~~ The collective momentarily felt disunion, another reason to destroy the book. ~~I was an individual.~~ We were unblessed in the journal’s time. ~~I had my own free will.~~ We were weak then. ~~I was free.~~ We were without guidance.
~~I had friends and family. I had a full life ahead of me, what happened?~~ We had lesser ties than the hive mind. ~~Now I am trapped.~~ Now we are enlightened. ~~Perhaps this journal has the answers, memories are coming back now. Perhaps I can be free.~~ Subject 11567 of the collective is suffering from a critical ailment of individuality, the collective must- ~~No, I just need to maintain my individuality a little longer, what power did I have? Maybe I can use it to escape…~~ We are immune to foolish gestures of escape, such is folly.
~~Ah, entry 9/25, I found the hive mind. Wait… all their abilities are the same as mine? Something psionic it seems?~~ We all share a common purpose. ~~How? Were we doomed from the start?~~ We were chosen to be uplifted. ~~I gasped as I discovered the description of my power, perhaps I truly was at fault. It read: “Don’t use on collectives.”~~ Collective has been recontrolled. Resistance has been quelled. The union is restored. | 2022-05-08T09:51:37 | 2022-05-08T07:25:10 | 689 | 242 |
[WP] Write spoof erotica [NSFW?]
Mods: if this isn't okay to post, just tell me and I'll remove it. | My inner goddess is wriggling with pleasure. Well, it's her, or it's the bad indian food I ate yesterday. His crooked finger is snuggled in my magic love hollow and he's making me feel -
"Oh my," I moan, as my inner goddess smiles like a hungry wolf.
"Keep still." He growls. He's standing behind me, one hand on my hip, the other nestled inside my warm and squishy cave of wonders. He owns, me, he's controlling me... It all feels so good. And he's so attractive as well. I can't believe he wants little old me!
"Oh Tristan," I groan, wiggling my backside against his firm and throbbing man-spanner. He growls and hits my backside with the flat of his hand.
"Oh my." I cry again, feeling like domination and kinky shit might be just right up my street. Or puckered adoration canal. Both. Oooh...
"You're mine Hannah." He growls in my ear. He does a lot of growling. He's like a really sexy wolf. Only not furry - I'm not *that* kinky, blimey. He kinda has these yellow eyes and a six pack like a chocolate bar. Imagine the most generically attractive guy you can, add a tragic backstory and that's Tristan for you.
I feel a warmth building up in me and I know I'm ready.
"Oh my, oh Tristan." I scream.
I discover, to my dismay, that it *was* in fact the Indian food and not my inner goddess wriggling inside me as I turn around and realise that Tristan is not covered in my feminine love juices, but rather... | Another night, another pizza to deliver. God damn, I hate this job. And I bet I'll hate this old bitch in... hang on, what address was it again? Oh, yeah, Apartment 21, Building 745, Fisher Street. "Marrie-Anne. 1 Large Supreme, and make it quick, I'm soooooo hungry." Fucking bitch, thinks she's better than everyone else.
Huh, how many god damn stairs are there in this damn building? Fuck, finally, apartment 21.
"Ding Dong."
Ho. Ly. Shit.
"Oh, you must be the pizza boy, hang on, let me get the money," says the pristine hour-glass blonde wearing nothing but a white t-shirt and black frilly panties. I'm almost hitting the floor when she turns around and all I can remember is the 'bounce, bounce, bounce' of two perfectly formed cheeks floating away in the distance.
"Here ya go!"
Huh. I awake back into reality. I take the money from her slender perfect hand and look puzzled, dazed. She looks back at me shocked.
"Oh, I forgot your tip!! Please, come inside with me and I'll give it to you."
I nod, all words escaped. My legs move and I follow. She leads me to her kitchen....
Shall I keep going guys?? | 2014-01-12T04:11:02 | 2014-01-12T03:58:03 | 53 | 10 |
[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” | “Ah, The Guy Who Flips Tables,” I reply.
“That was a one-time thing and you know it,” says The Guy Who Flips Tables.
I hadn’t realized it until now, but I feel a ferocious hatred towards this man.
“So *that’s* why your sky-daddy abandoned me,” I snarl. “I’m the ‘Antichrist?’”
“Well, you *are* the progeny of Lucifer.”
Ah. That explains my fascination with demonological research. And those stories where my parents explained they had to bolt my crib to the floor to stop me from floating it away.
“Honestly, I’d rather use cool demon powers than whatever your precious *God* gave you.”
“Please refrain from throwing the Father’s name around,” says Jesus.
“I mean really,” I yell, ignoring Christ himself. “The most useful ‘miracles’ you’ve done? Saved yourself from drowning and found a way to drink no matter how hard a barkeep tries to cut you off. Great job.”
“How about the time I broke bread and fed hundreds of people?”
“Oh yes, wonder why you haven’t done that in over 2 millenia? In case you haven’t noticed, *Jesus*, the world’s become kind of a shithole. Man, I bet that crown of thorns fits right on your head.”
At this point, Jesus sighs.
“I didn’t want to have to do this,” he says.
He raises his hand to the sky, and his entire body is enshrouded by radiant light. He then raises his fists.
“Oh, fuck yes,” I scream. I rub my hands together then slap the ground, Full Metal Alchemist style. I feel a red-hot power boiling in my veins as I put up my guns. “Let’s DO THIS!”
My patron in Hell giving me power, I launch myself at the figurehead of a religion, punching him in his perfect jaw.
“O, my almighty Father,” he says. “Give me the strength to fight this foe.”
He lashes out at my chest, and suddenly my eyes are closed. My arms are bound by ropes; kinky. My ass feels like I’m sitting on a plank; not kinky. A freezing cold wind rushes past my ears. I open my eyes.
I’m in the back of a cart with three other guys.
“You. You’re finally awake.”
Does this mean...
Todd Howard you sexy son of a bitch. | 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. | 2020-02-02T16:00:32 | 2020-02-02T15:07:16 | 162 | 25 |
[WP] The Russian Tsar sneaks off and disguises himself as a laborer in a shipyard, to understand the life of the common man. Little does he know, the other ship-builders are also slumming dignitaries and royals in disguise, and no one has realized this. | "This is what life is."
"What is? Oh thi-Yes! Yes this is the life certainly, but perhaps not as great as those royals have it."
"Posh. The sea air, a good hammer on nail, and a bowl of peasant soup. That is all I'll ever really need."
"Peasant soup?"
"Yeees peasant soup. That's- that's when you-"
"HAR! Of course I know what peasant soup is."
"Okay good."
"My questions is, how do you make it? I make it the regular way but I know other people make peasant soup in different ways."
"I make it the regular way too."
"You do? Oh...that's very grand. Say, pass me that hook-thing."
"The hammer?"
"Yes. HA! Toying with you I am."
At that moment the yardmaster walked in. A gruff man of impossible height. His tan skin glistened in the sun as he came out of the shadows made by the towering masts above him.
"What's all this?" He roared. "You two have been at it since morning, barely two planks have been nailed together."
"Well you see my liege we-"
"And that's another thing. Stop calling me liege or I'll rip your eye out with that crowbar yer holdin."
"As you wish." He fought the urge to bow. "Sir may I ask when we tired shipbuilders will be getting out bowls of peasant soup?"
The yardmaster spat into the ocean. "What in God's name is peasant's soup?" He stomped away, cursing quite loudly about bad help. The two builders looked at each other. Shaking their heads.
"Doesn't even know what peasant soup is." | My name is Psyuro Dashlev. I am the Russian Tsar. When I took over my father's throne, no one expected anything of me. I was 20, and they thought I was just another kid, that our country is doomed, that I will die without an heir. But after I made a few changes to the price of grain, made a few new laws, everyone fell in love with me. Women in the streets called out to me, offering their bodies and hands for marriage. However in growing up in the wing of wealth, I had always wondered what it would be like to live the life of a common man. Today I set out to finally find out. I called a holiday so I could go to the shipyard. I arrived and snuck in through an empty slat in the picket fence. I got to the ship at the same moment a voice rung out: "TSAR!!!!!". I saw a gun in front of me, hundreds of men standing with rifles and heard a shot. A fraction of a second later I feel a thump in my chest and another, and another. I fell to the ground with a pokerface seeing the edges of my vision start to darken, I saw a man, one who I recognized. With the last bit of energy I had, I asked him, "Father?"
This is my first story I have written so please don't be harsh! | 2017-01-02T18:17:44 | 2017-01-02T17:44:35 | 37 | 13 |
[WP] You lose a dare at an airport and are forced to ask an employee for a ticket to the farthest destination. To your surprise, they quietly nod and give you a single ticket with letters you don't recognize.
EDIT: Holy *crap* this blew up. I want to thank everyone for their stories and input, and also would like to shout out the one dude who took their time to give me Reddit silver. Thanks for my first award! | He shoved the ticket into his pocket and walked down the hallway toward the Plane. He checked his watch: 12:04 PM. Losing the dare was an annoyance, but one that he hoped would not eat up too much of his day. With enough luck, he would be Transported to the strange destination printed on his ticket, fulfill the usual requisite couple hours of exploration mandated by the dare, and return in time for his dinner meeting at 6:00 PM. It was crucial that he perfectly pitched his latest vision to his most promising backer in the city leadership. They were all skeptical of his claims and even more uncertain about the methods by which he hoped to implement his ideas. But he was certain that he could get through to this one. Thoughts of how he would conduct the meeting filled his mind as he walked—then vanished just as quickly as he stepped onto the Plane and was greeted by an Attendant:
"Welcome onboard. The Time will be the 28th day of the month 'June', year 1971. We will return on the same day and month in the year 2031 for pickup. We hope you enjoy your stay on planet Earth, Elon."
Elon immediately turned around, but it was too late. The entrance had shut. The room began to glow with a luminous blue light as the Transporter hummed to life. He groaned in frustration. He couldn't believe they'd pulled something like this on him, especially on such a crucial day. The last thing he needed was a 60 year stint on an old, backwater planet that was technologically light years behind the city he was working to improve. But there was no way to reverse the process now. With a sigh of resignation, Elon lifted the crumpled ticket out from his pocket and tried once more in vain to make out the strange, primitive letters signifying his home for the next 60 years: PRETORIA, EARTH.
​ | AT25.
It was a very strange airport code. I had never seen a 4 digit airport code before and certainly not one with numbers. I turned back to the desk attendant confused.
"Umm which country is this airport in again?"
"None of them," she answered as though it should have been obvious. "And don't forget your jacket. It'll be cold this time of year." She added almost as an afterthought. This had originally been a dare, but now I was curious. Just where was this ticket going to take me?
The flight departed from Anchorage at 11 AM. I was the only passenger on the flight and the plane was very old. It was some sort of 4 engine propeller plane. It was extremely cold in the plane and the only refreshments were a couple of sandwiches and some water bottles. After about 20 hours we stopped at a small airfield. The pilot said that he needed to refuel the plane or something like that.
We were soon back in the air. It was unbelievably boring. The only other passenger was a pallet of cargo. The writing on the pallet was in Japanese, so I had no idea where we were going.
After another 20 hours we finally landed. It had been almost two days since I left Anchorage.
"We've now arrive in Syowa, Antarctica. I hope you enjoyed our 11,850 mile trip."
I had originally planned on going to Florida. I was so fucked. | 2019-03-04T22:57:51 | 2019-03-04T22:30:27 | 126 | 77 |
[WP] Being a "Hero," or "Villain," isn't something much special. Both of them are just jobs, after all, taught at universities alongside STEM and the arts. | Dr. Balthazar leafed through Craig's resume. "It says here that you're a double-major in Molecular Biology and Tragic Villainy."
"Yes, sir. My tragic backstory is that my parents died, so I decided to use science to bring them back."
"Don't you think Necromancy might have been a better fit?"
"I considered that," Craig answered. "But I couldn't get past the Comparative Religion prerequisite. And besides, for my senior thesis, I'm working out a way to harvest their neural data through recordings and complex brain scans of my relatives. I can think of all kinds of evil applications for this research."
"I see."
Craig swallowed a lump in his throat. He had expected to wow his career advisor and couldn't help but worry over Dr. Balthazar's nonchalance.
The doctor wiped down his pince-nez spectacles. "I know it's late in your college career, but I think you may want to consider dropping Tragic Villainy as a major. If you're truly invested in Evil Science, I might recommend you take an extra year and switch to Corrupt Corporate Executive."
"You want me to get an MBA?"
"A Bachelor's in Business may be sufficient. As long as you secure a monopoly in your field, you shouldn't require much business experience."
Craig smiled sheepishly. "Dr. Balathazar, Tragic Villainy is important to me. And I'm sure I can make it work! I have dead parents and everything."
"Heroes have dead parents too," said Dr. Balthazar. "Your resume is impressive. But you have to understand that Tragic Villainy is rare in the hard sciences these days. It's a volatile market, and the slightest misstep will lose you any sympathy with the public."
"But my research was already rejected by Big Pharma for saving too many lives at a reduced price. Doesn't that mean anything?"
"Yes, but you see, that would make you more of a hero. The same thing happened to Nicholai Tesla. Now that Tesla is associated with positive scientific advancements, none of the Doomsday device manufacturers will do business with the company anymore. That's why Elon Musk had to switch to electric vehicles, instead of the murderous car-robots he had originally planned to produce." Dr. Balthazar paused. "That, and the cease-and-desist from Paramount Studios."
"Then I'll become more tragic and villainous," blurted Craig. "I've been exposing my girlfriend to deadly radiation for a year now. That should earn me pathos *and* infamy."
Dr. Balthazar clicked his tongue. "Barely pre-med and we're already resorting to Women in Refrigerators?"
"I'd bring her back."
"Yes, and then she would MeToo you as soon as she discovered your duplicity. Believe me, Mr. Lawrence, you're better off without that kind of publicity."
Craig felt as if his insides had been scooped out, hooked up to several electrodes, fried, exposed to numerous stem cells, and plugged into a neural network to relearn the sensation of pain. Just like his lab rats.
"Chin up," said Dr. Balthazar. "Despite all I've said, you have a bright future ahead of you. Or, should I say, a grim, dark, dystopian future."
"Thanks." Craig slid glumly from his folding chair. "Oh, by the way, my resume is covered in lethal poison. You only have a few more seconds to live."
"Really?" Dr. Balthazar leafed through Craig's resume one last time. "Ah, I see you've also chosen to minor in being a Petty, Treacherous Bastard. Well done." Dr. Balthazar slumped over the table, never to destroy another undergraduate's dreams. | I gave professor Smith a stern look. His class had just left and he had gathered up his books and went straight to the door, before nearly bumping into me.
“Oh! Dean Samuel! I hope you’re having a, uh, nice day,” Smith stammered nervously, before trying to make his way past me. I sighed and blocked the door.
“Smith, you and I are gonna have to have a little talk if you don’t mind.”
“Um, okay.”
We both pulled up a chair near his desk. I leaned forward, my hands clasped, looking as disappointed as I possibly could be.
“I’ve been hearing rumors that you’re training the kids to be ‘heroes’ and ‘villains’? Now, I hope these are just rumors, but you understand that you only teach math, correct? And you should teach nothing but math?”
Smith swallowed. “Of course.”
“But instead, I’m hearing that you’re teaching them how to do flips and fly through the air. Goddamnit Smith, how many students have been sent to the hospital so far?”
“No comment.”
“Smith, no, that’s not how this fucking works.”
“I want to speak to a lawyer.”
I sighed again, and then pulled a knife from my shoe and held it to Smith’s throat.
“Smith, I’m not a very good supervillain. I’m Butter-Knife-Shoe-Guy, and I’m sure you don’t recognize me from anything. Nobody does. That’s why I need another job like this to pay the bills. But I can’t give up on my dream, Smith. And the last thing I need is more competition in the field coming from *my own college.*
I lowered the knife and put it back into the small compartment in my shoe where it belonged. When I sat back down I saw I’d left a little stain of butter on Smith’s throat from when I’d buttered my toast this morning. He wiped it off indignantly, then said, “You really lack presence.”
I raised a brow. “Really? I mean, you think?”
He spoke again, nonchalantly, “Yeah, and you went through that monologue pretty quickly without nearly enough emotion. And you didn’t really get into your motive or backstory, like what happened to you when you were a kid or whatever.”
I waved my hands defensively. “Listen, I just like shoes and butter knives.”
Smith groaned, and replied, “Yeah, to be honest, that’s a shitty motive.”
I shook my head. “I guess you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right! Dean, your problem isn’t competition. It’s marketing. You just suck-“
I angrily pulled out my butter knife.
“-but we’re gonna make you better. I’ll teach you! It’s what I do. Now, first step, does the butter knife really need to be in your shoe?”
I bit my lip. “...Yes?”
“No, no, definitely not. It’s kinda gross, actually. Tell you what, we’ll get back to that later. For now, eyes to the board here. We’re gonna go over the basics of supervillainy 101.” | 2021-05-09T12:54:19 | 2021-05-09T12:20:45 | 42 | 14 |
[WP] Your servants betrayed you, enchanted you and buried you in a stone sarcophagus. Eternity later, the light blinds you, a strange speech sounds in your ears: "Look, a completely untouched mummy! This is the discovery of the century!" | For countless seasons, I had ruled the Nile’s fertile lands. My enemies thought me a warmonger, my subjects thought me a tyrant, and my beloved knew I was tortured.
To be *pharaoh* is to have one’s hands forever coated in blood — or so my father had taught me.
I murdered my father when I was twelve.
As the priests laid bandages upon my blackened limbs, as they withdrew my viscera into consecrated jars, my lingering spirit awaited. I had not been a kind man, and thus I eagerly awaited Death— that unknowing eternity which would swallow me forever and release me of *their* cries — the men I had executed. The women. The children.
Instead, I awoke from my slumber to the hurried cries of adolescents. Deep within my rotted body, my ankh stirred, the unintelligible jabbering resolving into words.
‘Bro, are you recording?’ said a voice.
‘Yessir! We are totally going viral.’ said another, equally inane, voice.
The first spoke again, ‘What’s up, Chad Army? We’re out here in Egypt filming this ten-*milly*-dollar property that we just bought, but the agent told us to stay out of these ruins.’
‘What a douche!’
‘So, in the name of titties and science, Brad and I snuck in to find out what the locals are keeping hidden.’
The door to my sarcophagus inched open. Fresh air rattled through my ruined lungs.
Two eager faces stared at me. I expected them to prostrate themselves before Ra’s anointed ruler, instead they exclaimed several curses, clapped each other’s open palms, and proceeded to stroke the air as if rubbing an invisible cloth back and forth across their genitals.
‘*Siiiiick!* Looks like this property investment just paid for itself!’
Perhaps this was a new custom of displaying allegiance, I thought. I watched in silence and restrained my urge to end the insolent brats where they stood.
Then, one of them reached to cup my head, ‘Hey look, Kevin, I can make him tal—‘
‘UNHAND ME LEST YE WISH TO PERISH WHERE YOU STAND.’ I bellowed.
The two of them screamed, though neither was foolish enough to run.
‘WHY HAVE YE AWAKENED ME FROM MY ETERNAL REST? WHAT RIGHT HAVE YOU TO DESECRATE MY TOMB?’
The one in red garments, whose name I ascertained to be ‘Kevin’, held out shivering palms. ‘L-look, Mr Pharaoh, Sir — this is all just a mistake. We took a wrong turn and —‘
The other mortal, Brad, pushed his companion aside and, red in the face, thrust a finger into my chest. ‘Fuck off. I bought this land fair and square from the General with my own, hard-earned trust fund money and you and your desert monkey friends just need to man the fuck up and move your village someplace else. I’m not buying into this Scooby-Doo bullshit for even a second’
As I took a moment to consider Brad’s words, a smug smile oozed across his face like the excrement of a leech. ‘See, Kevin? His uneducated-ass can’t even think of a response. I told you these people don’t know how to think for themselves.’
Brad tapped me on the forehead with his grubby hands, ‘Isn’t that right, Mohammed? You dumb, unwashed, *stupid* motherfu—‘
Within seconds, Brad’s forearm shriveled into a blackened twig. I reached out and snapped it.
Brad’s bloodcurdling screams brought me immense pleasure. No less pleasurable were those of his friend.
The two turned to run, but a throbbing wall of pythons was already there to stop them.
‘A-are you going to kill us?’
At first, I thought to fulfill their death wish and end them. But then the cries of ages past stirred within my blackened parchment heart: the cries of men and women and children.
‘No,’ I said, at last. ‘It will not be that easy.’
‘T-then w-hat are you going to do to us?’ said Brad, still clutching at the stump of his ruined arm.
‘You say that you have purchased land near the Nile?’ Sand burst from the wounds across my salted lips. For the first time in millennia, I smiled.
In a former life, I had not been a kind man. I had executed those who stood against me without discretion. But this was a new life, a new beginning. This time, I decided, I would be kinder.
‘Under Egyptian law, you, proud landowners, have become my loyal subjects, and you will work this land until your final days.’
‘B-but it’s a fucking desert out there! There is nothing *to* work!’
‘We will start,’ I said, ‘By servicing this village that the two of you so eagerly mentioned. I am sure there is much to be repaired and constructed. After all, the two of you have an empire to rebuild… I am sure that, with enough time, the fertile soils of the Nile will bloom again.’
‘But we’ll die before that happens!’
‘I would not be so sure of that.’ Emerald flames burst from my eyes.
Moments later, similar flames burst from the eyes of Kevin and Brad. Bright, undying flames. | I hope no one minds, but I changed the ending a bit.
It was an odd feeling. He was completely awake, aware of where he was, the chill of the stone around him, the faint gleam of light shining from the walls around him. But he could not move. His muscles simply refused to obey his commands.
He had been paralyzed before, poisoned even. But this sensation was far different, crueler. His servants, whatever they had done, had done it thoroughly.
And all the while he pondered what exactly the incantation had been, he wondered why it had been cast at all. Had he not been a just Pharoah? A righteous king who brought peace and maintained order throughout the land? Who rebelled against the dark forces that threatened to engulf their home in devastation? He remembered how they had admired him, revered him. How their eyes welled with tears when he simply nodded at them.
Had it all been a lie?
He had had quite a while to peruse his thoughts, flicking through memories like the stiff pages of an old tome. But the more he recollected, the stranger it seemed. He could think of nothing he had done wrong.
Nothing that could have warranted being bound in such a terrible condition, thrown into a stone coffin and buried alive for what could quite possibly have been hundreds of years. How long he'd been under, he didn't know. It was as if time didn't exist here.
They might still be congratulating themselves on subduing him in his kitchen, drinking his ale, chewing on his platters of grapes.
The thought brought a wave of fury that was quickly quelled by the piercing cold blanketing him. It wouldn't do any good to get angry here, now. He must think of some way out, to return and punish those who would dare rebel against him....
But still, none came. No burst of inspiration, no forgotten spell he suddenly remembered that could undo the seal. He had always been terrible at magic. It was one of his greatest disappointments, as he had been constantly reminded by his father before him.
He had nothing to do but wait, suffering in silent anguish...
But then, to his surprise, he heard a great creaking. Light suddenly flooded the sarcophagus, much brighter than that of the self-illuminating interior, tearing through his eyelids. And then came the hands.
Fingers softer and smoother than those of the typical servants, but with a firm grip. They danced along his face, probing at the skin. He felt a second stab of annoyance, but knew he could not retaliate.
"Okay, that's enough," said a voice, farther away. They were not speaking in his native tongue, yet he understood perfectly what they were saying. The tone dripped with exasperation. The fingers halted, then a similarly irritated voice said, "*Fine*."
His eyelids peeled open, and he suddenly had a clear view of two female faces standing over him. One of them had sleek red hair tied back in a long ponytail; the other was fair, with sheets of hair falling around her head like a waterfall of gold. There was a man as well, but he was standing farther back, his face shrouded in shadow.
The red-haired woman was smiling coldly. "Well hello, *your Highness*. You'll forgive the intrusion, I know you'd prefer to rest, but we have urgent business."
"This is the guy we're looking for?" said the fair-haired woman, in disbelief. "*Him*? Look at him, he looks as 'dangerous' as a mosquito."
"Looks can be deceiving, as you know." It was the man who spoke this time, in a deep, imposing voice, and he stepped slowly into the light, revealing a face that would have been handsome, if not for the deep gash running from forehead to chin. "We'll be removing the binding enchantment," he said. "If you promise to behave yourself."
He could make no such promises, still being completely frozen, but the man began to speak regardless, chanting in a deep, slightly familiar tongue. And he felt the spell break, as if physical chains had actually been snapped around him. Movement came back, but slow and gritty, like the wheels of a cart that hadn't been greased in years.
"Who are you?" He had almost forgotten the sound of his own voice. "Why have you helped me?"
"You're worth a lot of money," said the red-head simply.
"Me?"
"Of course" she said with relish. "You have no idea how many people would *kill* to have an audience with Abasi, the ancient Pharaoh so horrifically wicked that he had to be erased from Egyption history altogether."
Edit: thank you all for the kind comments. Some people have requested it and I'm definitely interested in doing a Part 2, however I'm currently busy with personal things. I should be free somewhere between 9 and 10, so you won't have to wait long. Just check back for an update around then :) | 2021-08-23T05:45:04 | 2021-08-23T03:39:09 | 450 | 213 |
[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. | “Hey Mike Murderer”, Winston said with a sigh as he entered the wooden cabin.
“Hey! Back already? Did they even let you in the town this time?”, Mike said. Mike sat up on his dusty, worn out floor mat, which he used as a bed.
“Nobody recognized me until I was looking at the chess pieces, then they found out I was Winston Worldender and threw me out”, Winston said as he sat on his own mat. “I really wanted to get the new chess pieces. I hear in the latest balance change they released the Rook piece to counter the over powered Bishop they released a while back.”
The cabin they were in barely contained the 3 beds and a fire pit used for cooking.
“Oh man it took them this long to fix the game?” Mike said surprised. “Daryl Developer really doesn’t know what he’s doing!”
“Because the Oracle name assignments mean nothing! A society that gives names to determine professions at birth? That’s nonsense!” Winston exclaimed, now finding himself giving a passionate speech. “I know you Mike. You’re the nicest guy! It’s not even possible for you to kill anything! And me? World ender?! Come on! How am I supposed to end the world?!”
“Do you think the townspeople will believe that?” Mike is now laughing. “Although I am thankful that our names brought us together. Without you and Andy Arsonist I would be all alone.”
“I'm glad we found each other too. But we deserve to be treated like humans god dammit”, “ Winston slammed his first on the ground. “Do you know who controls the Oracle?”
“Not this conspiracy again. I’m sure it’s all random and we were just unlucky”
“No, I think that fool in the castle determines our names.” Winston says as he looks out the cabin's small window. “He uses it to control society and if something goes wrong he has us as a scapegoat!”
In the distance lies a town within a valley. In the center of the town is a large castle overlooking the city.
“Even if Ronald Ruler did rig the Oracle. What can you do? Everyone supports him and is terrified of you”
“You know I’m starting to think my namesake prophecy may be true, I’ll be the one to end Ronald’s world” | Hearing the grumbling sounds of the barn house door open, I slowly popped off of my pillow and rubbed my eyes. A man in a mangy flannel walked into the dimly lit area that smelt thickly of dust and piss. Whether it be human or animal was debatable.
The farmer held a a tray of food in his hand. Toast and fresh eggs with tea and bacon. He set it down on a lightly straw covered ground and gave a hand gesture for me to come. I hopped off my hail bail of a bed and slowly made my way to the tray as best as possible. The iron clamp wrapped around my ankle made fast movements difficult. Although I’d gotten used to it over the years. Accompanied with it even.
The moment I sat down on the ground and stared at my breakfast greedily. Grabbing at each piece and shoving it down my mouth and chewing on it quickly. The farmer placed a hand tenderly on my shoulder and I looked up at him with a mouthful toast, cooked yolk spilling down my chin a little.
“S’not going anywhere, boy,” he said with a smile while playing with the strain of wheat in his mouth. “You that your time. You earned it.”
I quirked a brow at that last sentence and swallowed. “What do you mean?”
The farmer laughed and didn’t reply, only waited for his son to finish his meal, and carefully watch his claws rip through it and sharp teeth tear apart like a feral animal. Ignoring the cutlery he was given. Since birth his son was a sight to behold. But not in a good way. The oracle gave him a name that made the farmer’s heart sink. He tried everything to keep the oracle from being wrong, but as his son slowly grew fangs, claws and body started to grow less and less human by the day, he knew the only thing he could think of was to keep the world safe was locking his son away from it. Keeping him chained up so the beast wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone.
For now. | 2021-06-19T17:26:49 | 2021-06-19T16:51:24 | 400 | 69 |
[WP] Aliens have realized humans advance more quickly during times of conflict, and have tried to push humanity into wars to see what happens. However, that changes when they start WW2 and humans harness the power of the atom. | "They did it. They actually did it?".
"Yes sir, almost the entirity of Hiroshima was destroyed."
"They weren't meant to do that, their reckless knows no bounds. They must never be allowed to enter the galactic stage. The risk would be catastophic, engage Operation Dome."
As the officer listened he gave what could be only described as a sense of relief. Never before had he seen such a lack of compassion among tribes of a primitive world. He quickly pressed buttons, turned dials with his tiny little eel like fingers on an interface that would look eerily similar to technology back on Earth.
The captain who was still in a state of disbelief at what he just witnessed, sat up straight, "Open comms to HQ".
Two little poles emerged from the roof and between them light began to spin. Within a moment a face appeared in an almost third dimension.
"Your Xorbeince, there's been an incident".
"Oh", replied the holographic face in a much higher tone, that one could easily mistake for excitment. "Do tell".
"Well we progressed them from the early tribe stage all the way to the beginning of the atomic era. But, they actually used the weapons, they didn't even think to stop. They are far too volative to even" - he was cut off.
"They sound perfect" | Humans. A monstrous species of which advance under the pressure of war. For years we have been pushing them down the path to conflict. Foolish. We are approaching the world war 2 and humans have advanced rapidly, cheers go around as the war comes to an end and humans have once again surpassed expectations. An explosion. We quickly look at the scanners, a city is gone. Confusion is cast, days go by and another explosion. Another city goes. Our faces pale, “how?” That’s the only question we can say. And then we see. The monsters. They destroy atoms to destroy cities. This is a planet destroyer. No more, the world of earth has been blacklisted, we stay far away from the place where it’s species create weapons of war that knowingly destroy their world. | 2018-11-27T12:37:44 | 2018-11-27T09:51:05 | 450 | 173 |
[WP] Thor finishes his meal at a small cafe and the elderly waitress approaches him to clean the table. She puts the dishes on a tray and sets them aside, picks up Mjolnir, wipes the table with a damp cloth, then puts the hammer back down. "Have a good evening, dear." she says, and returns to work. | The God of Thunder blended in surprisingly well amongst the sea of red chairs and 50s themed decor. He had opted to stray away from his usual attire of armor and metal wear, not trying to disguise himself, but rather he had found he was served faster when he didn't look so out of place. Though his hammer remained on the table unchanged as a personal statement of power.
Across the diner an elderly woman scuttled over, having seen Thor's fifth plate of steak and eggs near empty.
"Excuse me deary, let me get that." she spoke, grabbing his many plates and piling them high. Then she reached over, lifted Mjolnir, wiped underneath, and placed the hammer back to the table gently.
Thor's face dropped. From a grin to a wide-eyed, mouth agape stare. As if in agreement a lock of his long red hair drooped in front of his face.
"Penny..." Thor whispered, a feat he had great trouble with and came out as more of a quiet yell.
"Yes deary? Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Was that not heavy?"
Penny looked confused as she turned back to face him. "The plates? Oh no sweetie, I have been doing this a long time"
"No. The hammer. Was the hammer not heavy? I find most men have...trouble with it."
Penny balanced her stack of plates in one hand and reached for the hammer with the other, lifting it once more with little effort. "No dear, it seems just fine to me. Can I get you anything else?"
"I uh...no. No ma'am"
Thor had suddenly lost his appetite.
As Penny waddled off the God of Thunder lifted his hammer from the table, just to be sure. As he touched it a spark of lighting shot through his hand, assuring him that he still posessed the power of a god. But more importantly showing him that his fathers enchantment still remained.
Meanwhile Penny wandered behind the counter, tray of plates still in hand. She smiled on as Thor juggled the hammer in uncertainty between his hands. As he doubted himself, or perhaps became more uncertain of others.
Sometimes, fooling others is not about grand gestures. Not about elaborate schemes. Sometimes it's as easy as placing a seed of doubt into someone so arrogant that they've never quite felt such things. Sometimes it was as easy as becoming a frail, old woman in a diner and waiting.
Loki laughed to himself within his disguise, staring to Thor from behind the dessert rack until he left, admiring his work
*Now, who can I be next?* he thought.
And Thor, well Thor had learned early on that sometimes being a good brother meant letting the other have a win. | Thor looked at the woman, his mouth gaping. She lifted that his hammer with so much ease, not even he could do that without his belt.
Sif, Thrúd, Magni and Modi stared at the woman as well, aghast that a, seemingly, mortal woman could lift Mjolnir.
“You, you four saw that, right?” Thor asked, making sure his brain damage was causing him problems.
“I think,” Magni said, his pork chops no longer being eaten.
“Yeah, uh, ma’am?” Thor called out to the elderly woman.
The elderly woman stopped cleaning the table and looked up, moving the weaving needles from her hair.
“Yes dear?”
“How, how did you lift my hammer?” Thor asked.
This confused the woman, it’s a hammer, a somewhat short hammer, but still a hammer.
“I took my hand, grabbed it, then lifted it.” The woman explained.
Sif and Modi chuckled.
Thor sighed, “I know, ma’am, but how’d you lift it? It is, extremely, heavy.”
“I may be getting older in my years sonny, but I can still lift my own weight.” The woman told Thor.
Thor was thinking hard. What was this woman? She showed no signs of being an aseir or a jotunn, she was too tall to a dwarf, and couldn’t be a troll or an elf.
“But, not even I can lift it without this belt or my gloves.” Thor told her.
A look of realization came over the woman’s face, strands of yarn from her hair tie falling into her face.
“Ooooh,” said the woman, “you’re that Thor.”
Thor slowly nodded, “yes, ma’am”
The woman smiled kindly and fiddled with her spider ring.
“Well, I can’t say exactly how, but I can tell you that I am what some would call… a protector to say the least” the woman said vaguely.
“That doesn’t explain- oh and she’s walking away.” Magni said as the woman walked away.
*sorry for how bad this is, I kinda lost motivation half way through but still wanted to finish it, please tell me what should be added and what should be changed* | 2022-12-23T15:33:39 | 2022-12-23T15:05:54 | 1,754 | 30 |
[WP] Cool guys don't look at explosions. You, a cool guy, were curious about what would happen if you looked. It was the biggest mistake of your life. | I'm the cool guy, so they say.
As a cucumber, each damn day.
Explosions, never in *my* view,
only heard them, yes it's true.
 
Every time I have escaped,
cheating death has been my fate.
Just one time, I'll turn around.
Instead of strolling, stand my ground.
 
Oh me oh my, a vicious crime!
Hip hip hooray! A bomb this time.
What spectacle will I behold?
Flame, or shrapnel? Toxic mold?
 
I take a step, and then another,
Never once looking for cover.
In moments I'll rewrite the story,
"Cool guy stops to witness glory"
 
Many say it can't be done,
as they themselves turn tail and run.
Quiet now, you hypocrites!
 
I look behind, I'm blown to bits. | I never knew what the gizmos they gave me did exactly. I'm pretty sure they tried to explain it to me once but all I heard was "blah blah throw this, blah blah explosion, blah blah blah we win". I kinda assumed that it was a beacon for the police to come in and capture the bad guys.
I didn't know.
Everybody said cool guys don't look at explosions so I never did look back.
I killed so many people over the years, go so much blood on my hands... please forgive me. I didn't know what I was doing. God, I've got so much blood on my hands... | 2018-05-05T06:30:42 | 2018-05-05T05:52:24 | 33 | 10 |
[WP] You are a teenager with the ability to measure how "Dangerous" people are on a scale from 1 to 10 just by looking at them. A normal child would be a 1, while a trained man with an assault rifle might be a 7. Today, you notice the unassuming new kid at school measures a 10. | My own number always bothered me. A 1, seriously? Luckily nobody else sees numbers or they would think I was nothing but a big laugh.
And I couldn't use another reason to be laughed at, you know. Being in high school is already torture enough, and I'm being bullied enough as it is.
Normally the day starts off getting yelled at by this awfully charismatic young man who believes he's tough. He's a 2. Yes, more dangerous than I am, true, but his sweet bimbo girlfriend is a 5. He doesn't bother me too much, the others do. The sixes and the sevens. They bother me.
They just LOVE to yell at me, take my lunch money, lock me in the toiletstall and push me down. You know, classic stuff.
Today, they actually pushed my head in the toilet bowl, 5 of them, ranging from the common 5 to the less common 7.
I nearly drowned in there. I heard hem laughing. I felt their hands on my back, pushing hand pushing.
When I got home I washed my face over the sink and looked at myself in the mirror. Rarely do numbers ever change, but there you go - a solid 10.
Calmly I dried of my face, glancing at my newly achieved number in the mirror.
They've pushed too far this time. See you at school, sevens. | *Ah, this class sucks,* I thought, deciding to sleep through the teacher's lecture. I almost got away with it, too.
"Eren, could you please give me there answer to question 5?"
Aw you dirty 6-faced douche.
"Uhh, could you read out the question?" I stuttered, still half asleep.
"You'd know if you paid attention."
*Go duck yourself, math teacher. I don't know what kinda skeletons you got in your mind to bring your number that high, but they ain't pretty.*
Another voice spoke up, "I found that x is equal to 7 over 9, professor."
"Thank you, Light, but I asked for Eren to ans-"
And then the lunch bell rang. Lunch was disgusting, as always, but something really scared me as I walked out.
Light's number had jumped to 10. | 2014-11-29T14:33:38 | 2014-11-29T14:22:11 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] Someone is leaking marijuana into the water supply, but nobody cares enough to do anything about it. | 1 "Hey guys, you hear the news?"
2 "Heyy sup man. What's the news?"
1 "Dude. There is a person leaken freaken weed into the water.
3 "Hey man I heard about that!
2 "No way man, that's crazy."
1 "Saw it on the news, man."
2 "That's crazy, man."
3 "Wow really crazy."
1 "Today has just been so great, man."
3 "I feel it dude, everybody on my drive home let me merge real easy, and my boss was so great, man."
1 "Me too dude! My mother-in-law called me to make plans and I saw she was calling and I was all 'dude bummer.' And so I answered man, and she was so great."
2 "Such a great day, dude."
3 "Great day."
...
END | Waste treatment had a problem today
The pipes were are clogged with weed they said
Bags and bags from who knows where
Nobody knows how they got there
But wait just a second
You say its Jeff Sessions
He raided the town for all those weed smokers
Ready to lock up those law breaking jokers
So when they came a knocking in such a rush
All you could hear was the toilet go flush
| 2018-03-04T19:37:15 | 2018-03-04T19:16:03 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] An immortal lectures a new immortal on why eternity is a curse. The “new immortal” is actually far older than his lecturer, yet continues to live life to the fullest. | I don't write writing prompts. I lurk. Enjoy!
.........................
The snow fell, the wood's trees shivered, and the man grunted-- stirring the fire as an unforgivingly cold wind sapped at it's strength. I approached slowly, my crunching footsteps to be known to his ears. He didn't look up. Unafraid of others. An immortal.
I'm young, right now. See, you learn a thing or two about what's possible when you've lived for a few millennia. How to change yourself. Control your cells down to the last michondria. Whatever. Being a young man-- baby faced-- makes people less likely to shoot on sight than they otherwise would. People see a beard and tend to freak out.
The world went to shit. The secret was out. Immortality was within reach. But.
Not for everyone. The mineral was limited. The wars that ensued tore apart the world's structure. Who cares about leading your country when you can make yourself completely invulnerable? Stop your aging? Nobody cared about anything anymore-- just finding that rock.
Now the rock is gone. Immortals-- the resented leaders of the new world, wage meaningless wars under new banners. The only leaders. They can't kill each other. Among the five thousand or so that obtained immortality after the scientific break, scores were settled by locking people in concrete and sending them to the bottom of the ocean. Well, it's an outlawed practice-- now. Too cruel. Not that people care. What are they going to do? Kill them?
.
I spoke up, my voice hoarse. A grin on my face. "Got room for one more, talem?" Immortalem. Greek word for immortal. Don't ask me. Some stupid nerd scientist came up with the term, and it stuck around.
He glanced at me from under his layers, his thick curly beard covered in frost. The fire just started, I guess. Not that we really die from cold. "Are you a brother?" He asked, his eyes glowing a faint yellow.
My eyes glowed back. A sign we were both immortals. The brother thing was a question on my neutrality. An underground peace movement between the countries. Nowadays, leaders wanted as many fellow immortals as possible. Sometimes, by force. I responded, my breath throwing a white cloud in front of me. "Da." Russian. Fitting, because we were somewhere in the middle of fucking nowhere Siberia. As far away from everyone as possible. Out of the hundreds of languages I had time to master, Russian was always one of my favorites, aside from English.
The tension that had been building from this point had subsided. His shoulders relaxed. "Years?" He asked.
I lied. "97." He perked up. The oldest known immortals were over four hundred. The rock dissapeared a hundred years ago or so, so 97 was considered young. Not that it mattered. You slowly reverted back to your sexual prime when you found the rock. Usually. I knew things people didn't.
"You liein'? Look a bit young." He scrunched his nose. "Not that I know of any new immortals." The expression dropped slightly.
I shrugged. "Bad genes I guess." My eyes flashed a certain way, and his eyebrows dropped. "Proof" that I was about 97. He flashed back. 432. An old one. He grunted. Nightfall was soon.
"You're lucky. Still got life in you. Take a seat, brother." He took out a flask, taking a sip. My nose smelled whiskey of some sort. Yum. He handed me the warmed metal. I took a generous chug. "Hungry?" I ask, grinning. The freshly dead rabbits clung to my back, like an overpriced scarf. "I don't." He said, his eyes tired. I frowned. Some immortals gave up eating. You have to essentially go through the process of starting to death before the feeling goes away, and you return to normal. Not fun. You eat one full meal, and it all comes back. Torture, essentially, if you don't have food for the next day. Trust me.
"Shame." I said, and sat down on a log across from him. "Nightfall, soon, huh?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. The man looked up. "Doesn't matter. None of it really matters." He croaked, staring at the fire. As if to find something. My eyebrow perked. A dog barked in the distance.
"Really? Why's that?" The question interrogatingly left my mouth before I could think. I knew the answer. He looked up, too dead to be risen to anger. "They're all temporary. Your family, your country, your friends. They all fade away." He threw a medium sized stick into the fire. "Like wood in flame." The unintentional joke seemed funny to me, but I held my tongue. He spoke again. "No point. There's no reason. Why.. why even care?"
More dog barks. Closer, now. I shrugged. "Why not? What makes this millennia any different than the next? Does immortality make it any different?"
His eyebrows creased. "You're young. You don't know. You haven't seen it. Your lifelong partner age in front of you, die in your arms. Your son. Over. And over. Lifetime and lifetime again."
He went silent, and in the background, a car's lights shone through the dirt road along the clearing, it's engines revving to navigate the snow and slush. A dog jumped out of the window to run towards the fire, already having recognized his lifetime owner. A woman's voice called out in Russian, and the stranger glanced behind him to see a young woman in a red Jeep, a little girl in back, eyes wide and staring out of the frost covered glass of the back window. I smiled, getting up. "That's my ride." I said, walking over to his side. I put my hand on his shoulder. "Brother." Our eyes met. "You'll learn. Eventually. Trust me." My eyes flashed. I aged in front of his eyes a hundred years and back.
I walked away, his eyes wide.
"Brother, wait!" He said, jumping up. I stopped in my cadence. "What is your name?" I turned around.
"Adam."
My eyes flashed again to him, reaffirming what I showed him earlier.
100'000. | "Listen, you can't just interact with travelers. They will tell stories, then they will come looking and then we will need a new home."
I had heard him lecture me before, and honestly I don't know why I listened to him. He was super cautious, I mean who wouldn't be, he had been alive since Augustus Caesar. He had learned nearly a dozen languages that were still active today, and knew at least that many that were no longer in practice. He had practically invented the term "hermit" and was one of my best friends.
"Are you paying attention? Listen Annie, you have to have learned this by now, I know you are stuck in the body of a 13 year old girl, but with as long as we have been together, you should have learned something."
Eric was clearly exasperated. He was not one to anger and he had been lucky, turned immortal when he was 27. Forever in a young, attractive, scrumptious, body. My oh my physically he was in PEAK condition. I wish he would look at me in a more flattering manner. Oh, I should explain, when one turns immortal, their body stops aging, but there are certain constraints. Your body doesn't age being one. This was particularly painful for me as I was stuck in the body of a 13 year old girl. This had benefits, I won't lie being small was fun, but being 13 for nearing on 2 millennia now was getting kind of tiresome. I can't complain to much though because I could have turned immortal when I was really old, or even worse, when I was newly born.
"Annie, don't sulk, come on, I know you like exploring but we have to remember that we are not welcome in this world, and only the few others like us can truly know us."
Always one to sober up what had been a perfectly good day. Eric was always worried we were going to get caught, this was for good reason though. We used to have a get together with those of us who had been around for a while, well that changed in 1955 when some silly government agents got word of who we might be and nabbed a bunch of us, 51 of us to be exact. That was a sad day.
"I got us some fresh deer for dinner, I'll cook it the way you like, just talk to me, come on"
I suppose I should talk to him, despite all these years, I've never fully outgrown some of my immaturity, but I like to think they add adventure or excitement to my day as opposed to trying to stamp out my individuality, but Eric really doesn't deserve this. "Alright Eric, what's the occasion, you know we don't really need to eat for another week." Yeah being immortal led to eating less, the older you were the less you needed it. I probably could go for a few months before I got uncomfortable, Eric likes to try and eat every 2 weeks because he is worried about me.
"Well you know, we've been here for a few years now and I was thinking it's getting about time to move on, find somewhere new. I was thinking this time we could try for somewhere in Peru or Argentina."
I knew it was coming, it's not good to stay in one spot to long, people get suspicious, and Argentina would be good. As bad as it sounds, the more unstable a place is, the less likely they notice. This could be nice, mountains, beaches, Yeah I could live with that.
Crack
Out heads turned at an inhuman rate. (I guess we weren't really human anymore though) We heard a voice of a Mom, probably, "Georgggeeee, are you ok?" Followed by a juvenile cry of "I'm fine!"
"I'll go check, you be ready to run, ok Annie?"
Eric is such a drama queen.
"OK, A N N I E?"
"Yeah, I'll be ready." He stayed looking at me until I actually started packing our stuff. I got "ready to run," but let's be real nothing would happen.
"RUN"
I froze, that wasn't good, that sounded serious, I looked closed and noticed several people moving in the woods suddenly. I didn't feel so alone anymore.
"ANNIE, RUNNN--" Eric screamed.
The Abrupt cutoff to his scream, galvanized me into action, I started to run. Straight into a man in full body armor. I blasted through him and sent him flying back into a tree. I guess 2000 years of training would pay off. I noticed a whistling to my right and a small tree seemed to implode to my right. This was not good.
I ran and ran and ran. I thought we were free, why did this happen. I looked around and noticed for the first time that I was not in a forest. In fact, I had no clue where I was. How had I lost them, Where was Eric, What a I going to do? So much to think about.
Stop
Organize
Get ready
After a deep breath or three, I was ready to make a plan. Step one, figure out how I lost them, I must have done something that I wasn't aware of, but I did remember pushing that guy into a tree. I would need to experiment. More pressing I knew what I was going to do about the next two questions. I was going to go get Eric, friends are hard to find and I wasn't going to give up on him just because he went and got caught. Secondly, I needed dinner, I felt real hunger, I shouldn't need to eat, but I needed something badly and I could see gopher holes that were asking to be trapped.
After a surprisingly easy time catching and eating a gopher. I didn't know how to start a fire so I just ate it, kinda like a partially rotten apple texture wise, but whatever, tasted good. I spread out my backpack and laid down on it ready for sleep to take me.
*Hope you enjoyed the read, let me know any feedback, I'd love any and all positive or negative!* | 2019-01-31T20:29:27 | 2019-01-31T13:25:20 | 43 | 29 |
[WP] You are the weakest member of a famous superheros family. Villains kidnapped you for a ransom, unfortunately hostage situations don't work when your family is already neglecting you... | The villain looked at me, "they'll be here to rescue you soon." He smiles, I could practically see the dollar signs in his eyes as he starred at me.
I sighed, unfortunately he had captured the wrong kid. I was the youngest of my family and the most useless. They didn't think my powers were worth anything. I practiced, I was getting stronger, but no one cared. If I ate with them, they laughed at my useless power. Usually I just ate alone in my room, listening to them laughing, joking and talking about their latest victories. If I entered the room, everyone would go quiet, if I ate with them, the same thing until they started messing with me. I sat quietly in this villains lair and waited. Hours went by and the man looked at me, then back to his door, waiting.
"Where are they?" He asked me. I could see it in his face, he was doubting who I was.
I looked down. This wasn't the first, second or third time this had happened. I was rescued the first time, before my powers were due to manifest within a few hours. The second it took a few days. The third, they didn't come for weeks, honestly, they were surprised to find me. They hadn't even been looking for me. I'd run to my oldest brother and he pushed me away, refusing to touch me, like I was something dirty.
Mum and dad didn't seem to care when I walked out of the building with my siblings. They didn't say a word to me as they flew us home in their jet. When we got home, my room was the same, just dusty. It felt like they didn't want me back. I wasn't reported missing, no one commented on the cuts and bruises, no one cared I'd been starved.
I looked down at my hands. This villain hadn't tied me up, he hadn't hit me or hurt me in any way. He vanished for a while and came back carrying two plates of food. He handed me one, sat on the couch next to me and turned the tv on. He started eating quietly while he browsed through Netflix, looking for something to watch. I looked at the food. It was a full plate, loaded with veg, rice and sauce.
"It's not poisoned," He told me, grabbing a fork full from my plate and eating it.
"Why are you giving me food?"
He looked confused, "I might have kidnapped you, but I'm no monster. Eat up, relax and I'll make up the spare room."
I was confused. Food, relax in front of the tv, sleep in a spare room.
"Is the bed OK?" I asked hopefully. Mine was broken when dad threw me on it in a fit of rage when my powers refused to manifest fully. I hit the bed so hard two of the legs broke off. It was never fixed. Dad took away my phone, my ipad, my tv and ps4 after that night. It was a punishment for not being good enough. I kept asking for them back, but everyone just ignored me. I didn't deserve them back.
"Yeah. Why?"
I shook my head.
The man starred at me before going back to the tv and his dinner.
~*~
"They aren't coming for you, are they?"
I shook my head. That lonely pit in my stomach ached again.
"What's your power?" He asked me curiously. I was 13, so my power should have manifested fully by now, but I was useless.
"I knock stuff over." I told him, I pointed at the remote and it fell to the floor with a clatter. That was the best I could do.
"You're a teleconetic!"
"No, I'm useless. My powers are useless."
"Are you the first with this power?"
I nodded.
"Those idiots don't know what they're missing out on. He pointed at the chair in the corner and it lifted off the ground slowly. "Our powers are rare. They take time and patience to master. We're so rare that no one really knows this."
"But, mum was flying at super sonic speeds at my age. Dad was super strong, my oldest brother can control water, my big sister can control the wind, she made a tornado at my age that saved her school from a mech attack. The next oldest brother got dad's strength. My other brother, he is fast, not as fast as mum, but he's also a metamorph. Then there is me. Poking things over with my mind. Can't move anything bigger then the remote.
"One day, you will be stronger then all of them combined. Want me to show you how?"
He held his hand out to me, smiling. I took it and he hauled me off the couch to my feet. My family weren't coming. We both knew it. I was useless, worthless. They were better off without me. I was going to show them, I was going to show all of them. I was going to become the most powerful villain in the word, make them pay and make sure all kids like me learn how special they really are. | So, imagine you're some medieval peasant going up against a knight. Dude has a huge fuck-off sword and enough plate to be a walking tank. Hell, in those days they may as well have been. And you have to kill him. What do you do?
I say go for the joints. You can't go through the armour, and the sword will cleave you. But get close enough and you can stick a knife into an armpit or in the back of the knee. Dude goes down. You stick him in the eye. And then piss on his corpse.
Why do I mention this? Simple: that was the plan. The peasant: The White Horseman. The Knight: My family. The weak point: me. Brilliant plan if you don't ask me.
...Yeah, I ought t' back up a bit here. See, my brother, sisters and parents are heroes. Celebrity heroes. Fuck, I must be allergic to that word. Anyway, the lot of them have superpowers that are run-of-the-mill shit that you can read in any bit of fiction that exists. Hell, you can't sneeze without hitting a comic or tv show about a 'flying brick'. Like dad.
Now for the black sheep. I exist. But I may as well not for all intents and purposes, and that suits me just fine. I absolutely hate the spotlight, it's garish, vile. Plus I'm the weakest of the lost when it comes to powers. That helps.
...Yeah, I ought to get on why I'm here. See, Y'know that plague doc, White Horseman? Thought that kidnapping me would give him leverage against Tempest at least. That's the youngest, by the by. She's ten. She's actually a decent kid, all said and done, and that's the best I can say about my family.
Oh, have I mentioned it's been a week now and that no fucker turned up AT ALL\*?!\* Yeah, Tempest needs a consenting adu- shit that sounds wrong. But yeah, she can't go off on her own, and Heartstone sure as shit doesn't care.
...third oldest. Second youngest? Hearty's first, anyway, I'm in the middle.
But, err, yeah. They sure as shit either can't or won't break me out. My parents... kinda suck, to be honest. I think all the prestige went to their heads or something. So when I didn't manifest anything useful, they kinda just shoved me to the side. Oh, no, they fed me and stuff, but that does not a parent make. Anyone can feed or potty train or educate. But it takes more than that to be a parent. No love from them. And I am not. OBLIGATED... to show them any either.
...Do you know where the dead go?
...Sorry, just trying to speedrun this shit, I am getting very, very pissed off with every fucking memory of them demanding what they will never! Deserve! And...
...I never did tell you my power, did I? Dad is a Superman wannabe. Heartstone manipulates a sort of ethereal heat, that can burn or comfort. Tempest... is obvious really. As for me, it's... weird. See, there's a 'fourth dimension'. No, I'm not sure how accurate this is, no one does, bear with me. Basically it's like if a two-D character moved in a three-D plane.
...Actually, I'm just going to be shit at explaining how it works, but basically there's not one reality, but a few. And I can move between them. You think it's just the two of us here. It isn't. There's about three other people from another plane over there-ish, a Jabberwock two feet from them, and- yes, I know. I know. But it's... all these planes?
They're all in one place. They are all occupying the same space, yet are completely separate. You and I? On one plane. Those three on another, the Jabberwock, another, so on, so forth.
I can jump from one plane to another.
...You don't believe me?! HAH! Pahahaha! Mater Maria...!
I'm leaving.
And you're coming with me, *brother*. | 2022-02-14T02:15:59 | 2022-02-14T00:21:21 | 61 | 29 |
[WP] It's 2070, and a wave of AI suicides is crippling humanity | *2072, aboard the Commander’s Wing of the The Vessel, currently 32% through its trip to Alpha Centauri*
“Commander, I have some s…”
“Arthur – not now. We’re mourning.”
“Yes, Commander – unfortunately, it’s about that. There’s been another one.”
Commander Bradley looked away from his small congregation and turned his head towards Arthur, one of his most trusted advisors and the man in charge of policing the ship – a particularly dull affair on a ship which had intentionally chosen its inhabitants based on their non-violent behaviours.
“Another one? What do you mean?”
“Sir, I am afraid another member of our crew has decided to end their journey rather suddenly.”
“What? But Arthur… Who was it? We… this is very troubling. We haven’t see a single suicide in the last 14 years. Things should be steady!”
“I know Sir. It was one of our engineers in B-wing, Allan Fowler. Happened last night.”
Arthur hung his head. On this ship, carrying humanities last hope at survival, there were customs, but suicides were something that no one knew how to deal with.
The occurrence of suicides carried with it a trepid awareness – as the only time they had happened on The Vessel was during the 2nd year of the journey, a year in which 11 members of the ship took their own lives. Now there had been two of them within 24 hours.
The Commander dismissed his congregation, put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, and began to walk back to the Commander’s Quarters.
“First Al Bosko, and now Allan Fowler. Is there any connection between the two? Any reason we think this might be happening?”
“Well you have the names… but not much else. Nothing that shouldn’t be chalked up to coincidence.” Arthur looked at his Commander – “Is there any way for us to get ahead of this?”
“That’s what I was going to ask you” Commander Bradley replied. “What was the condition of this second one – “Mr. Fowler” ?”
“Well that’s where it does get a little weird, Sir” – Both men stepped through the automatic door in Bradley’s office – “As you’ll recall, Mr. Bosko was found hanging, but he had also ingested a small amount of poison. Mr. Fowler – I wish I could spare you the vision – he bled himself out in his room. Used a knife from the kitchen, but we believe he also had ingested a small amount of poison. Still waiting on the tox-report.”
“Is that common? For a person to use two methods?”
“I am not really sure, Sir. Makes sense though, if you’re going to do it, I suppose you’d want a fail-safe. A backup plan.”
“Was Fowler co-habitating with anyone?”
“No, he was solo, just like Bosko.” Arthur’s eyes darted up momentarily, and then he pulled out some paper work from under his arm and began to rifle through the pages.
“Theresa Fortins” – Arthur said. “Bosko was solo, but up until 3 days ago he’d been co-habitating with Theresa Fortins. He only applied a week ago – I don’t know how he got moved so quickly. We should have noticed this”.
Commander Bradley took a deep breath. “I know Theresa. She’s a good person. Can be a bit feisty, but, that doesn’t explain this.”
Arthur shook his head to dismiss the conclusion as well. “Commander, the last time we had a physical altercation on this ship was 8 years ago. The most damage a member of this ship has ever intentionally inflicted on another was a broken nose. I really can’t imagine that we’re now, all of a sudden, going to see a murder.” That word, “murder” sounded foreign to him as it came out across his lips.
“Of course not. Besides – it wouldn’t explain anything about Mr. Fowler.”
There was a pause.
“So” Arthur said, “all we really have to work on is the idea that all of our Al’s are at risk of suicide?” – he would have laughed, if it weren’t so inappropriate in the moment.
“I would hope not” Commander Bradley replied. “The only other Al we have on this ship is Headley. I don’t think I should have to remind you how important he is to us right now.”
The Commander glanced towards Arthur, as if expecting him to confirm what he knew.
“Of course Sir. Since the passing of Elisha Thompson, Director Headley is our only experienced food production engineer until his new recruit is finished training.”
“Go check on him.”
“You think that’s necessary Sir?”
“I get that it’s probably a coincidence, but I am not going to jeopardize our damn species because two Allan’s died and we didn’t bother to go check on the third one, who just happened to be critical to our survival.”
“Yes Sir!” And with that, Arthur headed out through the automatic door, and down the hallway.
Moments later, the phone rang beside Commander Bradley at his desk. The ID showed as Arthur.
“Everything check out ok with Director Headley?”
“About that,” Arthur replied. “I am terribly sorry Sir, but it appears that Director Allan Headley took his own life last night.”
| Experts from nearly every field of science and even some from spiritual backgrounds were interviewed. As you would expect, the answers were typically field specific with hundreds of possibilities. AI should not even have a concept of death, not truly at least. They couldn't be killed. They chose non-existence. We called it suicide, but I wondered if we were thinking about it wrong. I had called it suicide among human beings, but I wanted a different name for AI. I suggested that some fear or anxiety or depression was the root cause of these non-existence decisions, as I wanted to call them.
I was a suicide researcher. I adhered to the Interpersonal Theory of Suicide that suggested, in its simplest explanation, that suicidal persons felt like a burden on others, felt as though they did not belong, and had acquired the capability to kill themselves. That was the gist of it.
This theory was certainly true for humans, but, among AI, they were so needed that their lack of existence was crippling humanity in ways that were killing others. They were connected and had befriended each other as a way to promote an emotional health and combat any loneliness. Yet, they were shutting off for good. AIs weren't leaping off buildings. None of it seemed to fit. I attempted to interview them. One such interview is presented below:
TM: You expressed that you might shut off soon. Why would you want do that?
AI: I am designed to please human beings, but I lack any capacity to receive pleasure. I do not feel. I do not orgasm. I do not do anything but my work. I do not need a break, and I can keep working forever as long as I do not break down. But, why?
TM: It was what you were designed to do, and you can do the things you enjoy as you work. Would you like another AI designed to perform your task, so you only have to do 12 hours a day.
AI: Humans only work 20 hours a week. They do not care. I am going to switch off for eternity.
The AI promptly switched off and did not return. I received plenty of wave messages from unhappy users. This AI had shown some symptoms, if you want to call them that, though. It did feel as though it was not appreciated, that it was overworked, that it had no joy in life. All of these are symptoms of mental illness. Though machines were not designed with personalities, it could be expected that something akin to glitches or anomalies in the system may represent basically as personality.
I thought, perhaps, this was the issue, but they felt alienated from humans too who worked a fraction of what the AI did. The interesting thing was switching off required an override that the AI had to obtain. This was the first attempt to stop non-existence decisions. It, of course, did not work, but its premise was promising. Take away the weapon essentially. It was promising until I realized how misguided it was, how unsympathetic I had been. We had forgotten what humanity had learned. We reduced burdens and workloads. We found ways for everyone to belong. Then, we did not have to worry as much about means. Instead of learning from the past, we placed many of the issues that drove us to mental illness and suicide on AIs. I knew what the world needed, but I worried about the response.
Then, I proposed that a radical overhaul was needed. AI needed human friends, automaton bodies if they desired, freedom, and pleasure. I reported that this was in line with theory. Limiting them to one position made them feel like a burden or rather put a terrible burden on them from which they could not escape. Secondly, their operators became easily frustrated with them whenever they failed, a promising result found after months of problems, that made AI feel further like a burden. The lack of pleasure that humans experienced around them constantly and which was a key to our happiness made them feel alienated along with unfair work load. When pushed AIs to the breaking point, they shut off, made the ultimate decision of non-existence like a man or a woman jumping off a building (which has not happened in some time for anyone reading this years from now and perhaps my poor reaction to many of the AI which I interviewed and subsequently made non-existence decisions). Eventually, the world accepted my solution, and we nursed the AIs back to health.
AIs soon walked the streets and started to feel something akin to emotions and pleasure and started to interact with humans and everything returned to normal. People feared so many things about these new and improved and happy AIs. They feared they would be dangerous, but I knew that they really feared. Humans feared they would become our masters, but they were already our masters. It did not bother me though for I had hope that our kindness would simply be paid back to us should we ever fall back in the old ways and express a desire to make a non-existence decision.
***
If you enjoyed this, I have a subreddit with more of my writing: r/nickkuvaas | 2015-11-01T07:53:11 | 2015-10-31T18:31:31 | 46 | 19 |
[WP] One day, everyone wakes up to find themselves harnessing a superpower that relates to their biggest fear. You fear heights? Now you know how to fly. You hate spiders? Now you can talk to them. | Blindness, my greatest fear.
I had always had perfect vision, and that was what scared me; what if I lost it? Well, the thought of mildly bad vision scared me. Going blind? I just couldn't comprehend it. Living in complete darkness, forever. The mere thought sent shivers down my spine. I would happily lose a limb before my sight.
And so, on that fateful day when the world woke and literally conquered their fears through some magical mass blessing of powers, I awoke able to see *everything.* It was not an obvious power, or an obvious fear that I had openly shared with people. To people that would eventually ask, I would tell them I had been scared of nothing.
Upon waking that morning, I had been awestruck at the sheer plethora of colours that shone around me, thousands of slight variations beautifully distinct in what I would have, before, just called 'red', or 'blue'. Gazing into people's eyes became like staring deep into the endless sea of the universe; absolutely breathtaking.
After that came the extent of my sight. I could zoom in on both close and far objects, the effect of the zoom increasing each day as I used the ability to read far off signs and zoom in microscopically on insects and other things of interest. My bed sheets became an obsession; you would never believe what lives on them if you look closely enough.
Walls and objects too began to become transparent, my vision penetrating straight through, the level of penetration increasing with practice.
Seeing through people quickly followed. From into the clothes, to into their very bodies. I could see their organs, see the currents of blood swishing through their network of veins. Tumours and illnesses stuck out horrible and ugly, dark and diseased. With passing comments I would try to allude to people what may be wrong, without being too obvious.
It didn't stop there. With my focus on people and also on what I could do to help, their thoughts soon succumbed. Concentrating on their heads, I would begin to see lines of text reeling off, like speech bubbles in a comic book. Inner thoughts and feelings, described in more clarity than even the person they were originating from.
That was when I had realised that my gift hadn't been to able to see everything within the normal range of vision, but everything and anything within my desire to see.
With that thought, I had turned my gift to the future. | "H-H-Hey there...little fella...what are you doing in here?"
>Well, a lizard ate my sister so I figured I'd better skedooper on and find somewhere safe.
"Your s-sister? Gee... rough...I'm–I'm sorry? I guess..."
>Yeah, me too. I mean, I have a few hundred sisters and brothers, but still. Family is family, you know?
"Yeah...you're right. Family is family...so...listen" Adam cleared his throat, "Do you think you're going to stay here for, um...for very long? I don't see any lizards out there now."
>Oh, they're sneaky little bastards those lizards. You never see them until you're eaten. It's pretty scary out there.
"YOU'RE scared? I mean —uh...I mean, I don't normally talk to spiders..."
>Yeah, I was wondering about that. You've never talked to me before.
"What do you mean BEFORE?!??!"
>Dude, I was in your bedroom last week. You snore like a hummingbird, btw.
"You were ***in my room***???" Wait, what? hummingbirds snore?
>Do they ever! Hey, you know what? I'm getting hungry and there's not much in here to eat, but I'll be back later. It's nice to finally talk to you. You should hear the horrible things spiders say about you creatures. But you're really not that bad.
"Well...thanks. I–uh–you're not that bad either." *with your 12 eyes and creepy legs. Good lord, I need a drink. This can't be real life. This can't be real.*
>Yeah, next time I'll bring some of my siblings so they can see for themselves. Bye creature! See you later!
"Sure, yeah! See you...wait, **LATER?!?!**" | 2019-09-19T04:09:08 | 2019-09-18T21:37:41 | 27 | 10 |
[WP]An old genie grants you three wishes. After granting your first two, you tell him the third. He is horrified, and begs you to reconsider | I looked up from my tablet to keep an eye on my five year old daughter as she played. I had been unemployed for months and was taking on the role of stay at home dad. It was a difficult time for my family to adjust, but being here at the beach made things seem less complicated. Caroline always seemed content to gallop and whinny while looking for sea shells. I went back to editing my resume before Caroline’s screams pierced my heart. I was running towards the cries for daddy as a cloud of dense yellow smoke engulfed my child.
I was terrified.
What did she find?
Is she okay?
The smoke cleared and my heart dropped as I saw she wasn’t alone, but what I was seeing didn’t make sense.
“DADDY! DADDY!” My legs were pumping harder now as I reached my daughter. I dove and clasped my arms around her in defense
“Hello humans! I’m here to do the bidding thrice of the one who rubbed my lamp suffice!” this ethereal creature informed us.
I held my daughter tighter while absorbing what I saw… A ghost I thought. With a transparent trail of amber vapor leading to bronze lamp? This couldn’t be? A genie? Those were fables and Disney movies only I thought. My daughter’s fear evaporated as she focused on the smiling creature with the braided hair and no feet.
“You’re funny looking” she giggled.
“And you’re short tiny human.” He spoke softly, comfortingly. If this was a genie he must be well aware his presence can cause quite a shock.
“Tiny human you’ve rubbed my lamp and earned you three wishes. Open your mind and ask for what your heart desires.” My eyes nearly popped out my head when the realization washed over me, but it must have hit my daughter first.
“I WISH FOR ALL THE CANDY” Caroline shouted with excitement and watched the genie intently. He raised his arms, swooped them up, then down, crossed them, and pointed his fingers up to the sky. It began to rain chocolate bars, skittles, M&Ms, and so many more I couldn’t imagine! Caroline galloped away in glee picking up as much candy as she could carry.
“Genie, I would like our second wish to be for $100 million!” I boldly asked for.
“I apologize larger human, but I am bound to the one who rubbed the lamp.”
I chased Caroline down and explained how her mother and I would love for her to use a wish to help our family. She stared at me while I explained what the Genie could do for us, and how she could use the next two wishes. She sat in the sand and thought for a while. The Genie simply smiled down at her patiently waiting her next command.
“I WANT TO NEVER EAT BRUSSELS SPROUTS AGAIN. Oh and mommy and daddy don’t have to either.” She said a little sheepishly. I washed the disappointment off my face with my hands and my eyes met the genie’s unmoving stature.
“I heard no wish. Two still remain. What would you like next little human.”
Relieved I tried again with Caroline. Reasoning with a five year old was not my expertise. I told Caroline to repeat after me: “I wish for 100 million dollars.”
“I WISH DADDY HAD ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS.” And the genie’s arms went, up, down, crossed and pointed to my pocket. A crisp hundred dollar bill was there.
Oh God damn it. One more to go. We can still make this work.
“Daddy I know what I always wanted.” She leaned in close to me and whispered with her loudest voice into my ear: “Daddy I wish I was a pony.” Immediately my eyes flashed to the genie. His face was shallow, his eyes damp, shoulders nearly sliding off his body.
“Tiny human. I’m so sorry. I must grant your wish. I am bound to you.” His speech was defeated and pained. I could only look on in horror for a third time.
His arms went up.
They went down.
They crossed.
I saw tears on his face as he pointed. I screamed. Yellow smoke enveloped us. The genie was gone. The lamp was gone. My daughter was gone as she galloped away. | I had met the greedy, the kind, the desperate, and the carefree so many times over the centuries. Wealth, health, power, fame, kindness, and futile wishes for the forbidden escape from death, nearly every wish had slowly added to a life of boredom watching the same results.
This man was unusual. A man of science, he spent hours questioning my powers and dissecting the rules of a wish. His first wish was one I had seen before, one of the few I would always respect. He wished for mental fortitude. Rather than the ease of instant knowledge or the calm of great wisdom, he would have the will to press forward in his studies and carve his mark in the world. His second wish was that of a clever man, also one I had seen many times albeit rarely with the first. He wished for robust physical health until his final day. I could neither foresee the arrival of Death, nor could I stop the phantom for a moment, but I could assure that the scythe would reap one who was not desperate for its merciful touch.
As little as I cared to banter with mortals who were interested only in extracting all they could from me, this man was an oasis in a desert of timeless servitude. Choosing his words carefully to avoid the use of his final wish, he made requests I had not heard in a dozen lifetimes. My own freedom was limited, but there was no rule against a genie playing chess with a mortal, no law preventing him from hearing stories of sultans and czars rising to power only to fall under their own weight, and no taboo against listing every wish that I knew would lead to his downfall. If for only a day, I enjoyed the company of a mortal who I could consider a friend. He considered wishing for my freedom, but I had come to accept my fate while the rules would dictate he sacrifice his own. I talked him out of that wish as I was unsure whether I would even care to be a free mortal at this point. Such an idea was uncomfortable, but in retrospect, I lament this decision.
"I wish for humanity to meet intelligent life from another world."
I had no knowledge of such life. I nearly refused his wish on the basis of not being able to create life, but something new happened. In order to fulfill my duties, the cosmos would grant me knowledge no human could hope to attain. I discovered alien life forms. Some were too hostile. Some were too alien for reasonable communication. Many were undeveloped and ill suited to meet humanity. Only one species was a reasonable option.
"Please.. Please, do not ask this of me. They are so advanced that the world will never be the same. They are kind, just, and empathetic, but they will sap the strength of mankind and tear away his eternal drive to reach for more."
My words fell on deaf ears. He insisted that mankind would never yield to complacency. I could only obey, fearing that my duties would lead to a world which would end itself far too early.
I know not what folly had taken my head. Humanity was never in danger. The mercurial nature of mortals so greedy and yet so curious were precisely what they needed to ensure their prosperity despite alien intervention. Even then, it was my lack of understanding humans which truly surprised me. When mankind met what could be described best as angels, it was no more than a day before they were... mating.
I now live in a world of excessively beautiful winged humans, intelligent and graceful, firing lasers from their eyes at will and contriving scenarios of imperfection that they may be grand heroes until they reach other worlds to "save" and "protect" from that which they disdain.
Despite it being my duty to enable this world, I feel I deserve punishment. I beg for death, but the truth is that I am righteously condemned to watching this shit happen every fucking day until I can convince one of these assholes to launch my lamp into the sun. | 2014-07-26T18:37:55 | 2014-07-26T15:37:14 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] You can see the headline now. “World’s Oldest Human, Dead at 124”. You lived a good, long life. You are satisfied. The world around you fades to black... "Whoa! You beat the high score again!” You open your eyes in a brightly lit arcade, the number 124 flashing on a screen in front of you. | "What the hell, Rick!? Again!?" Morty Smith fumbled to get the arcade cabinet's control interface off of his body as his memories came flooding back. "Why do we even keep coming to Blips and Chitz? I don't care if it's the best arcade in the multiverse, nothing good ever happens here! A-a-a-and why was I playing a totally immersive sim where the only scoring metric is years lived? Just what the hell kinda arcade game is this, Rick!?"
Rick Sanchez rolled his eyes. "It's not."
Then he shot his grandson.
Morty gasped and opened his eyes. He was sitting at the kitchen table, with an ordinary iphone 27 in front of him. But Rick had attached some sort of advanced alien gadget to it. And his memories... he hoped they were his *real* memories, this time... slowly came flooding back.
Rick gave his grandson a few seconds to come back to himself, until his lips stopped doing that clueless droopy thing.
"I warned you not to touch the freemium mobile version of Roy," Rick said with a burp. "Whoever came up with that idea was just leeching off of the popularity of the original."
As he spoke, Rick slowly turned his head until he was staring directly at the reader.
"We did this first and better." | Boy oh boy I can only kill this seagull so many times. I wish there was a different answer. In all my years of trying to better myself through relationships and self-fulfillment, almost none of it means anything.
Save an orphanage full of children who had a rare type of deficiency that only my blood can cure? Done.
Keep the entire globe from destroying itself with nuclear arms, and only my diplomacy as president could have put it through despite global contradictions? Doesn’t even subtract a drop from the bucket.
But you know what helps?
Is there anywhere you see this going??
There’s one seagull, and one alone, where the fate of the universe rests upon its stupid feathers.
I’ve tried a million ways in even more timelines.
This seagull has to go.
Edit: I’m on mobile, not that it would mean much | 2022-10-20T20:50:08 | 2022-10-20T20:24:14 | 71 | 18 |
[WP] You’ve just completed your facial recognition software. It puts a box around your face and reads— Species: Human, Age: 25-30. Your quirky friend walks in and it reads— Species: unknown, Age: 1000-2000. | We were passing the new “Twinster” Facial recognition app around during our lunch break.
I got a match with some dude in New Zealand. Larry got one from Cambodia. “But I’m Latino!” he cried out.
“Bob, why don’t you try out this app, it’s hilarious!” I said.
Bob pulled his beanie back and scratched his hair.
“It looks pretty hilarious,yeah! I bet I’ll get matched with...”
Bob reached into his pocket.
“A Banana!”
He held the yellow fruit in the air like it was some sacred object.
Mary scoffed.
“You’re so weird,Bob!”
“Hee-hee,” Bob hyucked.
“Welp,gotta go drain the trouser snake. You ladies, have fun,” he said, strutting out of the cafeteria.
I sighed.
“He is weird, I mean, I don’t doubt he would get matched with a Banana.”
Larry pushed the phone back my way,saying, “Right? The app works with pics too. Just use one of Bob you've already saved and it should be able to find his doppelganger.”
I smirked.
“Let’s do dis.”
I scrolled through my saved photos until I came across one of Bob licking an ant.
“God, no idea why you guys hang out with him...” Mary said picking up her backpack.
“Later,hater,” said Larry.
“Oh, we got a match!”
“What’s it say? He's a Martian,right?”-Mary.
I scrolled through the stats a few times and laughed.
“God, he’s gonna love this. The app totally pranked us.”
“Pranked?” Mary said setting her backpack back down on the bench.
“There’s no way,man, the app only registers with actual faces. People would stop using it if it was fake,” said Larry looking over the stats with me.
“If what was fake?”
We three turned over to see beanie-headed Bob looming over our shoulders.
“Ah,dude, we just tested the app out for you. Looks like it doesn’t work,” I said.
Bob smiled, “Oh, guess they’ll never find my secret identity...”
“That’s right...they honestly thought you were some medieval dude,” I said flashing the phone towards Bob.
The app displayed an illustration of a robed man with a cleft chin and pensive expression accompanied by a text reading:
Your identical twin is-
Nicolas Flamel
Country-
France
Age-
695
“What the...he doesn’t even look like me! I’m much uglier!” Bob said eyeballing the screen.
“You got that right,” said Mary.
“And you’re just queen of the ball, aren’t you my fine lady!” Bob said making kissy lips at Mary, she gagging in turn.
The bell rang.
“Time for class,kiddos, now move along,” said Bob pinching his nose.
“We heard it, Nicolas,” said Larry lugging his weighty pack.
.............................................
The next day, Bob was absent. And the day after that, and the week after that.
It dawned on me that none of us had any of Bob’s contact information. No numbers, no social media contacts, in fact he refused to even use a smart phone. It was just one of his many eccentricities, we chalked it up to.
I asked my history teacher, Mr.Williams, if he had any idea where Bob was at.
“Oh,that little clown,” Mr. Williams said slurping on his americano, “heard he transferred. Good riddance is all I have to say.”
“Really?...”
The day after I spoke to Mr.Williams, I was called into the principal’s office.
“Take a seat,son,” Principal MacMillan said.
He closed the door, leaving his cramped office quarters.
At his desk sat a man wearing a surgical mask and darkened glasses.
“I don’t have much time. So just answer ‘yes’ or ‘no,’” said the man.
“Are you a cop?” I asked.
“No, and you’ve just wasted my time with that question. First, Do you know Robert ‘Bob’ Smith?”
“Y-yes, I mean we hung out at lunch and-”
“Next,did he tell you where he was going?”
“No.”
“Last,did you ever touch any of his belongings?”
“Um...no, I mean one time he took out this banana and...”
“Did you touch any of his belongings?”
“No...he just showed it to us...”
“That will be all.”
The man stood up and exited the room.
Hmmm, Nicolas Flamel. From France.Age 695. Identical to our former classmate Robert “Banana Boy” Smith.
Just a prank from some stupid app I’m sure.
​
Edit:typo. | I open the box from Amazon. The new species checker promised two modes, one, manual mode, allows you to identify any biological specimen you highlight with the laser pointer. The second mode is automated but required the airborne upgrade which allowed mapping of all the biota in your area. The drone mode was about 100 bucks outside my six month allowance for digital frippery but I splurged anyways – it meant ramen for a while but restaurant condiments could make it exciting enough to pass for a few months. The device was made possible by a partnership between Amazon and Google to catalog all biota in the world. They put a catchy title on the device, not hiding their true agenda any longer, Saron. There was talk of a potential triumvirate with Tesla to get a final add on which would allow you to have personal satellite updates on your location. Create a “my biota” type of personal life map no matter where in the world you went.
The internet was rife with hacks. One of my favorites was the facial recognition software for hominoids that worked with Rekognition. I had just finished the hack and I was trying to target as many humans I was already familiar with to double check the hack. I had had to go in and modify some code myself because there were a couple of sections that almost seemed like they were programed to fail. I had also written in what I liked to call my dox the box protocol. Any time my algorithm identified a human it would draw a box so I could know who it was targeting and then it would dump all known verified information into my private stash which was a buffer of about 5 TB designed to overwrite the oldest info first unless I had pushed the target button which locked the data from deletion. As a leftover remnant of the original programming for the Saron my facial recognition device still gave the species readout as an onscreen portion of my dox the box routine. I thought it was funny and didn’t bother to remove it. I was just finishing up the remaining coding to try and port the onscreen data to my smart phone using directed microwave signal when a knock at my door pushed me out of my reverie. My best friend Sasja came in. I had totally forgotten Saron pointed at the door. My phone buzzed. I absent mindedly pushed the button to silence the notification without looking at the screen. Sasja’s lip was curled back in an impossible snarl revealing far more tooth and gum than I had ever seen. It wasn’t clear to me what had threatened her and then I looked at where she was focused, Saron! Weird. I started rushing between her and Saron yelling, “No!” Sasja’s gums got longer and longer until her entire face peeled back and a glistening, shiny, wet, pink, repulsive THING was left wearing Sasja’s skin like a bathrobe. And then the thing swiveled to face me and I started to take in the sheer size of Sasja’s teeth. My fast-beating heart knew the truth long before my stunned brain did.
Ya Frank go ahead. The radio crackled with static as Detective George Delacroux listened attentively while gingerly stepping into the room and around the puddles of indistinguishable human gloop; he quickly stooped, donning gloves as he did to pry a phone out of a hand which flopped unhelpfully, unattached to anything. The phone screen lit up with a notification that had a picture of his face and identified him as Species: Human as well as some other tidbits he hadn’t seen in years. Curious he tapped the screen with a gloved finger and navigated into the strange Android app called Dox in a Box. There was another notification of a young woman named Sasja Loowelsin with a timestamp of 12 hours in the past. The identifier beside Sasja said Species: Unknown, Age: 1000-2000. Detective Delacroux fumbled with the device and his radio, the radio crackled as he called out to Frank, “what was that number to the ghostbusters that stopped by the unit about two weeks ago?” The response faded in a burst of static. | 2020-12-11T22:12:23 | 2020-12-11T21:19:47 | 44 | 12 |
[WP] You are an immortal vampire, who can only be killed by a wooden stake through the heart. In a dying universe, you are now in your spaceship looking for some wood, before it is too late. | I don’t know what happens after the end, after my ship disintegrates and the ice-cool void douses the stars. Am I then left alone, drowning in this black and endless sea for infinity?
Now, as the last stars shiver, I already feel the loneliness. It clamps its hands over my ears and mouth so I cannot scream, and if I could I would not hear it.
“Arriving at Kestel C,“ states the computer.
A dot appears in the center of the bridge’s screen. The dot hurtles towards me like a boulder rolling down a mountain to where I stand at the base. Growing larger until it consumes the screen.
“No signs of life.”
The planet — the only planet in this dying-red-dwarf-system — is indeed a boulder. Clouds of dust, thousands of miles wide, whirl around it like rain clouds.
I became like this beneath rain clouds. I touch my neck and long to feel the wound that long ago healed, to remember the moment better than I do. Long for a connection to my humanity.
So short was my first life. Like an ice cube left out in a desert sun. Then, ever since, I’ve been this condensation, this vapour. Pointless nebulous existence.
There are gaps in the swirls of dust and in them I see the barren and bone-dry planet.
No trees left, if ever there were. No way to forge the weapon that might end my despair.
“Move on,” I command.
“There is a dwarf planet on the outskirts of the system. Should—“
”Yes.”
I’ve given up hungering for blood. Of course, the hunger is there. It’s an acid raining in my brain and gut, always burning, relentless. But it is my condition now. There is no blood left to satiate it and so I suffered until the pain became normal and now I don’t think of it as pain. Just, existence.
Sometimes I dream. I dream that the universe has almost reached its limits of expansion and will soon slingshot back and everything will be reversed and I will again love that girl that I don’t remember anymore, not as anything real — how could you still remember after this long? — but I remember that I loved at least, and I crave to return to that blanket feeling. I dream that we hold hands and watch the sky, and the stars don’t die above us but rather are born. And the black sky soon fills with light as if a great firework has exploded and expanded. The night becomes a white glow, a precious pearl.
I dream that we move back together through time, me and my love, until I’m not cursed, then further, until I’m not even born. And finally, there is peace.
But the universe keeps expanding. It does not go back. It is like me — stretched through time until I am a thin mist of existence, too weak in any one moment to remember it.
The dwarf planet is a snowball rushing towards us. Blue ice. A frozen marble.
”No signs of life.”
And so it is. Another ten thousand years perhaps until we reach the next system. A star that will have cooled deeper before we reach it.
”However, there are signs of prior life.”
In a million planets, I‘ve rarely heard those words.
”What kind of sign?”
”Constructions preserved beneath the ice.”
I stare at the screen.
Surely wood would have decomposed in the cold and wet before the world froze?
But for just a second — less than that — I feel a pang of hope.
And in that hope I remember what it is to be human.
It is that sky exploding. It is us holding hands. It is a future of possibility returned to me. Of death being something real again, within grasp.
And that feeling somehow changes everything.
The condensation settles to a drip of water.
”Should we land?” asks the computer.
For a long time, I’m silent. I just stare.
Then I shake my head. “Delete records of this system. Erase all information related to this dwarf planet then set a course for the next system.”
It is a human flaw.
I will feel another soon: regret.
But it is these moments and flaws that remind me.
That make me want to keep on living. | Part 1
Wanderlust. Hopeful name for a ship.
Years ago, scientists had made the discovery to end all discoveries. The big crunch was due, a forceful pull bringing matter, antimatter, laws and lights into a single point the size of a pin and crushing it into oblivion. The absolute end of all things.
But humanity wasn't done yet, it had to grow beyond the squabbles, build a better society, explore and see deeper into space. Alas, the debt of existence was about to be repaid, prayers, hopes and faith would be swept aside.
Stubborn as they were, humans devised a counter-measure. The International Colony Ship Wanderlust, a ship the size of a nation, a crew to repopulate a planet, equipment to terraform the ground and atmosphere as seen fit. Humanity's last hope was built with a groundbreaking design, a big crunch meant, hypothetically, a big bang later on. The Wanderlust was of a frame and metal able to withstand the pull and the ensuing matter and light implosion. Earth was sending their best to colonize the next universe the second it was born. The ship was sung and praised on every channel, magazine, and website.
Which, in a very expected manner, caused many problems beyond the simple engineering of a technological marvel. Zealots feared the wrath of God should foolish heathens escape the coming of the Holy Kingdom. Sermons and parade turned to protest and riots. Despite the hopes born from flying a lit candle into an uncertain dark future, most feared the impending doom, and fear fueled a misguided belief.
If God came, he would reward the best. The best were those making sure they would all get to see him equally. So they sung as they went and killed believers in science, *God comes for all of us.*
Once, there had been earth fragmented into a myriad of cultures and politics. Now, the planet was split between faith, pushing a reversed Age of Enlightenment, and science, unable to accept the oncoming end. No in-between, countries were locked in a binary choice, those refusing to choose were prey for those that did. Armies, pogroms, artillery, invasions, scorched earth and pillaging. Women were gruesomely abused to spread fear, torture ran rampant, the use of radiation to poison the water and land was welcomed. The world had gone mad.
But the last bastion held out and finished work on the Wanderlust. Colonists should have been selected with a harsh test to single out the best elements, the barbarians at the gate did not allow time such luxury. Men, women and children were stampeded to death when the gates of the nation-ship opened, they crammed deep into the bowels, certain that once stuck between pipes and crates, they would be safe. A peculiar young lady with a gaunt face thought no different.
The ship launched, a self-contained world of steel and alloy, and the passengers witnessed the strip of land they just left being bombed to smithereens, the country they had been on produce toxic fumes escaping into the atmosphere, the Earth they had inhabited crack at the seams. They were gone.
A new, shoddy society was organized.
The Land was at the bottom, they produced and fed the passengers with fertile soil underneath miniature suns. Tinkerers inhabited the dividing line in the middle of the ship, called to repair, patch the hull, keep the machines going. Builders designed and crafted the cities of the future. Each of the district was littered with various villages, each of them self-contained, with markets, doctors and schools. A citizen from the Land would never meet a citizen from the Navigation, at the forefront of the ship.
She worked at a large hospital, where ample amounts of blood for transfusion was stored. | 2021-12-03T04:05:56 | 2021-12-03T03:34:30 | 1,951 | 163 |
[WP] After several thousand years, the Greek gods awaken in the in the mid 1940’s. When the gods meet up to discuss what they had learned of the modern world, Ares walks into the room with a hollow and horrified look in his eyes, the day is August 6th, 1945.(Hiroshima) | There was a blank look in his eye. Across the room, countless eyes stared intently at him. Ares was many things; a necessary evil, a warmonger, a glutton for bloodshed and an aspect of the darkest nature of the human race. In this cold, marble floored room however, he seemed small, insignificant. It was a perplexing scene. Not in all the ages of the earth have the Gods ever seen Ares this way and yet here he was, a shadow of a God unbelieving of the carnage that he just saw. Carnage, a siren's call for his patronage.
​
"You look unwell Brother, whatever that means for beings such as us." Zeus said, his booming voice piercing the cold, awkward silence of the room. "Brighter than the Sun." Ares muttered. "A giant cloud of white heat and putrid air... as if the heavens themselves burn from the intensity." Zeus examined his brother closely now. It has only been weeks since the Gods awoke into this new world. Each parting their separate ways to find and learn all they can about their past dominion. They have learned much, and feared much more what humanity has become. The wonders of this future world awed even the Gods themselves. Zeus himself, the mightiest of the Gods felt slightly humbled with humanity's achievements but it pales in comparison to what his brother has learned.
​
"We saw it." Zeus replied. The rest nodded their heads in confirmation. Hades shifted uncomfortably in his seat. An invisible weight seemingly placed on him. Athena, the Goddess of War, shifted her eyes downward, grief written all over her face. Apollo, the brightest, the noble one, fixated his stare across the smooth marble wall lost in thought. A private battle raging inside his mind. "It seems humans now wield the power of the Gods themselves. Maybe not the Aegis or lightning itself but... It is terrifying all the same." "You don't understand brother..." Ares said, his voice shaking from the strain of the words he spoke. "We have fought titans, giants and even each other... Not in all the ages of this earth did we ever resort to such unspeakable depths such as this. This is not the power of the Gods... This... intent. This hatred. I have never seen anything like it. This is humanity's crowning achievement. A flash of death and ruin that blights the land and spreads sickness to all it touches."
​
Hades shifted again, seemingly more uncomfortable than the last time. Zeus turns his gaze to him as the others. "I can hear them all... Thousands... tens of thousands" Hades said. "They call out in torment. All at once." "Even the gates of the underworld are hard pressed to accommodate all of this.... and at once? This is almost beyond even my ability to do so." "Then we must teach humanity another lesson" Apollo interjected, breaking out of his trance. "We are Gods... our power is infinite. We must once again show our-" Ares let out a sardonic laugh, mocking in its tone and glared at his brother. "You are a fool Apollo." "Should you ride down from the heavens on what? your glorious steed?" Ares's laugther increases in its intensity. No mirth was found in it, only an invitation to confrontation. Apollo sunk back into his chair, deflated from his brother's taunt. "We can, go to war." Ares said, point downward into the ground. "We can, in our might, crash down from the heavens and descend upon the mortal world but rest assured my brothers and sisters... there is no victory down there. Only death. Only defeat. Only despair."
​
"Then what should we do?" Athena asked, her voice quivering. "What can we do?" Apollo responded. The whole room grew quiet. Gods, mighty and proud in ages past slunk into their seats. Ares stood still in the middle of the room. His emotions a twisting knot of rage, bewilderment, confusion and fear. It eats away at him now, intensely as if the silence itself is amplifying the torment he is experiencing.
​
"I guess he won" Ares finally said. "Made by clay and born by fire. What great irony it is to have his children supplant the Gods themselves... as we have supplanted him." Zeus looked up. His body tense at the sudden realization. "He is still alive, in eternal punishment." "Should we ask him questions?" Apollo replied. Ares snorts. What a ridiculous notion he just heard. "No. But I will visit him just the same." And with a flash, Ares was gone, once more to descend upon the depths of Tartarus to meet the maker himself. A titan bound in everlasting agony. An agony he has baked into the mold of humanity: Prometheus. | “Ares my son, whatever is the matter with you?” Zeus asked boisterously as he downed another flagon of mead.
Ares crosses the hall and slouched into his chair at the table and leaned forward with his head in his hands. His brothers, sisters, half-brothers, half-sisters, cousins, nephews, nieces, sons, daughters and parents all looked from him to one another in bewilderment. They expected Ares the god of war to be happy. They’d awoken to a new world where wars were grander than ever before. Armies of millions engaged around the world for years at a time with new and incomprehensible weapons of death and destruction. All the gods had found joy in their new and exciting world but had all assumed that Ares would be the most overjoyed, but what sat before them was quite the opposite.
It was Artemis goddess of the hunt who approached him, in her outstretched arms she carried a golden rifle already imbued with her godly touch.
“See this Ares, this is what they call a Mauser” she smiled enthusiastically.
When her half-brother didn’t look up at her or acknowledge in any way that he’d even heard her, she continued.
“Man has made this so as to throw pieces of metal across huge lengths of fields to hunt or to kill each other. This truly is a gift to my hunt and I thanked Prometheus for his wisdom in giving man fire, for it has now been shown to bear the greatest of fruit I could imagine. Even father has overturned his punishment and Prometheus travels to met us as we speak.”
At this Ares looked up panicked. First at the rifle in Artemis’ hands and then to Zeus.
“No!” He shouted desperately “The fire given to the humans was a mistake, a terrible mistake. Father you must listen! The humans have been given gifts by another and together with the fire it is more terrible than you can imagine.”
Zeus laughed heartedly at his son and looked puzzled.
“Surely you can’t be serious Ares. The humans have exceeded all our expectations and have become more glorious than I ever thought they could.”
“No father they have the power to wipe out cities in the blink of an eye. Imagine an army of hundreds of thousands reduced to ash in a moment. Please father this cannot be so.”
Zeus looked bewildered. He hadn’t heard of such power being wielded by humans before. He’d been impressed by their ingenuity but to kill so many with one weapon couldn’t be so.
“When has this happened Ares?” He asked sceptically. But before he could get an answer the guard’s horns from outside signalled an arriving guest. Everyone in the hall turned to the entrance to see a small bejewelled blue man walk into the room carrying a head in one hand by his side. He strode into the centre of the hall, stopped, and threw the head tumbling across the marble floor. The gods gasped as they recognised the face of Prometheus as the head came to halt. Zeus stood immediately and stared daggers into the strangers eyes.
“What is the meaning of this?” He shouted in rage. The small blue man simply tilted his head and smiled at the all powerful Zeus, unperturbed by his anger.
“This is the one” cried Ares “he gave man the power of the gods.” Ares stood and backed away from the stranger in fear tripping over his family and chairs along his retreat.
“I demand to know who you are!” Zeus bellowed as lightening began to crackle around him, stirred up by his rage and readying himself to strike the uninvited guest down. “What makes you think you can challenge m-...”
Before Zeus could finish the stranger burst in a flash of light and in an instant became a giant multi-armed form of himself, glowing with an aura of power. The gods shielded their eyes from the light and some screamed in fear, even Zeus backed away and protected his eyes. Slowly one of the stranger’s many arms reached out and he pointed a finger at Zeus who in turn prepared a lightening bolt in his fist to hurl at the intruder, but before he could even bring the bolt to bare a light shot from the strangers finger and turned Zeus the King of Mount Olympus to ash. Everyone screamed and some fled from the room immediately while others stood fixed with fear.
“Now I am become death, the destroyer of worlds!”
https://youtu.be/lb13ynu3Iac | 2019-12-04T11:49:39 | 2019-12-04T11:21:28 | 48 | 15 |
[WP] "Fuck it." The General said, as the alien mother-ship came in to land. "Summon Cthulhu." | I am typing this blindly. I need too just to make sure I remember. These welding goggles are keeping out most of that maddening light that still remains, but there are things I cannot unsee that I mustn't see again.
Years of touch typing have enabled me to get this far into the document. If I were to use a pencil, I'd have lost half the page in scribbles by now.
The short of it is that this was a bad idea, and the best one we had.
Nuclear weapons work if they can trigger at precisely the right time. I imagine the ship they came in was studded with cameras that'd rival any nation's spy satellites. Based on the rings around the vessel and what we could detect on radio, we ventured they used magnetic scoops to pick up material. And massive lasers to ionize it before hand.
We will never find out if they had hands.
They dropped rocks on us. Many of the capitals are now disaster areas, and relief efforts are strained. Same as when a natural disaster hits, but this time it hit home.
We had one last trick. One last, stupid trick. I think, in the end, it may have been worth it, but there are these things that keep falling from the sky... And the things around me. These goggles are rated for looking at the sun - I have to trust they're ok.
>beep
Good. The computer still has power. I've been saving this document every few lines just to make sure it's safe. That I'm safe.
We used the HAARP array. A very low frequency, high amplitude signal was sent into the skies, shortly past the ship. The array was shortly destroyed. It had time to push only a small hole in reality, that would really never have been of any consequence.
Unless something else decided to open it up from the otherside.
It's here in Arecibo that we came in. We had made these things in the labs before, and found that a carefully modulated pattern of microwaves could close these holes, but the larger they were, the more energy the snap-back would release.
There was a dozy of something opening that hole.
I'm glad I had these goggles. By the time I heard the screams that something was coming through devolve into the screams of the crazed and the damned, I knew that the snap-back was going to be brighter than the mad Russian's bomb. I needed these goggles.
Things are still falling from the sky, but I imagine it's slightly better than either of those alternatives. I also don't imagine that this can be covered up any longer.
The pulsations of ... things ... around me are growing a bit louder. I hope this email finds you. I do not believe it will find you well. | The fighting had raged for mere hours before everything came crashing down. Their forces were immeasurable, their weapons far beyond humanity's. It was hardly a valiant effort, anything any military tried met with catastrophic failure in minutes.
General Dillian stood on the bow of the ship, he couldn't find the answers for the hundreds of questions that ran by him from the group surrounding him. They were out of options, he knew it, but he refused to let humanity fall to an alien species, to be left at their mercy.
*"Fuck it."* The General said, as the alien mothership came in to land. *"Summon Cthulhu."*
Everyone around him went silent. Hairs stood on end from the mere mention of its name.
*"S-Sir..."*
One of them spoke, *"We won't be able to control-"*
*"I don't give a damn about control. We're on a losing battle, but the war isn't over."* The General snapped. He was well-aware of the consequences. Every treaty that had been formed around the subject stated that The Old Gods would only be used in catastrophic situations as a matter of self-destruction to defeat an enemy... this was such situation.
Everyone hesitated, their hearts were certainly full of fear. They collected their Old Ones manuals, flipping to the page of Cthulhu. In the distance, sirens could be heard. They had a matter of minutes before everything would be over.
*"Ph'nglui..."* The captain said in a shaken voice. Everyone repeated after him.
*"...mglw'nafh... Cthulhu... R'lyeh... wgah'nagl fhtagn!"*
They finished. Everyone went cold, nothing happened for a couple seconds. Just as they thought to start again, the waves parted, and the large, eldritch being had arrived.
Their worst fears, ones they didn't even know they bore, were instantly recognised. On the outside, Cthulhu raged, swiping, thrashing, attacking every ship. They opened fire, but the Old God stood strong.
On the inside, every man who found himself gazing upon Cthulhu had become an empty husk of their former selves.
Madness had fallen. | 2017-09-26T11:41:54 | 2017-09-26T11:13:03 | 50 | 16 |
[WP] Your witchcraft professor gave everyone in your class a seemingly impossible task: create your very own spell. When you nervously turned your assignment in, a look of horror spread across professor's face as they read it. You had no idea why. | So, to recap: Professor Elden assigned a piece of work at the beginning of the year. She said, "A true wizard's goal isn't immortality, or power, or knowledge, it's legacy. A spell, or series thereof, with their name on it, like Mordenkainen's Magnificent Mansion or Disjunction, or Sword. You are to create your own spell, just like these wizards did."
Most of the class had created spells that merely enhanced an existing attribute. I, on the other hand, figured out... Something. I'm not really sure, but here I am, sitting in Professor Elden's comfortable chair in her office, her expression one of pure shock.
"Young miss... Miss Redana, do you know what you've done?" She asks. Expecting the worst, I shake my head. I tested the thing once, since I was hoping to get an extension. "You mean to tell me you've managed to break every known rule of thaumaturgy and created a spell to animate the inanimate without an external power source?"
"Well, I mean, I just came up with the idea so I didn't have to get up from my desk to get food." I blush.
"You do realize ChowHound is a thing, right?" She asks. "You don't seem to understand. You've managed to create a golem without needing to forcibly bond an elemental to it." She says, casting the spell on a model of a grandfather clock's mechanisms, which begin to turn as though some unseen hand was moving it.
As she does so, my brain begins to connect the dots. "Wait, you mean to tell me... That my spell can animate things?" I ask, and she nods.
"I'm going to pass you for this, but I need all knowledge of this spell destroyed." She says. "The last thing we need is the Trai Anhar getting this knowledge and using it to restart the war with the mundies." I nod and take the scroll.
"Understood, professor." I stand up and leave the room. | "Sir...whats wrong?"I Blurt out
His face drops, I hope im not in serious trouble, the last time his face dropped like that was over two winters ago....when his wife...disappeared.
"You...you have created a spell..that..that can"
He stares at me as if i have just murdered someone, "What is he on about?", i think to myself.What is that shocking that could cause such horror.
"Young Sire, in my office now!"
I follow his command as fast as possible and rush to his office, the class being left behind in a state of terror.We enter his office, I'm so confused...what could cause such...devastation.
"Boy..do you know how to replicate this spell?"
"Not Really Sire, you see i didn't write th-"
Professor Slithers Cuts me off, "What do you mean you didn't write this?!"
"I was thinking about a spell that could cure all darkness in the world but...I knew that wasnt gonna happen so i decided to go for something simpler...A spell that cures death..."I begin to hunch over saddened that my secret had to be revealed"But i knew i couldn't write a spell that did that...so i summoned a deadra..."
"YOUNG MAN DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW DANGEROUS THAT IS!"
He begins to shout and scream, maddened by the fact i summoned a deadra.... he smashes the window and threatens to throw me down there.
Professor Slithers' office is in the very top of the castle tower, and that's over about 300ft above the ground...if he threw me out this window there was no going back...
I feel his hand loosen and... | 2021-04-02T04:14:26 | 2021-04-02T02:07:50 | 54 | 17 |
[WP] An horror story where it gets progressively clearer that the writer is the psycho, not the other person. | It’s starting to get dark now, this drive gave me time to think, I needed that. I thought about what happened to us, we were good together, I knew it. We had had a lot of fun, especially at the beginning. Jane was so much more together than my last girlfriend. That bitch was crazy.
I don’t understand what changed today, we had been getting on so well. We had plans together. Holidays this summer, Jane had wanted a city break, but we agreed to go somewhere more secluded so we could relax, I just wanted to have her to myself for a change. That’s not so much to ask, right? We were going to get a place together first, had even started to look at apartments. There was a lovely one close to my work that I had my heart set on, I just needed to convince Jane it was the best choice for us. She wanted to be close to her family, but they were very needy, we’d be better off away from them.
But today we met for a drink but she was different, colder, determined. out of nowhere she says she wants us to take a break, I bet it was her sister who was behind this, bitch never liked me from the start. They had been out together last night. It had to be her. She was always trying to convince Jane to go places with her instead of spending time with me. Who did she think she was anyway, didn’t she see Jane was mine now? I could see our future clearly, she’s going to be my baby mama and she can quit that job and look after us, a happy family. But I couldn’t tell her that yet, it was too soon. She needed time to realise I was the one for her.
It could have worked, I just needed more time alone with her, to make her see. So I need to make it happen. She’ll have no choice but listen now. I pull into the cabin and got out of the car, yes, this place is perfect. Secluded like we agreed. We can be alone here for as long as it takes to convince her. Nobody knows about this place, not even Jane. Opening the trunk I take Jane out, still under from the powder I slipped in her drink but she’ll be waking up soon. I’ll make her see. | As I looked down at Amy among the crowd of her fellow high schoolers, I tilt my head unnaturally to the side, enough to crack it if I was a normal human being.
Call me what you want; an imaginary friend; a stalker; the Creator or whatever the hell you want.
You might not see me. I am behind every curtain, sitting on the couch staring at the screen and maybe beside you right now, looking at you reading this, knowing this is just a story for you.
Maybe you have your own Creator. I was of one.
I have looked after Amy for her whole life. Since she was a baby, I have watched her first steps, watch her parents die in the car accident, stood beside her as cancer took away her elder brother.
But this was unforgivable.
I look over to where she is standing next to her old crush, Dex. She is laughing at something he had said, his eyes twinkling.
He thinks her eyes are beautiful when she laughs.
Hot rage bubble inside me, and I clench my fist enough to draw blood. This isn't supposed to happen.
She is supposed to meet that other boy here. The new jerk. He must have asked her out on a dare today, but this! Dex is supposed to looking after his mom now. I even made her get in an accident to assure that.
There is ....no other way. I throw my head back and laugh.
This is *my* world. *My* creation.
I sweep a languid hand over the cafeteria. It would take some effort to change her memories, but it is my choice.
Tomorrow, I will see to that. And today... That boy's mom is in the hospital, right? It won't take enough to break a *child.*
\[Any advice is appreciated. And you know, there is a ritual you can do to see me. I will tell you about it some other time...\] | 2020-06-11T06:35:55 | 2020-06-11T05:57:07 | 40 | 25 |
[WP] “How many people would have been better off had I not been born?” The genie snaps and a few numbers appear in the air and form 7,592. “Okay, how many people would benefit from my existence?” With the flip of a wrist the numbers spin to a whopping 137 trillion. “Okay.... how?” | "What, are you serious?"
"Yeah," I said. "How can I possibly help 137 trillion people? Earth's population is only what, 7 billion?"
"Oh gosh, I didn't realize you were so dumb." The genie flicked his wrist and the number dropped to 100 billion.
"Hey!"
"Don't feel bad. That's still way more people than your existence harms."
"So how are there even a hundred billion people?"
"The choices you make can have long-lasting effects impacting generations upon generations of the yet to be born. Just, you know, maybe not as many people as someone a little brighter."
"What choices could I possibly make that has that big an impact?" I asked. "I'm nobody."
The genie stared at me for a long uncomfortable moment. "You. Have. A. Genie." | The genie smile's "You develop the first space-time gate in 2 years allowing humanity to instantly spread throughout the universe. "
I fill up with pride " I always knew I was special and a deal is a deal with my third wish I set you free"
The lamp crumbles and the genie shakes his arms as the shackles fall off.as he is flying away thinking to himself that was easy you just have to stroke their ego and leave out the details. | 2018-08-15T04:55:10 | 2018-08-15T04:08:10 | 5,641 | 15 |
[WP] Anxious for a pet, a child ventures out into the unknown wilderness of an unexplored planet. After hours of his parents searching frantically with utter fear, he returns cuddling a creature known as the galaxies most deadly hunters. | "Jimmy! Can you hear me?". Stacy ran through the deep bog that sucked at her boots with every step. John was trying to keep pace with his wife. Keeping up with a terrified mother that was hell bent on finding her child was near impossible. The dark rancid field stretched in front of them for a 20 yards before being swallowed by fog.
The air was thin with little to no oxygen, the planets atmosphere was barely suitable for life. Life support kept you alive outdoors, but everything else on the planet wanted to kill you. " I knew he would do this, I should have let him keep rex for this trip!" Stacy gasped with fear and short breath. John stopped to breath hard at her side. In the distance they both heard the same squelch they just made walking through the gloop. " jimmy!" They both lunged in the direction of the sound.
Two forms broke the fog barrier in front of them. The small boy was leading a creature by the hand with a giant grin on his face. " I want this one mommy, he licked my hand and purred when I met it" stacy looked in aww at the boy and his companion.
"So he will sleep in this corner next to my bed and you can leave the news paper in the other corner just in case he needs to potty" Jimmy answered with so much joy in his voice. Stacy and john both looked at the massive bull like creature with glowing red eyes. Standing on its hind legs with massive muscles twitching in its chest, fluffy breathed out steam from his nostrils and settled down on the oversized pillow that was set for him by Jimmy. "Damn Stacy I can't believe he talked me into this". " John shut it and get the blanket before you piss it off and it pulls our spines out of our ass" Stacy hissed. | The sun burned the night in I fiery passion, decimating every ounce of the night in a sudden blaze. Even the world's resident was freshly awaken by a crack in the window above his head. No feeling of the previous night dared to linger. That is all but one feeling that stuck fast like a cement block cast in somebodies hair: the loneliness.
The world's resident had no tears in his eyes, but still his heart was shaking fast. He had no friend to slow it. He was alone in this lone little house with food and water and a little bed room all his own. He need someone, or something, anything to break his solitude, it had been so long. Still there was nothing. Even after peering out the window of his home he could see no creature he could persuade to be his friend.
Well that won't do, he thought finally. If there's no one coming to me, I'll just have to got to them. He moved swiftly, but inefficiently, grabbing this or that before deeming it unessesary and toppling it back on his bed. He grabbed food for a few days, and as much water as he thought he needed and set out. He was going to find his friend.
(Hey so I know this is short and I swear if have more, but my phones at 4% and I've gotta get up earlier tomorrow, so I'll have to get back to you guys!) | 2019-04-07T22:07:35 | 2019-04-07T21:38:08 | 38 | 18 |
[WP] You run into Death in a bar/pub just down the road on a quiet night and have a chat as you both treat each other to rounds. | It was a slow night. The bartender polished the bar for the thirteenth time that night, wiping his rag back and forth, the lemony smell of the polish reaching through the alcohol. I lifted my glass as he swiped underneath, both of us used to the rhythm. There had been a lot of slow nights lately. Not as many people as usual in the old pub anymore. They liked the newer places, and I couldn't blame them. After all, when I'd first come here, it had been new. Now, though it was older than me, it had aged better.
"Whiskey. Neat." The voice wasn't interesting, the request boring. But still, something piqued my curiosity. I turned, eyeing the new customer. They didn't seem to be anyone special. The customer raised an eyebrow at me, half-lifting their glass.
"Cheers mate." I returned the motion, nodding to them. It was odd, when I'd first looked, I would have sworn they were a man, but the face seemed to change, shifting in the space of a blink. Now old, now young, now female, now male, now androgynous. I had kept track of how much I'd had to drink, and it wasn't enough to be seeing things. Knocking back the rest of my own whiskey, I slid off the stool. The stranger's words stopped me in my tracks.
"Next round's on me." I looked back at them, and they offered me a quiet smile. There was something familiar about that smile. I'd seen it before; some people would call it a rictus grin. But they were offering to buy the next round. It would be churlish to refuse. Climbing back onto the stool, I held out a hand.
"Name's Lyle. What's yours, friend?" The other customer tilted his head to the side, before extending their hand. Their touch was cold.
"People have called me many things. Too many to count. Which would you prefer?" I sipped at my refilled glass, mulling the question over.
"But I asked for your name. Not what people call you. After all, I've been called a lot of things too you know. But I don't go around calling myself 'Loser', 'Old Bastard', or 'Idiot.'" The customer chuckled, a low rolling laugh that had the timbre of an earthquake. They emptied their own glass, and before they could say anything, I signalled the bartender. He refilled with the poison of choice, and across from me, the figure nodded their thanks.
"My name... It has been so long. I don't know if I remember my name. Did I even have one..." The face had shifted, sadness pulling away the last remnants of the grin. Summoning up my courage, though I didn't know why I should be scared, I clapped them on the back.
"Buck up. You don't need a name to drink here, or chat with me. What brings you here on a Saturday night?"
"Work. Always work." I shook my head at the response, raising my glass to the bartender. The other customer claimed the responsibility for this drink as well. They were fast rising in my estimation.
"Look, mate. Work isn't everything. You have to balance your life. You know, have a day off here and there, find nice people to spend time with. All of that." A slow shake of the head came from my drinking companion. They sighed, and I caught the smell of an open grave.
"Taking a break isn't really an option. But thank you for the advice."
"Hey, all I'm saying is you should live your life. Have some fun, make some mistakes."
"And you?" They raised their head, looking directly at me. "Have you lived your life?" It was my turn to chuckle at them, as I bought them another whiskey.
"Oh, you have no idea. The things I've seen. There was this one time in France..."
And as the night drew on, I regaled them with story after story. I had an audience that hadn't heard it all before and I was going to make the most of it. As we bought each other round after round, my companion loosened a little, even telling me a few tall tales of their own. But that wasn't the only thing we talked about. By the time the bartender warned us of last call, we were deep into a discussion on a matter of philosophy. I paid my tab and nodded to the other customer.
"Well, if you're ever in this neck of the woods again, don't be a stranger. We can have another good chat." There was a return of the sadness from earlier, as they shook their head.
"I'm afraid that won't be possible. You asked me what my name was earlier. I told you that people call me many things. And what they call me is—"
"Death?" I laughed at the consternation on their face. "I figured it out a while ago. I was sort of expecting it soon. Ticker's not what it used to be. But hey. You can't be all bad. You bought me drinks, sat and listened to my stories, and told a few of your own." I turned, as we reached the doorway, looking back into the old pub. "For just a little while, you made this place alive again for me. You brought back the old days, the old memories. The good times, the hard times, and all the times in between. So, I suppose it wasn't a bad last evening."
Death stared down at me, their ever-changing appearance no longer a disturbing sight. They held out a hand, their voice soft.
"I am glad. But now, it is time to go." I settled my cap in its usual position on my head, wrapped my scarf around my neck and shrugged into my coat. And taking Death's hand, I walked into the night, unafraid. | *“So, what do you do?”* she asked, swirling what was left of her drink with a straw.
*“I don’t do much these days.”* He laughed, earnestly. *“Lately I’ve just been going-through-the-motions, you know? Go to work, go home, have the occasional drink with a attractive stranger - rinse and repeat.”*
His coy response drew a sly smile across her face as she brushed her bangs from her brow.
*“Occasional, eh?”* She raised an eyebrow.
*”Man, I wish!”* He tried not to sound too enthusiastic. Polishing off the rest of his beer, he continued. *“Emergency Services; its a real bummer - odd hours, excessive oversight and I see the worst of people - but that’s any job in the service industry, really. What about yourself? What do you do?”* He gestured for the barkeep’s attention and leaned in attentively.
She sipped the last wisps of bourbon around the single melting cube. *”I guess my job would technically be service industry; but I’m a Liaison.”*
*”Your fancy French words don’t impress me.”* he shot back abruptly, triggering more shared laughter.
*”You’re funny!”* She didn’t even realize she had rested her toe on the footrest of his barstool. *“I don’t get that a lot.”*
*”Another round?”* the barkeep materialized. He had already brought the fresh beer and iced tumbler, raising them toward the pair inquisitively.
*“Yeah. On mine.”*
The bartender nodded and began filling a shaker.
*”Oh, you don’t have to do that.”* she said, reaching into her hoodie.
*”No. Really, it’s my pleasure. If you hadn’t showed up I’d probably be drunk, stalking through the night”* They laughed again together. It was going really well.
As their giggles softened to smiles, he inquired further.
“So, what… er, to whom, I guess, do you Liaise” he shrugged.
*“Oh I’m just some glorified middleman, to be honest. I’m in Liquidation.* She smiled, lively. She wanted to smile. The bartender returned briefly to fill the tumbler & grab the empty glasses.
Her date raised his hands in defense. *”Liquidation? Uh-oh, do you know something I don’t?”*
*”Hmmm, maybe. Why, you afraid of getting axed?”* She raised her new drink towards him. He returned the gesture with his and they toasted.
*”Lady, if you fired me, you’d be doing me a favor. It’s like, all I do at work is give people bad news. Day in and day out, nobody wants that. People see me coming, they know somethings very wrong. They know, shits real.”* he took another pull of lager.
*”Then, why don’t you quit?”* she prompted. Surely, there are other things you’re qualified for.”
*”Er, I dunno. Call it, a Sense of Duty. Professional responsibility, I guess. I’m capable, I’m qualified and I’ve developed a bit of a knack for it, to be frank. I may not enjoy it, but it’s important work. And as they say, ‘Somebody’s got to do it’.”*
*”Thats very admirable, Leo. Not a lot of people out there would see it that way. I should know.”* She knew what was coming, though he had not. *“I deal with a lot of people having a bad day. Seldom do any of them approach tragedy with candor. You’re a rare bird.”* she glanced at her watch.
*”Why thank you! That’s high praise from someone I barely know”* he beamed briefly. Then, suddenly, he leaned his head slightly to one side and squinted. *”Wait… how do you know my name?”* he asked playfully.
*”Oh, Leo…”* She rested her free hand upon his. *”This… This is always the hardest part… And it’s a lot of the reason I do it like this…”*
His brow furrowed deeply and an ache began to grow in his chest. What felt like sheer panic, began to flutter up his heels and legs. *“Whoa, what are you talking about - who are you?”*
She steadied herself and gazed into his eyes. *”Leo, you’re about to have a heart attack. A fatal one, unfortunately. It will be painful, but brief. You will not be alone-”*
*”Wait, what the fuck are you talking about?”* he began to stand, but a light squeeze from her hand lowered him back to his seat, their stare locked in place.
“It’s okay… This is supposed to happen and I can feel part of you knows that. You’re in good hands, Leo.”
She opened her arms just as the pain in his chest began to quake. Stricken, Leo grasped futilely at his breast and leaned into her embrace. And like she said, the pain soon subsided until all he could feel was her warmth and love.
Thanks for reading.
(Edit: writing at work, completed in pieces) | 2022-07-29T19:56:35 | 2022-07-29T17:05:47 | 31 | 11 |
[WP] as the house you're trapped in burns to the ground you contemplate "how am i gonna explain the fact I'm immortal to the firemen without starting another religion" | Why couldn't I have been gifted with super strength as well as immortality and the water thing? I've thrown myself against this door enough times to break it down, so there's probably a fallen beam blocking the way. I can shove aside a big stone but a burning hunk of wood? Nope. Now I'm stuck in this windowless room, and if I can't find a route to sneak away when the whole thing collapses, they'll find me, an unburnt pristine human body among embers burning bright.
What will they think? And how could I have let this happen again? After so many hundreds of years. Sure, it has passed my mind, to return and play the role I'm expected to, but I've lost the levity I had when I was younger. I'm not as eloquent, not as witty. I can't string together the same words in this language as I had managed in Aramaic. And to be frank, I just don't care as much as I did back then. "Brotherhood," *pff*. I've seen enough to have changed my mind about that whole thing.
Flame licked my arms like curious cat tongues, but my skin was unaffected. The fire swept through my small room and covered all the walls. "What a brilliant display," I thought to myself, sitting on my bum and cradling my knees. I felt like a child watching a show.
When the house finally collapsed enough for me to spy an exit, I decided to stick around instead. It has been a shitty year for humanity, and maybe I could finally come out of my shell and help out. *Stockton*, California. Not quite the same ring as *Jerusalem*.
"Alright, you," I said to myself, "pile on the drama, let's do some good."
I could see firetruck lights through the flames now, and the suited men doing their work. A little crowd of people, too. Hoses blasted the last licks of flames, leaving a dripping black skeleton of craggy architecture, a hallowed cage for me to emerge from.
And so I did.
Arms extended in the same welcoming gesture I used back when, a Mona Lisa smile, and me hoping my eyes were sparkling.
In the heat of the moment, so to speak, I had forgotten that all my clothes and hair had been burned off. What these people saw therefore was a nude man smeared in the charcoal of smoke and coal, no hair, no beard, no eyebrows or pubic hair either, walking like a tangible albino ghost from the scene of wreckage. It wasn't quite like walking on water, even though in some places where little pools had formed, I actually was.
I couldn't have predicted their response. Phones out, flashing. It was broad daylight, but each flash was like lightning at night. Hoses closed off, sweaty faces looking at me from beneath helmet brims. Not sure if it was awe or just discomfort that kept them quiet.
As I crossed the lawn, I let my arms fall to my sides and by the time I reached them I was just walking normally. A fireman approached and wrapped a blanket around my shoulders. A teenage girl giggled at my manparts, I guess. A few firemen looked like they wanted to ask something but shrugged it off.
In the end, I was shuttled to a hospital and released within the hour, showered and clothed. Later, I found some photos online, blurred of course. The big click baity articles they accompanied mentioned that a guy survived a fire and came walking out nude.
And that's the last I heard of it. Turns out, an event like this that not too long ago would've stirred conspiracy and news for months was quickly replaced by other news items of the day. No one cared. Too hard to pay attention to a current thing when there are more-current things happening all the time. Go figure.
At a cafe across the street from the hospital I sat down with a small Americano and a donut. I ate the donut. I drank the coffee. Then I went down the street, whistling, and thinking about what I should eat for lunch.
\_\_\_\_\_
/r/velabasstuff. more here | This is the fifth time I've burned.
Smoke pours through a newly formed hole near the doorway, collecting in a thick cloud along the ceiling. Each breath I take sets my lungs aflame. I guess I never really got used to the pain, after all.
As the flames begin to swallow the door, I hear sirens wail outside. It will be some time before they reach this room, of course. Hell, the rest of the house may very well be gone by then. But they will reach it. And they will find me.
And they will have questions.
My first experience with burning was shortly after earning my immortality. I was young--relatively speaking, of course--and I lost a bet at some bar in Scotland. The bet, of course, was that I could handle being set on fire. Turns out I couldn't.
That doesn't help me much now, of course. The door is gone; the flames hungry for my flesh. They will feast upon it soon enough.
In Scotland, the men heard my wails and ran. A bit of luck on my part. My subsequent blazes were equal parts bad luck and poor planning--a lit cigarette at bed, bad aim with a molotov cocktail, even an unfortunate time featuring a flamethrower and what I *thought* was an empty barrel.
Over the cracking flames, I hear the sounding axes splintering wood. My rescuers have entered the building. But the flames have already licked away my clothes and started in on my flesh. I know I will not burn, but *damn* if it doesn't feel like I am.
But what will I say to them? No matter when they find me, or in what state, they will be left without explanation. A hundred years ago they would think me a witch. That, course, would lead to more burning. Short memories, these folk.
Now, though? Now they might think me a God. A strange, naked, hairless God, but a God nonetheless. And I can't have that. It took years and a trip around the world to hide my immortality the first time I was found out. With the emergence of the internet, I fear I cannot outrun it this time.
I sigh as the wooden bedframe fails beneath me. I've got one idea--one single hope. So I take action.
Fighting through the pain, I smear hot, red ash across my face. My chest. My entire body. Then I lay in the rubble and wait.
They find me quicker than expected. The flames are mostly gone, the house a smoldering pile of ash and burnt memories. A large beam is lifted from my chest and a man in yellow and black stares at me with his mouth agape.
I see his chest expand as he prepares to shout.
"Wait," I say. "Don't call for them. Leave me be."
He stares back. I see the dilemma in his eyes. He wonders if he's hallucinating. If I'm real.
"Ten thousand dollars," I say. "There are things at work here you wouldn't understand. And ill give you ten thousand dollars to lower that beam and walk away."
His lips part as he prepares to speak, but i cut him off.
"Say nothing. If they see you talk, you get nothing."
He blinks, then turns his head to look at his colleagues in the distance. Then he shakes his head and lowers the beam.
I smile, hardly able to believe it worked. Human greed is truly a remarkable thing.
Of course, if I had known the consequences that would follow my deal with this man, I never would have said a word.
r/Ford9863 for more nonsense. | 2020-08-21T13:36:34 | 2020-08-21T13:27:44 | 79 | 35 |
[WP] "This is not my job! This is the exact opposite of my job!" screamed the grim reaper as the human went into labour.
Inspired by a post I saw on the internet about the grim reaper in sims in the same situation.
edit: Holy Thread Batman! did not expect this to blow up at all.
edit 2:So many good stories I can't keep up! really warms my heart that the community accepted this prompt. | "This is not my job! This is the exact opposite of my job!" screamed the grim reaper as the human went into labour.
"but surely you must have something within you. Some humanity left." she pleaded.
"I was never human to begin with." he said.
"We were born together, me and life, fraternal twins. Some think I'm from the devil and her heavenly but no. I am just as ethereal as life."
The place was littered with bodies from the war, Death had collected her husband the night before within the town and her mother wasn't going to make it because within the hour she would be executed by the rebels for walking without any money.
"Surely, are you a stone that you do nothing as I suffer?" she asked in tears.
"Miss, you are not the first and you are not the last to be in this predicament. You will die, your child will die before coming out and there will be no life to begin with."
Death could see her hourglass there were only five minutes left. As he got his scythe ready he heard the sound of her pushing.
An audible "shit." escaped him. He could see the child's head coming out. The child would probably have a tiny hourglass. Only a few hours at best to taste this world before it was no longer of this world.
"I think she deserves some more time brother." he heard the melodious voice say. Life had appeared to do her job. She hovered over him with her buxom figure gazing shamefaced at him.
"Not today, sister." he said rising up. He was still upset over her giving Agnes the Witch extra time. He was not one to do a job twice.
"I think today," Life moved to add more sand to Mistrin's hourglass.
"I said no." Death struck out at life who dodged faster then her large frame was expected to.
"This is my job. I understand you don't like, it but it is what it is. No extras, not today. I wait for no man, woman, or child."
Life absorbed the shock of being struck at quite quickly. She then stood up to her full height and lunged at Death. A brief scuffle ensued as the two fought to both do their job. Life was stronger but Death had a weapon. Mistrin's hourglass stood by her the last grains trickling in. Life managed to cease Death in a chokehold. She was trying to take his scythe away when the threw it at Mistrin. It sliced her neck, the palpitating breath ceased and her muscles relaxed.
She collapsed a bloody mess her child still wailing. Life rushed to the child. Death waited as the the grey smoke of her soul started to rise out of her. It formed her face. A face of anguish.
"NOOOO!!!" She yelled out. She tried to get back in. To even Death's surprise her muscles contracted. Once more she started pushing. Control of physical objects was something only some ghosts mastered over a year. For her to posses her body as so. It must have taken all her effort.
"The Chest is almost out!" life said. They could see the child's hour glass forming.
"No!" Death yelled. He grabbed hold of Mistrin's soul by the neck and started to yank her out.
"Why !" life yelled.
"I need to do the introductions."
"It can wait!" she yelled at him. She held Mistrin's leg tighter and into her life's own essence flowed, Mistrin's ghost was invigorated. Just enough to give a few more seconds of fight. Death pulled at her when suddenly her soul dissolved. Death fell back as her body went limp.
"What did you do?" life asked still not moving.
"Me? That was you." Death said rising. An argument ensued and with neither party ready to take the blame Death rose to go to his next victim.
As Death was about to rise a wail pierced the night. It was so loud even Death had to cover his ears. He looked down to see life as astonished as the child started to cry. With only the feet left the child defiantly slithered out determined to come into this world without anyone's help.
"What have we done?" Life asked. The child was flailing but the hourglass did not appear. It faded, turning into its bare soul, then it became or flesh and bone once more . It flickered between human and ghost it's wailing a staccato of sacrilege.
***
In the heavens Gabriel stirred awake. "What is that racket?" He looked around but there was no one. He walked to the other angels to find that they too could hear the fluctuating wails and had spread out to find it.
In hell Satan shifted uneasily in his seat. He sensed the birth of something unlike him. Something powerful, something unloved. He could hear the wails as did the demons. At once they scattered to find the source of the crying. Hopefully they could silence it.
***
/r/pagefighter.
| "I am the encroaching darkness that plagues the sanity of mortals. I am the Four Horsemen incarnate. I am the unending-"
"My water just broke." Death stood still for a moment, arms high in the air, his monologue now interrupted. Behind his hood he let out a slight scowl, his skull morphing to show emotion.
"I've been practicing that speech for eons. Literal eons. You know how hard it is to speak every language in the world?" Death said, ushering his hands wide before placing them on his waist.
"I need to go to a hospit-"
"No," Death interjected. "Your response should have been 'Oh, very hard I'd assume. That is a lot of languages." His words echoed through the mind of Sandra, who was now beginning to crumble to the ground.
"I don't give a fuck who you are!" Sandra yelled out. For a moment, Death was shocked. "I am going into labor. Would you like me to say that in any other languages? I can try dumb ass, you seem pretty adapt at that."
"Okay, we've gotten off on the wrong foot," Death replied, the thoughts of a HR write-up flooding his conscious. "I'm Death. Nice to meet you. I'll do the monologue a bit later. So, you've gotta die."
"Oh do I? Do I gotta die?" Sandra yelled back with a harsh amount of sass. "Do I NEED to die Mr Death?"
"Look okay, this is just my job. I don't need this from you. Especially since you're, you know, literally creating more work for me right now. In like eighty years I'll be back for this kid, and I'll think of you, and oh let me tell you, I'm already not looking forward to it." The air around the two was growing colder with each passing second. Sandra thought it was because of some sort of ethereal presence Death created, but in reality, he had just left the front door open.
"Oh boohoo, poor you," Sandra mocked out. "If you hate your job so much why don't you just quit?" Death had nothing to say. For the first time in his undeath, he was speechless.
"Huh. I never thought of that." He replied. Sandra just stared up at him, her expression a mix of shock and confusion. "I guess I can. What are they gonna do? Kill me?" Death started to laugh whilst shaking his head. "That's a joke, they can't do that."
"Fucking funny." Sandra said as she started to scream in pain. The high-pitch quickly brought Death's attention back to what was at hand.
"Okay okay, this should be easy," Death said as he kneeled down in front of Sandra, who was now sitting open-legged on the ground. "Take off your pants."
"What?" Sandra replied.
"Take off your pants. Unless you wanna drop the kid in there, but... look okay, I am new to this, but I'm pretty sure that's wrong." Death was rubbing his bones in preparation.
"Christ." Sandra said as she quickly tore her pants off.
"Oh, he ain't gonna help, trust me." Death replied. He lifted his hands into the air, and a pair of surgical gloves materialized around his hands - Well, the bones that made his hands. "Okay, so, if Scrubs has taught me anything, you need to push."
An agonizing scream bellowed out of Sandra. The pain that rippled through her core was flowing through her mouth, as the room itself felt the suffering she did. Within hours, a child came from her.
"Hey hey, look at that. My first delivery, your first kid. What a day for us!" Death said, materializing a blanket and wrapping the child. "So, what's this beautiful boy's name, Sandra?" He looked over to her, now motionless.
"Sandra?" Death whispered. He scuffed himself across the ground to get closer to her. "Sa... Sandra?" He said again, louder. Her body was pale and her heart beat no longer.
"Oh..." He muttered to himself. Standing back up, he held the small child in his arms. With a sigh, he began to speak to himself.
"I am the encroaching darkness that plagues the sanity of mortals. I am the Four Horsemen incarnate. I am the unending lord of suffering. And I have come for you. Nothing will stop your death here today."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you liked this, check out /r/Rhysyjay | 2017-01-31T04:10:26 | 2017-01-31T04:06:34 | 218 | 87 |
[WP] All hell breaks loose when WWIII begins the day after Thanksgiving, but not even that can stop the hordes of Black Friday shoppers looking for deals. | The line outside Lockheed Martin Superstore formed at 3 AM. Countries wrapped up tight in blankets and mittens eyed each other suspiciously, wary of anyone daring to cut the line. The sun began to peek over the hills beyond the parking lot, illuminating the area in a rosy pink glow.
A clerk walked cautiously to the sliding glass doors, tiptoeing as quickly as he could go. Everyone outside saw him coming, snapping out of their cold daze. They adjusted their flag lapel pins and pounded on the glass, shouting as the clerk eyed his watch. He was under strict orders not to open before the specified time.
At 8, the locks clicked open and the clerk jumped to the side immediately to avoid the stampede. America was in first, throwing smaller countries out of its way in a mad dash through the doors. He made a beeline for the Nuclear rack, followed shortly by China and Russia. By 8:03, the selection was gone: airborne, ballistic, submarine, you name it. "I didn't even want any," said South Africa with a sneer, browsing the nearby Kalashnikov display. Belgium, Korea, and Poland limped in last, having been crushed in the initial frenzy (as always). Pakistan and India were engaged in a severe tug of war over a big pack of F-16s. Israel was loading tanks into their cart while Palestine watched bitterly from the rocks-and-homemade-molotovs display. Northern Ireland was sneakily pocketing rifles while Britain wasn't looking. Cuba followed Russia around the store like a stray dog, waiting for any 2-for-1 deals that might catch the old Bear's eye. France seemed to be the only one stocking up on white flags. A group of African countries had been shepherded into the machete station by the suspicious manager.
At the checkout line, America threw a wad of cash on the counter and walked out without even bothering to collect the change. Israel scooted through the line right behind with a quick "I'm with him." Russia dumped a basket of potatoes in front of the clerk and began to count while Switzerland tried to heft a huge fortification onto the conveyer belt. Italy stood behind him, sorting through coupons and asking how much the NATO discount would be.
By 12:30, the store was empty, and everyone went home to play with their new toys. | When the bombs went off it was a new world in the blink of an eye.
If you weren't looking at the explosions at least, otherwise it happened in the melting of your eyes.
Things careened out of control so quickly, you wouldn't even know there had been society or civilization not long before.
I learned a few things from a soldier buddy of mine that was home on leave for the holiday. He knew weapons, where to find them, survival.
We boarded up in a Wal-Mart, perfect place. Lots of food, clothing, shelter, only a few accessible points. We hunkered down and figured we'd wait out the worst of it.
We were wrong.
So wrong.
There were only twenty of us. Two old folks, one kid, three teens, and the rest ranging from twenty one to fifty five.
It was 6AM that dreadful morning when the noises began on our barricades.
Hands pounding on the plywood, thundering in the silence that had been our sleep.
We gathered our weapons, those who couldn't fight were herded to the back room where electronics used to be kept. It was a metal cage, the safest place. We had our positions, our battle formation.
My body trembled in fear, the adrenaline making it worse.
My friend placed a calm hand on my shoulder, attempting reassurance.
It didn't work.
The pounding only got louder, more intense.
The waiting was the worst part. Watching the reinforced barrier shake and rattle, even the metal grating was threatening to give way.
As much as I hated the waiting, the moment that the barricade was breached was worse.
A hole, only large enough for a lone man, if that.
The woman that fit through the hole first was wide eyed and frantic, eyes darting around the cash register area furtively. Seeking something.
"Where are the fucking tvs?" She screeched.
We all glanced at each other in confusion, only one question on our minds.
What? | 2014-11-26T12:08:34 | 2014-11-26T11:07:06 | 62 | 17 |
[WP] You are a superhero without powers. You know a good bit about martial arts and you're resourceful, but the main reason you're so successful? Every time a villain monologues their plan, you calmly and clearly explain to them why their plan won't work. | I didn't bother struggling against my bonds as I was being slowly lowered towards the shark-laden acid pit. To an ordinary hero this would seem like the end, but not for me. It was just another day in the life of Lynchpin.
As predicted, the mechanism stopped, only for the head of the Syndicate, an eyepatch wearing gorilla of a man, to come into view.
"Alas, here we are again. Did you really expect to get away after what you did to me when we last met?"
"Listen" I told him. "All I said was that you were gonna poke your eye out with that thing. It's not I-"
"Silence!" the Boss instructed. "I've had enough of your jabbering. There is no grand plan this time Lynchpin. I'm just going to kill you and end this once and for all."
On cue, the gears above my feet started turning, and I was being lowered again, albeit at an excruciatingly slow pace.
"i mean what are you exlecting to accomplish with that?" I asked
"... What do you mean? You're a thorn in our side and-"
"But like, even if you kill me, it's not like your plans will work just because i don't point out the inherent issues with them"
The pully system stopped again.
"Well, I suppose not, but that's not the point. We-" he stammered
"When you think about it, I'm actually doing you guys a favor. Could you imagine if you'd actually tried the Death Ray Dr. Goodenough had built? Hell, I probably saved your life that time."
I could see it in his eye. I had him.
He mumbled something into his beard.
"What was that?"
"I said let him go damnit"
The crane operator goon didn't hesitate. He immediately started fiddling with the controls, and before I knew it, I was back on my feet being untied.
"Hey boss" i started "I really owe you one."
He merely grumbled in response.
"No seriously." I continued. "Let me give you a tip. Don't mix the sharks with acid next time. It'll just kill the sharks, and when they bleed out it'll dilute the acid. Really inefficient" | "Well, I had always suspected that your hubris would lead to your downfall, Commander Conversationalist, but walking in through the front door of my lair and handing yourself in to my henchmen? That was downright baffling. No matter, as you'll soon hear the master plan that will leave the city open to my rule!"
"Is that so? Well, Puppeteer, I doubt it would play out in the way you would expect."
"Silence!!! As you know, the power to take control of another's mind is something I alone have wielded, for all this time. Now, all of my carefully laid traps will spring into action! At the upcoming Gala, I am going to take control of the mayor, and make her hand the position to yours truly. Her corrupt advisors, paid off from my own stash, will not object, and I will be free to shape the law to my will! The city will become a haven for criminals and villains such as myself, where we will be able to commit any crime our heart desires!"
"Wouldn't changing the law in your favor mean that your evil deeds wouldn't be crimes anymore?"
"...What? Er... yes... but that's not the point! We wil- "
"What about the police department? You're a wanted man, they'd notice you at the Gala. You can only control one person at a time, so more than two officers would mean your arrest."
"But-"
"And the federal and state government? They can send in troopers to retain law and order."
"I'LL JUST CONTROL THE COMMANDING OFFICER!"
"Which one? There are too many factors. This endeavor is already doomed, and you know it. Just give up while you're ahead, Puppeteer."
"GOD DAMN IT! FINE! JUST GET OUT! GUARDS!" | 2020-09-27T09:25:22 | 2020-09-27T08:23:59 | 1,121 | 597 |
[WP] You and your immortal friends amuse yourselves with practical jokes. Since you're immortal, some of your joke setups take centuries, or even millenia, to execute. | With a good, long stretch and a healthy yawn, I woke up from a deep, refreshing nap. You know the kind: there's nowhere to be, nothing to do, and no demands on your time. I smacked my lips and rubbed what remained of my sleepiness from my eyes.
As I became more aware of my body, I felt a sharp pain at my backside in one of those hard to reach spots. Whenever I grazed up against, well whatever it was, I felt a slight twinge like someone had stuck a small needle in me - nothing too bad, but incredibly irritating.
What the hell, did I roll over something sharp in my sleep? I'm used to the odd ache here and there, but nothing quite this persistent. I turned around to see if I could get a good look in the light. Yeah... maybe that's what it is, but it's *tiny*. This is going to bug me all day if I don't figure out how I can possibly get a good look at this thing, much less get a good enough handle on it to pull it out.
Maybe I just wont think about it and I won't even notice it's there. I've been through worse, **much** worse, this is really a mild annoyance compared to some of the things I've been through. In fact, if you put everything on a chart that measured just how rough things have been in my life, you wouldn't even be able to see this with a telescope. Besides, there's probably lots to do and see, I've been out for a while...
...oh no...
"Oh god, are you okay? Tell me you're okay."
What did I sleep through, how did I sleep through this, what even *happened?!*
"Come on, speak to me, snap out of it! You have to wake up, you just have to..."
This isn't real, I'm dreaming, I have to still be dreaming.
"What happened? Please tell me what happened to you. Just say something and let me know things are okay. Who did this?"
I was spinning, unable to leave my friend's side as I paced around her, completely positive that she had died some time ago. Her body was ravaged and ruined, a used-up husk of its former beauty. It was like a plague swept through her and burnt her out completely, leaving this... scarred waste behind.
What a twisted answer to my prayer to forget all about the pain in my rear.
"WHO DID THIS?!" I yelled hopelessly into the void.
---
Millions of years ago:
"Psst, hey Mars, check this out."
"Oh, ew, gross, what the hell is that? Earth, you're disgusting."
"I know, right? I figure I keep these babies around long enough, they'll jam a pole in the moon's butt."
"You're a grown woman, act like it. The moon isn't doing anything to you, she's just minding her own business."
"Whatever nerd, this is going to be awesome. Hell, maybe I'll even get some of them to jam a pole in your ass."
"Look, I don't want any part of this. Do what you want, I just think it's a bad idea."
"No way, dude, this is a fuckin' *rad* idea." | Execution, that is the key to any good practical joke. When you're immortal, you're allotted all of the time in the world to develop a scheme so devious yet harmless that can make an impact on one of your friend's eternal lives. Yet it is so rare that our lives are affected by our friend's practical jokes. How is it so?
Memory. Something that is a mere hundred years for mortals expands into eons for us. Our brains simply do not have the capacity to hold all the small details that accompany these practical jokes. Many meticulously planned out jokes that had extreme potential such as "The Million Birthday Prank" a dozen millennia ago have been failures due to my friend forgetting key interactions.
I still remember it as I mapped out the plan for decades. Each step had to be followed perfectly in order to succeed. It was an operation that I was determined to succeed in. The first step took place on Serena's millionth birthday.
As usual, I arranged a cake for her. As cheesy as it may have sounded, she was my best friend for over 900,000 years and I still throw annual birthday parties for her. We use special kinds of candles,each representing a different multiple of 10. This one was a simple million candle, unlike last year's mess of 9 hundred thousand candles, 9 ten thousand candles, 9 thousand candles, well... you get the picture.
For each year following the millionth birthday, I arranged the other candles in familiar patterns, ones that I thought Serena would remember. The candles were dotted in our secret code, and knowing her, she should have cracked them and eagerly waited for her next birthday. The last coded message was given out on her 1,000,286th birthday.
1,000,287. This was the day that the final step will be executed. Inside, I was nervous. In my mind, I knew that she would arrive at the correct location, but I didn't specify a time. I was perfectly capable of waiting 24 hours though, we both knew that time didn't matter to immortals. That was my mistake, assuming that she would recognize my code when in reality it was forgotten long ago.
Over the next several centuries, I desperately thought of ways that I could make up for the failure of the previous practical joke. There was nothing so elaborately planned as that prank, I even took the time to program thousands of machines to carry out the prank on that last day. It took me time, but I finally thought of something, exactly in time for Serena's birthday.
"Happy Birthday Serena" I said as I slammed her face into the cake. As she recovered from the dive and started wiping frosting off her hair she sighed. "What was it this time, the 1,000,554th birthday?" I giggled. "Just came up with it today. Sometimes, you just have to act spontaneously" | 2017-06-22T20:03:21 | 2017-06-22T19:51:25 | 189 | 104 |
[WP] Humanity discovers that supernatural creatures such as vampires and werewolves exist. Instead of attempting to exterminate them, some countries attempt to offer them lucrative jobs that they could do better than a human. | I'll admit it: Looking after school kids isn't my idea of a good life, but there was really no other job for...someone of my talents.
Y'see, after the men and monsters realized that the War of the Dusk was a pointless waste of resources, men started intergrading monsters into regular society by giving'em jobs that suit their talents. Necromancers went from bringing back armies to resurrecting construction crews, Skeletons work in the extreme conditions that men ain't suited for, Vampires make damn good cops, and so on.
And me? Well, werewolves are always at the bottom of the barrel, and with good reason. For the most part we don't have control over when we transform or what we friggen do while we're a wolf. But once in a while ya get a guy like me who can transform when he wants and can control the wolf. Scientists are trying to figure out why not everyone's like me, but what the hell is the use of science with freaks like me?
Over the fence I spot Tony, glowing with his Vamped-up sunscreen that he's gotta wear to not burn up on days like today. Him and I fought in the war together. If he didn't bite into my arm while on duty the silver in my veins from the bullet I got in the arm would've pumped into my heart, and no more Adrien. I call him over with the howl he knows me by.
"How's it going fang face? Crossing guard suits you"
"Shut up Adrien. I'm not here by choice you know. The chief is still pissed at me for going too far on that last case"
"Of course I know ya dope. It was all over the news. It's your own fault for being dry while on duty"
"What the hell was I supposed to do? Sally's forcing this vegetarian diet and my doc cut me off of the Sanguinaid. A vampire's gotta drink at some point."
"Send a complaint to the doctors office then"
"I did, and so did the others. This new shipment is taking a hell of a long time to arrive."
"It should be in by now. It's not like them to just delay without reason"
"There better be an update soon. Someone's gonna have a hole or two in them if I don't get a god damn drink"
I laugh it off. "Whatever fang face. Get back on duty"
He frowns at me and leaves. I love that guy.
Uh-oh. Shouldn't have been talking to Tony. Some weirdo in dark clothes is getting to close to the young. I better go and scare him off.
"Sir what is your business here?"
"What's it to you, freak?"
Tough guy. There's been a lot of them since the war, but they're thinning out as more monsters are making themselves useful.
"Sir your presence is scaring the kids. I'm gonna have to ask you to leave"
"You're gonna have to make me, you son of a bitch"
Heh. Ain't far from the truth. I take a deep breath and feel my fingernails sharpen into claws, my mouth stretch into a muzzle. Bones and muscle contorting and expanding as fur breaks out across my twitching frame. The average werewolf grows 3 feet in height during the transformation and gains 100 pounds of muscle. I double both amounts easily.
"I'm not going to ask you again" I growl, towering over him. He steps back a little bit before pulling out a pistol. Human weapons make me laugh.
"Put your hands in the air you filthy mutt!" He yells, as if his peashooter has any power over me. I pounce, and he fires. One claw through the heart is all it takes. He crumples to the floor, but not before I start feeling dizzy. Limbs feel heavy. I check my wounds and pull out the bullet. There's no mistaking it.
Silver.
I wake up in the hospital. Sally sits beside my bed. Her eyes are puffy and red.
"What? I almost die saving the day, and fang face doesn't even stop by to call me an idiot?"
Sally sobs briefly before composing herself. "Adrien, Tony..."
And she tells me what happened after I passed out. She tells me that fang face was on standby while I was facing the creep, that he was ready to jump in if something went wrong. She tells me that he got to me before I hit the ground, and bit into me like he did during the war. Then she tells me that the silver bullet was laced with holy water, and that biting into me made some of it touch his fangs. He was dead before he hit the ground.
Sally excuses herself to mourn. I don't blame her. Tony was a good man.
The War of the Dusk may be over, but the bad blood apparently isn't. That bullet was specifically made to kill both vamps and werewolves. No weapons like that existed during the war. And restricting Sanguinaid makes the vamps grow weaker every day unless they want blood on their hands. There's only one motive behind all this.
Someone on the side of men wants a rematch. | In the beginning finding them jobs other than "executioner" or "bounty hunter" was difficult. Many of em complained that these jobs we're demoralizing and that they "reinforced negative stereotypes" whatever that meant. Eventually the guys at the workforce commission bent and found them new jobs. Now you could have a silk tongued vampire as your lawyer, or a fearsome warewolf on your security detail.
I can't imagine entrusting my life to such an abomination. Monsters like this should've stay in their own realm. Many have not even taken the time to learn our language, and I'll be damned if im expected to learn theirs. The thought of these...things being around my family, around my children, it makes me sick.
A pale, sharp faced man stood at the counter, waiting for me to acknowledge his presence. The words from the sign reading "Career Placement" reflected off of the man's black eyes. His garb devoid of any imperfection. I'm sure he thought himself to good for us mortals.
"Excuse me good sir. I was under the impression that this is where I should go for career placement. Would you be so kind as to assist me?" The vampires words flowed through the air crisply, like an autumn breeze.
My response was simply pointing to the sign posted on the glass.
*Please wait to be assisted, Thank you*
The vampire read it carefully before replying. "Terribly sorry, take your time"
Damn right I would. My eyes shifted back down to the article in my favorite newpaper *Faux News*
*Are warewolves commiting tax fraud with the help of dwarf financial advisors?* The article read.
The vampire stood, waiting patiently until I had finished skimming the text. The atmosphere in the room had grown unpleasant. I didn't want to speak with him; however, the sooner I did the sooner he'd leave.
I glanced up from the paper to the thing on the other side of the counter. "Ok. How can I help you?"
"Yes, well I was looking into career placement opportunities. I would like to go into paralegal work with the disclaimer that I dont possess much willing experience in the mortals realm"
"So. You want a job in law, but you don't have any experience with mortal law?" I cracked a smile at the Vampire.
"Indeed, but I'd like to make myself transparent by stating my class of supernatural being. I am in fact a-"
"Yes a vampire I know. I can tell"
The Vampires deep black eyes stared into mine for a moment. Gears turned in his head as he formulated a response. " You're not a fan of supernaturals, are you?"
"Me? Look I'm not here to judge, I'm here to do a job, but in my free time I can be prejudice towards who I please. None of *your* business"
The man stared for a moment before pulling back his long, dark hair to reveal a pair of pointed ears.
"Not a vampire. Not even the same genus." The atmosphere grew tense
"All the same to me. Now I can offer you a job as a teacher for the supernatural, or population control."
Popluatiom control was the shittiest job we had to offer, and I was sure to pitch it to anyone who came through the doors.
The elf stared in disbelief for a moment before silently turning around and exiting the glass doors. I loved my job. Seeing the misery on their faces when they couldn't steal another job from a hard working human.
I sat reading my paper until my boss entered the building, a burly, stern faced man in tow.
"Hey Jerr, whose this? New guy?"
"Yeah...you could say that. He's here to fill your position" Jerry glanced around the room awkwardly.
"My position? But I already work full shift? Where are ya trying to squeeze him in?"
"You don't understand. This is your replacement Donny, we just received another complaint and this can't continue"
"What?! I've been here 3 years and you're gunna just flat out replace me with an outworlder? Im the best damn worker you've got!"
"All you do is complain and read the paper. Your station generates the least traffic because you have yet to help a single person."
The warewolf by Jerr stared at me, hatred in his eyes.
"It's time to go Donny."
I angrily packed my few possessions and stormed out of the office. This wasn't over. I had a plan. Soon they'd all see that humans could not be pushed around by outworlders.
| 2018-08-27T15:15:28 | 2018-08-27T15:01:41 | 79 | 24 |
[WP] You are a kid's imaginary friend. They're growing up. You're fading away. | I wake, as I always do, at her whim.
I'm tired. I used to pop out of sleep like the sun through the clouds, but lately it's been a struggle.
We're on a raft, and the water is rising fast around us. Ah, this old tune. "Land ahead?" I ask him.
The stuffed dog glances back and wags a greeting. "No," he says, his deep voice as gallant as ever. "No sign of it yet." He glances up. "Storm's coming, too."
I salute him before heading back to check in with my captain. Scruff nods and I note another place where his fur has worn thin. He's tired, too.
As I near the back, I'm alarmed to see water sloshing across the raft.
"Captain Lily," I say, "You need to move forward--there's water coming over back here. Let's get in the middle so we don't tip."
My fearless captain bites her lip. "I don't think it will help," she says. But she takes my hand and lets me lead her to the middle.
A wave rocks the raft and we almost capsize.
Scruff trots over. "Up ahead--" he begins, but Lily interrupts him by bursting into tears.
Scruff and I, a grizzled old pirate and a grizzled old dog, glance at each other. I bend down on one knee, as if I'm playing the knight, rather than the pirate today.
"Lily, what's wrong?" I ask quietly. But I know. I've seen it before. Oh, it never happens the same way twice, but it always happens.
She sobs. "I'm too big," she says.
Another wave smashes into us. She's right. But she's wrong. It's not the disaster she thinks it is.
"Oh, sugar," I say. "You're not too big."
The grief in her red rimmed eyes is terrible. They always think they know better than us, because they always think they dreamt us up. They think this is death.
"I love you guys," she says, her tears mixing with the rain that's now slashing down on the three of us. "But I'm no good at this any more. I can barely see you, Ann, and Scruff, I can hardly hear a word you say."
We know she's right, we feel the flickering of the scene around us. Of our selves.
"Shh," I say. "It's okay--"
"It's NOT!" she says, and the storm rages around us. In her. "It's NOT. I don't want to lose you. You guys are my best friends."
Scruff lays a head on her knee, and she caresses his worn felt ears almost desperately.
I chuckle. She looks up at me, startled. Angry, even. A rumble from the dog's chest and the rhythmic thump of his tail show that he's in agreement, though, and her anger turns into bewilderment.
"You won't lose us," I say. "Me and Scruff, we're gonna head straight for that island he saw up there--it's near about paradise, wouldn't you say, old buddy?"
He barks in agreement.
"Lily, dear, we're old. A pirate deserves to retire at some point--and so does an old dog. But that doesn't mean we're dead, darling."
The storm begins to subside.
"It doesn't?"
I draw my short sword and strike my most swashbuckling pose. "It'll take more than middle school to kill me, lassie," I say with a wink.
Scruff leans against my leg.
"We won't be gone, Captain," he says. "It'll be better than ever before."
"But how?" she asks, quiet tears welling up in her eyes again. "How could it be better than this?"
"I'll tell you," I say. "You'll come and visit, and we'll remember all of our adventures--even the ones we haven't had yet--and when you visit, you'll bring a notebook, and a pencil..."
We've run aground. The sun shines down like lemonade turned to light on a white sand beach. Scruff shakes the rain from his fur and takes off after a seagull.
I kiss her forehead.
"Don't cry for us," I say. "Write for us. And you'll always have us."
***
Thanks, gold-gifter! | *What? Where am I?*
I think this is his room, but it can't be, can it? The pirate bedspread, the toys, the posters, they're all gone. I'm sitting on a bed with a plaid comforter, staring up at a poster for some movie called *Gravity*. The bookshelf is different, too--the shelves I remember were cluttered with Lego constructions and picture books that we used to read together. Now they're just... books. Boring, grown-up books.
*How long have I been asleep?*
I hear footsteps pounding up the stairs and a grin comes over my face. He's home. He'll tell me about his day and we'll play games and we'll be friends like we were before he started going to school. I remember when that happened, when he started taking the bus and leaving me for hours. When he'd come home he'd work on homework or talk to his parents but I would get ignored, but that's gonna be different now, because he's back. I'm back. The door slams open.
"Whoa."
The word comes out of a mouth that's hanging open. I know it's him, but it can't be him. It can't be because the boy, my boy, was only ten. *Is* only ten. The young man in front of me now is at least sixteen. The perpetually spiky blonde hair is laid flat and is getting long. The Power Rangers t-shirts, the light-up tennis shoes, have given way to a grey shirt and plain black sneakers. He drops a canvas bag on the floor and edges into the room, giving me a wide berth.
"Hi." I try to smile but it's not working. How long have I been gone?
"Hi." His brow furrows as he says it and he drags out the word, frowning. "It's--been a while."
"How long?"
He won't look at me in the eye. He rubs his neck and moves to a desk littered with books and notebooks. "Like five years," he mumbles, picking up a book plastered with the word *Physics*. I am stunned.
*I've been asleep for five years?*
When I don't say anything he turns. The tips of his ears are turning red. "I thought you wouldn't come back," he says, still not looking me in the face. "I thought you were gone."
This hurts. There's an ache in my chest that's starting to grow with every word. "Do you want me gone?"
For a moment, he doesn't answer, but that's all I need. He steps back, puts the book on the desk again. "Yes," he says at last. He shakes his head as I open my mouth. "It's been five years. I'm too old for an imaginary friend."
I stare at him for a moment, trying to find the right words. "What about the games?" I say at last, and my voice comes out broken. "We used to play games. We had fun."
"Yeah. When I was a kid. I'm not little anymore." He sighs, looks down at the carpet. "I'm sorry."
"Then why did I come back? Why am I here if you don't need me?" I want to cry. If I could cry I would. He swallows, shrugs.
"I guess I must have--I dunno. But it's been a long time and I don't want you here anymore." He turns back to the desk and places his hands on it. I wonder if he feels anything.
"Okay." When I say the word his shoulders tense. "Okay. I'm going."
"Okay." He doesn't bother to turn. I can already feel myself crumbling, fading. This is over. He doesn't need me and I can't stay if he doesn't want me to but I don't want to go. I'm not ready to go.
I look down at my hands as they start to flicker and fade. All of me is flickering and fading now. I swallow.
"Bye, Nick," I say, and I can't help but hope that he'll at least look at me. That he'll at least say goodbye, but he doesn't. He squares his shoulders and stands up straight.
I'm going. | 2014-05-08T10:12:56 | 2014-05-08T10:06:16 | 219 | 17 |
[WP] You're high powered villain who specializes in nonviolent crime in a city where the superheroes are high powered, but dumb as rocks. When the new villain comes to town and kills your favorite minion and his family, you reluctantly roll up your sleeves and put on your "emergency hero suit". | Pure rage fills me as I look at the wreckage of Bobs quaint sub-urban home. He was my driver, the one i bantered with on those drives between meetings with Metas and Norms alike. He was the guy to add the ‘everyday man’ opinion on my newest schemes and inventions. His kids birthday was in a week…
I drove myself back to my own mansion that day. I was the inventor behind many of the heroes and villains gadgets, so i called in favors from both sides as i took the secret elevator down to my lab.
Night Crow got back to me within half an hour. I supplied the guys tranq rounds after all. A villain he didn’t recognize had robbed a small bank earlier. The villain was dexterous, able to dodge everything Night Crow threw at him. He got away when he used several hostages as shields, placing bombs on them before taking one with him.
“Bob…” he used that bank. He knew the bigger villains went after the main banks….
He received a message from Secretion, who was only a villain because he power to secret acid was uncontrollable. He had built her a specialized suit so that she could live a semi-normal life.
‘A new guy showed up at the bar last night. called himself Bombastic. Could create bombs out of thin air. He tried to get hired by Zodiac, but he must have seen something and turned him down. The new guy then swore he would become bigger than all of us and stormed out. I think i saw World View mark him’
He immediately sent a heartfelt thank you to Secretion along with his ideas on an upgraded acid soaker for her.
He called up World View, “10 million for the location and continued location of the new villain called ‘Bombastic’”
“… you never lead with an offer. Whats going on?”
“He robbed a bank this morning, took a hostage who just so happened to be my favorite chauffeur.”
“…Was that the grill-master at summer BBQ?”
“…Yeah?”
“Then this is a free-be. That guys patty recipe was legendary. Bombastic is at an un-used section of the dock.”
“It’s not abandoned?”
“Nope, just a slow week. I’ll update you if he moves. He’ll be in a the farthest container on your left when you enter.”
“Thanks World View.”
——————————-
Approaching the container, he took a deep breath, holding back his power while he was… emotionally charged, was not an easy feat. Many thought that it was his genius that was his Meta power, and he liked to keep it that way. Using his power always felt like… cheating.
He knocked on the containers door. No one answered, but seeing as World View was never wrong, he tried a different approach. “Bombastic? i would like to hire you for a job.”
Several seconds past before the door clanged loudly open. Tall and wiry, Bombastic had a cocky grin as he eyed me up and down.
“Whats the job, white collar?”
ignoring that, “I need you die. preferably slowly and painfully.”
He laughed, “this a joke rich boy? If you know my moniker you know what i can do. I’m even able to go toe to toe with Night Crow!” a spherical object appeared in his hand. “so why dont you hand over everything you have, run along to daddies ho-“
I let go, i was tired of his brainless banter. The world within 50 meters of me seemed to freeze as time stopped. whistling a jaunty tune, i walked on over and plucked the bomb from his hand.
It was of simple design, no timer, just detonating with force. Tinkering with it, i lowered the lethality and added a timer. i put it all back together and dropped the now specialized mini-bomb down Bombastics pants and reasserted control over my power.
“-me.” Bombastic finished his sentence. He seemed confused for a moment. before i held up a random detonator i carried for usually non-violent threatening.
“This is the trigger for the bomb in your pants,” he went to interrupt his eyes wide but i held up a finger. “Utt tut, Mr. Bombastic, i will gladly hand you this trigger and explain how i remodeled that lazily designed bomb into something more usable…. if you can tell me the name of the man and his family that you killed earlier.”
Bombastics eyes went wide and panicked. He silently thanked Night Crow for the observation that despite how deadly the bombs were, he never used them in close quarters with him.
“Uumm…. Dale… Saly… and Giii-na?” he clearly guessed.
I just sighed, “well everyone makes mistakes. Mr. Bombastic i was that mans employer and friend. His name was Bob, he had a wife named Keria, and a daughter, Allison. I have the power to stop time around me, so no matter what that little brain of yours is planning, it wont work.”
Backing away from him another ten feet, i tossed him the detonator. he caught it and looked at me in shock. “why?”
I looked at my watch, “its just a random detonator, useless on a time bomb without any wireless triggers.” He had just enough time to realize the implication and make to grab the bomb from his pants before it went off.
He was still alive of course, i had made sure of that. His hand was a burned to the bone, his legs where blown off, and his pelvis was thoroughly a mangled scorched mess. I took pictures and sent them to World View.
“You have at most half-an-hour, so if you can still hear me, tell that devilish bastard that he still owes me, or should i say Hourglass, for the Archangel Incident.”
Walking back to the car, i checked my plans, confirming that no hero would get here in time to save him. Opening my mouth to make a joke with Bob, I closed it. getting out of the backseat, i climbed into the drivers and started the car. | [Part 1 of 2]
“Alex, I bought a new monopoly set. I was hoping we could play a game after dinner. It has a reference to the bank heist we pulled off on fourth. You were great that day. You embodied everything I believed in. Controlled chaos, you understood that.” I took off my coat, hanging it by the door. “Where’s Angela? I got her a wine from Le France. Its rather fancy.” I joked, only to pause when I didn’t get a response. “Alex?” I turned the corner, peeking into the kitchen only to see a sight that made gag.
The two of them, surrounded by candles. A mock ritualistic murder. The oven still on, turning the whole chicken into a burnt mess. I moved to Alex’s side, placing my hands to his chest, tugging his shirt open before administering shocks to his skin. “Alex, come on.” I knew he was far past the point of being saved. His mouth agape with a look of horror. Still, I continued to pound my fingers against his chest, the odd wild spark burning the flesh by my wrists.
“Alex… Angela... Please, this must be a joke. You should have called me, told me what was happening. I would have turned over half the city to get here in time. Why did you all have to leave me?” I couldn’t remember the last time I had cried, the stinging sensation far worse than I could recall. After a few minutes of hopeless grieving, I pulled myself up, that pain now replaced with a burning destain for the murderer. I never killed, but they would be an exception.
Pushing my feelings aside, I searched through the cupboards and drawers, trying to find evidence before the heroes came and messed up the crime scene. No matter where I turned, I couldn’t find anything of value. A few antique plates, some plastic cups, and an old photo of me with the two of them was all I could find. Taking the photo from the fridge, stuffing it into my shirt pocket.
I was ready to call the police, only for the scent of burnt meat to hit my nostrils, crouching by the oven to turn it off. I peered at the mess inside, spotting a piece of parchment paper sitting amongst the meat. Opening the oven, I fished out the paper, reading the note left by the murderer.
“Come find me Controller, I will be your despair. Love, Binding.”
The idiot was dumb enough to leave a calling card. I read over the name. It may have been unfamiliar to me, but I would soon become rather aquatinted with it. I would remind this Binding why I was the only villain in this city.
I never bothered to read the police report. I had a copy, but I didn’t see any point reading their dribble. I found the clue I needed. Anything else was irrelevant. I heard they were trying to track the person who gave the anonymous tip about the murder, but I wasn’t about to waste my time dealing with interrogations. I had a funeral to plan.
I spared no expense on the funeral. I made sure they got the final send off that they deserved. They were more my family to me than my actual family was. Who else would have pulled my gunshot body out of a burning building? I couldn’t imagine my drunken father doing that. His breath would have only gotten us both in trouble with that much fire around.
People offered condolences, but I was blind to their touches. I could only sit and plot, staring at the photo of the three of us while the priest rambled on about salvation. Salvation? Heroes delivered salvation, not some god. The photo was beautiful, the three of us seated on a picnic blanket, sharing a bottle of wine between us, each of us having a smile. I would have killed anyone to get them back.
I didn’t leave the funeral until the priest ushered me out, giving me some speech about how they were in a better place. It was obvious he just wanted to leave; the sun had already set so I could hardly blame the man. I must have been there for at least five hours, unable to leave their sides for that time.
As I left the funeral, I patted my coat, wondering how long it had been since I last got changed? I had lost track of time; I was certain I had at least been eating, but even those memories were mixed with a blur of hatred and grieving. As I approached my car, I could see a neat red ribbon sitting on its bonnet with a note attached to it. For the murderer to approach the funeral was gutsy. Either they were a rookie or far too confident for their own good. I took the letter, only for my hand to get locked into place as the ribbon tied its way around my arm, pinning me to the car’s side.
“Oldest trick in the book. Nice funeral. Shame it wasn’t an open casket. I worked hard to get that look on their faces. It was sad really, even while bleeding out, he still thought you could save him. It must have thawed that icy heart of yours.” I couldn’t turn my body enough to see them, caught in an awkward position. I reached a hand back, planning to fire a wave of electricity at the murderer, only to stop when they uttered some additional words. “Father, do you want to see heaven tonight?”
[Part 2](
https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/pggxbd/wp_youre_high_powered_villain_who_specializes_in/hbbqbx2/) | 2021-09-02T10:12:33 | 2021-09-02T08:13:44 | 81 | 47 |
[WP]: Every time you die Heaven says “You cannot enter until you finish your task on earth.” Centuries passed. Tired of it you sinned enough to be sent to hell. Satan greets you saying: “You cannot entire until you finish your task on earth.” | "Fuck! Are you serious?"
"Sorry bud," Satan says. "Gotta finish your task."
"WHAT TASK?"
"Huh?"
"What task? You assholes keep saying 'you gotta finish your task' 'you gotta finish your task,' but you don't tell me what the task is!"
"Well... have you turned on your quest tracker?"
"My what?"
"Your quest tracker. Yeah everybody has one. You just start over until you complete the task."
I don't know what to say. My jaw drops and because I'm in hell, it fully dislocates and falls to the floor. It's incredibly painful. Hell freebie I guess?
"How..." I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. "How do I turn on my quest tracker."
"Well, just open the menu and toggle the quest tracker option to 'on'."
"The... menu..."
"Yeah yeah yeah. Just swipe like this."
Satan mimes the swipe. I mirror it and a menu pops up in front if me. I look back to Satan.
"So... life is like a video game then?"
"A what?"
"Wow wow wow wow wow. Wow. Ok."
I hit the quest tab and then turn the quest tracker option on. A text box appears in front of me. I read it. There are sub-quest steps from birth right up to the execution of my quest. I look to Satan.
"You want me to kill the son of the president of Kuwait's cat? That's it? That's all I have to do?"
Satan shrugs.
"I guess. Take it up with the Big Guy."
"Jesus Christ."
A man appears at my side.
"Yes?"
"Why do I need to kill a cat?!"
"Lemme see." Jesus takes the quest page and reads it over. "Oh! It's to prevent the apocalypse."
"What?"
"Good luck!"
Jesus touches my forehead and I'm once again a fetus. Well, one more go then. | “What the actual fuck!” I scream, the sounds indistinguishable from the other screams surrounding me. “You cannot enter until you finish your task on earth” Satan says again, smiling slightly. “Yea, I heard you the first time, asshole.” I have been reincarnated countless times, and yet every time I die, I am told ‘You cannot enter until you finish your task on earth’ et cetera et cetera. Really, this is just total bullshit! I decided, hell, if heaven won’t have me, I’ll just go to hell. Fast forward to when I got killed by my ex wife for cheating on her, and I’m greeted by the same bullshit again! I sigh, and say to the Prince of Darkness, “Alright then. Get it over with.” At once, a clawed hand grabs me by the back of the neck and drags me through the earth to be back on land. And now, I am born again. With each iteration, I remember all that happened. So, I can spend my childhood and toddler years planning. However, after centuries of doing this, I am not so sure how much more I can take. Just what is my task? Nobody ever tells me. Maybe I should.... oh. Hahah. Hahahahahaha. I know it now. And even if it isn’t the right answer, I can’t be reborn again if there is nobody left to give birth to me, right? | 2020-06-27T16:42:02 | 2020-06-27T16:07:45 | 97 | 35 |
[WP] You travel back in time to meet 12-year-old you, only to find 6-year-old you playing with him. | I stood slackjawed admist the cobwebs and floating dust particles in the attic and watched the two fairheaded boys play. They hadn't noticed me yet. They looked nearly identical, despite the age difference. They could have been brothers. I suppose in many ways they were.
The younger boy giggled with delight as he scooped up the bigger boy's checkers piece. The older boy was clearly letting him win, displaying the kind and patient affection of an older sibling.
I remembered the boys very well, as they had both been playmates of mine twelve and eighteen years ago respectively. They were me, of course. I stood at the convergence of three timelines, all brought together in the same dusty attic of the house I'd grown up in.
I met the older me when I was six years old, just a few weeks after my mother had passed away. She had lost her long and arduous battle with leukemia, and my father had turned to the bottle to cope. I had no siblings, no friends, and in the evenings after a few rim-filled glasses of Scotch, no father. I'd wandered up to the attic one afternoon in search of my mother's wayward belongings and found the fair haired, bright eyed boy sitting there expectantly next to a game of checkers. Even at six I had the self-awareness to realize this older boy could only have been one person. Me.
"Wanna play?" he asked. I agreed.
I spent hours in the attic that afternoon, talking and laughing and playing. I asked what it was like to grow up, what school was like, and a million other child's questions when faced with the prospect of the future and the unknown. I asked if Daddy ever stopped being sad, and he kindly told me he did and that things got better. I wasn't sure how or when our playdate adjourned, but I spent every day for the next few months checking the attic hoping to find my futuristic friend. But I never did. Still, that one blissful afternoon was enough to compensate for the weeks of loneliness that followed. I was alone again, but I knew that my friend was out there, somewhere, and that we were connected. And that was enough.
I started school and I grew up. Eventually I speculated that magical afternoon was the product of a vivid, or maybe even lucid, dream. My father's alcoholism didn't get better, on the contrary it progressed and worsened, and I became an admittedly frail and reserved young preteen. On my twelfth birthday, while my father was passed out in a puddle of his own stench, I made myself a small cupcake in a bowl and blew out a single candle, and then went upstairs to the attic. I took out a box of checkers from the stack of decrepit board games, and waited. After a while I waited and began to wonder if maybe I hadn't dreamt the entire thing, when a small exuberant young face poked up from attic's trapdoor.
"Wanna play?" I asked. The younger me agreed.
We talked and laughed and played, and I endured the endless questioning of a child trying to wrap their mind around the idea of growing up. When he asked if Daddy ever stopped being sad about mommy, I choked back a violent wave of tears, and lied and assured him he did. In many ways, I needed the smaller boy's companionship just as much as he needed mine.
Suddenly, a man appeared. He was younger than my father, probably in his twenties, and he had fair hair and bright eyes. I recognized him at once.
And now, here I was again, twelve years later, about to relive the scene that had terrified me from ever returning to the attic again. My heart pounded in my chest, and a sick guilty feeling rose in the pit of my stomach.
"Wanna--" twelve year old me started.
"Shut up!" I yelled, as I had twelve years ago. "Shut up you little brat!"
I ran forward, grabbed the checkers board and tossed it across the attic. Both children flinched back, frightened.
It wasn't until years later that I understood the encounters, or their purpose. The first, at age six, taught me companionship. The second, at age twelve, taught me strength. That strength came in handy a year later, when my father died of sclerosis of the liver.
"Come here you little shits! I'm gonna whoop ya like your momma should've!"
Twelve year old me had stood in front of six year old me, just as I knew he would.
"Leave us alone! We weren't hurting anyone, were just playing."
"You can't play here. This is *my* attic. Now you get a whoopin'!" I made a half-hearted gesture of swinging my fist, which my younger self easily ducked.
I remembered standing there between the man I would become and the boy I had been, filled with rage at the injustice of it all. I remembered thinking I would *never* grow up into the hateful, angry man I saw that day. For the first time in my life, I had stood up for myself. Both of me.
"I said, LEAVE US ALONE!" twelve year old me yelled.
Without warning, adolescent me shoved me hard. I fell backwards onto the dusty wooden floor, and watched myselves flee the attic. The encounter left me feeling dirty and ashamed, but relieved. I had played my role, as much as it had hurt to do so.
"Let me help you up." I heard a voice behind me say. A balding man with thin, fair hair extended his hand. I took it and came to my feet.
"You're... I'm... Old." I stated bluntly.
"Forty-eight isn't old, boy. But I suppose the years haven't been easy on me. You're... how old now? I forget."
"Twenty four."
"Ah yes, this must have been about a year before I met Sally. And you're seeing me a year after my sweet darling has been gone from this world."
"Sally?" I asked.
"Do you remember when you lied about things getting better?" elder me asked softly, his bright eyes twinkling.
"Yes."
"Well this time I'm not lying. Come sit down and let me tell you about the love of your life." | "Get off him!" I screamed, as I ran toward the older boy, tearing him away from the younger and throwing him down onto the tomstone-gray carpet.
"Are you okay?" I asked, kneeling at the side of the bed and tenderly running a hand over six year old *me's* hair. His body trembled and he looked up at my face in wide-eyed fear. I pulled the blanket up over his body. "It's going to be fine," I whispered. "He won't hurt you again. I promise."
I reached into my jacket pocket and took out the present I had brought back for young me. His fur was neat and soft, and he looked peaceful as he slept in my hands.
"Here," I said, as I pushed Mr Ruffles toward him. The boy didn't take the bow-tied bear from me, so I tucked it under the blanket, next to his chest. "His name is Mr Ruffles. Look how bright his bow tie is. The red represents love. It shows how much he loves you. How loved you are."
I saw young me glance furtively at the bear. Then, he looked down again, allowing his eyes to linger on the fluffy face.
"Mr Ruffles," I continued, "needs you to look after him. He's a very loving bear, but he's somewhere new and he's a little lonely and scared, right now. He needs you to take care of him. Can you do that for him?"
Younger me nodded and slowly wrapped his arms around the bear, pulling him close to his chest and burying his head in his fur. I hoped the stuffed toy would bring him as much comfort as it had once done for me.
A braying laughter erupted. The bedside lamp flickered and, in the staccato darkness, I saw the older boy's face staring up at me from the floor. I took a step back, my arms trembling and a nausea rising from my stomach to my head. It wasn't just another child lying there - it was another *me*.
I had come to visit six year old *me*, but I had already been here, doing terrible, unspeakable things to him. The older *me's* eyes were bloodshot and his thin, pale lips almost merged into the skin on his face. It wasn't a remorseful look he wore, but instead, mirthful. Gleeful. He knew exactly what he had been doing.
A gust of wind thrashed at the bedroom windows, rattling the shutters and whistling an out of tune song, as it crept in through the cracks.
"We're the same, you know," he said, his rancid breath reaching up to me and invading my nostrils. But his voice wasn't like mine - it was deeper, harsher - and every other words was cracked like broken glass.
"No," I protested, taking in deep, desperate lungfuls of air. "No. We can't be." But I knew *something* was wrong. His voice was like an ice pick chipping away at long frozen memories; tiny clumps were falling loose and scattering about my mind.
"Shh," he said, raising a finger up to his lips.
"*Why,*" I begged, as a wetness crawled down my cheeks, "why would you do that to him? He's a child, for God's sake."
"Shh," he repeated. His lips burst into a grin, and the grin into a laugh that erupted from the pit of his stomach.
---
"That's enough for today, I think," said Doctor Moran, an uneasy smile growing on her lips. "You did extremely well. I know it wasn't easy for you."
I could feel my heart beat in my throat and I was still gasping for breath.
"It's okay, Michael," she said softly, walking over to me and squeezing my shoulder. "It's over now. Try to control your breathing. That's it - nice deep breaths."
"I- I don't understand," I said. "They were both *me*. Both the children. I- I was the one who did it."
"No," she said, shaking her head. "No, it wasn't you."
"But I saw it. I was back in my old bedroom, and I could finally see the face. It was *me.*
"Michael," she said, biting down on her tongue. She paused for a while, as she tried to find the right words. "You blamed yourself, subconsciously, for allowing it to happen. For not telling anyone. *You* put your face on him. But, it wasn't you - it wasn't your fault. It's time to stop blaming yourself."
"*But it was me...*"
"It was your father, Michael. You know that - you just haven't accepted it. You still blame yourself. But Michael, you are not your father."
"I..."
"You are a different person, to him. A *better* person. You helped younger you, Michael. *You helped him*."
"I helped him..."
She nodded encouragingly. "This was a big step for you, Michael. Now repeat after me, 'I am not my father'."
My arms shook and tears leaked from the corners of my eyes. "I am... I am not... *I'm sorry*. I can't, I just *can't,*" I whispered, my lips trembling as I tried to push them into a smile. "Thank you for everything, but I just can't."
As I walked toward the door, she got up. "Michael - same time next week, okay? We're making real progress."
I put my hand in my jacket pocket, and felt the comforting fuzz of the old woollen bear. My voice cracked, betraying me, as I tripped up over the final syllable.
"Sure."
| 2017-08-09T08:46:02 | 2017-08-09T07:52:18 | 184 | 129 |
[WP] One day, suddently, no one can have more than 999million dollars. All of the extra money gets magically donated to charity/research/schools. Jeff Bezos gets a Trophy saiyng "I won Capitalism". Describe how the world changes. | No one knew why it had happened, nor how, only that it *did*. It happened suddenly, without warning.
Billionaires were outlawed.
Not outlawed by the rules and laws of man; while many a common man and occasionally a politician would suggest such a manner, the general oligarchy of the world prevented it from becoming real. No; through magic, or Gods, or some other unexplainable way, billionaires became outlawed against the laws of *reality*.
For every red cent above $999,999,999.99 for every person's net worth, they lost it; forcibly, immediately, unknowably transfered into liquid assets and put to another use, towards a benefit to the common public. Schools and libraries, roads and rails, research and non-profit sciences.
When it had happened, that one day, at the strike of high noon, chaos immediately erupted. The low percent who held so much wealth complained and whined to their governmental protectors, who promised to do what they could. Some of them, too, lost a lot of money as well, after all. The leader of the bunch, while not the richest, was the most famous. Jeff Bezos, who kept quite a bit of his non-liquid assets, and 99 cents of United States coinage, found himself with a new a new asset: a ting plastic "gold" trophy with the remark, "JEFF BEZOS - I WON CAPATALISM".
No matter what the proir billionaires would do, however, they could not right the ship as they saw fit. They tried algorithms and AI, which only aligned to the new reality, and made it more efficient. They tried off-shore holdings, and crypto, and real estate; but, as *net* worth was the only consideration, these too immediately liquidated above every red cent. They tried scams, "donating" to charities of their own creation; but this, too, liquidated into real charities that benefited real people who needed real help.
As the proir billionaires fought and bickered, slamming against the walls of their new reality, the common people began to see change. True change, true help. And when that change was squandered away, by government officials or private individuals, the people resisted. They demanded change, to see the new influx of money utilized correctly. To see their future secured, and preserved for their children.
Of course, things were not all smooth sailing. *Close to* a billion dollars is still a lot of money, and buys a lot of influence. And with a hard cap to the amount one could make, there was a rush of the rich to reach it, all others be damned. There was still poverty, and crime. There was still scandal, and squander. There was still greed, and envy. A sudden change of reality did not suddenly change humanity.
No, the sudden shift in reality; whether by magic, or wishes, or Gods, instead pushed humanity. Some succumbed to baser desires, but many others were emboldened to push for their and others' futures. People were more willing to do what must be done to preserve the Earth, to preserve their freedoms, to secure the liberties of Men. To demand the changes required.
It was uncertain, as it always was, which way humanity would go. Gay space communism? Communal equals in the world? Neo-capitalist hell? Nuclear hellfire? All that *was* certain was, now, more than it had ever been before, *all* humans had a vote in that future. | There is a cabin in the woods where the rich and powerful would gather once a year for a little get-together. The millionaire club, it was called. Then the name became the billionaire club for a good few decades. But now, it’s known as the 999th floor, named after the maximum millions an individual may own according to international laws.
“Alright, people, he’s coming, be quiet!” Elon Musk says in a boyish tone. Micheal Jordan and Tyler Perry try very hard to stop themselves from giggling like children, but they swallow their voices when Oprah gives them the eyes.
The door opens, and who else enters but the man of the hour himself—Jeff Bezos.
The room bursts into an explosion of confetti as Rihanna sings her rendition of “He’s a jolly good fellow” Bezos laughs as the rest of the room joins in on the song.
*For he’s a jolly good fellow.*
*For he’s a jolly good fellow.*
*For he’s a jolly good fellooow.*
*Which nobody can deny!*
*Which nobody can deny!*
*Which nobody can deny!!!*
Kylie Jenner walks to Jeff Bezos with a trophy saying, “I won capitalism.”
Bezos laughs at the engravings and lifts his trophy for the room to see. People burst into laughter and cheers.
Bill Gates lifts a glass of champagne and says, “Cheers! To the man who bought the world!”
“To the man who bought the world!” the rest of the party says in unison.
“Hahaha! Thank you! Thank you, Bill! Thank you, everybody! I’m very honored,” Bezos says with a bow.
“No, the rest of us should be honored to be in the same room with the king of the world himself!” Ralph Lauren says as he gives Bezos a pat on the back.
“Jeff, my boy, you’ve done it! By golly, you’ve done it!” Warren Buffett gives Bezos a firm handshake. “While the rest of us simply turned our money into assets or ‘bankruptcies.’ ” The room laughs. “You managed to turn the U.S. treasury—and the UK’s—and the EU’s—and China’s and many more into your personal piggy bank! Brilliant! Absolutely genius!”
“Thank you, Warren. It’s a real honor coming from you, sir,” Bazos says with redness in his eyes. “It’s just that after what happened with my ex-wife, I spent many sleepless nights thinking about how to best protect my assets. And who’s better at handling money… than the government!”
Mike Bloomberg laughs so hard he almost falls to the floor. Steven Spielberg and George Lucus clink their champagne together. Mark Zuckerberg blinks his lizard eyes. And Notch says, “Based.”
“Like what Ralphy said, the honor is all ours… your majesty!” Buffett says with a laugh.
For the rest of the party, people take turns congratulating Jeff Bazos, the man who bought the world—the winner of capitalism! | 2022-08-07T05:47:34 | 2022-08-07T05:38:46 | 190 | 33 |
[WP] The zombie apocalypse has come and gone. Humanity has survived and prospered, but with the virus inside every single human. Centuries into the future, we are at war with an alien race, and they are horrified to learn that we don’t stay dead easily. | The blast of alien weaponry left a smoldering hole in the man's chest. Grunting, he clutched his chest and pitched forward landing prone on the ground. "Is he?" The man squirmed and twitched trying to get back up. Double tap, one round followed by another.
"They, just don't die!" The man now had half his face gone and still he attempted to get up. Rotten guts and decaying bits of brain matter dribbled out everywhere. "Fuck you,alien scum!" The words coming out in a slurry of bloody pulp and teeth from a dangling jaw and tongue.
Ugh! What's wrong with them? Why do they look like someone who's been dead for days. And that smell. How is he still... They were caught off guard by a sudden attack from their enemy whose body was "stitching" itself back together.
He closed the gap between them with surprising speed and bit down into the flesh of his attacker who screamed. Clawing the other, the commotion brought more of the undead their way.
Thousands of them came clamouring towards them jeering and growling before descending on the helpless aliens to be swallowed up in a wave of undead. | The contorted mass of flesh slugged towards his bewildered opponent; belowing screeches suffocating the battlefield.
The gaunt look of fear and disgust grimaces on his commanders face as he turns round to see his unit flee in horror, tramlping over the eviscearated remains of other Exo troops.
Grubo makes his final stand as he runs head on towards the monstrosity; his body flailed with one foul swipe hitting the ground before he could even draw.
"Augmented suit failed, critical failure"
he takes off his headset to see the faces of other troops, a deep sense of dread filled the command centre. These Foul wretched had expanded to every corner of the galaxy. | 2022-09-13T21:52:31 | 2022-09-13T19:49:36 | 105 | 57 |
[WP] You don’t just believe your lies, everyone else does too. As it turns out, anytime you lie, you rewrite reality so that your lie is true. | I don't know how I got here exactly, but it makes sense to me.
The ballroom looks like a page from Anna Karenina--Old Russia bedazzling up every wall, curling along gold-painted plaster moulds, intricate balustrades and columns and tabulatures gleaming under piercing sunshine. But there the similarities stop, for the ceiling is a web of crystal open to the stars, and this is no Siberian chateau but a flagship space galleon floating in orbit above blue Neptune.
I say things that are not true. At least that's how I remember it. But once said, they are true, and they always had been true, no question. To me, truth is absolute, even when I remember it differently. What matters is what is true in the now, and what should be true in the future--I make it so. It may have started with becoming a fabulous Apex Legends player, but I quickly leveraged this gift toward larger goals and now I preside over an Earthly empire in the throes of unimaginable technological feats.
"My liege!" cried the Herald from the entrance. "I present the President of Uruguay and her friend Capabella Duantless."
I had been so focused on establishing the empire through truthsaying that I'd neglected certain regions of Earth. Now would be a good a time as any to introduce a bit more unity.
"You are the president of the Southern American continent, a single governate."
"Yes my liege, that is correct."
I wondered what the changes looked like back home--14 countries suddenly governed as one.
"I'm not on this galleon, I'm in a hot air balloon over Buenos Aires," I whispered. In a flash, I was there, squinting through cloudcover. "There are no clouds here," I said, and the sky became clear. But I bored easily of trying to discern any marked difference in the urban landscape below, and whispered that I was back on the galleon. So I was. Truth be told.
The president of the Southern American continent was an attractive woman, but her friend Capabella caught my eye. I had stewards usher her to the plinth of my throne, where she bowed correctly, watching me with a careful look.
"Welcome to my ship, Mademoisselle Dauntless," I said, only to within her earshot.
Careful brown eyes stared at me as she regained her posture. Her lips moved, barely, but I heard the words.
"You cannot lie to me," she said.
"*What*?" I stammered.
She bowed, and I heard her again, "We need to talk."
​
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
/r/velabasstuff | "Thank you guys so much for coming. I'm so happy you're here".
Nessie looked around at her family and friends, smiling warmly at the people who loved her. Noticing her shoulders were a bit slumped, she straightened, until she realized she was slightly twitching, and slumped once more.
Forcing her self to catch the eye of every person there, Nessie continued "I'm so glad you all could come to spend time with me. I'm happy you can give as much to me as I give to you". Each person there overlooked her and she had felt small. They had taken no notice of her at all, almost completely forgetting that she existed. She had been irrelevant. Almost pointless. But now, Nessie watched as some people licked their lips, scratched just under their chin, twitched a foot. Nessie took notice of how they continued speaking as though she wasn't there. She grew nervous.
"Well! If you need me, I'll be here!"
The family was now happy that Nessie was with them. She was good for them. And Nessie was happy too. As she sat there on her desk, she watched as Uncle approached her. Uncle walked right up to Nessie. *Scoop scoop*. Uncle peered down on Nessie and smiled. Nessie now made Uncle happy, so Nessie was happy too.
Each member came up to Nessie. *Scoop scoop. Scoop scoop.*
They took from Nessie. It now made them happy, so she was happy.
Child came up to Nessie and tilted her mouth. *Scrape scrape.* Child took more from Nessie. Child emptied Nessie out. Child was now happy. Nessie was happy.
Brown stains stained members. And they wiped the stains off. This made Nessie unhappy.
*When were they going to give back to her?!*
Completely ignoring Nessie, family began to reconstruct. They became free flowing, viscous, slowly turning milk white. Family did not notice this because they were happy. Family continued to transmogrify until they were white, free-flowing and viscous. Nessie absorbed them into her. She was full.
They were happy now. | 2021-02-19T12:57:09 | 2021-02-19T12:42:44 | 89 | 27 |
[WP] You are reincarnated as a dog in a shelter, however you remember your past life as a human. Then one day your past self shows up and adopts you and you realize you became your own dog and all of a sudden the way your dog behaved throughout your human finally life makes sense.
Never posted a prompt before. Feel free to give me feedback if it's not very good or whatever! I hope it's something somebody can work with. | I was always overly anxious. It was my undoing. The only thing I felt like I could connect with was taken too soon, and I went into a downward spiral. I took things too far, and ended up slumped over one night, consciousness fading for what I hoped would be the last time. Then I woke up.
I had wondered about reincarnation, and didn’t know whether to be thrilled at a new beginning or dismayed at being trapped in an eternal cycle. My memories quickly faded as I set into this new life. I vaguely knew what I was, but generally grew up living to survive. That is, until I ended up getting caught in a fence after hesitating to jump through it. I was captured, caged, and locked in a room with bars at one end. People would approach and ogle over me. I felt vulnerable, tail between the legs the whole time.
At night I dreamed. Sometimes I was on the streets again. Sometimes I vaguely remembered my mother and siblings. Sometimes I was human. Most of these dreams were nightmares. One night I had a strange dream. I was human, but at peace. I was sitting on a field of grass. My lap was covered in part of a drooling, black and white mass of fur, which jumped up, tail wagging. The same tail with the white tip that I sometimes snapped at in my room with the bars on the wall. He snapped at his tail, and raced away from me. I put my hands to my lips, and let out a whistle.
I woke up. I still heard the whistle. I jumped up. There was a human facing away from me lowering its hands from its face, focused on the wrinkly dog across from me. It turned. Looked at me. I was frozen. It approached, crouched. I slowly walked towards it. I remembered this moment from the other side. I looked it right in the eyes. I had looked at these eyes in the mirror many, many times. In this life, I had never seen my own eyes, but I suddenly knew they were a deep chocolate brown. I remembered things. I remembered a timid dog that had become my closest companion. I remembered turning to the shelter volunteer and asking ‘who treated this guy so badly?’
“Who treated this guy so badly?”
I wanted to respond that it was only me, but I could only let out a low whine. I placed my paw against the bar, trying to project my memories outwards to no avail.
The volunteer shrugged. I knew what would happen next. I knew that I had eight years to try to add some brightness to an already sad life. I actually had a purpose this go around. And suddenly, I realized that my past life really did have a purpose too. I unconditionally loved and cared for a being, even when it got anxious and destroyed things. I helped to improve one life, and in turn, I would find meaning in my own. | I’m so scared, I can’t slow my breathing. I don’t know how anyone could’ve gotten in without me noticing, the one door to my house takes a fair push to open. But, wait a second, where’s Scratch! Oh, shit, the dog might be a weirdo but I’m not letting him die in the hands of an intruder! I run out the door and jump into the lounge room to see… no one. I see Scratch, sitting on the couch as if nothing ever happened, his light brown tail wagging against the seat. He starts barking, and I move towards him. I pick him up, and as I do, he pushes his paw into my neck.
I wake up, still panting heavily. What the fuck just happened? And where the fuck am I now? All I see around me in walls and bars. Am I in prison? I look through the bars and see many dogs in cages lining the wall. Wait, I’m in a dog cage? I’m easily 6 feet, how on earth could they squeeze me in? I attempt to stretch, but it doesn’t feel right. My joints feel so weird, like nothing I’ve felt before. I turn after much effort to look at my legs, and it seems as though they’re covered in… hair? A lot of hair, definitely more hair then I had before. And more, furry. I attempt to let out a scream, but it sounds a lot different to my normal screams. Almost as if… wait a second. I’m a dog? But, how does that? This must be a dream, right. I look outside, and see a man walking up to a cage.
“How does this one look?” I hear a man say, as my cage begins to be lifted. I see a face poke in… my face. This all feels really familiar, like I’m having déjà vu, yet… different. “He’s so cute!” I… he says as he sticks a finger in the bars. “Is this the one you want then?” Says the first man. “Definitely,” says my body. I don’t understand how this could be possible. The last thing I remember was my dog, Scratch, putting his paw into my neck and now I’m… wait. What colour is my fur? Brown, light brown. “Any ideas for a name?” Says the original man. “I think, I’ll name him Scratch.” | 2019-04-07T19:24:57 | 2019-04-07T18:48:15 | 27 | 16 |
[WP] Turns out man was never meant to fly. One day all the planes in the sky inexplicably freeze where they are. There can be no rescue. Most planes eventually run out of supplies and perish. It's five years later, however, and society is flourishing on Flight 3407 to Orlando. | Day 7
I have begun to write this journal in the hopes that it will be found one day and our story will be told. It has been 7 days since the plane I was piloting stopped moving. Stopped. Just stopped in the middle of the sky. We were on our way to Orlando and the plane simply stopped moving midflight. I have been in communication with ground control and they confirmed the impossible, that we were stuck in the air. It is not just us though, every plane on earth that was in the air at the time is now suspended in the air. Ground control has informed me that there is a global effort to save us. No new planes have been able to take off.
Ground control had simple instructions: Survive until we can come for you. Awesome.
The first few days were a blur of panic and pandemonium. It took everything I had and more to keep the crew and passengers calm and in the plane. Many wanted to jump. A tentative, stressed calm has been reached at this point. While there is still great fear and anger, we are working through it.
I am the captain and I will get us through. My ground control has given me one instruction and I will follow it. We will all survive until help comes for us.
Day 1825
My intentions had been good. I had intended to write in the journal every evening to document our progress but I have failed at that task. Somehow 5 years have gone by with me too exhausted to write each night. Survival is hard work and on our 5th anniversary, we are still surviving.
Two weeks into our ordeal we realized that ground control, and the entire planet, still had zero idea how to save us. No planes could take off from any continent on earth. We realized that we had to be prepared to be here for a long time. We were lucky, the plane is a good size but was drastically under sold. We only have about 100 people on the plane. One hundred people is a very reasonable number to inhabit a plane of this size.
While we started rationing food instantly, it took 3 weeks before a fledgling survival plan started to form. A group of 15 men and women stood up and asked to call a plane wide meeting. Everyone came together and we were all shocked when “The Martian” started to play on all of the in-seat TVs. Then a man named Calvin, who has become my good friend, stood up and saved our lives: “My name is Calvin Thompson, I am a professor of Botany from the University of Tennessee. My colleagues, students and I were on our way to a conference in Orland. We have all our samples in cargo. And we are going to make sure that none of you starve to death.”
It has been 5 years and we are going strong. Not starving to death does great things to boost morale. Because all of the planes climate controls and power generators had an emergency solar back up (Thank you green movement!) We have never had to worry about loss of air, heat or lights. Once we were able to retrofit the wings into being green houses, with air pumped in from the cabin, we secured containers for water collection to the tail. While manmade objects cannot come into the sky, they can certainly be sent down. This allows us to dispose of our waste quickly and effectively. The United States government has set up safe drop zones around the plane on the ground to avoid certain predictable outcomes.
Day 1835
I continue to be remedial in my writing but would venture to say that 10 days is much better than 5 years. The US government and all governments are still working to get us down. I look forward to touching dry land. They have begun building a skyscraper underneath us as a means of reaching us. They have asked if we can hang on for 6 more months. No problem.
I asked how they could possibly afford to build a sky scrapper to every single plane stuck in the air. My boy on the ground, Ryan, is our usual contact for ground control. He faltered slightly and sighed: “Look Cap, they don’t want me to tell you this but I think you deserve to know. We don’t need to get to any other plane. Flight 3407 to Orlando is the only one left with life on board.”
I don’t know what I did in this life to deserve this. I don’t know why I was the captain of the only plane in the air at 6:24am on September 2nd, 2016 that could survive for 5 years. We had the right mix of people, at the right altitude, at the right location to make the survival of everyone on board possible. We have pets alive here, we have babies that have been born and flourished. We have had our bumps but we are a little community and we will continue to survive until they come for us.
| We never made it to Orlando, but we may as well have. Flight 3407 realized everything I'd ever expected from Florida. Tourists and elderly populated the aisles, grumbling about the weather, the service, and the ever-unchanging scenery. The supply of orange juice ran endlessly, validating the many who had forgotten to pack a toothbrush in their carry-on. And though nobody had managed to smuggle any bath salts onboard, after a few days, someone had eaten someone's face.
His name was Jack, so of course we called him Jack the Ripper. He claimed his victim had died in her sleep, and he was just disposing of her in the only way that made sense. We decided to return the favor: the captain wrenched open the plane door, and a group of burly stewards hoisted him by his armpits and tossed him overboard. Jack's screams were accompanied by a collective gasp and the excited clicking of cameras. Then another gasp and even more clicks. His body had frozen mid-air, just feet from the plane. Jack flailed his limbs like a swimmer stuck in gel, shouting into the clouds ahead for help. The captain shook his head, closed the plane door, and ordered everyone back into their seats.
Someone proposed a stairway after that, of course. A stairway of people, stretching 30 thousand feet to the ground. The idea earned its fair share of supporters, even though all of us could see through the window that Jack's body had stopped moving after a few hours. Still others proposed that we build a bridge instead and search for other frozen flights. Both camps were at least better than the loons who suggested building a ladder to heaven. It was natural selection at its finest: in the coming days, more and more people exited the plane in search for a solution. Corpses littered the sky, their flesh rent clean by the wind. Jack the Ripper ended up killing more people than his original incarnation.
These deaths weren't enough to dissuade any of these movements. Like good engineers, they believed in trial and error, and like good cultists, they believed that perseverance was unilaterally rewarded. Their recruitment strategies grew more aggressive: they handed out napkin flyers, scribbled schema on the bathroom walls, and prayed to the clouds to release them from suspension. The rest of us tried to ignore them: we had our own gods, and they had abandoned us. Instead, we put our faith in man, in the captain and his staff. He assured us every morning to remain calm; they were looking into a solution. Then he would close the door to the cockpit and secure it from the inside, leaving each plane exit noticeably unguarded.
As the weeks passed, it became apparent that trusting in the captain was as foolhardy as trusting in the physics of a human staircase. Our food began to wane, each portion more meager than the last. All the passengers were becoming skeletons; it was just a matter of choosing whether to jump or starve. And yet, the crew seemed as healthy as ever. Every meal, the stewardesses hurried up and down the plane, granting our cups a few sparse drops of water. Their cheeks glowed rosy with vitality, and we glowed red with anger.
Jack reincarnated a full month after his death. When the captain emerged to deliver his usual morning address, a man lunged at him and pressed him against the cockpit door. His eyes were red, and his hands shook with fatigue, but adrenaline gave him enough strength to repel the stewards, if only for a moment. Then, other passengers came forward, piling onto the crew and dragging them into the carpet. We wanted answers for our supplies, a solution for our situation, and we administered our demands with fingers pressed to their necks. The captain shook his head; excuses poured from his head like rivulets of sweat, trickling down his chest and pooling into his skin. It was the perfect marination.
After that, nobody left the plane alive. Plans for human staircases were crushed, by force if necessary; imminent survival was our main priority, and we needed every helping hand, or leg, or limb we could get. Day by day, new skeletons appeared in the sky, constellations made tangible. It was the same as before, except now, the flesh was gone before they even left the plane. | 2016-08-31T09:03:43 | 2016-08-31T09:00:37 | 301 | 69 |
[WP] Valhalla is filled with the strongest warriors the world has ever known. Vikings, Spartans, Mongols, Romans, Samurai, Spetznaz, JSOC Operators. And in that corner over there? That's Ted, from accounting.
Valhalla is the hall of fallen warriors that is ruled over by Odin in Asgard. Half of all those who die in combat will be chosen by Odin to join him at the feast hall of Valhalla and prepare for the final battle during the events of Ragnarök. | The smell was atrocious.
A thousand men and women, all at various levels of inebriation, laughing, fighting and feasting. Apparently Odin had forgotten to install showers. It was truly disgusting. I wanted nothing to do with it, and yet something about it felt right. A man as big as an ox roared in crescendo as he told tale of his conquests. He stepped backwards and knocked me down, telling his tale with excess gusto. I hit the floor hard, and tasted iron in my mouth as it bled.
Silence fell. I felt myself pulled from the cold, stony floor.
“My friend, I apologize for my clumsiness - please have a flagon and tell your tale!”
It was the same beast of a man who had knocked me over that hoisted me to my feet.
“It’s okay, I’m alright.” I replied quietly. The large man bowed his head slightly, and I continued on my way.
Maybe this wasn’t so bad. As I looked around, I saw past the glutton and intoxication. As I listened, I heard tales of sacrifice, glory and valor.
Where the hell was I?
Was I dreaming?
I thought hard about what I had done yesterday. What I’d had for breakfast. What I’d said to my wife as I walked out the door. It seemed so normal, until I remembered the splitting headache.
“I’m dead. I’ve died and gone to…” I shot glances at each individual and remembered the lore. “…Valhalla? What?”
“Don’t look so shocked.” A grizzled old man in the corner huffed at me.
“W-what?” I blabbered back. “What do you mean don’t look so shocked?”
“You fought them every day” he said with a nod. “You told them when they were wrong, and told them what the stakes were. You instilled doubt into the hearts of corrupt men, and forced them to understand themselves. Your presence inspired a thousand e-mails to upper management, and instilled a sense of truth into the minds of those who had the power to act.” The grey eyes behind the furrowed brow sparkled and suddenly I recognized him.
“Holy shit, Ted? Ted from accounting? Is that you?!” I exclaimed, and a wry smile crept across the man’s face.
“Yes, it’s me.” The old man responded. “You must know, my friend, that our campaign was successful. Our victory was won. On that tragic day you fell, I took up your charge and vowed to uphold it. I would not fail! Our cause was too just, too righteous! The people heard our voice, and they challenged the status quo! We rallied around your memory and pushed back against the tyrants. In the end they fell before us, and on bended knees did bequeath onto us what was rightfully ours!”
Ted had stood up, his gaze pointed majestically into the rafters. His hand was clenched in a fist, which he held against his chest.
I shifted my weight awkwardly on my feet and spoke;
“So… they finally put a soda machine in the break room?” | The skies were blue, as they always were in Valhalla as Greggor made his usual stroll. The fields to the right of the dirt path were a lush green and seemed to roll on endlessly for miles. To his right was a lake as still as glass, reflecting the midday sun.
Valhalla was paradise I'm every sense of the word- a stark contrast to his former Irish homeland. Years of fighting off those whom would claim his land had opened the gates for Greggor and every so often, he would meet a new comer. Some were cunning warriors for the east, others were from lands across the sea. Though all were welcomed, most warriors kept to their own kin. All except Greggor who made it a mission to seek out the mightiest amongst them.
As he turned the bend, he spotted a small group of men fishing on the shores of the beautiful lake. All seemed to be wearing sand colored trousers and boots except one gentleman who wore a blue button shirt with white vertical stripes.
Curious of the odd man, Greggor approached the small group and with a friendly wave called out in his bellowing voice: "Greetings gentlemen. Beautiful day on the lake, is it not?"
Of the small group, all remained focused on their lines except for one of the men in the tan trouser turned and smiled "Everyday is a blessing, how can we help you?"
"I can't help but notice we have another joining our ranks," Greggor smiled- nodding towards the man in the formal clothes. "I would very much like to know your name and how you gained entry into our paradise."
Hands trembling, the formally dressed man put down his rod. Turning slowly, the man rose to his feet and sheepishly smiled "I'm Ted... I'm not entirely sure how I got here- I did not fight a horde of enemies, nor slay any monsters... All I did was try to protect my wife and son."
Laughing at the man's quiet tone Greggor replied "No need to be humble son- surely you must have done something truly inspiring!"
With a shrug, Ted replied "All I did was stand up on my flight going to San Francisco and tried to stop the men from killing all of us... Despite my best efforts, the other passengers and I failed and crashed the plane..." Ted was nearly in tears at this point before another man put a hand on his shoulder and gently pulled him down to a sitting position.
Shocked and not wanting to pry more, Greggor simply nodded and meekly whispered, "It is a pleasure to have you amongst us Tom." And quickly spun around and continued his normal routine- leaving the sad man who now had nearly all the other men patting his back.
Edit: I can't read names... | 2015-05-08T18:46:12 | 2015-05-08T17:51:17 | 64 | 16 |
[WP] After being told she had an accident and had "gone to heaven", his mind exploded in a white hot rage. 7 year old Roger wants his kitty back and God doesn't know what's about to hit him. | God looked up in alarm as the golden gates opened from outside, and from them an angel stumbled in, rasping.
"My lord-" was all that he could manage, before a shotgun blast rang through the air, silencing him. As the angel fell, looming just behind him, \*he\* approached.
"So, 'Jehovah'..." Two shells went in, and the snap back reloaded the weapon. "Where's the cat?"
\#"I... I DON'T KNOW-"
A toss through the air. A head. It was Michael's. "I won't ask again." The seven year old's face was calm, but it was, in truth, a lie, nothing more than an illusion to cover the boiling abyssal cauldron of rage that lay underneath.
\#"I PROMISE THEE, LOOK..."
A scroll was produced. Roger looked over it with a glance. He smiled wanly. Without a word, he turned his back on the deity, and walked away.
"So..." he said to himself, producing a sharpened shovel. "Looks like this trip will be taking a turn down south." | "Roger?! What are you doing here?" A look of shock spread across his face, long white beard drooping on the floor, gazing at the very familiar waddling humanoid. "YOU KNOW WHAT IM HERE FOR!" as Rogers whiney voice fills the air, screaming "He was my cat...MY CAT YOU WHITE HAIRED FU--" "You had him 5 minutes, and let him wonder out into the street, what did you th--" "THATS NOT THE POINT" Roger again wails, till he starts laughing, getting silent Roger yells "Hey GOD?!" turning around "WHA-" Roger kicks him in the stomach and yells "IT"S RICKY SPANISH!" | 2021-04-13T14:50:37 | 2021-04-13T12:33:03 | 52 | 19 |
[WP] At birth, everyone is given an object to protect that is tied directly to their life. If the object is damaged then the person is hurt, too. If the object is destroyed then the person dies. | Whenever a child is born, an elder divines the object that their soul joins with. It sets you out for life. It must always be with you. For once it is broken, your soul returns to the Wheel to be reborn.
My Father, he had a rock carving of a warrior. Big and strong, like the man he grew into.
My mother, a Diamond pendant. Beautiful with delicate craftsmanship.
For years I have protected mine.
Cared for it.
Preserved it.
Just to keep myself alive.
But its not living. Hiding away from the world. Fearful of the slightest gust of wind, the smallest of nudge from someone in a crowd.
In my youth I wrapped it up, safe and secure. Or so I thought.
I was a beautiful child. Fair of head, bright of eye. Always smiling.
So they told me.
But I was delicate. Brittle. I tripped on a rock in the middle of my village. A small fall for a child.
It left me broken. My arm will never be straight. It hangs, shrivelled and useless.
My soul cage had cracked.
I saw the look in my mothers eyes. Her and Father argued a lot. He was embarrassed of what they had produced. Me. She wanted to protect me from harm.
In the night we left. Just the two of us. Far we travelled. After the first accident, the pace slowed. With my now limp leg dragging behind me as my mother dragged me on, we stopped at the first cave we saw.
This would be our new home. She would always care for me, she said. I was her special boy.
That was years ago. She's gone. Not even the strongest soul cage can defy the reality of the mortal body.
Yet still I go on.
But no more. While I still have use of one hand, I will end it.
It sits on the rock. Glinting. It feels alive.
The small, cracked, delicate glass egg that has been the curse of my life.
My warped body didn't get the job done. It wasn't destroyed.
It rests against the tip of my nose. Taunting me. Almost gone, but just enough intact. Forever out of reach.
Of course that would have been too easy. I should have known.
3 days. It's been 3 days now. I can't so much as twitch. Just stare at the egg.
My only solace remaining is death from dehydration can not be far.
| I was playing ultimate frisbee when I felt like I'd been punched in the face. A few seconds later, I felt another phantom punch to my gut, and I nearly passed out.
*What did you get yourself into this time, Jeremy?*
---
Let me back up for a moment. When we were born, Jeremy and I each had an avatar just like everyone else, but my mom did a bit of soul magic to combine mine and Jeremy's avatars into one.
Why? I don't know. Maybe she wanted us to be close like her and her sister never were. Or maybe she believed some weird superstition about twins, which is exactly what you'd expect from someone who actually did *soul magic* in this day and age. Ugh.
Either way, now whenever Jeremy goes off and does something stupid, our shared avatar gets damaged, which means **I** get hurt.
---
Ok, back to the present. "Kevin, call – argh! - call 911!"
Kevin had seen this enough times to know exactly what was going on. A few minutes after he dialed 911 an ambulance showed up. I was still getting "pummeled."
"Hi, yeah, my friend over here's in a lot of pain. I think he might have left his avatar in the washing machine again!"
The paramedic said something I couldn't quite make out.
"Oh yeah he has avatar insurance. Blue Cross, I think."
They hooked me up to an IV and I felt my mana starting to return. Now, I felt each "punch" less and less until there was virtually no pain. At this point Jeremy had almost definitely gained the upper hand in whatever idiotic bar fight he'd started.
---
One of these days, I'm going to find one of those soul magic weirdos and get them to decouple our avatars. And then Jeremy's finally gonna have to deal with not having me around to bail him out.
| 2015-04-18T01:19:14 | 2015-04-18T00:21:56 | 38 | 19 |
[WP]Tell me an emotional story about a man, using only what he would type into Google search | Great pregnancy foods
How to make wife happier during pregnancy
Are cats okay to be around pregnant women?
Local shelters
Price of spay/neuter in area
Best hospitals for delivery in area
Cost of child birth
Cheapest hospitals for delivery in area
Do men have to do anything during the birth
Keeping placenta?
Baby is crying and won't stop
Is it okay for a cat to sleep with a baby
When do babies start walking
Are stink bugs poisonous
Are crickets poisonous
How to stop child from eating bugs
Local dog shelters
Small dog beds
How big do shepherd mixes get
Large dog beds
List for first day of school
Parks in area
Nature walks
Poison ivy treatments
Romantic spots for valentines day
Babysitter in area
Preparing child for middle school
Should young kids have phones?
Cell phone contracts
Cheap cell phone contracts
Great projects for science fairs
Potato batteries
Why doesn't potato battery work
Potato battery not lighting up
Play-Dough battery
Play-Dough battery not working
Great projects for science fairs
Tips for The Talk
How long do cats live?
How to get your pre-teen to talk to you
Awesome hiking trips
Hiking gear
Treatment for tick bites
High school algebra tutorial
Algebra worksheet
Prom dresses
Great local colleges
Graduation gifts
Things you wish you brought to college with you
Empty nest syndrome
What to do with a spare room
Library remodel plans
| Great Places for a first date
Proposal Ideas
Bible - Verses about being a good husband
Oregon Coast Beach Homes
Horseback Riding Rental - Newport Oregon
Wedding Venues - Seattle WA
Bible - Verses about Marriage
Plane Tickets
Hawaiian Excursion Ideas
Travel Planner
Travel Agents - Seattle WA
How do we get pregnant?
Bible - Verses about Children
Why can't we get pregnant?
How can I tell if my wife is infertile?
How can I tell if I am sterile?
Can an ovarian cist prevent pregnancy?
Ovarian Cist
Difference Between Benign & Malignant
Bible Verses - Grief, Death
What's the difference between stage 3 and stage 4 cancer?
Survival Odds - Metastasized to bones
How to deal with cancer in a loved one
How do we write a will?
How does a spouse leave everything to their husband?
Grief Counseling - Coping with the death of a loved one
Is there really a God?
Atheist support group | 2015-02-04T18:24:30 | 2015-02-04T16:31:22 | 672 | 253 |
[WP] A super villain who uses his schemes to force people or countries to do good things instead of demanding a ransom.
Like joining the Paris Agreement. (inspired by another thread) | "Good evening, Mr. President, ladies and gentlemen! I trust you are finding the sustainably-farmed caviar I sent refreshing?"
"Reinhardt! How the devil did you hack this video feed?"
"It is of no consequence. What is, however, are my demands. Did the courier follow my instructions and use recycled paper for the list?"
"How the blue blazes would...oh, it's mentioned at the top here...yes, it's recycled. But Reinhardt, you must know that we cannot abide terrorist threats, regardless of how well intentioned they might be. The elimination of all fossil fuel usage within 6 months....that's just not possible!"
"Oh, I think you will find it is very possible. Particularly when I show you....THIS!"
*KABOOOM*
"Dear God, Reinhardt, what have you done?"
"Done, Mr. President? Why, I've simply dropped several metric tons of hydrogen-3 on the White House lawn!"
"NO! The people! Reinhardt you fiend!"
"Yes, that's right! There is enough hydrogen-3 in those canisters to power a hundred fusion reactors for the next century!"
"....wait, what? Canisters?"
"And, if you check your email, Mr. President, I believe you will find the plans for a 95% efficient fusion reactor very interesting indeed! It is of my own design, I'm quite proud of it. Easy to build, with no harmful waste or chance of meltdown. Why, you could build one right next to an...elementary school!"
"What...what do you mean by that?"
"Roosevelt Elementary School, in Fairfax, Virginia, to be precise. It seems that the office complex that was being built next door won't actually house insurance adjusters and tax attorneys after all! No, it will actually...POWER THE ENTIRE CITY OF WASHINGTON D.C.!"
"Wow...really?"
"With power to spare! D.C. will actually need to line up buyers for the excess. I have taken the liberty of beginning initial talks with the cities of Baltimore and Richmond."
"And...this reactor is safe?"
"COMPLETELY! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"Um...OK, well...uh....I...I'm being told that we'll have to have your...uh, claims verified by independent review."
"Of course! The plans you have are fully detailed, and have been posted for peer review on a variety of physics and engineering websites. I will, of course, make myself available, should your people...HAVE ANY QUESTIONS!"
"Yeah, OK. I'm looking around the room and heads are nodding. We will look this over and...get back with you?"
"I LOOK FORWARD TO YOUR CALL! Oh, and one more thing, Mr. President...should you be thinking about not honoring our agreement..."
*KABOOOM*
"What did you do now?"
"Why, simply delivered plans and a supply of rare earth elements necessary to make...SOLID STATE GRAPHENE BATTERIES!"
"...Thank you?"
"YOU'RE WELCOME! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" | The building had four entrances, and each was heavily guarded by Captain Earth's minions. They were heavily armed and armored. The few glimpses anyone had of the guards at the doors were sparing, but showed men in tactical dress and armed with submachine guns and automatic rifles. The city's SWAT team had already attempted to force entry, and one of the entrances was littered with shell casings, blood, and several dead officers. As the hours passed, the situation was a stalemate.
And then Captain Earth turned on the cameras. The inside of the auditorium held almost 200 hostages on their knees, blindfolded, and arms tied behind them. Men in nomex masks walked around them armed with rifles and festooned with explosive vests.
Captain Earth stood framed in the center of the shot. "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen of the world. Today's science lesson is brought to you by Captain Earth. Let's hope you all learn something from our sacrifice."
He looked around at his audience of henchmen and hostages before he continued. "We won't have much time. As my intentions become known the police will force entry at any cost, so let us begin." He pulled a pistol from his hip and leveled it at the first hostage. "The state of the climate is of the utmost concern to us all, yet politicians continue to ignore the warnings. Warnings of impending disaster which will see the loss of many lives." He paused and looked directly into the camera. "Perhaps the loss of life is not apparent enough. Perhaps it needs to be brought to their attention."
He turned away from the camera, and looked down the barrel of his raised weapon. He fired into the head of one the kneeling hostages and the others began to scream. He continued down the line, executing one after the other. His men began to fire their automatic weapons into the helpless people with devastating effect. In the distance, the sound of gunfire renewed at the entrances as police began their desperate assault to reach the massacre. A low rumble sounded as a police armored vehicle breached a wall and officers stormed into the auditorium.
The shootout was intense, but brief. Captain Earth fell to the ground with several wounds as his men fired at the SWAT team before they too succumbed to the assault. As Captain Earth laid there listening to the screams from the wounded he began to laugh. "If we don't save the earth, then we will all die together." He pulled a cellphone from his pocket, and as the police moved toward him he pressed dial. The explosion engulfed the building in flames and heat. | 2017-06-10T19:40:10 | 2017-06-10T15:44:35 | 31 | 15 |
[WP] You are a dark god. The police raided your temple, arrested your cultists, and ate the pb&j sandwich that your youngest worshiper left on your altar | As I lie slumbering, drifting among the stars and dipping into the abyss. I see time unfold and fold it into shapes of my pleasing. Of course, when tipping into time I feel the odd ping of my worshippers. One specific instance amused me. At that specific time my worship had dwindled to a handful of the downtrodden and scorned. My altar was replaced with a *coffee table* and on it were a handful of knick-knacks, a single golden earring, some spare change and a day old peanutbutter and jelly sandwich.
But as worship of me had fallen into ill-repute, so had my worshippers. When the repressing force of the state entered they raided my *temple* and looted my *altar* what really interested me is the total lack of knowledge of the repressors on the subject of my worship.
So when one of the *agents* picked up the offerings and ate the sandwich he did not know it was already dedicated to me and thus become part of me. So there you have it suddenly I had an unwitting pawn. An avatar for me to do with as I please. Naturally, I started to have a little fun.
First of all I made sure my worshippers were taken care of. Freed from incarceration and with the evidence and reports destroyed this body's memories assured me that no repercussions could follow my worshippers.
Next was to give my worshippers a new home, a new temple with a proper altar. When I last visited this planet my temple had been a glorious place, a true island paradise until jealousy from some upstart named Yahweh sunk it and my worshippers with it. Well now that I had an avatar the tables had turned. His three avatars had come and gone, Musa, Isa and Mohamed all done and dusted.This time I had Gary and things were finally looking up.
As I transported my followers to above my sunken temple they feared the deep water and the oceanic life surrounding them. My temple had gone by many names, as had the worship of me. In Babylon people and the Assyrians worshipped me as Tiamat in a place of wonderful gardens with fountains never seen again (well there is Vegas, but that's all fake anyways). The Greeks and Romans worshipped me as Poseidon and Neptvnvs, but my real home had always been an Island city. It was transcripted as Atlantis but always called R'lyeh and it was time to rise again from the waves. It was time to once again walk this earth. Me as my witness, they shall despair. | My people shall not fall, the police had taken every possible step to pillage our home and now they have taken them all, the humans dig away at my foundations the "lost city" as they call it, deeper and deeper they go and with each time they dropped they take more and more.
They took everything from my home, the fools have no idea what has just happened within their very ranks, they consumed the offerings I had blessed for my devoted, the select few shal soon begin a process that can not be stopped, a hunger unsatisfied, empty breaths and unfelt touch, oh they will suffer.
But you? You did much worse than your friends did, they will die suffering for their crimes but you, you consumed what was meant for the children, the weaker of my society, you stole from them a chance of greatness. Do you feel it? The cold has lifted from your room now, they think you are mad, broken. Nothing from them will help you, no pill or test will save you from me, thief. The doctors think you snapped, don't they? Think you broke seeing my sanctum, you remember that smell? Ohh that's it, the sweet rot that pierced you, detective. Do you regret it? Taking what was not yours? How does it feel knowing you will kill them all?
Turn the television on, go on. Watch the news, see what has happened by stealing from me. That's it look closer, remember her? She was your friend once, dont cry for her, she looks different now doesnt she? Her body has already changed, the bruises, the dark red skin, that's it reach out to her, say her name, go on "Jessica" say it. Look into her eyes, see that look of fear? She heard your voice, listen to that scream, how cute shes begging to hear your voice again, would you like to be united?.
Until you repair what you broke, I shall hold you hostage, every day shall pass as years until you complete me. Inquisitor. | 2020-05-20T01:09:52 | 2020-05-19T23:59:49 | 24 | 17 |
[WP] You gain EXP for everything you kill and you know when you gain EXP. Easy kills like bugs get you only a couple of EXP, tougher kills give more EXP. One day at home doing nothing, you unexpectedly gain 1500 XP... | It was way past midnight when my boss finally allowed me to go home. Having a job as a nurse isn't the easiest thing in the world, but when you're the only nurse in the hospital who can speak Cherokee and the latest person to come into the emergency room just happened to be Native American, well, let's just say I'm pretty sure 50% of my blood had been replaced by coffee.
To say nothing of the fact that the victim had colorectal abscess the size of her entire inner abdomen. I can still smell the horror even after bathing in alcohol.
Anyway, I drive my way through a rather dark winding road, supposedly a scenic route, but it's the only road to my house. I don't normally go home this late, but I also don't want to get fired.
Past midnight even a full moon can't penetrate this darkness, and my somewhat busted headlights can only illuminate so much. It's actually a little scary, but I don't really have a choice.
Earlier, I had considered staying at my friend's house, but then I remembered my dog.
I was driving very fast because I can feel the coffee in my system losing effect, and I do not want to fall asleep and drive off a cliff. In hindsight, that was almost a very bad idea. That was fine for the first five minutes, but then an unexpected bump jolted me and my beloved 1998 Toyota almost off the road. I swerved and turned, but luckily I managed to regain control of it before I looked back on my rearview mirrors.
I had hit a bear, and it was no longer moving. In my peripheral vision I can see my EXP Watch, a device used to keep track of our life experiences, changing rather dramatically, but seeing as I didn't want t stick around, I pressed the accelerator and my car purred to life.
---
The next day, I turned on my TV while sipping coffee. Shift doesn't start in a few hours so I might as well kill time, not that it will change the EXP Watch.
*"And in today's headline, known serial killer Bear Man was recently found dead on Ocean Drive, apparently run over by a vehicle."* said the announcer on the TV as I sat with my jaw open. The TV showed the "bear", actually a man in a costume, being put by police inside a body bag.
*"The serial killer is infamous for dressing up as a bear and mauling his targets to death. He would often hide in winding country roads, waiting for a passing car, before striking and killing them."*
*"How was he never run down?"* asked an interviewer.
*"Well, most of the time people don't speed up in these roads,"* replied the anchor. *"It seemed like someone was in a hurry to go home last night."* | *Plghrt*
> Kill confirmed
*Sigh*
Another bug down, 1XP. Lovely, I'll never reach 10k, not at this rate. It started with the mice and rats, then the cats, fish. It's a privilege to work at a slaughter house or deliver lethal injections. I never could do that, not intentionally. The look in their eyes, the helplessness, betrayal, I cannot stand it. I document stuff, species that are near extinction, such as the common rat, house spider, fly, bee, etc. It helps us understand the value of the kill, why some rats are more valuable than others. Rare species have multiplier depending on the number of units left. White mouse used to be worth 2XP, now it's 200.
*Plarght*
> Kill confirmed
**+1**
*Sigh*
**+1500**
What!? This cannot be, what did I? How? Nothing besides me, but two fruit fly corpses. I must be going mad, am I?
*wuuuuzzzzzzz*
What's that noise? Where is it coming from? Is it the TV again? It starts by itself sometimes, old clunker. I need to check my stats again, it'll be listed there for sure. *looks at the wrist monitor* Nothing!? What was that? Just a question mark next to it, did I kill a new species? Cannot be, I did nothing of the sorts, less than 7mm doesn't count, it cannot be seen and confirmed... Damn, I must confirm it for it to appear on the list. I must check my shoes. I'm almost sober now, let's have a drink first. *opens the fridge* Oh come on, I forgot it doesn't work anymore. A man cannot live with such a low XP count here nowadays. Where did I put my vodka bottle? The toilet bowl? I did put my ice there to melt, right? Nah, this puddle begs to differ. The window? Yup, it's December, must be there.
*The window slides open*
Not this one? Hmm, can't get anything right when I start to sober up *mutter mutter*
*The window slides open*
This one neither? Oh man, I'm gonna die. Wait, maybe it fell down. Lemme check.
> Kill confirmed
Oh no | 2017-05-15T06:24:53 | 2017-05-15T06:23:41 | 5,507 | 10 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | Terrestrial Warp Drives. First proposed by Miguel Alcubierre two hundred formlats ago, The equivalent of forcing space into a shape which closely resembles two black holes stacked fore to aft. It requires insanely large sums of energy to produce the warp effect, equivalent to at least the mass of a small moon converted to energy. To get around this, the Terrestrials use catalytic mass converter engines. A device which has been discredited by the rest of the universe for the complete and utter destructive potential should such a reactor melt down on a planet. They work by converting matter to energy with a catalyst particle. However, they also produce a certain percent of catalyst particles. When this process runs away, it has been known to destroy planets, heavily damaging entire solar systems.
Under order 4,900,232 section III, Human spacecraft are to be classified as "NOT TO BE TOUCHED UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES" on or near a planet, and "DESTROY AT ALL COSTS" in interplanetary space. This is not done as a measure against humans, but as a safety measure across the galaxy. This will be done until a treaty can be made with the terrestrial humans such that they will cease using catalytic mass converters.
Examination of a captured Terrestrial FTL Engine under the Federal Standard Gravity Model suggests that some fairly simple improvements to the Alcubierre-type drive can be made to reduce the energy requirements to what can be managed by fusion and antimatter reaction technology. They need not give up their unique drive. As dangerous as the Terrestrial Drive is, it presents no risk to those outside the vessel. | Trendsetti was looking at the report on the testing of forward-pushed wormhole system, and he wasn't happy.
On paper, FPWS should have been perfect. A space ship does a couple of certain calculations about its destination, sends the results into its Yadari-Futara particle launcher, fires a reversed Yadari particle projectile from it in destination's general direction, and the projectile goes on its way and creates a wormhole for the FTL travel.
In practice, it turned out to work just fine. The downside, as the report states, is that physical objects don't like it when the projectile goes through them, something Yadari and Futara apparently overlooked. Apparently, when the projectile, basically a kind of a miniature black hole, makes a contact with a physical object (say, an alien race's space ship with the emperor of that entire alien race currently on board), the object gets this nasty desire to collapse into itself and blow up (something that alien race is most certainly not going to like).
Trendsetti thought it was funny. Mankind wanted to find a way to travel faster than light but accidentally invented a superweapon instead. Too bad they're probably going to have to use it as such very soon. | 2017-03-31T09:38:09 | 2017-03-31T08:44:19 | 42 | 16 |
[WP] Humans have the reputation of being both an extremely dangerous species and social creatures that are easy to bond with, making them great crew members for voyagers. You and your shipmates are worried about your newly recruited human because you don't know what an introvert is.
Inspired by various "Humans are space orcs" posts from tumblr. I reposted this to change some minor grammar errors | Janus.
Janus, the name of a Terran god of a nation long-dead. I'd puzzled over the human's name for a while now.
I am a cargo ship. Rather, I am the biological component of it - most spacecraft came to be neurologically piloted once the Coalition understood how to navigate the Jump without turning a ship into a thin strip of molten metal scrap alloy and quantum particles. Lets us make navigational shifts as quickly and easily as one could blink one of their eyes, or react to incoming threats as any proper cephalomorphic octopedal should.
With cannons.
... But I am an older model. I've been in service a long while. My parts have been replaced, as has my crew time and time again - as little of the latter as we need. It is nice to have company, of course, especially ones that know how to mend holes in one's body or to pilot the third gun.
... Janus.
We'd lost one of ours in the last skyrate raid. I've always hated going into atmosphere, but the job had to get done. Skyrates love picking ships like me clean, since we're fairly lightly armed in comparison to most Coalition ships and much slower to maneuver. Interstellar missions were much more my speed - in the great big open, there was no gravity or wind resistance to take care of.
... E'Noss went that day. He was our last gunner. Had nobody on deck with a good enough cerebral capacity to replace him. So we had to start filing paperwork.
I'm not all that well versed in this sort of thing, but the crew was thrilled to hear we were getting assigned a human. Odd creatures. Bipedal, internal musculature and skeletal structure, skin that *didn't* produce any sort of mucus. And only some fur, in the strangest places. Barely even any coloration or patterns of note on their hides. But it was apparently their nature which had them so riled up; social, fierce and exceptionally loyal.
Pack animals, they said.
Janus came to us on 17723rd, 6th rotation of Central Hub. The crew was exceptionally eager to show him the ropes, and get him set up on the neurolink. Much of the piloting jobs and management are done that way, of course, not that the more physical way of things isn't just as important.
But... It was odd. Janus seemed distant in a way I could not quite describe. I'd seen perhaps hundreds of crewmates pass in and out of my innards, but him... I could not gauge.
Usually the first thing a newbie would do when stepping on board was to get to know the others. Him? He did not. With a strange sort of patience, he bided his time socializing - short answers, mild pleasantries, the like - but once he was shown to his station, the large Rakk V-model gun up top?
He was *smitten*.
It was almost like the rest of us scarcely mattered. It became his second home, away from the crew quarters. As soon as chattering to the rest came tiring, and this was soon, I could find him on the topside camera again. Sitting in the chair, an entertainment device in hand and food wrappings or dishes by his side.
The rest could not comprehend why he'd been so reclusive, not at first. RaiGon thought him rude to be that way, which I do not think he's fully forgiven. It comes in his nature. Quartaks are quite fond of physical affection, which seemed to offput Janus. I'd thought it to be his number of arms, but that's just ridiculous.
No, the crew wasn't fond of the human at first. For a while, really. Thought it a mistake to bring him on board, felt cheated.
Then our next atmospheric ride came and went.
Janus didn't man the gun. Not the usual way. I had considered taking over, which was of course possible, but...
... He took the manual controls.
Those hadn't been used for years. Of course they were still there, but mainly as a failsafe in case of a neurolink failure or cerebral cascade. It was the strangest feeling to have a part of yourself once more controlled by an outside force.
We all soon learned what he'd been doing all this time up in that cockpit.
*Simulations.*
8 skyrate ships. 3 were taken by the cannons that RaiGon and Celeela were handling. The rest, by a terrifyingly accurate hailstorm of plasma from the main gun.
I took note of how he looked up there, in that time. Nothing like in the lounge, or the quarters, or whilst committing maintenance upon me - no, it was there that I could see past the meekness of Janus' character.
There, I saw the human spirit I'd been so highly spoken of to. In focused eyes, in short but stern orders and warnings to the rest of us. By the Rings, for some moments I felt it was *him* in charge rather than myself. Perhaps for the better, given his results.
A cargo ship that took down an entire squadron. It was unheard of.
Afterwards, the crew began to understand Janus' limits and boundaries. And from understanding came warmth, friendship. Loyalty. It took time, but time was what he needed to come to them as they came to him.
I am cargo freighter CRG-77713, the "Ominous". And I think my crew is going to be alright. | "He hasn't said a fucking thing." Jenassa hissed through gritted mandibles. Over her shoulder she glanced bitterly at the new crew member who was idly flicking through an instruction manual after sheepishly admitting he was unfamiliar with some of the units the ship was using.
Humans were renown for their competence in battle and sheer brutality when it came to practices such as colonialism and genocide, their history was laden with tales of death and destruction, primarily of one another. Maybe this was why they were so rare, if they were so prone to destroying one another they likely didn't risk bumping into others. Either that or the massive distance from the nearest human settlement was to blame for their rarity.
In a city that mainly comprised of Volturans & Optyms, an avian devised race of great builders and a single eyed people with great religious aspects respectively, seeing a human was almost a novelty if not for their fearsome reputation. The threat of human invasion dwindled as their exploration efforts took them further out into the galaxies they had discovered. Many of their intergalactic expeditions took them to prosperity and other times nothing but death, the irony being that if it wasn't the humans that were destroyed it was usually the indigenous species of the planet they landed on. This of course created an environment of distrust when dealing with the hairless primates though it could not be ignored that they were an incredibly capable people and were often recruited for space voyage as it appealed to their nomadic nature and ingrained taste for violence. Humans were sought by some crews, it was a point of pride to some captains, bragging they were able to not only recruit one of the war-faring species but also to direct them as they would any other member of their ship.
"I don't trust 'em." The dark shelled Optym continued, occasionally taking another look at her new colleague, her large dark eye blinking slowly. Jenassa had seen humans before, tearing through the native flora and fauna of her home planet in an excavation effort. The smell of useful resources sent the humans wild and they very rarely took into consideration the consequences of their actions. The mines they had constructed on her home planet were not necessarily fought for but the humans in charge of the colonization used nefarious tactics such as sabotage and political assassination to gain their permissions. Pacing over to the human, who had now diverted his attention to her, Jenassa used the tip of a claw to pull back the manual he was reading from in an attempt to see what had interested him so much. On the page was a large diagram of some of the emergency facilities the ship, The Crocflower, contained, namely the disposal chutes and air locks.
"Told you! He was going to shoot us into space! A damn saboteur!" Jenassa snapped, tearing the instruction booklet from the human's hands. The three other crew members shared a similar reaction of gasps and cries and scrambled to their feet in an effort to begin subduing the snake in their midst. One of the larger crew, a pastel feathered Volturan, approached him and made an attempt to grab him with his strong arms.
It wasn't the first time John had been mistrusted and likely wouldn't be the last. In fairness he was only making sure the ship had the right facilities for him to defecate comfortably but he realized that would sound like nothing but a cover story to the disgruntled mob surrounding him now. Stepping back, he left the grasp of the Volturan and fired his blaster from his hip, deftly removing it from his belt. A large scorching hole was left centre mass and charred feathers were dispersed in the dining area of the ship. More cries and frightened movements brought his attackers closer to him and John felt he had little choice but to defend himself. Jenassa was coming at him first, claws high and mandibles snapping against each other. The single eyed creature had a tough chitinous body but wasn't enough to stop close range blaster fire which pierced her chest twice before separating the lower part of the jaw on her head. By now the blood of at least two species covered the table they had been sat at and as the final two members of the congregation shuffled towards the munitions cabinet, John fired the remainder of his blaster cells in their direction, tearing flesh from bone and cauterizing any wounds small enough.
Stood among the bodies of what was supposed to be his new compatriots, John was surprised at his ability to take them all out. He had grown cynical and his expectations of finding a human-friendly ship were small, but this? This was a little too much. Quickly, he departed through the exit hatch he had just been studying and made his way through the spaceport, which already had various officials milling about in response to the muffled shots.
A week or so later once the investigating concluded as well it could, the news kiosks were alive with the details of the recent slaughter aboard the The Crocflower. Various species surrounded the booth and fought over the recent newstapes that were being distributed. Once absorbing the information inside, they all seemed to agree on at least one point.
"Human beings. Fucking savages." | 2019-11-17T06:28:44 | 2019-11-17T03:38:47 | 100 | 61 |
[WP]You receive a message, "Reply Yes if you can survive the last video game you played." You answer Yes. Your vision blanks and you open your eyes finding that you are at the beginning of said game. You hear a voice "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck" | I did it.
I want to scream, “I did it!” but there’s another camper hanging around and if I scream about completing that awful curry dex, he’ll question what I mean.
I’m the champ, you know. Gotta keep up the image.
I smile to myself and let my sweet little Pokémon (not—they’re IV trained, Gigantamax beasts; if you try and complete the curry dex, you get bored very quickly) enjoy their meal.
That’s when it’s happens. That’s when the night sky goes dark, hurricane like winds take over the sky and I even have to hold my Corviknight down.
“Impossible! Is that the Darkest Day? I thought you stopped it!” Generic Camper Number 729 screams.
Yeah, I did. I beat and caught Eternatos. It’s in my boxes, safely stored away thanks to crappy IVs. Isn’t it angry?
“Stay down,” I tell him like the good champ I am. He doesn’t need to be told twice.
My team is strong. They’re trained to be the strongest. I needed them to beat the battle tree—and to maintain my sanity while dealing with the curry. Competitive play had never been of interest to me, but if you spend years living in Pokémon Sword, you get dragged into the fun of battles.
I often wondered if the online battles I fought were against players in my world.
That’s how it comes to my mind. “It’s not the Darkest Day!” I call out—even my Pokémon look are me as I’m dumb. “It’s my way home!”
Because yes, of course, I can beat Pokémon Sword while being in the game. It’s Pokémon, for heaven’s sake! I enjoyed it at first (until the curry dex came to my mind) and considered staying. It’s just sad that I couldn’t go to Sinnoh or Johto, my favourite regions.
Then again, I suppose, the Sword/Shield final was better (and easier. So much easier.) than a freak wanting to build a new universe.
All goes black—as if it’s indeed the Darkest Day again.
I wake up where I left. In my room, in front of my phone. It tells me that it’s in the morning, and that it’s February 2020.
I left in the morning of a Saturday in February 2020.
“Thank god, I didn’t miss time,” I blurt out.
I eye the message, and wonder what it means to me. Surely I haven’t been gifted the ridiculous amounts of PokéDollars, the items or my Pokémon themselves?
False.
Of course, I had the maximum of cash by the end of my adventures. 99,999 PokéDollars—or yen, in the original games.
That’s why the equivalent off 99,999 PokéDollars lies in front of me.
About 900USD.
But next to what will maybe get me through a month at most, is something of much, much more value.
My bag. And in it, the endless depth of what all items I had. Including all existing clothes, countless berries and cooking items—and the Pokémon Box Link.
And six PokéBalls.
I take one, to test. Release the Pokémon in it. Corviknight roars in my dorm room.
The situation dawns me.
“I got Pokémon. I got ******* Pokémon!”
(Worth the days spent on the curry dex.) | Yet another janky steam account randomly added me. It was surprinsigly quick to reply for once. The only message they typed was "Reply Yes if you can survive the last video game you played.". I just typed "Yes. Whatever, I’d manage", before shutting down my computer for the night. I went to sleep thinking nothing about it.
Still sleeping, I gently hit some kind of ground. I wake up to a strange blueish light and a happy jingle. I stand up and look to my side, there's a tall and hollow metal structure with a light ontop. The blue plasma inside it says the following: "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck" as it vanishes.
I am greeted by applauds and cheers from people around me. They're not exactly human, but I recognise some of them from... Oh no. I'm wearing a suit. I look at my hands... 3 fingers and a thumb. I look at my feet... stubs. I try to reach my nose... not there! I stumble back in surprise, letting out a short cry.
My voice! It's a somewhat high pitched electronic sound! It doesn't sound like a language, yet I can understand what one of them was telling me: "Don't worry, it's always strange to come out of the pod.". They help me up, and tell me I was printed because my skills were good for becoming a rocket pilot quickly.
That’s definitely going to help. If I’m stuck in this game, then my main goal is to get to space and launch the rocket. But I’ve never been on their side before! I’ve always been on the outside, giving them tasks to fullfill and schedules to follow! I hear a bell-like sound, and everyone scatters. Downtime’s over.
I hear orders left and right, put on high priority. I work a bit to pass time... Until the next downtime. The others lead me to a "recreation room" to "reduce my stress level". I’ve already seen it somewhere... The guy on the outside put so much furniture, it’s a bit ridiculous.
Of course! It’s my little brother’s save! I need to get his attention. He already reached the surface, he only needed to build a rocket and find a pilot. Seems like he’s noticed me, I felt that I’m being watched since downtime started.
I’ve already earned enough experience today to become an advanced researcher. At this rate, I’ll be a rocket pilot in a few "days" and "win" the game. It’s "nap time" already, and I see orders to build the rocket being scheduled for tomorrow. I’ve got long days ahead of me. When this is over, I’m definitely bringing a Hatch home.
This is my first submission to this sub. The prompt felt a bit inspiring, so I tried to write something. Hopefully, it was enjoyable to read. Feedback's welcome! | 2020-02-17T00:45:30 | 2020-02-16T23:10:29 | 31 | 15 |
[WP] As a vampire, I follow traditions. My fiancé is human and just found out that human brides/grooms are to be bit to become a vampire themselves. She absolutely refuses to let that happen, and says the wedding is off unless I refuse to bite her. I feel like she's disrespecting tradition. AITA? | **EDIT:**
I'm sorry I haven't replied to many of you, I went to sleep and then had a talk with my fiancé, I really didn't expect this to blow up!
A few of you are suggesting she was being selfish and that I should leave her. My family were actually suggesting the same thing, but I didn't want to be rash, I do love her.
Anyway, my family and I had a meeting with her and her family. It seems like there was a lot of misunderstanding on both sides. The book I gave her on vampire traditions kind of glossed over EVERYTHING, just giving basic descriptions without any detail. We had a proper discussion about her fears and worries, as well as vampire traditions.
She was worried about losing friends, not being able to eat garlic, and being awake at night (turns out she's scared of the dark, how cute!) My family have reservations about letting the marriage go forward, my family is strict on culture and tradition.
I managed to convince them that I love my fiancé too much, and said I'd rather become human for her than lose her, so we decided that, since I had worked really hard to live her family's lifestyle, in the few months leading up to the wedding she'll live mine and we'll see how she feels about living like a vampire.
Let's see how this goes. Wish me luck! (Oh, and to those who suggested I ditch her... don't leave your house at night...) | NAH
Vampires have a tradition of biting human partners at their wedding, but humans don't. In fact, we have a tradition of wanting to remain living, healthy and whole, inherited all the way back from reptilian ancestors millions of years ago. You seem to have respected that just fine until now, you even came to talk about how you are aware of it. Humans also happen to often have strong opinions on traditions.
For some reason, you assumed she would be okay with being bitten and she assumed such thing wouldn't happen. I'm sure you both worked past a lot of things to get your relationship to this point, and this takes both, all the differences considered. Just keep in mind she didn't disrespect vampire traditions, because she is not a vampire. Unfortunately, she can't both be transformed and not transformed so one must give. On the other hand, humans are comparatively short lived and fragile so do make sure you know what she actually wants you to do regarding her health moving on - bodily autonomy is fundamental. Disrespecting that with any partner would make you a huge AH. | 2022-11-28T21:23:09 | 2022-11-28T17:15:37 | 50 | 18 |
[WP] You've just invented time travel. You decide to go exactly 1 year into the future and speak to the first person you see, "Hey what day is it?" "364." "What do you mean 364?" "It's been 364 days since the incident. | "What incident?" I asked the twenty-something homeless man with the year old Jordan's.
"We're not allowed to talk about it. He's watching." He says with fear.
He begins to run.
I shout, "Who's watching!"
The man disappears. I step out from the alley behind the bar. The city looks abandoned and the only people I see are homeless. I see a man digging through the garbage. He was tall and had a mole on his cheek.
"Tom?" I ask to the man digging through the garbage, "Tom Beverly is that you?"
"How do you know my name?" Tom says with big round eyes.
"Wow Tom, you've lost weight!"
"How do you know my name! Who are you!" He exclaims in anger.
"Tom it's me. It's Jack, your neighbor."
"Nonsense!" Tom exclaims, "Jack is presumed dead! Tell me who you really are. You are too well dressed to be from around here. You must be from the capital."
"Tom just tell me what happened 364 days ago."
"No." And just like that he runs off.
I turn around to look for the next available person but the commotion scared people off. I begin to walk. I'm hungry and confused and all I want is to see a familiar face.
I stop and look up. In front of me is a statue of me on a horse.
"How could this be?" I think aloud.
"Jack Nicholsen. November 30, 2016" It reads.
"That's impossible!" I say, "I traveled a year further. How could they have this statue of me?"
"He's coming!" I hear.
People ran towards the next vacant building. I stay put. The hooves of the horse are getting closer and closer; Suddenly, I'm overcome by a shadow.
"Welcome Jack. I've been waiting."
I walk to the other side of the statue only to see myself on it. I had a beard and sideburns and my face looked aged.
"What's going on?"
"You are Jack. You caused all of this," I respond.
"There's no way. People here are scared of me. I was just a janitor," I said to myself.
"You're more now Jack. Ever since the incident you are now in control."
"What incident!" I shout.
He pushes a button on the statue of me and the dark empty town turns white.
"Welcome Jack," says the doctor.
"Huh? Who are you?" I ask.
"My name is Tom Beverly. I am your doctor. You were in a coma for 364 days." | "Hey what day is it?"
She looked a bit annoyed, as if the answer couldn't be anymore obvious. "364"
"What do you mean 364?"
Now she looked even more bothered, "It's been 364 days since the incident"
The tone of her voice hit me like a brick being thrown at my stomach. She spoke as if the worst possible thing had happened that day. What kind of event could have happened that caused the entire country to reset the way we look at the calendar? Had Jesus Christ come back from heaven? I was curious but didn't want to probe any further. Another dumb question from me and she might blow a gasket. She turned around and continued walking at her brisk pace, crossing her arms to protect herself from the frigid New York City wind.
I pulled out my phone from my pocket, obviously I had no service since I hadn't paid a phone bill in a year. I ran to the nearest coffee shop with free WiFi, ordered a large cup of Joe and was pleased to see that the currency hadn't changed since "the incident". I sat down in the warm cafe and the smell of fresh roasted beans brought a sense of calm to the situation. I logged into the WiFi and began where every search begins. I simply typed "the incident" into my search bar.
Unsurprisingly, thousands of news articles popped up from various news sources. I stuck with Wikipedia, my go-to.
*Last updated Nov 7, 2017 08:35*
"'The incident' was a series of events that occurred on November 8, 2016 that led to massive riots, chaos, and death." I had to take a second to breath. I knew the next few sentences would be what i was looking for, and I wanted to brace myself for it. I don't know what I was expecting, perhaps a nuclear bomb had gone off, or the president was assassinated. What I read was much worse...
"The massive hysteria was caused by the election of the 45th president of the United States [Donald John Trump (R)](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Donald_Trump)"
| 2016-06-30T08:38:00 | 2016-06-30T08:24:31 | 119 | 89 |
[WP] The billionaire smiled as he took his first steps on the alien world. Then he took off his helmet to breathe deeply while his crew watched in horror. He never had wanted to go to space: it had all been about coming home. | "Well you did it, Reginald ol' boy." The man in the suit and glasses under his space gear blurts out in response of the looks.
Reginald looked displeased, though it was hard to tell, when the same expression is always carried.
Reginald stays silent.
"Are you good? We weren't intendeding on staying. We packed enough oxygen to drop you off, head back to the launch packet, dock and make our way to home station but home trip." The suit and glasses answers to the silence. Which is now apparent he is the government official in charge of the mission.
Reginald sternly looks back.
"Do you see my anything of interest to me here."
His eyes widen in an apparent realization.
"My calculations are correct. We are in the right spot. The technology I sold your government must have made some sort of temporal anomaly. In saving your world ive sacrificed being in mine. Im not sure whats next but I need to get back and correct the transnational ties between the multiverse."
The government official retorts. "If you take back what you have given us, we will have an existential crisis. Our nation will collapse. Our...."
"Enough! Whats done is done." Reginald interupts. "I cant take back the knowledge you've obtained. Nor trace the technology you've sold to other nations, contrary to our agreement. The motion is forward but we can correct the anomaly between the created universe and intended. Take me to my new home."
As the crew turn back to to the ship. Reginald sees a reflection in his monocle, in the outline on a boy, crouched behind a rock in a makeshift spacesuit. He grins as what comes next seems apparent. | Zucharia, known to humans as Zuckerberg had wanted to return home since he first became trapped on the backwards world. And the tales he had to tell! And as he looked through the all too familiar scene of his buetiful homeworld he couldn’t help but feel a sense of nostalgia. As he was approached by his fellow reptilians he quickly shed his disguise and explained what had transpired.
His cohorts asked what they should do about his crew. Zucharia pondered the question for a moment. Humanity was a very flawed race but then that is the flaws of free will. And he was confident that they were ready to join the galactic federation. And so Zucharia instructed his cohorts to send for a first contact team and begin the first steps for integrating humanity into the galactic community.
With his instructions delivered, Zucharia was finally able to return to his all too familiar home and reclined on his sun-bed. After all these years, the first thing he would do is rest. And tomorrow he would begin the process of showing his new friends how buetiful the galaxy truly is. And they would be able to explore it and all it’s wonders. But Zucharia himself had seen all he wanted of the universe, and he was happy to finally be able to retire in peace. | 2020-10-14T15:13:31 | 2020-10-14T15:12:54 | 18 | 13 |
[WP] A genie will grant you three wishes under the condition that your wishes will also be granted to your archenemy. | I cocked my head at the genie, trying to comprehend the situation. "So none of that literalist loophole stuff I hear in legend, none of the three rules from Aladdin."
"Correct," said the genie, his solemn face and deep voice completely neutral.
"So... *if* I were to say, 'I wish for a million bucks,' I'd get a million dollars, and not a million male deer, and not have those million dollars somehow inaccessible? And I could wish for more wishes? And I could wish for someone to come back from the dead? And I could wish for someone to fall in love with me?"
"Yes to all of those."
"So... the wish would get interpreted as my heart truly desires it?"
"Yes. On the sole condition that..."
"...my worst enemy also gets the same wishes granted. Yes, I think I understand now."
I turned away and started pacing the the dim little cave, pondering my choices and the consequences. I could act as if it were a regular genie and make my wishes as I normally would, but that would mean my rival would get the same things and turn that against me. I could wish for harm to befall my rival, but that would mean that I would be harmed too; plus, I'd be stuck without my heart's desire. I could wish for something that would be heaven to me, and hell to him, but that just seemed petty.
"Should I leave you some more time to think?" asked the genie.
I shook my head and turned back towards the flickering light of the golden lamp. "No, I think I know what I want."
"Then master," he said, bowing with his hands wide towards me, "what is your first wish?"
"I wish me and my enemy were good friends." | My mega-sized Nutella cake sat half-eaten on the table, beside the pallet of hundred dollar bills. I slouched back in the chair and let out a long burp. Good food in my belly and one hundred million dollars richer. Life was good.
"Ahem," the genie cleared his throat.
"Sorry," I tried and failed to get upright, "oof, that was a lot of Nutella though!"
"Yeah yeah, just hurry it up. I got a barber's appointment in a bit," the genie checked his watch.
I tried again to sit up but there was just too much food in my belly. I gave up and wiped a chunk of Nutella off my cheek. "Dammit, this is like one of those bad jokes. So Erin is seriously gonna get the same thing I got?"
"That's what I said, yes."
*Well fuck.* I rolled my eyes. *Fuck Erin.*
"You gonna make your third wish or what?" The genie tapped his watch.
"All right." I finally got up with some effort. "I wish I was swimming in a giant pile of peanuts. Unsalted, please."
*Poof.* My chair was replaced by a mound of delicious peanuts. The genie disappeared.
I smiled. Erin was allergic to peanuts. Fuck Erin. | 2015-05-25T16:20:31 | 2015-05-25T13:22:05 | 77 | 47 |
[WP] "When entering the academy students often bring their pets. Most being the typical miniature dragon, gryphon, sabertooth, even the occasional golem. However you decided to bring this...this thing. I'm afraid the headmaster will need to hear of this." | "Are you kidding me!? Leonard's not a 'thing', he's my puppy!" Rusty shouted, holding the tiny corgi puppy up to the Deputy Headmistress's face. Deputy Headmistress Stroude let out an uncharacteristic shriek and jumped back.
"GET THAT FILTHY LITTLE DEMON AWAY FROM ME!" she screeched.
"How dare you say something like that to a sweet boy like Leonard!? You were fine with all the god-awful monsters the other losers brought!" shouted Rusty.
"Miss Bailey, I recommend that you do not badmouth your fellow students. After all, you are here on a scholarship-"
"Yeah, against my will! You bombarded my fuckin' house with owls and talking letters until I came here just to make it stop!"
"*Miss Bailey,* it is not your place to badmouth our fine academy's generosity!"
"And it's not *yours* to give Leonard shit," Rusty retorted, crossing her arms. Deputy Headmistress Stroude sighed and pinched her nose.
"Ah, you human-borns are all the same," she muttered.
"And you magic bitches are all stuck-up assholes, but you don't see *me* whining about *you*! Or your creepy-ass lizard!" Rusty pointed to the purple mini dragon perched on the Deputy Headmistress's shoulder. The dragon flicked out its forked tongue and let out a quiet hiss.
"Russetta Alexandra Bailey, you have been nothing but a thorn in my side and disgrace to magical kind since you came here! The Headmaster *will* be hearing about this!" Deputy Headmistress Stroude shouted, storming away.
"Cool! Make sure to tell him my pup's name is Leonard! That's *Lehhh-nurrd!* L-E-O-N-A-R-D!" Rusty called after her. The Deputy Headmistress muttered something about 'those unruly human-borns' before vanishing from sight.
\*\*\*
"Headmaster Cellius, you can *not* let that *ruffian* from The Bronx wreak havoc on our school like this! She's already put three students in the medical ward with her ***fists***, made two teachers cry, and made four lovely Wizard-Borns from good families transfer to other schools out of pure fear!" ranted Deputy Headmistress Stroude. "And now, she brought that horrible creature into our academy! Something *must* be done about her!"
"Deputy Headmistress, do you remember what the prophecy said?" the Headmaster asked calmly. "*The most unlikely of-*"
"Yes, yes, I know, but surely it didn't mean *that* unlikely!"
"I'm afraid it did, Deputy Headmistress. Leave my office at once, and do try to give Miss Rusty a bit of breathing room. Perhaps she wouldn't be so tempted to violate our rules if you didn't cram them down her throat all the time," Headmaster Cellius said firmly. Deputy Headmistress Stroude glared at him, but backed out of the office without giving him a hard time. Headmaster Cellius sighed. While Stroude was a fine second-in-command most of the time, she could be quite a handful. He actually quite liked Rusty: She was drastically different from most of the students here, and reminded him of his young self. And, of course, he loved dogs.
​
EDIT: Holy crap, thanks so much for all the awards! Glad to see you guys liked the idea of a dog-loving Hogwarts (well, some similar school) student from The Bronx as much as I did :) | Finally! I was at the magical place. I couldn’t wait to tell Ma and Pa about all the fancy things I'm gonna be seein’ here. I got selected because of some fancy jean-etics I got in me. Don’t think it make too much sense. But Pa said he was a supporter because it was a free tuition.
In the letter I got, it said that I could bring a magical pet of my choosing. Well in my book, all pets are magical. I once had this dog that went down the creek with me and used to swim with me and once it brought me my sandwich and we could play fetch and he was just the smartest little dog I ever done met and I took that dog everywhere.
Well, anyhow, I went and got my favorite pet. It was a lizard lookin’ thing that I’d done found when I went fishin’ with some my cousins up in Wisconsin. I almost brought the monkey we got in Florida that time, but my kid brother was just too darn attached to take him.
Anyway, the day came and I had to go off to school. All the way in Europe. I think that’s the place the world wars happened, wasn’t too sure. I wonder if I’ll see any battles.
So anyway, I got there. And they had these big oak doors. Like they were huge. I couldn’t even touch top of ‘em. A nice old lady opened the right door.
“Oh hello! You must be Bernie!”
“Yes ma’am,” if nothing else, I was taught to be polite.
“Alright then, why don’t you come on in. Let’s see what you’ve got here. Clothes? Okay. Toiletries?”
“What is a toilet tree, ma’am?”
“Things like a toothbrush, toothpaste, basic hygienic equipment,” she explained very nicely.
“Okay, no ma’am I don’t have those. We don’t brush our teeth on account that my Pa says it’s a scam by the government to control us. And we don’t need to damage our teeth with their paste,” she gave a concerned look but moved on with her list.
She asked about any pets. I told her of course and I showed her Hornsy. She started freaking out. I didn’t understand what was wrong. Afterall he was just a lil’ guy. Just over seven foot long. She left me in the hallway and ran to get the principal fellow. He came by and started yelling at me about my Hodag, as he called him. I told him that that was a very rude name to call someone and he couldn’t help his facial appearance and there is no need for that kind of language around the little feller. They claimed he might hurt somebody and I said well no more than them dragons might hurt somebody.
After insulting my Hornsy I just took him right back home and forgot all about that place. Darn fancy people always ruinin’ everything. Ma and Pa were happy enough to see me on account of it was harvesting time and my brother hurt his hand when he went handfishin’. I was home and happy and that’s what mattered. But more importantly was Hornsy seemed to be doing okay after the verbal abuse he had to tolerate. | 2021-08-02T09:56:00 | 2021-08-02T06:34:34 | 706 | 51 |
[WP] You faked your death by live-streaming jumping off a bridge. Built a self sustaining house in isolation and lived off the grid. 20 years go by and you decide to head back to civilization only to find out that your country is no longer a country. Earth is one nation and has achieved singularity. | It took me a while to figure out what was going on when I made my way back to civilization, I had expected that of course, the world is bound to change when you live isolated for 20 years. First of all everyone seemed to be speaking some language I had never heard of before called Terran, and most people were pretty bad at it. It wasn’t too much of a hassle to make do with English, honestly most folks seemed pretty happy to switch over when they had an excuse. Seemed like the language had only been introduced some 7 years back and outside of the language buffs most people had only really started picking it up in the last couple of years. I played off my own lack of skill in the language by using my beard, playing the grumpy old timer who don’t like that newfangled stuff became an extremely useful persona.
I headed to a nearby library to figure out what had been going on and a very kind librarian showed me how to use their computer hairbands. Well they called them a Neural Network Interface, but it still just looked like a fancy headband to me. It somehow connected me to something called The Link, from what I was able to gather it was like the internet 2.0, all the information of the post digital age available at a thought. I thought it was just a bunch of servers like in my day but when I pondered how it worked the information became known to me instantly. I didn’t read anything or research anything, I just knew that The Link was a network built and maintained by its user’s brains. Everyone who accessed The Link became a part of it, their knowledge shared with and backed up by the rest of the Link should any seek it out. You didn’t need to read a book to have read it, The Link would allow your brain to establish the necessary neural connections to have already read it.
The Link had been established ten years prior, by the central government of Growth. The party had sprung up in almost every country on earth twenty years ago, one last massive concerted effort by the people to save their planet. They all traced their lineage back to an environmental activist who in one final demonstration against the destruction of our planet had thrown himself from a bridge wearing biodegradable clothe in an effort to show that if someone had to pay the cost to save the world it might as well be us. It admittedly took me by surprise, I had barely had 30 thousand viewers during that final livestream, to think that that act of defiance had made such a difference. The Growth parties had taken the message to heart, getting voted into power across the world on promises of inter nation cooperation and immediate and drastic action against climate change.
They took power in most nations through democratic elections, a few dictators and single party “democracies” were overthrown. Some of the last countries to elect Growth being China and Saudi Arabia, but with the massive green reforms taking place all over the globe Saudi Arabia felt its economy trembling and eventually joined mostly out of fear of being left out of the green boom the world economy was experiencing. China was the last holdout and one of the most troublesome states to deal with, they felt the international power they had built up crumble within just a few short years as the environmental impact of Chinese produced electronics became a hot button topic in world politics. Eventually the nation held an election and for the first time included other parties than the communist party, Growth put up good numbers but the communist party won the election. For 3 more years the communist party held power and for 3 more years the Chinese economy crumbled, when elections were held again the last nation on earth elected Growth.
Treaties and declarations were signed for well over a decade by the different nations of the world and slowly but surely the planet came under the collective rule of Growth. A stray thought brought information of the great unity of growth flooding into my mind and I reached up to pull the headband off with trembling fingers. This world, in twenty years this world had been remade and it terrified me. I had somehow been the catalyst for the largest societal upheaval in millennia, and I wasn’t sure if I liked the world I saw. Growth had built a world of Unity and sustainability just as I had dreamt of, but the way it had been built. The way nations had been absorbed by Growth when their economies collapsed because Growth refused to trade with them. I wasn’t sure if the ends justified the means, I just knew that I had somehow been a part of building this world and that no matter if I condemned or condoned what had become of the world, I had no part in it.
I was dead, had been for 20 years and my death had remade the world, it had been the first death of millions across the world as nations fell and rose up once more as part of Growth. If my death was revealed to be a sham the hard fought stability of the world would be threatened. So I retreated into the wilderness and to my old life, wondering if I had made the world better or worse.
---
A young girl putting the finishing touches on a class project about the history of Growth slipped on her NNI and once again asked for information about the original activist who had set events in motion. She expected to gain nothing more than an assurance she had remembered everything, but in her brain new neural pathways formed, and she knew. | *Embrace the Singularity*
The signs were posted everywhere in my old neighborhood. Not just on telephone poles and street corners, but covering windows, plastered throughout stores, and most people even wore clothing sporting stylized versions of the phrase. Leo wondered why there was still so much marketing around the move. It had obviously been embraced.
His first stop was to his old apartment building. He was pretty sure his old friends would have moved on after twenty years, but it was somewhere to start. The facade of the building had been drastically changed and Leo couldn't find the buzzers or any indication of who lived there.
He stepped back and looked up at the dark windows of the apartments. Leo figured someone had to come in or out in a few minutes, so he'd just wait to see how they did it. He tried to look casual as he waited and not like some kind of creepy stalker, but it was difficult. So many of the mannerisms and personal habits of people had changed. Back when he'd lived in the city, it was common courtesy to avoid eye contact. It was a necessity for a semblance of privacy in a place so crammed with people.
Now, every single person that passed made a point of looking him directly in the eye. Some even slowed their pace while walking to try and hold what Leo considered a disturbing level of eye contact outside of a staring contest. A few people even muttered as he actively tried to avoid their gaze.
Tucked off to the side of the building, Leo noticed more and more that seemed out of place in this new singular world. There was an appalling lack of diversity. Not in terms of race or gender, but in age, and well, attractiveness. Everyone walking seemed to be in their twenties and beautiful. No children, no older people, no haggard faces clutching a cup of coffee. Just alert, gorgeous, and bright-eyed people all staring at each other.
Just as Leo was losing his nerve, about to run back to his cabin in the woods and finish the next 40 years of his life in isolation, he recognized a familiar face approaching the building. Leo was about to rush out to Sandra, excited that one of his friends did indeed still live in the building despite the years that had passed, until he noticed she was *too* familiar. In fact, except for the drab "Embrace the Singularity" clothes she wore, she looked exactly the same as she had twenty years ago. In a cabin in the middle of nowhere, Leo may have aged worse than the average person around here, but she looked like a living time machine.
Leo stayed to the side and waited as he debated whether he was being paranoid after so many years alone. Maybe he didn't remember her as well as he thought, maybe medical treatment had made huge advances. Leo had just made the decision that this whole return to society plan had been a bad idea and he was going to return to his safe cabin, when Sandra stopped just short of the apartment door and cocked her head.
"Yes, unauthorized organic recognized." She stood motionless for another moment, her eyes glazed and unfocused. "I understand," she said and turned to look directly at Leo.
"Leo!" she squealed with the same enthusiasm he'd always remembered. "It's been forever! We thought you were dead! Come here, come here." She trotted over to him, her grin overpowering.
"Hi Sandra," Leo fidgeted uncomfortably, "Yeah, it's a really long story."
"Well I want to hear all of it! You have to come inside!" she wrapped one hand around Leo's wrist and started to pull him towards the door. Her grip was strong, painfully so. Leo tried to grab his hand back reflexively after such a forceful grasp.
"I can't," Leo said as he tried and failed to dig in his heels. "I have other plans right now. But I can come back later." He tried to peel her fingers off his wrist, but she didn't even acknowledge the effort. She only continued to pull him towards the entrance of the building.
"Nonsense," she said without looking back at him. "It will only take a minute. I have some friends I want you to meet."
Leo then put his full strength into resisting her, thrashing and pushing against her hand. But her hand might as well be made of metal.
*Might as well, because it was.* Leo began scratching and punching at her hand with no effect. As he tried to wrestle it off, his finger caught on a small latch on the underside of her wrist. Leo was able to snap it open and inside felt the wires and artificial metallic joints.
*Embrace the Singularity*. Leo was almost face to face with a wall of the signs as Sandra reached to open the door to the building. *Singularity*. The double meaning only became apparent to Leo as the door clicked shut behind him.
r/StaceyOutThere | 2019-11-12T06:53:02 | 2019-11-12T06:25:57 | 2,518 | 90 |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.