prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
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[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way. | PARIS (AP) Leaders from 42 countries gathered in the French capital Tuesday to thank the police detective who singlehandedly defeated the terrorist group known as ISIS.
Inspector Jacques Clouseau still seemed a little dazed from his ordeal in Syria, saying only "I do not know who zis ISIS person is, I am just glad ze Pink Panther is returned safely."
Clouseau traveled to Syria last month in pursuit of the famed jewel.
Reports on the incident may never be complete, but captured ISIS militants from destroyed bases in the region indicated destroyed weapons stockpiles, large fires, infighting and in one case, a base leader crushed to death by a falling piano ultimately lead to the total collapse of the organization and the surrender of the few surviving members.
Clouseau was awarded high honors from several nations including the US and his own France.
He was also awarded a cash prize large enough to retire from police work forever, on the condition that he retire from police work forever. | They swept across the dunes, conquering all foes before them. Charging forward to the roar of cannon and rifle, no stronghold or fort could stem the tide of red and gold that spew forth from the edge of the horizon. Like the sea, this force could not, would not be restrained by weather, terrain or people in the pursuit of black and gold. Even after there was nothing left, the body still raged, searching, pulsating. Waiting to consume all.
Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition. | 2016-01-29T07:27:42 | 2016-01-29T07:22:10 | 1,067 | 43 |
[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… | I remember it like it was yesterday. Maybe because it was, i don't know. Ever since they locked me into this pitch black room my sense of time has gone away. What i can say for sure is that it was my 14th birthday. Oh i was so excited. The day you turn 14 is the day you get your power. My entire life up until that point i was dreaming of that day. What id be like, what power id get, how life would be different after, and how id use my power to take over the world.
Other than it being my birthday everything was very normal. I woke up to the rich bitter smell of coffee in the morning. When i entered the kitchen my mom was sitting at the wooden table staring the chocolate cake on the table. On the cake in white lettering was "Happy Birthday! My Little Superhero". When my mom saw me her face lit up and she said,
"Do you know what today is?" I could tell she was joking so with a sly grin i said,
"No, is today special or something." We both laughed. As we were eating the cake my mom saw that her coffee was ready and got up. As she walked over i heard a knock on the door. My heart stopped. I dropped my fork. I took a deep breath. I looked over at my mom and she looked at me with nervous excitement. I got from my chair and waled to the door and opened it. Standing before was a man, no say a being with pitch black skin, no eyes and a wide grin its face. I knew what it was, everyone does. We call them Gift Givers. No one knows the origin of them all we know is that since the dawn of man The Gift Givers were their giving powers to us.
In the Gift Givers hand was a black envelope with a white x on it. It reached out its hand trying to give me the envelope and i took it. As i did that it started chuckling. It turned around and started walking away from my house. Its chuckle soon turned into a manic laugh as it walked farther and farther away. It creeped me out a little bit. I closed the door and went back into the kitchen. My mom was waiting at the table, her cup of coffee hadnt been drunk yet.
"Open it," she said.
I sat down at the table. I looked at the envelope, my hands were shaking. From this point on my life begins i thought to myself. Unbeknownst to me that would mark the end of my life.
I opened the envelope that seemingly pitch black. In it was a piece of paper that was also pitch black with whiter letter on it that read,
"Dont open your eyes"
"Huh?"
"What is it?" My mom said.
"It says dont open your eyes. What does that even mean?" My mom had a puzzled look on her face as she thought about it. then she said,
"why dont you try closing your eyes and see what happens?" Just then i closed my eyes. Immediately after that i heard voices screaming "Dont open your eyes!" They kept saying. The sound of someone cracking their knuckles filled the room. I could hear my mom make a quick gasp.
"Mom?" I opened my eyes and i started screaming. My moms head was rested on the table her neck was longer than normal. it was like someone spun her head around a million times. Her eyes were bulged and her face was purple. Just then people in white rushed into the kitchen. I think i was hit with a tranquilizer dart because when i woke up i was in this room. Theres a speaker somewhere in this room. A robotic voice told me that i was what was known as a an unstable variant. It didnt really explain what that meant it just said that it was unsafe for me to be allowed to be amongst other people. Since then ive just in this room. Sometimes the loud voices come back to me. Yelling DONT OPEN YOUR EYES!
​
Please tell me everything wrong with how i wrote this and what i can do to get better. | “Don’t use your power.”
Those four words punched me harder in the gut than Carl did at the playground yesterday. This was the one thing I’ve been looking forward to. The sole solution to all my problems, turning me from nobody into someone worthy of a little attention and a lot more respect.
Instead, there were those four mocking words.
“Don’t use your power.”
No lengthy explanations. I’ve seen the ones my parents showed me. Dad’s explained in detail about how hair loss will increase his strength, including mathematical equations that explained in detail the extent of his potential power. He still has a surprisingly full head of hair, however, which might explain why no hero agency ever came knocking.
Mom gained brief bursts of superspeed only on Tuesdays, right after hearing a clock striking twelve times, for twelve seconds. She said it made the decision to go grocery shopping or run errands far easier on Tuesdays.
Me? Nada. Zilch. Just… don’t use my powers.
“Why,” I whispered to myself, clutching the almost-blank letter in my hand. I wanted to burn it to a crisp. Throw it out the window.
I stared at my hands, clenching them into tights fists. What could happen if I just disobeyed the letter? If I just started using my powers right there and then, who was going to stop me from doing so? I’ll just pretend I was illiterate. After banging my head on the walls so many times, some self-inflicted and some not, it was almost certain that I’ve lost quite a few brain cells along the way.
I crushed the paper completely, depositing it into the waste bin before heading outside, plopping myself down on the front lawn. I looked up into the clear blue sky, watching grey clouds rolling in, latecomers to a pity party.
“No explanation,” I murmured. “Maybe it’s powerful. So powerful that even they were afraid of me releasing it.”
I closed my eyes. I recalled what my parents used to say. The powers were strange, esoteric, and specific, but they could always feel that it was coming. It was a boiling inside you, churning water desperately trying to find an escape path.
All you had to do was to let it out. It was a part of me, after all.
I looked inward. I swam, deep down, holding my breath. It was abstract, but it was the best I’ve got—if nobody else was going to tell me what to do.
So I dived. Dug. Deeper and deeper, until I felt a wailing wind buffeting me. That was undeniably power! There was so much. It frothed and bubbled doggedly, more like magma under a volcano than a quiet creek.
I grasped it. Pulled it out triumphantly, holding it up like a trophy. I’ve never held one before, and even a pretend one brought a smile to my face.
The heat continued to build. Bubble, froth, and well within me. I felt sweat dripping from every pore. I started cackling, delirium settling in.
This was power. It was as sure as the Sun. And now I knew why it ran away, sending the clouds to shield its own eyes. It was afraid! There was to be a new star, shining bright, exploding onto the scene.
I coughed and hacked. It was filling my lungs. My airways. Rushing towards my mouth, and I belched out a loud boom.
I heard something click.
There wasn’t even time for one last thought.
Then, an explosion burst forth from within, engulfing me entirely.
---
r/dexdrafts | 2022-05-08T10:30:53 | 2022-05-08T10:04:14 | 48 | 22 |
[WP] A typical day in a world where EVERYTHING is socially acceptable.
EVERYTHING. Dear god I can only imagine the responses to this one. | Cunt was late for their breakfast, but Turd didn't mind. He had just finished masturbating when Cunt arrived, and the waiter handed them their menus. The prices at the Swastika Cafe were pretty high, but the food was insane.
Turd ordered his customary shrimp cocktail with chocolate sauce and mayo, and Cunt went for a simple veal steak with foie gras.
"Been waiting long?" asked Cunt, as she started to clip her toenails.
"No, it's fine," said Turd, "I was just rubbing one out to your latest facebook photo."
"Nice," said Cunt. "Any plans today?"
"Well, I've got work. Then I was thinking of looking up some Star Wars-themed incest erotica, then maybe see a movie in the evening. You?"
"I've got work at the nursing home today, so I figure I'll score some meds and go through some purses."
"Awesome," Turd belched, wetly. "Man, I had the most epic shit this morning. It fucking spurted out of my ass like a rusty mist."
Cunt laughed. "You should instagram that shit."
Just then, the waiter arrived. "Here's your food, shitbags," he said, plonking down the plates. "I jerked off in hers and their's a few of my pubes in yours, sir."
"Sweet," Turd said, "Thanks. By the way, your hair is fucking lame."
"Whatever, man," the waiter replied, before letting out a long, wet fart. "Anyway, if you need anything I'll be browsing 4chan on this awesome laptop I stole from a guy having a heart attack."
"Ayy lmao," said Turd.
"Ayy lmao," Cunt echoed.
"The Holocaust was exaggerated," the waiter smiled, and left them to their meal. | "Sarah?"
"Yes?" She called up the stairs.
Tutting after a seconds silence she walked up two steps and let her hand fondly linger on the embossed bust of the Führer; again: "yes?"
"I can't find my gun! I left it right here in the drawer all I can find are the photos of the terminal ward orgy and the other box of ammunition, what gives?"
Sarah, a tad narked at just having seen his gun downstairs where he'd ACTUALLY left it led him downstairs. Upon holstering it John made a quick sandwich with leftover neighbour and lettuce he'd grown in his weed loft and went to leave the house. A shrill call from the doorbell startled him and a teardrop of mustard plopped onto the carpet. With a cool anger in his eyes he gently set the plate down on an ornate small table next to the front door. Greeted by a bandage clad postman and his quick to follow pleas of "oh for fucks sake not again please" he drew his gun, a sexy little number from belgium, and shot the postman in the leg three times. Amid screams of pain and choked "see you tomorrow morning"s John waved at the occupant of the house opposite who was fingering herself on the front lawn and went inside. | 2014-08-20T06:51:07 | 2014-08-20T03:34:41 | 33 | 20 |
[WP] You live in an uber-religious society in 3543, and the biggest historical discovery has just been made. It is a video, and will be broadcast across the world. No one knows it's contents, and no one can stop the broadcast once it begins. "history of the entire world, i guess" by bill wurtz. | "Hi, you're on a rock, floating in space."
No we're not. We are in the paradise God intended when he made this true, flat earth.
"Pretty cool, huh? Some of it's water - fuck it! Actually, most of it's water."
Yes, except most of is irradiated.
"I can't even get from here to there without... Buying a boat."
A what?
"It's sad. I'm sad. I miss you."
Who do you miss?
***🎶🎶How did this happen?🎶🎶***
Easy, Go- oh, it's starting again.
"A long time ago, and also never, and also now, nothing was nowhere."
When?
"Never."
Oh, okay.
"Makes sense, right?"
No.
"Nothing was never anywhere. That's why it's been *everywhere*. It's so everywhere you don't need a where. You don't even need a when. That's how every it gets."
Well, at least he got one thing right.
"Forget this, I wanna be something, go somewhere, do something; I want things to change. And I know it's possible, because it's all here, and it probably already happened. I just don't know where to start."
That was it. The final straw. Did this... bill wurtz just claim he was God? That's it.
I am going to track him down and slay him for his blasphemy.
Edit: Damn, this was unexpected! Thanks for the positive feedback, especially for quick work on a phone.
Edit 2: Because of all of this support, I'm gonna make a part two! Thanks so much, everybody! Might take a little bit, but y'all better get ready.
Edit 3: [Part 2 is live!](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/9mbmqd/wp_you_live_in_an_uberreligious_society_in_3543/e7ews6b/) | It was Satan, of course. Only the eternal trickster could ever conceive of such madness, such insanity. The High Priest was quick to express his disappointment that the expedition had resulted in failure. Like last year, with the bones of animals too big for this blessed Earth. Satan was always there, making up his stories about what he wanted to pretend the world used to be like. There was no doubt as to its origin.
For one, the video stopped in the early 21st century, which was more than convenient. A millennium and a half had passed since then, plenty long enough for any blatant contradictions with the truth to be reconciled. Why had we never heard of this "France"? Well, the long gap might lead you to believe that the country had simply been taken over at some point between the end of the "past" and the start of now. St Michael's land would have something to say about that, though. They'd occupied the area that Satan claimed was once called France since just after the coming of Christ, and *they'd* never heard of it.
It's always interesting to know what Satan wants us to think. He always lies, so even if we aren't entirely sure what happened, we can know for certain what didn't. A plethora of long-debunked lies and fallacies, like evolution and the Big Bang. It was pretty blatant, to be perfectly honest.
If Satan wanted us to fall for his lies, he could at least have put some effort into making them believable.
^^^^^.
r/asmo | 2018-10-08T02:40:27 | 2018-10-08T00:38:56 | 1,463 | 481 |
[WP] Write a seemingly normal story, except for the last sentence, which makes the entire story creepy | Sheryl kisses me on the cheek, patting my shoulder. I put an arm around her waist briefly; she is in the middle of getting dressed and we're running behind. While she buttons her dress, I knot my tie. I lace my shoes as she slips into her best brown heels, the ones with the little bows on the tops. I watch her brush her hair, quick smooth movements, her chestnut waves shining. It's tempting to run my fingers through her hair but we don't have time and she wants us to look our best.
We go downstairs together. Billy is reading out loud to his little sister and I stop to watch them with their matching earnest expressions.
"Are you ready, kids? It's time." Billy puts the book down and takes Rebecca's hand, and we step out onto the front porch. My wife puts a hand on my back as I lock the door; old habit. Billy and Rebecca make faces at each other and I fix his collar, which has flipped up.
Right on time. The four of us stand hand in hand and vaporise as the first bomb hits, leaving nothing but our shadows. | Dear Diary,
It's been such a long trip! I keep bugging Mom to find out when we are going to arrive! Looking out the window gets boring pretty quickly, the scenery just starts to all look the same.
Most of my siblings agree, except, of course, Miss Goody Two Shoes. You know the one. She just smiles at Mom and says what a lovely journey it is and how much she is looking forward to our arrival.
Well, that's all for today!
Dear Diary,
It's so exciting!!! Mom says we will be there in about an hour. I can't wait!! I'm so so so hungry and Earth has some amazing tasting humans! | 2016-05-19T11:23:33 | 2016-05-19T10:54:03 | 208 | 53 |
[WP] You were born with a birth mark the shape of a "9" on your wrist, one day you get in a fatal car accident. You wake up in a strange room and the first thing you notice is the 9 has changed to an 8 | James awoke on a metallic table, a bright light above him enveloped the room in light. He tried to recall what had happened - twisted metal and fire flashed in his mind. There was a crash, but he couldn't recall how he got here. Wherever here was. He rubbed his eyes, attempting to make shapes from the fuzz, but something caught his eye. The birthmark that he had on his wrist used to be in the shape of a 9 but now the number 8 was glaring back at him.
James tried to rub his wrist in an attempt to remove the smudge causing the change in the birthmark, but it wouldn't change. Suddenly the doors opened and a man wearing a suit walked into the room.
"There is no use doing that to your wrist, the mark is permanent." said the man. After surveying James, he frowned. "You do know why you are here, don't you?"
"Who are you? Why am I here? What happened?" James questioned as he sat up on the table.
"Who am I? I am your employer James. I am a bit disappointed that you don't remember me." the mans lips curled into an insidious smile. "You are here, because you failed me. You died James. You died without completing your task, without paying your debts."
The man walked towards the table, his smile growing larger with every step.
"Ten more lives for release of your soul. That was the deal, but you seem to be a bit short. I guess we can count Julia, who also died in the crash. After all, you were her partner in her act of adultery. That brings your total to one."
The man walked to the exit of the room and paused for a moment.
"You only get eight more chances. Seems you better get a move on James."
The man snapped his fingers, and suddenly James was being blinded by another light - his memories began to fade. *Its a boy* were the last words he heard before losing consciousness. | "Making my way downtown. Driving fast. Driving faster~."
Ugh, dust and burnt steel(-No, aluminium?) clogging my nostrils and I still can't get that damn song out of my head. Also smells like hot tar. Wonder how close my head is to the street. I'd check, but I literally looking at the back side of my left leg (I know it's the left one because I have a peculiar birthmark on it), although that could be a new ash stain for all I know.
The only thing I know for sure is that I'm not going to risk more damage. You know that splitting headache and grogginess most people feel after getting T-boned on a one-way freeway? Me neither. The bastard hit me driverside and through a short series of broken windshields, a smack against my ear, and a succession of contortions cirque du solei style, I ended up here. I had an unharmed friend in the passenger seat try to pry me out of the wreckage, but despite there being no debris actually blocking my escape, my former friend was too weak and gave up after a petty attempt with half-bent knees.
Instead, he assured me he'd call for help, then told a concerned bystander to call for help. I closed my eyes in contempt, but my old friend mistook the gesture for sleepiness, and giggled as he pulled out his magic marker he must have kept up his ass.
When I opened my eyes he was gone. And so my patience. | 2016-08-03T19:52:19 | 2016-08-03T19:17:28 | 1,069 | 11 |
[WP] Rampant use of performance enhancing drugs amongst elite Olympic athletes coupled with lifetime bans has led to the creation of the "Performance Games" which encourages pushing the limits of human ability by any means possible. But what happens when things are taken too far? | He stepped forward, chalked up his hands, ready to lift the bar, loaded with weights which would've seemed unreal the games before. The motors in his shoulders were set to overload, and he'd made sure his engineers had ensured there'd be no failures. Stepping forward, all eyes on him, he lifted. He won.
After a long night of celebrations, he decided to see what pushing the limits of the human body had to his natural strength. It had been a long time since the gym had seen the likes of such a determined competitor, ready to sacrifice everything to win. The overhead lights illuminated his metallic shoulders, and the exo skeleton grafted to his skin.
As he set all the performance enhancers to Off, a sense of anticipation surged through him, one he'd not felt for a long time. Chalking up his hands, he set the bar at a weight which he'd seen non-enhanced beginners lift.
Alas, he could not. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't, and never could. Organics sacrificed for mechanics, there was no going back. The realisation was far worse than anything he'd ever felt.
He sat there, and wept
| Morgan's piston legs screeched as he ran forward. Morgan was powerful, mighty beyond belief, a god. He felt every foot of distance beneath him crumble away as his overtly buff body worked tirelessly. Everything was numb, the amount of pills and drugs he had taken in the last 24 hours blazed in unison leaving him in a state of complete and utter focus, noticing nothing but the line. If Morgan could still smile, he would. He ascended into the air, sailing above the bystanders in the crowd, the horrified referees, over the bar. Bits of meat, bits of Morgan, molted off his flailing frame. That record was his, and nothing would keep him from it. | 2014-08-24T07:08:38 | 2014-08-24T06:42:37 | 125 | 73 |
[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | You're careful. Every piece of your life, every single moment, since that day of rapture and the 0 appeared on your wrist you have been careful. Never stand out. Never draw attention. Maintain the average existence of shrub. Well that was the plan at least. You realized too late that in this age of sigils and supers an existence equating to a background bush was like wearing a "kick me" sign.
Everyday was misery held back by the enormous responsibility on your shoulders. Usually it wasn't so bad. Gym clothes stolen, school supplies destroyed by fire, tripping over yourself due to A sneaky telekinetic asshole, dramatic hair growth from a time manipulator. Even with verbal insults included all of that you could manage. Carry the bare essentials. Learn to catch yourself. Cut your hair between classes or tie it up. At least no one was beating you just yet. Well at least nothing beyond inconvenient shoving in the hall. You just keep telling yourself - "it's not so bad", "High school isn't forever".
Everything would have stayed the way it was if not for Karen. That damn cheerleader bubbling with energy directed at only two things; school spirit and your pain. You thought about that 'spirit' she was so damn proud of as she pulled you by the hair with her telekinetic powers across the 4th story cafeteria floor and up to hover by your hair a foot off the ground. Her bullshit reason today was that it was spirit week and I single handedly was bringing the whole school down just by existing. As she stood there, with you still stuck hanging by hair and imaginary hand, she berated you on you lack of enthusiasm along with possibly 20 other bullshit appearance/sigil based accusations. You broke. Careful concentration lost as you let loose your power at her. You felt strong and free in a moment of bliss as an invisible light seemed to flood through you. Karen, however, had gone quiet. Your extra burst of light meant her permanently extinguished being. You felt as her over confidence gave way to an inescapable darkness everything in the world went dim and grey in her eyes. She barely had the will to stand simply because she barely had a will to be a alive. You took her million watt smile and turned it down to 0 as you sucked out her enjoyment of life itself forever. Before you could stop yourself it was over. You watched in silence as she lost her grip on your hair, walked to the open window and simply stepped out into nothing.
You didn't stay to watch the cheer squad grieve or even to hear her hit the pavement. Your sigil was burning bright 0 on your wrist. Karen's will to live bolstering your sprint home.
You say to yourself, "Next time I'll do better."
"Next time I'll be more careful."
- sorry that was so long! I don't post much so some gentle feedback is appreciated.
Edited: Attempted to fix formatting even a little bit | “I’ll show them my true powers” I said looking at my hand, snickering knowing they will finally face my wrath. The horn of the school bus signifying the start of my hell again.
The school bus arrives, the moment I ascend the stairs, I trip on air, falling face first unable to stop my fall with my hands. The routine of the day, Robin with his web sigil, binding my hands together and Ken with his ability to manipulate friction. Laughters soon filled the bus as I shuffle to my seat.
Tasting blood in my mouth from the busted lip, sitting alone, with the bullies constantly at my back, kicking my chair, the usual.
The moment we arrive at the school, I quickly exit the bus before Ken puts his greasy hands on the stairs again. The peace before the storm, everything goes normally until the first 3 classes about sigil manipulation ends, then it’s as though the Teachers all vanish, because it’s the time where recess starts.
The moment I grabbed my tray, it was already filled with ants, the usual, I quickly ate what was less crawling with ants, trying to not cringe at what I just ate as per usual.
No place is safe, but at least in the courtyard passerby might stop if the beating goes too far, but as per usual a twack and a kick, I’m left bloody and bruised on the floor, looking at the sky again. The usual routine, but today I’ll show them my true power. Another internal monologue, the bell rings and hell is over, we return to class again.
Sometimes I think to myself maybe my sigil makes me invisible, the Teachers never seem to realise the bleeding and bruise that are so visible on me, but that’s just the usual routine. Time always passes quickly when you are enjoying it, the bell rings again, signifying the end of the day. Now I’ll show them my true power. I stood up, raising my hand up and declare that I’ll finally use it, my ultimate power. My plain circle sigil glows, the powers activated, the jaws of everyone around me drops as my vision goes dark. “It’s finally here!” I thought to myself, triumphantly.
“I’ll show them my true powers” I said looking at my hand, snickering knowing they will finally face my wrath. The horn of the school bus signifying the start of my hell again. | 2020-02-26T10:44:56 | 2020-02-26T09:00:31 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] For years you wandered the Earth, thinking you were the last surviving human, until you find a hidden bunker and soon find out that everyone was just hiding from YOU. | "Hey... Anyone there?"
My throat is filled with sand and fire and every noise I make is agony. When did I last hear my own voice? It's so hoarse now... So.. foreign. So tired.
"I don't mean to bother you... I just... I've been alone for so long.. I.. "
I cease. The round, unmovable metal door continues to lay there, completely unphased.
I sit down. I can wait.
It's a hot day. I can't remember when it *wasn't* a hot day. The sand stretches to each direction as far as the eye can see, and effortlessly beyond.
I close my eyes and drift away. The sand lifts up with the wind and tiny rocks and fossils and pieces of glass make tiny incisions on my skin as they go past. I don't mind.
It used to be something different, didn't it? There used to be something beyond me and the sand and the heat and the tiny cuts always on my skin. Something brought me to this door. I know it. I just need to be patient.
I look up. The door is no longer unphased. Something is moving underneath it.
The sand storm has stopped around me. It's dark.
The door is now moving. Something... No... Some*one* lifts the door. She sees me.
She screams.
"it's.. okay" I manage.
She's frozen. Standing there, holding the door with her left hand and the edge of the doorframe with the other. I can see a ladder continuing down into a dark tunnel. She's staring at me with wide eyes. She has an unlit cigarette perched between her lips.
I scuttle a bit further away. No need to scare her. I didn't mean to.
"I didn't know there was anybody out here" she lets out a nervous laugh. It gets caught in her throat.
I nod. I hadn't known there was anybody at all.
"Are you lost?" She asks, frowning. She's climbing out of the opening now and carefully letting the door close behind her. She's out here without permission, I realize. Permission from someone inside. I feel my whole body fill with restless energy.
"I... Was walking. Traveling." I say. It doesn't seem to relax the woman. She lights her cigarette and sits down on the closed door. She keeps me away with her eyes.
"You've burned up bad" she says eyeing me up. I'm thankful of the darkness, it's hiding me. "Been out here long?"
"I .. don't know. Yes. Long trip. No one else around except you now."
It's hard to remember how to speak. It's hard to speak in general.
She nods. Takes a long drag off the cigarette. "You know, I was born in this bunker. Never walked around out here beyond my nightly.. excursions" she waves the hand holding the cigarette. "How is it?"
"Hot.. lonely... Hungry." why did I say that? Hungry?
She seems to tense up. Her head turns to me rapidly. "I think I'm going back in. Nice meeting ya. Have a nice trip." She gets up and starts spinning the door open. I suddenly don't want her to go. I move a tad closer.
She hastens opening the door.
But when she pulls it open, there's someone waiting on the ladder. A man holding a big metal object.
"Sarka, haven't I told you a MILLION times not to come out here" he starts a lecture held and forgotten so often neither of them really hears it anymore. Then his head turns to me. He goes silent.
"Sarka, go back down right now." His eyes don't steer from me. I brace myself.
She's slowly edging towards the ladder.
I pounce.
He's dead in seconds. A quick rip at the neck. I pull him away to feed. I'm ripping into him. My claws are dripping with the sweetest oasis this hellscape has to offer. My whole body convulses of pleasure. The sand is turning a beautiful, vibrant red. My throat is no longer dry. I can feel my power returning.
When I look back up, the door has been shut.
I sit down. I can wait. | *November 7, 2032*
*To Whom It May Concern,*
*Ten years, reader. Just take a moment and try to imagine spending ten years without human contact, without human support or love. Before you cast your judgement upon me, just put yourself in my shoes and really try to imagine what it would be like.*
The first few weeks were difficult. I had to learn how to feed myself without the conveyor belts of society providing me with the luxuries I'd grown accustomed to. You know, like driving to a grocery store or restaurant and picking up dinner, or simply turning on your stove when you wanted to cook something. Losing access to things like electricity and gas powered appliances may not sound like much, but when there's not a soul around to help you learn new skills, it's tough. I'm sure you can imagine the thousands of small activities we all enjoy every day that simply cease to exist without a civilization to keep them accessible.
It wasn't long before I started losing my mind. Every day was the same: wake up, scavenge for food and water, exercise to pass time, heat up some water to keep myself and my living space clean, exercise some more...
No matter what I did, I would run out of things to do by mid-afternoon and just wander around until I was tired enough to sleep. It was impossible. I wanted to die, but I couldn't bring myself to end it.
It was in those difficult times, when I really didn't know how to continue, I was saved. Something, or perhaps someone, was at my front door and trying to get in. Fear struck me like a bolt of lightning - I hadn't heard anything but birds and squirrels in weeks. What, or who could this be?
"Hello?" I called out, hoping to hear a voice in return.
Silence.
"Hello? Is someone out there? Please, answer me!"
*"Woof! Woof!"* a booming, deep barking returned my call. My fear suddenly turned to excitement. A dog would be the answer to my loneliness! If I could just befriend this dog, perhaps I could be happy once again.
It took some time, most of my beef jerky, and a lot of small steps over the next few days, but I was able to earn just enough trust from the dog to get him to stay with me in my house. Over the next few months, we became inseparable.
Inspired by my new friendship, I decided to embark on a journey. I spent the following years traveling the country to find and befriend as many dogs as possible. They were so loyal and loving; much better than people had ever been. I couldn't get enough of them. We hunted together, we ate together, we found shelter together. I learned to communicate with them in a way that I wouldn't have thought possible. Not so much with words or language, but with sounds and body language. I could send a pack of dogs to slaughter a cow with a simple combination of hand gestures and whistles, and we'd have food for days.
Over the course of the last ten years, I found and befriended thousands of dogs. They would breed amongst themselves and our family would grow. Our pack grew to a size you wouldn't believe, and it was incredible.
*Dear reader, I know this has dragged on a bit, and I apologize for that. I'm sure with all of this death around you, the last thing you want to do is read a long and drawn out letter. I wanted to keep this brief, but I also wanted to help you comprehend why this is happening to you and your people.*
*Lastly, I want you to know that I am* ***not*** *sorry. Humanity abandoned us, and we needed food. We need a break from chicken and cow every now and then, you know? I hope you'll understand.*
*We'll see you soon!*
*Signed, The Last Man on Earth* | 2022-11-06T20:43:05 | 2022-11-06T17:45:48 | 1,083 | 279 |
[WP] Aliens invade earth, but end up being defeated by an incredibly ridiculous flaw (for example, they're like flies and don't realize you can't fly through windows).
EDIT: Oh come on guys, I said *incredibly* ridiculous flaw. No need to make it so serious or subtle! Go all out with something outrageous! | I was there for first contact. I was a diplomatic aid with the UN delegation. It was utter panic co-ordinating everything behind the scenes. All of the petty demands from different world leaders. I was constantly on my phone co-ordinating this mess.
It didn't help that the extraterrestrials chose the mojave desert as their landing spot. Putting up wi-fi towers, and all of the communications infrastructure. The whole world wanted to watch.
But we didn't have much choice, it was clear we were outmatched on every level by these beings and their technology. We were lucky that all they wanted was to settle on our land for the moment. But I know my history, that's how the original colonials on plymouth rock started. This time, we were the natives.
This was a soft surrender, we were defeated, and every delegate was trying to prove that they were the biggest ant on the pile. It was sickening. But I had a job to do, and I did it.
The alien ships descended from on high, hundreds of them. They looked like a shoal of metallic jellyfish. The biggest one landed in front of our delegation.
The US president wanted to be first in line to meet our visitors, but then every head of state wanted that. It was then pointed out that they could all be lucky enough to become the first recipients of whatever space disease these creatures carried.
So a diplomatic committee of scientists and diplomats was formed, and guess what, i had to be there too. It was a last minute decision, and not everyone was informed about it. so even as I stood in front of the great big doors of the space ship, my phone vibrated with complaints from the British prime minister. Someone wasn't satisfied with their seating arrangements.
The door opened, and out they stepped. They looked surprisingly like us, except luminsecent green, slightly translucent skin, and antennae. A whole crowd of them came out. It was impossible to tell whether they were armed, or even wearing clothes. Those long flowing membranes could have been robes, or they could have been tendrils. Those could be weird claws, or they could have been laser guns.
They looked slightly unsteady on their feet as they approached. It was unsettling, watching them bump into eachother.
"Hail humans" said one of the creatures in near perfect english.
"Our armies are disembarking, you have no ch..chioice but to surrend.d.d.dd"
The creature stopped in it's tracks, burbling. In fact, they all had stopped. Some fell to their knees. The antennae on their heads had begun to turn a dark shade of black.
"Sooo much noi..se" it cried, before falling head first on the ground.
We didn't understand, it was completely quiet. I looked around, and saw that the other ships had disgorged similarly distressed aliens.
This wasn't going to plan at all, and in front of all of these live cameras. I had to do something, even if it meant getting imminently vaporised.
I walked up to the creature who had spoken to us, and tried to help it up. It looked at me, with an expression that I am sure was disbelief. I grasped its hands, strangely warm, to help it to its feet. Surely, this would be the most important day of my life.
We stood there in that moment, two beings from literally two different worlds, in embrace.
Then my phone rang, and its head exploded.
All of their heads exploded. | "This planet is now ours," said the strange being exiting the spaceship. It had just landed in the middle of a crowded roadway, bringing all traffic to a halt. "We are the Flow. We flow from planet to planet expanding our rightful ruling over the universe."
"You picked the wrong planet!" A man from the crowd yelled, who had exited his car. Running full force toward the Flow representative, several other people followed. The being extended a hand-like appendage and a device materialized, which closely resembled a hair dryer.
"We picked the right planet," the being said, aiming the device toward the incoming protesters. A wide beam was emitted, instantly vaporizing them mid run.
Panic finally set into the crowd. People started running away, while others jumped back in their cars and tried to weave through the other deserted vehicles. The being watched delightfully.
"Drop the weapon!" a voice called. The being turned around and saw dozens of armed military, with their machine guns trained in its direction. The being aimed its weapon toward them, which prompted a barrage of bullets. The bullets disintegrated in the air well before reaching their target.
A few blocks away, a man was driving, his 5 year old daughter buckled in a car seat behind him. *What is going on around here?* He could have sworn he heard bullets. As he approached the area with the spaceship, a car came plowing toward him on the wrong side of the road.
"What the hell!" he said, slamming on the brakes and swerving to the side of the road, crashing into a street sign. "Are you OK?" He asked his daughter, turning around to check on her.
"I'm fine, Daddy," she said. "What's that?" She continued, pointing the the strange being still standing in the doorway of the spaceship, shooting a weapon at onlookers and the military. The man turned back to his car in a panic. He unbuckled his daughter and carried her out of the car.
"We have to go now," he said, trying to remain calm.
"What is that?" The being said, now suddenly standing right next to the man and his daughter.
"It's my daughter," the man said, terrified.
"Give me the daughter." The being reached out toward her.
"You're a big meanie," the girl said.
"Ah! What is that horrifying sound?" The being stepped back, disoriented.
"Leave me and my daddy alone!" The being fell over, a green ooze spilling from its ears.
Several military men made their way to scene. One of them, who had witnessed the altercation, smiled at the girl.
"Thanks, you're a hero!" he said. Just then, the sky darkened. Everyone looked up and saw thousands of spaceships descending into the city. The military man activated his com unit. "Somebody tell me where the closest kindergarten is located."
| 2014-10-10T09:53:19 | 2014-10-10T09:27:18 | 41 | 13 |
[WP] The old lighthouse never turned on at night or during a storm. It was said that it only lit up for another kind of emergency. No one remembered the last time it was lit, until today when the top burst into brilliant light. | *19 September 2269*
**BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP**
Alex jolted up from the bed, slamming the alarm to quiet that obnoxious beeping. He rolled his head from side-to-side a few times before getting up and walking to the window. He pushed the curtain aside and peered out to see what today offered him. As he observed the dense clouds hanging low in the air above Kingston, his shoulders sank a little. *How dreary,* he thought as his body unconsciously shuddered.
A hot shower, some breakfast, and one travel mug of coffee later, Alex stepped outside. He briskly made his way toward city hall, pausing for a moment outside the building before opening the door and heading inside.
“Good morning, Mayor Campbell!” greeted his assistant Eileen.
“Good morning, Eileen!” replied Alex. “What do you have for me today?”
Eileen hesitated a moment, “The committee is here for the budget meeting.”
Alex groaned.
“Should I reschedule?” she asked.
“No, no. It’s alright,” said Alex, waving his hand as he spoke. “As much as I dislike doing the budget, it needs to get done. Seems like an appropriate day to do it,” he said, glancing out the window. “Go ahead and get them set up in the conference room. I’ll be with them in 10 minutes.”
“Yes, sir.”
An hour and a half later, Alex is knee deep in his budget meeting, arguing over how to allocate the available resources.
“But we need a maintenance person! Something always breaks in this godforsaken place!” exclaimed Alex. “Work with me here.”
“I’m trying to Mr. Mayor, but we just don’t have the funds to-”
*beep, beep* “Mr. Mayor, I’m so sorry to interrupt, but-”, said Eileen over the intercom.
“Can’t this wait, Eileen? We’re right in the thick of things!”
“Sir, I wish that it could, but we have an urgent situation in need of your attention.”
“What is so urgent that you need me right at this moment?”
“Sir, it’s… uh… I… um…” stumbled Eileen.
“Just spit it out already!” yelled Alex.
“Sir, it’s the old lighthouse. It’s lit.”
Alex slumped back into his seat at a loss for words. The old lighthouse. It hadn’t been used in decades, centuries even, no one was sure. It was different from other lighthouses, never lit up to guide ships to shore in a storm. He had never seen it lit up in his entire life; frankly, he’d assumed that the place had gone defunct as there was no one left to care for the place.
*Could it really be like grandpa said?* Alex thought. *Is it really signaling some type of emergency we’ve never even heard of?*
He had to find out. After all, he was the Mayor of this town and that included the old lighthouse.
He bolted from his chair and headed for his office. He pulled the bottom drawer of his desk and fished around. He found what he was looking for and pulled it out—a rather large ring full of keys. The last mayor passed it on to him and said it contained keys to every city owned building. He flipped through the keys, becoming more and more frantic with each key. It’s got to be here somewhere! He flipped a very large bronze, old-fashioned key over to reveal a rather sleek silver key labeled “Lighthouse”. *Ah ha!* He quickly removed the key from the ring and took off.
As he cautiously approached the lighthouse, he looked over the shore for any sign of something strange. Nothing. He turned and quickly surveyed the town. Nothing. He turned back to the door, slowly entering the key into the lock. He hesitated a moment before turning the key. The rusty lock clunked loudly in response. He couldn’t see anything or anyone inside, so he entered and made his way towards the spiral staircase. The door behind him closed and the lock resumed its duty with another clunk, but Alex was already at the top of the stairs.
It was a small barren room, with only a simple chair and what appeared to be an old computer monitor. *Strange,* thought Alex. *Perhaps I can see something from-*
Alex’s thoughts were interrupted as the monitor powered on, filling the room with a loud static noise. The noise lasted a moment before a face, surrounded by a room much like this one, appeared on the screen.
“Greetings. If you’re seeing this message, then unfortunately, I have some bad news for you. You may want to sit down for this.” The person paused momentarily before continuing. “The lighthouse has been lit because one of our sensors has been tripped. This can only mean one thing—some alien life form is on its way to Earth. This lighthouse is the first of a set of beacons we left behind. It’s up to you to notify the others. Good luck and godspeed!” | Blinding light
​
The sun had just set, as Jonah sat down in his chair with a cup of coffee in his hand.
The warmth of the cup quickly transferred to his ice cold hands.
It had been a long day at work.
Jonah sighed as he turned on the radio, and zapped through the channels, only stopping when some light jazz came on.
Outside it was cold and misty, street lights just barely illuminating the neighbourhood.
A lighthouse loomed over the town.
It wasn't emitting any light though. It never had.
Rumours told that it only lit up in desperate times the like no one had seen before.
Jonah didn’t believe in this rumour.
It was a mere fairytale that children told each other at a campfire.
Though the lighthouse was intriguing, the way it stood there, ominously casting a shadow on the town.
Right now Jonah wasn’t able to see the lighthouse.
Mist engulfed the entire town, restricting vision to only a few metres.
Jonah took a sip from his coffee, the hot liquid warming him up from the inside.
He set the cup down, and stood up to close the blinds of his windows.
Just as he reached the window, the jazz stopped, and instead, out of the radio came white noise.
Confused, but not startled, Jonah turned back around to the radio. “Stupid thing,” he muttered.
‘There must be a storm coming up,’ he thought to himself, as he fiddled with the radio trying to get a different channel to play.
He had no luck.
Jonah sighed and sat back down in his chair.
He lived in a small, two room bungalow at the edge of the town.
He could afford more, but he didn’t need it. This bungalow was more than enough for him.
He didn’t live with anyone. He had no girlfriend, no wife, no other family.
Jonah quickly finished his coffee, and turned off the radio.
Slowly, it started to rain as the thunderstorm came closer.
Jonah put away his coffee mug and turned off the lights. Then he laid down in bed and closed his eyes.
​
Cold.
So, so cold...
​
​
Dad?
Dad what’s happening?
Why are you crying?
​
Where’s mommy?
​
​
Jonah gasped, as he sat up in a cold sweat. There was a blinding light coming in through the window.
And then it disappeared.
Disoriented, Jonah got up.
There the light was again, and he had to squint, to make out anything. His room was as he left it before going to bed.
The light disappeared again.
Jonah stumbled towards the door, only grabbing a coat and some slippers on the way out.
He opened the door and there it was.
The lighthouse, as it shined bright over the town.
Normally he would’ve said that they must’ve repaired it, and gone back to sleep.
But not this time.
Something felt off.
Jonah rushed through the streets, as if he was searching for something.
There was no one other than him outside. The streets were empty.
By now, the rain had completely soaked his clothes.
It was a cold October night, and Jonah knew he should be freezing, but he wasn’t
Adrenaline kept him in check.
He was still sweating.
Had no one noticed the blinding light from the lighthouse?
Why was no one awake?
Then, he heard something.
A child.
A little girl to be exact. She was somewhere around the corner.
Hurriedly he chased after the noise.
Every now and again he felt like he could see her, in a small red raincoat, but then she was gone again.
As he kept running, streets became longer, the usually so small town seemed huge, each step became more tedious.
He could feel his legs wanting to give out, but he couldn’t stop.
Not until he had reached her,
But he couldn’t.
She was always too far away.
Just out of reach.
The sun went up over the hill, in a small town.
A woman sat at the table eating breakfast, when her phone rang.
She answered the call.
“Hey Suzan, we need you to come to work a bit early today.
A man died in the middle of the town. He froze to death. We need you to secure the street and lead traffic around:” | 2019-09-13T13:39:18 | 2019-09-13T12:25:15 | 32 | 17 |
[WP] You were asked out by your crush to come and hang out with her after school. On your date, she drained your blood and buried you in the woods thinking that you were another easy victim. And now, the next morning, she looks horrified when you walk into class. | "Hey, Kiesha" I said as I slipped into my seat behind her.
Keisha whipped around in the crappy desk/chair combo, ringlets bouncing and eyes wide. Before she could ask the obvious question and derail the plot I cut in.
"I am so, so, so sorry for bailing on you last night. I promise I didn't mean to. I really really do want that date. I just had family stuff come up. Promise! Just like I said in the text." I ended with my best kicked puppy look.
"Text?" Keisha croaked.
"Oh god, did you not see it? I sent it in seventh period yesterday." I put on my best panicked act. "I swear, I would never ever ghost you. I was going to ask you out, you just beat me to the punch."
She reached a shakey hand into her bag and pulled out her phone. Eyes flicking over the text that had magically appeared. Before she could respond the bell rang and Mr. Parker barked at folks to quite down.
.---
The end of the day rolled around and Keisha pulled out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell (sorry, had to).
I pulled out my phone, found Jen Nunez in my contacts, and made the call I had been putting off since I came conscious at 3am.
"Hey Andrew, our usual meeting's a ways off. You need something?"
"Yeah, Officer Nunez. I uh, broke the terms of my parole last night."
"What!" The sounds of a person bursting into motion rattled over the phone to accompany the exclamation. "How, what did you do! Damnit Andrew, stay exactly where you are till I come get you!"
"A soul anchor and a delayed resanguination. No animation or spirit work other than the anchor." As I said that the other end of the line stilled.
"Did you get attacked by a damn vampire?" Jen Nunez asked.
"Yeah." I responded.
"Shit, Hugo! I've got an alleged Vampire attack in Boulder!" She shouted away from the mic. "Why isn't Margaret calling me if you got attacked?"
"Well, mistress is in the middle of some tricky Enchanting. Also... she wouldn't have approved of what I did next."
"What did you do next."
"Uh." I flicked my vision into my familiar, Batholomew's, eyes as Kiesha dug up my body double.
"A bit of grave robbing and a flesh warp."
"WHY!"
I thought about that for a second. Eyes still on Keisha as she found the flesh warp glyph on 'my' arm. And rubbed it away. Revealing the poor old bloke I'd used. Tears streaming down her face.
"You know that girl I've been telling you about?"
"Keisha Walters?"
"Yeah, her. She kept crying and apologizing when she attacked me last night." I explained. "I think she's a fresh turn, and probably in trouble."
Keisha pulled her phone out of her pocket. I got the conversation through Bart's tinny raven hearing.
"S-sire. I did what you ordered me to do. But, but somethings wrong. I'm sorry. I swear, I did everything you said." Keisha was clearly terrified.
I cut back to my own conversation.
"-exactly where you are, I swear, don't move a muscle!" Jen was ranting.
"Sorry Officer Nunez, but you're always telling me that I need to try to think about how other people feel. And right now, there's a girl who's scared and needs my help." And on that note I hung up. | The look on Kate's face when I walked into class was priceless. Apart of me had wanted to confront her in front of everyone, but I knew better after all how could she have killed me when I just walked in. So I just took my seat and focused on today's lessons, this continued for the rest of the day until lunch where my friends were dying for information on the date.
"Dude, you've been quiet all day, did your date crash and burn?" George asked in his typical teasing manner.
"Nah, went great actually, we hit it off pretty well, it just ended on an awkward note." I replied, they were my friends, but I still couldn't tell them.
"Thank God, I was beginning to think you were gay." Sarah declared in mock relief.
I slugged her arm lightly as we all began laughing. But for a brief moment my eyes locked with Kate's, she seemed confused and... Scared, (oh this was going to be fun) I thought. The rest of school went without issue and once the bell rang I made my way to my car, (Thank god I didn't take my car to the date she probably would have destroyed it) I thought in relief. As I got closer, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I felt as though I was being stalked. I knew she was behind me and gaining, this left me with two options, first was to get in my car and leave before she caught up to me ruining my story, or try to talk to her. Once I reached my car, I spun around to see her directly behind me.
"Oh hey, I enjoyed our date last night, though I wish you had warned my that you liked things a bit on the kinkier side." I joked, enjoying the flustered look on her face.
"What are you?" She asked quietly.
I shrugged my shoulders, "I'm human of course," I opened the passenger door and motioned for her to get in, once she did I climbed into the driver's seat, "which is more than I can say for you, my beautiful little vampire."
She glared at me for a moment, "then why aren't you dead, I know you didn't turn, so explain!?" She demanded.
I slugged again and started the engine, "You know that story about the Roman soldier who pierced the side of Christ and was cursed with immortality, yeah he's my dad and the curse is hereditary." I explained.
I glanced at her and noticed the confused expression plastered on her face and chuckled, "Tell you what Kate, we go out for another date and I'll explain everything in more detail." I offered with a shit eating grin.
Her confusion turned to shock and then amusement as she burst out laughing, "You know what Henry, I'll take you up on that, and maybe I'll give you a special apology at the end." She winked.
"As long I don't wake up six feet deep in the forest, I'll certainly enjoy it." I replied before we both began to laugh, (she may have tried to kill me, but I still love her... though that might say something bad about my taste in women) I thought amusingly as we left the school. | 2022-12-29T21:03:56 | 2022-12-29T20:26:29 | 87 | 24 |
[WP] You come across a Genie who offers you a couple of options: you can make 3 'Class A' wishes, or 1 'Class B' wish per month for one decade.
Class A wishes are more powerful than Class B wishes, and would obviously have less limitations, but feel free to establish your own set of rules for the story. | "Wait... B class wishes?" The tales I'd heard of genies had always told of getting three wishes. Needless to say, I was intrigued. "What are those?"
The genie smiled slightly before replying "B class wishes, as I'm sure you'd expect, are a lot smaller scale than those of class A. Class A wishes require a lot of effort, work, and magic to effect large-scale changes that would otherwise be impossible. Class B wishes are small-scale; they can make subtle changes to situations so that 'possible' things become promises things."
"So, like guaranteeing a lottery ticket wins the jackpot?" I asked. Honestly, I'd have been surprised if she had said yes, but I wanted to make sure I wasn't missing anything.
"Not quite - being that direct is a class A wish." The genie paused a few moments in thought. Had no one ever asked such a question before? He continued, "For class B wishes, you'd be better off asking for the winning numbers to use instead, but even then it'd only still give you a chance. I guess... I'd say you'd probably get one or two more numbers of the set correct. More than that and the results - the changes from your wish - become too large for class B," he stated matter-of-factly.
---
Having somewhat recently graduated college, that "lottery ticket" wish had sounded pretty tempting - I had no shortage of loans to be paid off. That, and class A was a lot more potent and showy, sure, but I'd always heard horror stories of how such wishes could go wrong. If anything like the "monkey's paw" legend were to pass, I'd figured that Class B effects would be a lot easier to live with, and so I chose class B.
At first, I was really glad that I chose class B. Given the economy, I almost expected getting a job to be a Class A wish. Then again, I got a job alright, but managing a fast-food restaurant wasn't exactly my childhood dream. Affordable housing on my budget near my job? Sure, the house was great and well-maintained, but it wasn't exactly in what folks considered "a good neighborhood." I shuddered to consider what penalties Class A would have brought, given how I felt my wishes were going. Still, the results were better than nothing, and I was able to start making progress on my loans so long as I was careful with my budget.
Things started getting interesting the next month, though. Having woke up to see my driver's side car door bashed in, I'd offhandedly said "I wish my car were fixed." Someone must have been drunk when they parked the night before and hit my vehicle.
I was shocked to hear "Wish granted, master." I looked back to my car to see... no change. Confused, I looked back to the genie, who said "wait for it..."
I watched as my big, intimidating neighbor came up to my front door. Uh-oh, I'd been dreading having a chat with him, and I already wasn't in the best of moods. As he knocked and I watched the genie disappear, I reluctantly went to the door, gulped, and and prepared myself for what would come next. It was a shame I'd wasted my wish... or so I thought.
----
Writer's notes: I'd love to continue this, but am presently out of time. I have ideas on where this can go, but that'll have to wait. Hope you enjoyed it! | I expected a genie lamp to be hidden away in the Sahara
Desert, or locked inside of a secret Government base. So when you’re pouring
tea and this blue fucker pops right in your face, it can kinda scare the living
crap out of you.
“Heya Daniel! Thanks for freeing me. I was burning up in
there!” It screeched at me.
Being a sane human being, my first reaction was to grab a
knife and try to kill the abomination of an intruder in my home. My attacks
just went through, making him chuckle.
“Hey, that tickles! Well, it seemed you’re still a bit surprised.
So if we can just calm down…”
The knife flew out of my hands and stuck to the wall.
“I can introduce myself. Name’s Gene, Gene the Genie, nice
to meet you.” He grabbed my hand to shake.
Well, he clearly shows he has demonic powers on his side.
Might as well be nice to him.
“G-good to meet you too. I’m- wait, how did you know my name?”
“Oh Danny, I know ALL. For example, did you know you’ll die
by bees going up your buttocks?”
“How would that- “
“That’s not important. What is important if your wishes!" He
cheered as confetti rained down.
A excellent though can to me. "Oh, I know what to do here! Okay Genie, I wish for more wi-“
“Finish that request and the corpse they discover of you won’t
be seen as a corpse.”
I gulped.
“Let's focus of what you can wish for, alright? We offer
two packages, you can either do three big wishes and that’s that, or you can
get a minor wish monthly for a decade.”
I thought for a bit.
“Well if those are my options, I think I’ll go with option A.”
“Fantastic! What are your wishes?"
“First a glass of water.” I raised my hand out.
He humphed.
“Well, okay. You can think a little bigger here.”
“Next, a glass of sparkling water.” I raised my other hand
out.
“I think you could just go to the store for that-“
“And finally, both infinite class A and class B wishes!” I
exclaimed drinking both waters.
I don’t think he liked that very much.
“AND WHAT DID I JUST SAY ABOUT WISHING FOR WISHES?” He
hollered at me.
“No, these are *packages* of wishes, very different.” I
refuted brilliantly.
Surprisingly, he gave a belly laugh.
“Well, if that’s what you wish for, so be it. But first, I’m
going to need my own wish granted.”
“And what’s that?”
“For me to be able to kill you! Oh look at that, it’s
granted! Sorry Danny!”
He snapped his finger.
The last thing I heard was intense buzzing before everything
faded. My death was painful, but worth it. Not gonna be tricked into selling my soul today genie!
/r/JustATadOfStories for more tales. | 2017-11-20T21:56:28 | 2017-11-20T20:39:49 | 41 | 17 |
[WP] You are best friends with Death. Although you don't know this. Every Sunday he has you killed just to talk to you about his week then brings you back to life after. However you never remember the meetings. | "So I'm not allowed to remember anything after this is over?"
"My answer is never going to change. Be grateful your memories come back everytime you see me."
I shrugged and got him a bottle from the fridge. He wedged his boney finger underneath the cap and popped it open. He reached for mine but I had already unscrewed it.
"Twist-top my dude."
He paused and stared at the bottle in my hand. He then took a gulp from his beer. "So how was your week?"
"So...you know that girl at the pet shop?"
"No but you've mentioned her before."
"I asked her out on Tuesday"
"Heyyy thats what im talking about!" His grin was genuine and cheerful.
I took a sip and drummed my fingers against the bottle. "So i went out with her on Wednesday, i took her to the steakhouse."
"That's a nice place, they actually know how to cook their food."
I took a longer sip of beer. "Their steak is delicious. I asked for rare."
"Rare? Thats too much blood."
I laughed. "Oh is that too much for you, Mr. Death?"
"Yea i bet you think that's pretty humerus."
"There's nothing wrong with a grim joke."
"Please, now you're killing *me*." He kept chucking and downed the his beer.
"Aha...we're not funny."
"No we are not."
The distant sound of lawn mowing could be heard through the open window. The neighborhood outside was painted a faint orange as late afternoon set in. It was a beautiful day.
"Well apparently she's vegetarian."
Death nearly choked. "Noooooo. No way. She is not!"
I nodded and took another sip. "She is."
He howled with laughter "Man i am so sorry. You shouldve known that was a risk, she does love animals."
I chuckled and downed the last of my beer. "The look on her face. It was like I had just licked the table."
"Ouch. So no more pet store?"
"Of course. Im going out again with her Monday."
"My boy."
"I'm also getting a cat."
"Well that's better than goldfish." He got up from the recliner and walked into kitchen; I could hear the sound of the fridge being pryed open. "Beer run?"
"Dude *I'm dead*."
"Oh yea sometimes i forget. We'll do a Weekend at Bernie's kind of thing."
"Now THAT was funny."
I wasn't really sure if he was serious, but it sounded fun either way. Death was pretty a pretty chill guy, and it was always fun having him around. You'd think I'd hate the actual dying often part
but in reality I look forward to this all week | Times are hard, masters are no longer taking apprentices, and I have a family to take care of. After much searching, I have finally been taken under the wing of Exder, the town plague doctor. This year, we have been hit hard with something he calls the Whispering Shock. People are beginning to lose their voices, and so they must die in silence. I am not great at medicine like my master, but he keeps me around for my heart. Regardless of their religion, I help the people of our town come to terms with their mortality. Although they cannot reply, I can see the gratefulness in their eye. My only day off is Sunday, and I spend it doing the same thing. I simply sit and read, for it is all I can do, and so I sit this morning. I feel my breath taken from me as I dive into another good book, and the world around me begins to change. I am no longer in my humble home, but within a small chamber on a much comfier seat. My book is gone and across from me is a man I can only describe as cold as ice. Breaking the silence, he begins to speak. "I must thank you Malgus, truly, you have made my life easier than you could have ever imagined." I don't know what he means, I have not met this man, my confusion is clear. "Allow me to explain, I am Death, I guide mortal's to their final place of eternal rest, many of which need great comfort along their journey." I simply nodded my head in understanding, it must be a tough job, but I can only sit in silence, not finding the courage to speak. "I must be a strange sight my friend, I am sorry. I brought you here again to express my gratitude for your never ending amicability. No longer must I spend the journey comforting beings coming to terms with their mortality. You have done that for me. Everyday a new soul comes to me, and I may walk them to their own Heaven with a smile, no longer do they shed the tears of fear or quake in my presence." The silence took great hold of me. Never would I be bestowed a greater honor from any man, than the thanks of that of death. It is a shame it is an honor I will not remember until it is my own time. If it ever comes. | 2020-01-31T08:23:34 | 2020-01-31T07:15:25 | 63 | 33 |
[WP] You are the first person to die on mars, when it turns out, each planet has its own version of the afterlife. | I did it. I lived to see the ten-thousandth Martian-born. She was delivered right down the hall from me, actually, here in Saint Armstrong metropolitan hospital - best hospital on Mars! That is the official motto. Easy to defend such claims when you're the only hospital on a planet.
Martian-born children are a bit different than earthlings like myself. They're much taller, obviously, but studies have noted that they're much smarter than earth-born children. We're not quite sure if it has something to do with the gravity or if it's simply because they grow up in a city filled to the brim with scientists and technologists. I don't care either way. I didn't even expect it to go on this long.
Now I lay here in a comfortable bed, in a room that was built for me. I'll be the first man to die on mars. Sixty years without a single accident or death... Who'd have guessed it? I'm 120 years old now, not the oldest on planet, just the one unlucky enough to be too worn out to continue. Still, just under average Earth life expectancy, so I guess I can't complain.
I helped build a planet, after all. I imagine I should get going! One quick press of this button and I'll be off. Ain't got time for some bullshit organ failure.
_____
Fade to darkness. Bright flash of light.
Flickering. More rapid now.
Solid, pure, white light. Infinite in all directions. No pain.
Shapes forming in the distance. What a weird dream.
[[Error. Template not found. White-slate protocol currently active.]]
Hmm?
[[Welcome, designation: Jeb Kensington, human male. You are the (first) user. You have been granted administrative rights.]]
Admini... Uh. What is this place? First user?
Words continue to form. It's hard to tell if they are massive and distant, or small and right in front of my face.
[[Query accepted. You are currently located at grid 1x1y1z of unallocated extra dimensional realm: Designation None, Territory: Sol 4. As first user you now have administrative rights.]]
Well, that is amusing. How did I get here?
[[Sapient life forms are granted the opportunity to enter this realm upon physical termination.]]
...so, this is heaven?
[[Query . . . ]]
Long pause.
[[. . . Accepted. Extra dimensional realm, shard five: designation: Heaven is located around Sol 3. Would you like to go there, designation: Jeb Kensington?]]
No, no! I'm... I'm fine here. What do I do here?
[[As primary user, you have been granted administrative rights. Administrative actions include:: Spatial modification, object manifestation, alteration of local physics and mathematical rules, modific...]]
That's enough. Where should I begin?
[[Standard protocol 1a requires custom designation for primary user. Would you like to modify your designation?]]
Yes. . .
God.
[[Designation accepted.]] | Well, this sucks.
I thought I'd meet, like, Kurt Cobain. He was really who I wanted to see. Ask him about those Courtney Love rumors. Did he really pull the trigger with his toe? Or did she?
Instead, everyone's all crazy about Zeewick. Apparently some Martian pop star, back when Mars had these crystal cities and grand canals, long before Earth was even a whisper. He's got these orange dreads, each one tied off with some sort of earthworm creature, and when he strums his kokolo (like a guitar crossed with singing saw), the dreads and the worms wiggle and all the ladies here wiggle too. It's not my kind of music. Not my kind of ladies either.
As an astronaut, I was always ambivalent about God, the afterlife. Maybe it was real, maybe it wasn't. I came to Mars to make scientific discoveries, not spiritual ones. But then the damn catalytic converter blew a hole in the habitat module and I met God. Well, Martian God anyway.
A transfer, I'm told, could take a while. Martian God and Earth God aren't exactly on speaking terms, Toowhyoo says. He's been my spirit guide ever since I got here, and he's been decent I guess. But lets just say the Martians have a different idea of eternal bliss. Feasts of Deeleeches, a kind of nutria long extinct on Mars (along with everything else) topped with a healthy sprinkle of pulverized iron ore and sloshed with an alarming amount of sulfur-scented hot sauce. "Luxurious" "massages" involving sharp home-plate shaped rocks flung frisbee-style at your lower back. All the sex you want-- as long as you're cool with Asparagus-shaped tentacles reaching far down your orifices. Toowhyoo can't quite understand why I'm so unhappy. "Do you know what Martian hell is like?" he says with a smile, setting up a joke. "A Booloocaster riding a Shumjagga into eternity."
For now, I guess, I can wait it out. I won't starve, not here in heaven. Toowhyoo says he'll investigate the possibilities of arranging tentacle-free stimulation for me. Soon, I'm sure, other astronauts, settlers will die on Mars. I won't be alone forever. If not, well, I'm just going to have to pray my transfer goes through.
If I could just figure out how to read this Martian Bible. | 2015-03-19T15:40:24 | 2015-03-19T14:32:18 | 62 | 14 |
[WP] You have a unique ability to cause background music that everyone can hear, but no one can figure out where it's coming from. And the situation always follows the music's cue, for better or worse. | It wouldn't be fair to say I didn't expect this to happen. After all, with how crazy my playlist's tend to be, I barely have control of this newfound power of mine, but now that I find myself in the gym with Kyary Pamyu Pamyu's "PonPonPon" playing in the background non-stop, I can definitely assert that this is no blessing, this is a curse.
It all started about ten minutes ago. Everything was working fine, I was playing "Eye of the Tiger," and while confused, those around me seemed to gain strength from the melody. They were all working out to the rhythm of the catchy song. Even I, who has been known to have a tough time at the gym because of my weight, felt invigorated with each and every beat. Of course, not all good things last for long.
About a week ago, my sister had found this particular song on Youtube. There was nothing special about it, it was in Japanese, so no one in my family even understood what the song was about, but we paid it no mind since it had a nice rhythm to it. That's when it started. Like my dad would often times say "anything can lead to harm if done in excess." She started playing the song during car rides, family dinners, and even while I was trying to study. To my dismay, the accursed lyrics to the song had dug themselves into my brain with steel screws, and there was no getting them off.
A certain key in my head was pressed, and then record scratch.
"Eye of the Tiger" came to a stop, and then came that childish noise.
*No, no, no!*
The people in the gym were even more confused than before. Now unable to stop working out to the rhythm of "PonPonPon," some people even became frightened. There was no stopping it, the moment that song started in my head, it would go on forever, and the more I listened to it, the more it would play.
*What an annoying loop to be stuck on!*
The song kept playing for a total of two hours and thirty-four minutes, and it only stopped because I passed out from exhaustion.
A few hours later I arrived home. My parents seemed concerned because of my pale face, but paid it no mind when I told them I was fine. At least something good had come out of the situation though. It appeared as though my body had completely blocked out the song from listening to it so much, and I couldn't even think of it without getting a headache, let alone play it!
I raised a celebratory fist to the sky, then noticed a small shadow lurking under me.
"Hey big bro!" my little sister said in her signature squeaky voice.
I kneeled down and pat her head. "Hey sis" I said with a smile.
She clutched her Ipad in between her clammy fingers. She then held it out for me to see the screen.
"What is this?" I asked.
"It's a new song I found! Here, give it a listen!"
I could feel my heart sink to the ground as *Baby Shark* started playing from the speakers. | The usual customers filed into the local bank on a lazy Saturday morning. Old ladies up at the crack of dawn to cash their social security checks, workaday moms and dads in a rush, and him. Covered head to toe in nondescript baggy grey clothes with a grey balaclava to match. He looked like a bank robber, which of course, he was.
All eyes were on him as soon as he walked through the door. An old lady screamed at the sight of him, while the two tellers on morning duty got all big-eyed, the look anyone got when they realized something was about to go horribly wrong. He watched, mildly amused, as the male teller's eyes shifted to the gun hanging from his hip. Trying to be a hero? Maybe to impress his pretty coworker? How trite. They all worried too much about the weapon and not enough about the power behind it.
The slow, dulcet tones of Brahms lullaby played at his command, filling the small bank with it's soothing melody. Before he never appreciated the sheer power music held, the depth behind every note. Now it was his only hobby, the one thing that kept him sane and in the realm of the living. The world was just so boring when everything bent to his will.
It took only a few seconds for the effects of song to take hold. Muscles relaxed, eyelids drooped, and legs gave out. The old women went first, then the others a second later until all were collapsed on the floor, blissfully asleep. He waited a few extra moments, just in case someone resisted his power, but they never did. The best any normal human could withstand was ten seconds, and these fell at five.
The two tellers were tangled together, in no state to stop him from robbing the vault, not that he'd take much. He could earn money in any number of ways, robbing banks was a childish interest of his, though even it grew bland after the twentieth time without incident. Maybe he'd woo a successful business woman next time? Even the stoniest of hearts would melt after a few seconds of his love songs. Women were of little interest now, but he could still find uses for money, even if only to spend it on meaningless luxuries.
He yawned and cut off the lullaby, too bored to even bother robbing the vault anymore now that he found something else to occupy his time. On whim he pulled out a pen and wrote down a random series of numbers on an important looking bank document. They were meaningless but it was mildly amusing to think about the police trying to decipher them. Maybe this time information would leak and his little ability would become public knowledge. That at least would be interesting, if only for a time. | 2019-09-06T18:07:40 | 2019-09-06T18:03:52 | 242 | 22 |
[WP] Today, I came to work, as usual. A little around 3 PM, I have noticed I don't remember my colleagues. Except for Kelly, who just sent me an email "Act normal, meet me downstairs. Now!" | The time on the display panels at the light rail read 8:10 AM. Damn, late again. Not that it was terribly unusual for me or anything. I'd just have to hustle the few blocks to the office, for not the first or second time this week.
I scanned my keycard as unobtrusively as possible, hoping to not attract any unwanted attention as I sneaked into the office. Well, maybe 'sneaked' is a bit of an exaggeration. When you have to walk past several rows of cubicles to access your workspace, it's a little difficult to be as sneaky as required.
Sneaking aside, something was different today.
"Huh?" I thought to myself, "I knew we had a high turnover rate here, but this is ridiculous". All the hunched over figures working arduously at their desks had to be new employees -- at least I'd never seen them before.
"Whatever", I thought to myself, and shrugged it off. As long as I'm not affected, BigCorp can do whatever they want.
A sip of coffee, some chair adjustments, CTRL + ALT + DELETE, and I was logged on to my terminal.
"346 new emails? What the.."
As I clicked through a list of internal emails, the majority of senders whom I did not recognize, one stood out from the group. Kelly. Kelly Hayes. Now that was a name that stood out for various reasons. Intrigued, I opened the message.
Click-click.
The email, now open, contained an unusual directive.
"Act normal, meet me downstairs. Now!
Kelly"
Instinctively, I pulled my hands away from the keyboard, almost as if to shelter myself from the strange turn my morning had taken. Surveying my situation, it was apparent I was the only one deviating from the "head down, working hard" performance all my colleagues appeared to be knocking out of the park. There was only one thing to do.
Ding! The elevator arrived promptly and ferried me to my destination with no additional stops. In retrospect, this was one of the more bizarre parts of the day, since an elevator ride at BigCorp inevitably involves a myriad of stops as staff and couriers travel from one floor to another.
The elevator stopped. I was at my destination.
The only person in the lobby was a man I didn't recognize. He was finishing up what seemed like an argumentative conversation with someone on his phone. As the elevator door clanged shut behind me, he spoke one final assurance to the person on the other end of the line:
" I'm taking care of it -- just about to handle the one we missed."
| When I arrived downstairs I was a little perplexed as the area was entirely renovated since the last time I saw it. I wondered how so much work could have been done in one morning; an entire wall had been broken down and a little interior garden with a fountain was fully integrated into the entrance hall of the building.
Kelly seemed irritated at my gawking and told me to follow her outside so that no-one could hear us.
Once there, she lit up a cigarette nervously and said; "This is what you get for playing around with psychedelics!". I suddenly remembered that I had brewed home-made DMT the previous night and we had consumed a bit of it on our afternoon tea-break at 2:45pm.
Kelly proceeded with a detailed account of her experience. As she related it, I found her quite lucky to have been able to trace the mental path that led to the current situation, for I had basically just walked to the restrooms and came to a few minutes later, dazed and confused.
She explained to me that as she also felt quite insecure being so high in front of all her colleagues, she decided like me to sit it out in the ladies' room. She, though, had had a spectacular experience.
She told me that she found herself drifting up and out of her physical body and as she looked down on herself, she was certain that she was experiencing death. Her crumpled self was on the floor, unconscious. Something drew her through what felt like a vacuum cleaner pipe then she suddenly found herself seated on the guest side of a large wooden desk. A blond toddler was sitting in front of her, his head in his hands. As he shook his head he muttered "I hate this job". Kelly noticed that there was a plaque on the wall behind him, with a certificate mentioning the title of "Spokesperson for the Grand Gridmaster of the 102nd Dimension".
He explained to her monotonously that she had interfered with her grid level compatibility and it was his task to send her back as accurately as possible to the reality she was born into and had continued fashioning in the course of her life. There was no guarantee she would have access to the same set of circumstances she exited with. | 2016-09-16T13:15:55 | 2016-09-16T07:58:36 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] You've sent your Ancestry DNA off to be analyzed a few weeks ago. This morning two government officials knock on your door saying you must come with them. | "Mr. Lockheart", yelled the man at the door, "Mr. Lockheart, please open up, it's important!".
I wake up startled by the sounds of the loud voice and look at the clock. 6am. Ugh.
It sounds urgent however. I hurry towards the door and open it after looking through the peephole.
"Hello... who are you?"
A man in white lab coat is standing there, carrying documents under his arm - documents that look like the DNA samples I sent last week to that new lab past the clinic.
"Yes, how can I.. uh, how can I help you?"
"You mind if I come in?", he said, making his way inside before hearing my answer.
"Um, sure..."
--
We're sitting down now, I'm drinking coffee, he is having a RedBull he took from his bag.
"Mr. Lockheart, forgive me if I'm direct, but you sent your DNA to be analyzed last week, correct?"
"Yes, that's correct. How do you know that?"
"And the purpose of such an analysis was to see your ancestry, yes?"
"Correct again. But, how do you know that?"
"Well Mr. Lockheart, I have your analysis right here, and some things have come to light. "
"You really like avoiding questions. Okay. I'm assuming you work at the lab, then? But couldn't you just phone me about this, or send the tests directly?"
"No! Turns out that there is a big discovery in your DNA, and I wanted to tell you directly, to congratulate you and to let you know what the future holds for humanity! Part of the DNA sequence you sent seems to have remnants of some we thought was lost due to evolution over thousands of years."
"I don't think I understand", I said.
"Let me say it in very simple terms: Back to the time of our most primitive ancestors - I'm not sure when exactly, leave that to the historians - it used to be the case that mammals had a key sequence in their DNA which allowed them to withstand diseases far easier than us. Mostly this was due to the amount of exposure to the environment they had, and some other factors - I'm not sure which exactly, leave that to the biologists - but the point is that thanks to your DNA we now have the key to reproducing this sequence in a lab environment! Thiscan allow us to, someday, create vaccines to cure heart diseases, cognitive degeneration, fevers, Parkinson, Aids - who knows, the sky's the limit!"
"Wow! That's amazing! Jesus... And am I gonna get some kind or remuneration for this?"
"What? No, sorry."
"Oh."
There was a silence for a while.
"Well, that's fine, at least I have that DNA in me, right? Meaning I'm immune to most diseases?"
"No. Not really. The sequence is there, but it's dormant, so... yeah."
"Oh."
Another silence. The man then shuffles opens my file and examines it for a few seconds.
"Oh, right, I almost forgot!"
"Yes? More good news?"
"Well, we definitely found something else while doing some extra blood work!"
"Yes?!"
"You have cancer."
--
More stories: [/r/TitanStories](https://www.reddit.com/r/TitanStories) - [Titan Stories](https://stories.titan.red/) - [Newsletter](https://tinyletter.com/titanred) | It's a warm spring day, green with leaves swaying in the wind, and bugs buzzing across the lawn. The two suits standing in front of me are really killing the vibe. They look like accountants, and yet they're strangely intimidating.
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Please don't make this hard on yourself."
"I don't even know who you are, or where you are taking me. And I sure as hell am not going anywhere without letting anyone else know."
"Like we said, we're not kidnapping you. During a routine DNA test, something very interesting was discovered. Call your girlfriend, or wife, or mother, or whoever."
Shit, I don't have a girlfriend or a wife, and my mom is nothing but a drunk. This whole time I've been protesting and I don't even know who to call, or what an actual excuse might look like. My best friend Dan? He's alright. I get to dialing, pressing the screen slowly, trying to think of an exit route. Why the hell did I sign up for that DNA Heritage bullshit?
Voicemail. Of course. Dude's probably stoned and watching a rerun of office space. Fuck me. "Hey Dan, ummmm, this is a bit weird. Um. These two government agents, they're ahhh, they are going to ask me some questions and interview me. I didn't do anything wrong, it's just a weird health test thing. Agents Jackson and Smith with the" I pull the phone away, "what's your agency again?"
"Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division"
"Okay, so they're from the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division."
I don't have any more excuses and they seem to be losing their patience. One of the agents, a rather short fellow with an odd comb over, he keeps tapping at his watch. I pat my dog on the head one last time, eye up my messy living room and realize how badly I need to sweep the floor. Then I make my way out onto the porch.
This is bad. The one time I got sent to the principal's office in third grade, I cried. Never messed with Susy Perkin's crayons again. One of the agents opens the back door of their nondescript black sedan and I slide in.
There's a man sitting on the other side of the back seat. He's wearing a strange leather long coat, and an eye patch over his right eye. There are a number of scars on his dark skin and he's wearing a big grin across his face.
"Do you know why you're here?"
"Not a clue."
"That DNA test you signed up for? That's not real. It's a government program designed to look for genetic anomalies. We found an anomaly, and it could turn out to very important."
"What does, what does this anomaly mean? Am I sick or something?"
The man laughs, "Oh no, you're not sick. Far from it." | 2017-05-31T12:36:41 | 2017-05-31T12:00:21 | 79 | 40 |
[WP] You're a villain that fell in love with a hero. Though the strongest villain on the planet, you constantly lose to your hero, since you just love the rivalry and don't want it to end. As you are being arrested one day, your hero is attacked by another villain, one too strong for them to beat. | Kenn wasn't adverse to killing people. That came with the job. Sometimes, you just had to do what was necessary to survive. That's what human nature was right? People have been killing each other for centuries. Who can honestly say they're surprised when the first thing superhumans do is start killing each other? That's what they were made to do. Heroes must kill villains, villains must kill heroes. Sure; every now and then a hero leaves a villain alive. Sure; they might even swear off killing altogether. When you get to the bottom of the morally murky swamp however you realize that one way or another either the villain or the hero has to die. That's how wars are fought and this is nothing if not a war.
Kenn sat there looking at her, holding the bag of cash from the bank he had very illicitly withdrawn from the people's savings account. She was brave for her skill. All heroes kind of were. Villains took money and power, heroes took morale superiority and the greater good of society. Heroes went home to an applause every day so it's only natural eventually they got a little too brave for their britches. Kenn didn't mind though. He could tolerate a little bravery here and there. He could tolerate anything from her at this point.
He'd be lying to himself if he said he wanted the money for money's sake. No, he wanted to see her again. He'd be mocked if any of the villains were to know that. Villains weren't allowed to have sweet-hearts. Especially rather heroic ones. This was a war and they were the enemy. This was the closest thing to a date Kenn was every going to get. "Drop the dough" she demanded and Kenn was all to eager to follow. Millions of dollars in bills were heavier than you'd expect. Especially when they come with the heavy knowledge that it was the only way to see her again.
Kenn cracked his knuckles gearing up for a fight he'd know he would lose. He told himself every day that maybe he'd win this time, that maybe this time he'd summon up enough emotional courage to go with his physical abilities but he never could. She sucked it out of him like a second power even she didn't know she had. "Come and get me, Electora" He said tauntingly, using her superhero name. He didn't know her real name.
She didn't smile this time though. She did usually, on any other day. Why wasn't she smiling?
Before Kenn could ask where her grin of bravery had hidden off to, there was the boom of thunder followed by the crack of lightning. Kenn flew back several dozen feet down the street. That was her power, bolts of electric shock. Of course Kenn was a copy-cat villain. He could just shoot one right back, but he wasn't going to. He wasn't going to match fire with fire this time around.
Something was wrong, she didn't seem very... Happy about this. That didn't make any sense. Here he was, spitting out chunks of asphalt as she approached, just as she would have it. How could she be so glum like him? Where was that smiling row of teeth Kenn had gone so far to witness? He stood up just to catch her throw a punch. He made like he was going to block it. He didn't of course. The fist blasted into his cheek; the closest thing Kenn would ever get to a kiss, and he relished it for the few seconds he could as he stumbled back again.
She threw another punch, but something peculiar happened. Kenn saw it come in and once again made the purposefully half-assed attempt to catch it. Kenn flinched just as the fist was about to connect with his upper eye and then... Nothing. Even with his eyes closed he could feel the block of her fist stop just short. It was only a moment, only a few microseconds before Kenn launched himself back again as if he was hit.
Kenn was starting to understand now as he stood there, looking at her. She gritted her teeth and Kenn could feel his heart sink: She knew now, she was starting to understand. Maybe she didn't understand why but she was smart enough to know what was happening. "I knew it" She breathed, sending a kick his way only to stop just short of his windpipe. Kenn pretended to gag, falling on his ass.
"Stop it!" She shouted, standing over him. Kenn had never seen her this angry before. He sat there looking at her as she made to stomp directly onto his face but, once again, didn't. This time Kenn didn't do anything. He just sat there, blinking as he looked at the underside of her boot. Her eyes were watering now as she stepped back, putting her arms down. "For the love of god..." She began, raising her hands again now not in fists but in open curled hands as if she was trying to summon something out of Kenn. "Fight back!"
Ken got up, rubbing the spot on his cheek were a bruise was forming. "I-... Can't." He said, trying to follow that up with some viable excuse. Grasping and reaching out for something he could say that would keep her in the dark, in that comfortable lie he had managed to keep her in for so long. There wasn't anything Kenn could do now. All he could do was pretend.
He imagined this was quite a scene to the police and reporters nearby, who watched with anticipation at what was happening. Kenn snarled at them, hating their every being for this. For making what was supposed to be a private moment public. She stood there a moment waiting for Kenn to say something else. When he didn't she sighed, her anger giving way to a sadness Kenn couldn't quantify. Her blue eyes just scorched into Kenn. Hurting him more than any punch could. "I can't do this anymore." She croaked, her voice breaking.
"Do you think this is so easy for me?" She said, turning away and wiping her face with her hands. "Every time I throw a punch, every time I hurt you I just get this terrible feeling that I'm feeding something I don't want to. I feel sick every time I break your bone or shock you."
She shook her head: "And every time you come around, they send me... They always send me because they know I'm the only one that can beat you. So every time I have to force myself here, to force myself to throw punches and hurt you in ways I didn't want to. I can't, I just can't do this anymore."
She turned back to him, clasping her hands together with tears streaming down her cheeks: "Please... Just this once, don't make me hurt you again. It's killing me. For just once can you please win?"
Kenn didn't know what to say. This whole time Kenn thought he was helping her when all he was doing was hurting her. This was what it meant to be an arch nemesis. To try and help someone only to realize you're the one hurting them the most. He didn't know what to do. They were stuck now, neither having the selfishness to hurt each other, neither having the selflessness to fake it. This was a war in which there was no victor. It was a war where people just got hurt and no one was the hero and no one was the villain. Both of them had at this point long forgotten the bag of money now laying in the street, dollar bills rolling through the wind. | You are either born with powers or not. That just how it is. Don't ask me why you did not get powers while I did, okay? Because I don't know, but what I do know is that I used mine to perfection! Nobody had a chance against me in my time, and to be frank, I don’t think anyone will ever surpass the accomplishment written in my “Villains Grade Book” or police report to you people.
The day I retired as a villain and went into exile, was the day after my heart was broken. In the realization that I had a heart, I quit. Not because I wanted to, but as we learned in villain school “No villain has a heart!”, so I knew my time was over.
I lost my dream job, but on the other hand I gained a heart, and it was not nearly as awful as I had thought. I quickly joined a group of former villains who all had found their own hearts at one point or another. It was a wonderful group of people, there was Joey (aka Nightman) who found his heart when he fell in love with music. Then there was Jodie (aka Stallone), I know the name seems silly, but what can you do she loves him and everyone picks their own name after graduation from villain school. She found her heart, well you guessed it, in Sylvester Stallone, even though I never found out if she actually met him.
Even though I was not quick to open up to the group they eventually found out how I had found my heart. In hindsight I found it much earlier than when it broke, because for your heart to break it must have something to ache over, I had just not realized I was in love.
During my exceptional regime over the world, I am not saying I was the Overlord, but some did actually called me that, so it would not be wrong of you to think of me like that or something. Just sayin’. Sorry back on track, I will get to the point now, it is just that this I never easy for me to tell, but here I go.
During my exceptional regime over the world, I encountered a hero I later learned was called Lady Light. She was something special, not because she had a chance against me, in fact I think she must have been one of the weaker heroes, but it genuinely felt like she did not fight for herself, like every other dumbass hero seems to do. Her small little speeches about what she was fighting for before we fought, she did it every time. It inspired me somehow, and I could not get myself to beat her in our fights. I wanted to fight her as often as possible, not only because I wanted to be around her, but also because her victories over me had gone to her head, just a little.
She had proclaimed that with her constant victories over me, she had shown that she could become the savior of the world. She was quick to make her next targets of villains public, and the list was nasty. It was combined of the most vicious, horrible and evil villains this planet had to offer. I knew that she would get killed if she took any one of those guys on, it would be certain death and I would not let that happen, so I made sure she was busy fighting me that she would not have time to go after the others.
It worked, but only for a year. Our fight occurred every single day, but she never seemed to repeat the same speech, I don’t know how, but she always found something to fight for. I had been such a narrow minded person my whole life, only ever fighting for power, but through her speeches she showed me the wonder of the world, the diversity, and how many different things there were to care about. During those fight, I was happy and because she would be victories in the end, she would also be happy.
After a year of fights it all suddenly changed, when my plan started to work against me. Lady Light had become the most know hero in the world, constantly beating a villain bigger than anyone before. It might have taken her focus away from the other villains, but at the same time it had put the focus of them on her. Villains like Hell and Showtime had seen this as an opportunity to take me down and defeat Lady Light to take the top spot.
Showtime was the one to do it, he caught me off guard one night. My daily fight with the lady had just taken place, and she had just left me with my hands cuffed around a street light. The police would usually arrive not soon after she had flown away, today our fight had taken place downtown in the Capital, which meant it would be detective Rose that would greet me that day.
When the police arrived, a few minutes later than usual, detective Rose stepped out of the car and to my surprise he uncuffed me. Before I had a chance to speak he had given me another pair of cuffs on me, which was infused with uranium, greatly reducing my powers, and not normal police gear! Out the back of the police car stepped Showtime, with a devious smile on his face. He nodded towards detective Rose who stepped away from me and walked back to the car. A few steps before he reached the car, Showtime stabbed him in the neck with a motion faster than I had remembered it to be.
I instantly knew he was here for the lady. Unfortunately Showtime is not the typical villain, who always seems to forget something, it was clear that this was his day, his moment to rise up and take what he always wanted. So he began to beat me, and with my powers reduced his strikes inflicted more damage than they normally would. After a few minutes of constant strikes he stopped, confident in victory.
Showtime had been well prepared, or maybe just lucky, I never knew, but when something happened to police detective in downtown, Lady Light would always be the first hero on the spot. Her father was a detective, and to protect them was probably the only cause she held higher than any other. That was also the case that day, as the lady arrived not long after, with a horrified look on her face when she saw that the detective was dead. Her faced turned from horror to pure disgust when she looked at Showtime, and for the first time in my life, I rooted for the good side.
The fight did not take long, and her lifeless body tore a hole in my sole, I barely remember Showtime even being there. I could not move or anything, Showtime removed my cuffs while saying something about being the new sheriff in town. The only thing I remember clearly was my heart stopped. I had never noticed it beating, but in that moment it stopped. The world she had shown me was gone, and I had absolutely no idea about what to do the next day. Now we know what happened, but right then and there, the villain in me died. In her death she gave me a heart, and for that I am forever thankful. | 2017-09-17T05:11:57 | 2017-09-17T02:32:46 | 32 | 13 |
[WP] Use the random page feature on wikipedia until you get three names. The first person's name you get is the hero of the story. The second is the villain. The third is the reason they're fighting. | Our heroine: **Julie Halpern**. An American YA fiction writer.
The villain: **Bryotropha vondermuhlli**. A species of moth from western Europe.
The reason for all this: **Den Beste Sykkel**. A Norwegian bicycle manufacturer.
Well then.
Julie overpaid the taxi driver by a good two hundred Kroner, leaving him to bemusedly count the notes as she sprinted across the street toward the office block. The city of Sandnes slept around it in the almost perpetual darkness of a Norwegian winter, though thankfully one thus far free of snow.
The building was intact, which was always a good sign, but Julie forced herself to keep alert nonetheless. She had no idea exactly what was planning to attack this place, and she wasn't about to let down her guard; the dreadful business with the parasitic wasps in Munich had taught her that.
Inside, a bored looking receptionist flicked a pen across a light pine desk.
"You there, is Jonas here!?" she asked the girl, who looked up in annoyance.
"Office hours are over," the girl replied, her English spoken in the lilting tones of Scandinavia.
"To hell with office hours!" Julie shouted, causing the girl to jump in her seat. "Den Beste Sykkel is in danger!"
"What would anyone want with this place?"
Julie looked at her as if she were stupid. "I have no time for this," she muttered, and pushed past the receptionist through a door. She guessed the sign above it must have read 'Staff only', seeing as the girl cried out in protest, but she paid her no heed, instead sprinting along a corridor and up a flight of stairs.
She found Jonas in his office on the third floor. He was surrounded by bicycle parts laid out in a pattern on the carpet and appeared to be in a meditative state. She shook him roughly by the shoulder, and he jerked awake with a gasp.
"J-Julie," he stammered, "What are you doing here!?"
"Sykkel is being targeted, Jonas. Thankfully I made it here in time."
He nodded. "It was inevitable. Is it the ants? We've been fearing a reprisal from them for what went down in Moscow."
"I don't know. I only got word out of the Colonel today. I had just enough time to stock up on the most general compounds." She withdrew a set of canisters from her jacket, and lined them up on Jonas' desk.
"They'll have to do," he said, eyeing them. "I'll get the gear."
He walked to the wood panelling, at the corner of the office, and inserted a silver key. A section of wall swung back to reveal a series of sleek, dark firearms and other military paraphernalia hung inside a second space within. He prised a long rifle off the wall and tossed it to her. She caught it neatly, balancing its weight with practised ease as she swung it around, placing the butt upon the ground. She took one of the canisters and began fitting it inside the rifle's barrel.
Jonas was hefting a second weapon out when they heard a hammering at the window. They both turned as one to the noise.
"They're here..." Julie breathed.
Jonas stood stock still, eyes closed, breathing in slowly.
"But what is it?" he whispered.
Julie approached the blinds, heart pounding. The noise from outside was growing more intense by the second, an incessant drumming upon the panes, harder and harder and...
Julie yanked them back. A swarm of small winged bodies battered the glass, a seething tempest of tiny, brown wings.
"*Bryotropha vondermuhlii*," she spat, "you sons of bitches."
She cocked her rifle with a sharp motion, and span back toward Jonas, her face hardening.
"I hope you're ready," she growled, "this is going to be a bloodbath."
> edit: words
| 1. William Kennard, former American ambassador to the EU
2. W. L. "Jack" Howard Mayor of Monroe Louisiana in the 50's, 60's and 70's
3. Brenda Nicholls, Canadian curler
Hmmm . . . okay.
Will was excited. He has come up with a plan to improve relations with Europe. America and other countries had long argued over which "football" was the proper "football." Will would fix this by leaving all sports with feet and balls behind and advocating a new organized sporting event to unite people: curling. The president had liked the idea, and so did his staff. Will had been given the go-ahead to organize a curling conference in Scandinavia to help sell the idea to the European public. The special guest at the conference was Brenda Nicholls. She was Canadian, but Will really admired how she played.
During the conference, one of Will's aid anxiously took him aside.
"We have a crisis, sir. A disgruntled Southern gentleman had taken Ms. Nicholls hostage! Their on the ice rink right now and he wants to talk to you."
Will raced to the ice rink and took in the scene. Brenda was in the middle with her hands tied to several large curling stones. The Southerner was on the far side of the rink, standing on a Zamboni.
"Are you in charge of this 'curling' business?" asked the Southerner.
"Yes I am," replied Will. "Who are you and what do you want?"
"My name is Jack and I am here to stop this 'curling' before it starts. It unfairly favors Yankees because the north is much colder than the south. I demand that you choose a different sport, one that all American can participate in equally. If you do not, I will run over this woman with this ice-cleaning truck."
"It's called a Zamboni," Brenda yelled, "and I will willingly die for the great sport of curling."
Will ran through his options. As they were in Europe, the only person in the area who would likely have a gun would be Jack (Southerners *always* have guns, don't you know), so they couldn't just shoot him. Will didn't think that he could reach the Zamboni before Jack started driving it, so he couldn't physically stop him. Will also couldn't think of a replacement sport that didn't involve feet or balls. Well, there was hockey, but that was also a Canadian ice sport that (apparently) discriminated against southerners.
"I am *waiting*," snapped Jack, obviously a little annoyed.
"Please," begged Will. "Give me more time."
"Damn you, Yankee," yelled Jack as he hopped into the Zamboni and fired it up.
Will started to panic, but then he noticed that Brenda had managed to free one of her arms.
"Sweep me a path!" she ordered. As Brenda forcefully pushed one large stone forward, Will got in front of it and swept the ice frantically with a broom. The stone moved forward to meet the oncoming Zamboni and when the two were about ten feet apart, Will abandoned his sweeping and raced back to the other side of the rink. The Zamboni and the stone collided, causing a giant explosion. The evil Southerner was blown to bits!
Thus the sport of curling was saving and went on to become very popular in both Europe and North America. Brenda thanked Will for saving her by giving him two tons of maple syrup and a moose, because Canada. | 2015-09-11T20:19:51 | 2015-09-11T18:54:04 | 600 | 197 |
[WP] You are a supervillain who has just captured your rival's child. Rather than being afraid, they're begging you to let them stay. | The son of Thunderclap laid asleep in his cell, in a bed behind a plasma barrier. My soldiers had taken him from his home just a few hours ago. My machinations were finally coming to fruition. After all this time, I finally held some power over that mighty bastard.
The boy tossed and turned, shaking awake. I walked towards the cell, which was protected by two commandoes. I had no choice but to leave it to them; I had no idea what Thunderclap's son was capable of.
"Leave us." My eyes darted towards both guards. They nodded and obeyed.
The barrier deactivated with a wave of my right hand.
The child looked up at me.
"Where am I?" He asked, startled.
"My sea base. We're nearly a mile under the ocean's surface."
"Who are you?"
I looked towards the boy, confused. My composure returned.
"I am Deviator. I'm sure you've at least heard of me from your father."
"Me and Dad don't talk much..."
"Really?"
"Yeah..."
"Well, that doesn't matter. What matters is that once he learns of your capture, he'll be drawn out here in an attempt to save his only child. But that's when I'll-."
"That's not gonna work."
"Excuse you?"
"My dad told me I'm not worth his time... he said I'm useless until I figure out my powers."
Even I couldn't imagine someone as grandiosely righteous as Thunderclap saying that to a child. Especially his own son. This was new. But if his statement held true, then he's just as useless to me as he was to his father. I knelt down to his level.
"I'll find a different way to draw your bastard father out, then. In the meantime, you'll be sent back home."
As I began to stand up, the boy's head shot upwards.
"No!"
"Hm?"
"I don't wanna go back. Please don't send me back."
I was shocked. The boy seemed afraid. But, not of me.
"I'd rather stay here. Anything's better than that house!"
I looked into his eyes. This child had been through hell, no doubt about it.
"What's your name, boy?"
"Jayden."
"Well, Jayden, why do you wish to stay?"
He lifted his right sleeve. He was covered in scars. Not just any scars. They were identical to my lightning scars from my battles with his father.
"Thunderclap did that to you."
Jayden nodded.
"Why not defend yourself? Surely you have some sort of inherited powers?"
"My dad said to never use my powers... because whenever I do, I hear this voice. And the voice tells me to protect myself whenever he gets upset with me."
"Jayden, what does the voice tell you to do? Listen to it now."
He closed his eyes and put his head down for a moment. The air grew cold around me. The lights flickered. Jayden's hair floated, as if gravity had no meaning for him.
His head darted upwards. His eyes were now crimson.
"I want to make him pay!"
The area shook with just his voice.
This power... it was incredible. I couldn't help but smile and laugh.
"Jayden, my dear boy... I have a fun idea."
He paced his breathing as he stared at me with his flaming eyes.
"How would you like to be my apprentice? I see so much potential in you. Together, we could make your damned father pay for what he's done to you."
Jayden's eyes returned to their original blue color. He stood up, right in front of me.
"Make me strong. Strong enough to kill my dad."
"Good man." | "Velveteen, I'm not going to lie, I'm a bit disappointed in you," Velveteen's caseworker said as he enter the domicil that contained his dungeon. Granted it wasn't as fantastic as Mr. Red's or as gawdy as Captain Dog's, but it was still home and a little appreciation would be nice. "I'm not sure which I'm more disappointed about, you returning to crime or you kidnapping a child." Oh right, that was his problem. He probably loved the place, especially with the soft furry walls.
"Well, you see, I may have started off with nefarious motives but turns out I committed an act of good!" Velveteen said with a flourish as he pulled the curtain aside that bared the luxurious guest quarters. For the child's sake he has removed all the usual trappings and redid it in more appropriate furnishings.
"Velveteen, why is St Agne's kid playing with a flail?" His caseworker asked he pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Why Terry-"
"Mr. Dertank," his caseworker interrupted.
"It's a child's toy, specially one my mother gave me around his age, it's completely safe!"
"It has glass attached to the ends."
"Well how else is the child supposed to learn how not to get hurt? But at any rate, I thought only of you when the little one here was delighted to be absconded with. Not that I am not a delightful host, but his tales were similar to the lies that circulated about my childhood." Which they all were lies, his mother was nothing more than magnanimous and wonderful with a delightful word for all who crossed her path. His case worker gave him that sad pitiful look he often gave him whenever they discussed his mother. Velveteen decided to ignore it as he always did.
"I need some privacy with the kiddo, can you do that?" He closed the door and watches soundlessly through the window. Velveteen loved to watch his caseworker work, the way his kind eyes expressed emotion, the way he soothed others with his presence. It was no wonder that Terry was the most sought after at the criminal rehabilitation center. Half the clients were smitten with him but not Velveteen, his heart belonged to The Tank, even if they didn't know it.
About two hours later the child was taken away by other social workers and a few cops, all of which did their best not to be impressed by his home, even going so far as to not mess up the walls he had combed for their arrival.
"Next time can you call me before you kidnap a kid?" Terry asked.
"Well how was I to know? Now you should call up The Tank and the two of us can defeat St Agne!"
"Or we let the proper authorities handle it. I appreciate your enthusiasm Velveteen but let the system handle it."
Two weeks later Velveteen was greeted by the sight of the front page photo of The Tank knocking out At Agnes and the tagline of "Has The Tank gone off the rails?" He clipped it and put it in his scrapbook. | 2022-04-06T21:46:12 | 2022-04-06T19:24:27 | 58 | 38 |
[WP] You're a psychic doing a game show. Unlike the other contestants, you're the real deal. They bring you all to a house where a crime happened in the past. When it's your turn, a ghost appears and tells you: "That's him, that's the one who killed me." Pointing towards the host of the show. | I’ve seen the unseen and known the unknown for so long life had gotten rather boring. I’d discovered the dangers of using my gifts when I was a child so I had taken to concealing them. When I graduated college with my degree in physics I’d joined, on a lark, the skeptics society. If only they’d known.
Well, now I’m a pretty well known debunker of psychic phenomena. It’s pretty easy when you can read their minds. It’s not as hypocritical as you might think, so stop judging me Eric in Wisconsin. I have never met anyone else that has even the slightest hint of the gift.
Three psychics were invited to participate at the Carllingon Mansion, a supposedly haunted mansion where Ashley Carllington was murdered three years ago. You might remember her as she dominated the news cycle for weeks. She was a pretty famous rising actress, helped along by her billionaire father’s money I’m sure.
As I stepped before the cameras on live tv, a first for me, Craig Lawson’s handsome face met mine as he introduced me to the world. He then introduced the three supposed psychics. Two women were standing there along with a man. The man and one of the women were cold-reading fraudsters and the final woman was just bat shit crazy. I was formulating how to expose them in the most dramatic fashion when Ashley Carllington walked out in her bloody lingerie. I looked at everyone and then back at her, mouth ajar because by skimming everyone’s thoughts I knew I was the only one seeing her. Was I crazy?
“You can see me!” She ran at me so quickly I flinched, but in true ghost fashion her hand passed through me. Her touch was cold as the grave to me. Fitting I might add. No one seemed to notice my odd behavior.
“Listen,” she said, practically shouting at me, “He killed me, the fucker.” She pointed at Craig Lawson.
She had to be shitting me. I had so many questions but had to pretend to ignore her. If I responded I'd come across as insane on live tv.
“Please,” she told me, tears pouring from her eyes, “We were hiding our relationship. I told him I was pregnant and he wanted me to abort it but I told him no. Then he pulled out the knife.”
I looked at Craig and dove into his memories. I saw this murder. Then I saw the other murders. I saw his plans to murder another mistress soon. The man was a monster.
“So,”. He had turned back to me and asked jovially, “ What do you think of our group of psychics?”
“Fraud, fraud,” I pointed to the man and woman then to the final lady, “ Crazy as a loon. But what about you, Craig?”
“What about me?” He asked laughingly. I could see in his mind he thought this was part of my shtick.
“You killed Elizabeth Shaw, your sisters best friend when you were only 13 after she caught you masturbating,” I announced theatrically. If I was going to do this I might as well make it memorable, “Strangled her to death. Nasty business in more ways than one. I count eight murders, Mr. Lawson. Shall I go over them one by one, in detail? Of course the reason we're here is your most famous victim, Ashley Carllington. She was with child too.”
“How the fuck do you know that?” He looked at me and asked on live tv. His face was filled with a primal fear.
“Because I AM psychic, you fuck wit,” I declared.
You know the rest. The trial, the call of witnesses, the confession, and the approaching execution. You also now know how and why I got so famous. I’d ask if you have any questions. But I know you do. After all, I am psychic. | ######[](#dropcap)
Angela stared at the young girl, trying to hide the expression of pity that threatened to show on her face. The shimmering form of the ghost was that of a girl no older than fourteen, and despite the fact that her eyes were a pale white, she was no scarier than her own fat tabby cat at home.
"He lured me to this house and killed me," the girl whispered. "Please, you must help me."
"Oh, I will," Angela murmured, her eyes flashing. She turned toward the cameras and brought her hands to her head, closing her eyes and shaking her head around. "Ahh! I'm getting a vision!" she shouted loudly.
Marvin, the host, walked up, his bright blue eyes wide. "Looks like our third contestant, Angela Schlemming, is seeing something. What do you see, Angela?"
"I see...I see...a little girl. She's wearing...a blue dress and she has strawberry blonde hair. She's wearing...a necklace." Her eyes popped open.
A flicker of surprise crossed Marvin's face but was gone in an instant. "A necklace?" he asked, but this time Angela could hear the slight reluctance in his voice. He didn't actually want to ask her.
"A necklace with a name on it. It says...it says..." She paused, milking the silence as the other contestants, along with the camera crew, waited with bated breath. "Jess. Her name was Jess," she finally said.
Marvin's face paled. He brought out a handkerchief and wiped his face. "Wow, isn't that something, folks? Now, let's move on to the next contestant because we're running out of--"
"Don't you want to know what happened to poor Jess?" Angela cut in.
Marvin laughed nervously, adjusting the tie on his suit. "Now, Ms. Schlemming, I'm sure you have plenty to say. But we're running out of time, and we all know that ghosts aren't real."
The director glared at him from behind the line of cameras. What the fuck was this idiot doing?
Marvin blinked. "I mean, they could very well be real," he backtracked, swallowing. "I just meant that we can hear about Jess's murder in the next episode since we still have two contestants to get through still."
Silence greeted his words. he looked around at everyone. "What?" he asked. But there was no force behind the question.
Angela gazed at him coolly, folding her hands in her lap. "I never said she was murdered," she said.
Marvin's face drained of color. "I...that was just a guess," he sputtered. But his nervousness betrayed him as he dropped the mic. Now everyone in the room was staring at him, some with expressions of horror on their face as they realized the implication. He fell to his knees, his head hitting the floor as he wrapped his hands around his head, groaning.
Angela stood up. "How perfect," she said. "His confession has just been recorded and broadcasted live." She turned to the young girl, who stood there, her eyes focused on her murderer. Then the girl turned to her. "Thank you," she mouthed, before her body faded into a wisp.
"No problem," Angela murmured. "All in a day's work."
***
If you liked this story, I write lots of fantasy and all sorts of genres over at r/AlannaWu! | 2018-11-15T14:35:50 | 2018-11-15T14:29:32 | 459 | 113 |
[WP] “Someone once told me the definition of Hell: The last day you have on earth, the person you became will meet the person you could have become.” -Anonymous | A screech, a crash, a flash - in seconds it was all over. A great blinding light washed over me, and I found myself surrounded by the material that makes up the very universe. I saw time stretch before me, eons and ages would pass without me. I had been removed from existence...or so I thought. I looked over to my left, and saw someone standing far off in the distance. Longing to share this experience with someone, anyone, I began to float over to them. As I got closer, I noticed this person looked eerily familiar.
"Who are you?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"I'm you," the person smiled. And I knew that he was telling the truth. This was me - though older, more refined, with a sense of power and authority about him.
"Me? How can you be me? I'm me, and I think I'm dead."
"Oh, you are. I am too. It's some sort of sick joke. I'm stuck here to meet myself, every time a version of me dies. And then you will go off to...wherever it is you go off to."
I was confused. Why would I care about meeting myself? And why was he stuck here when the rest of "us" got to move on? I voiced my questions out loud.
"I think it's to make you feel ashamed, when you compare your life to mine." He smiled again. "I was quite accomplished, you know. Judging by your age, I don't think you can say the same."
His words sparked anger in me. "I accomplished plenty! I graduated college with honors, had a great job, a loving girlfriend..." He cut me off with a scoff.
"When I was your age, I had already started my first company. It went on to bankroll my future endeavors. What about you? Let me guess - you pissed away all of your time going drinking with friends and staying up late playing video games."
I was getting really irritated, but also embarassed. He was right - I did spend too much time with my friends and on games. I could have accomplished so much more! Is this the potential that I wasted? He went on.
"Yes, at 27 I had started my own company. It was a research firm, specializing in defense. Soon we were bought out by Booze Allen, and I rose through the ranks. I became the youngest CEO in the history of the company, at 45. The money I made I put to good use too - ensuring a steady stream of business for our company."
"A steady stream of business? What do you mean?"
He - I - floated away from me. He turned his back, and for the first time I sensed hesitation in his voice.
"Well, what is a defense contractor to do, if there's nothing to defend against?"
Cold horror dawned on me. "What, you started fights?"
He laughed. "Starting fights is easy. Starting wars takes a little more thought."
"But what did your wife think about all this? You married Katie, right?"
He laughed once more, but this time it was more of a scoff. "Wives, friends, family...all these things do is hold you back from your accomplishments. No, no...I dumped Katie right out of college. She wanted me to spend too much time with her, and it took away the time I needed to start Simtech. Things were better this way. Take the lesson from me - after all, I am the best version of yourself!"
Disgust flowed out of me, but before I could give it a voice, I found myself sucked away from the other me, the monstrous me. Now, I was in a place of nothing. Nothing but me and my thoughts, floating endlessly through the darkness. Is this truly what I was capable of? Did I have this monster in me the entire time? It seemed I would have eternity to feel the guilt of this other man's life. | I committed suicide at age 43, alone in a dingy flat in a dodgy area; overdue two months of rent, water long since cut off, and loan sharks knocking at my door at all hours of the night.
I will freely admit that I knew I wasn't a model citizen, but I certainly didn't think I was Hell-worthy. I thought of myself as a lower-class limbo type of guy. I guess I was wrong.
I suppose that if it wasn't the binge drinking, shoplifting, child support-dodging, and down-right embarrassing church attendance that got me into the not-so-nice big-H, then it was the sleazy one-night stands, coke-fueled evenings, football betting, dealing to high schoolers, and bar fights.
Whatever the cause of my classification, I knew I had messed up because as soon as I lost consciousness on the beer-stained beige carpet of my apartment. I was slumped over a metal table in a dimly-lit room that vaguely reminded me of a police station.
The first of my groggy thoughts flitted towards something along the lines of "oh shit, they found the coke". No sooner had the thought processed did a door I hadn't noticed to my left swung open and in sauntered a cleanly shaved man in a freshly-pressed suit.
I tracked him with my eyes and squinted at his face, trying to place it, as he purposefully walked in front of the table, pulling out the opposite chair and hanging his navy jacket on the back of it before smoothing the backs of his trousers and sitting down to face me.
He was the kind of man I glanced at on the street and sneered at as he lowered his head and picked up pace the moment I nodded my head up and twitched my lip at him. He certainly didn't seem to be a police officer or even a detective. In my previous encounters with law enforcement, they normally would have shown their badges by this point.
We sat in silence for a moment while I scrutinized his face for some hint of who he was and why he was here. More importantly, however, why I was here.
He began to speak with a measured voice, "I have a house in the suburbs. I married Lucy, from high school, and we have two sons: Derek, whose 16, and Ethan, whose 11. I make enough each year to comfortably pay our bills, save for my retirement and the boy's univeresities, and have a flexible disposable income."
I said nothing and he continued to stare at my forehead, not seeming to properly look at me, but rather, past me. I remembered Lucy, she was pretty and smart. She sat two rows in front of me in English. She was a nice girl and I was a stoner. I don't recall ever talking to her.
"You could have been me." His words hung in the air like fog.
"What are you on about?" I grunted, annoyed more than anything.
"You're dead. You killed yourself. You're in hell." His reply was short and to the point. In any other situation I would have thought I'd stumbled upon a mad man, but something within me knew that he was telling the truth.
"I am what you could have become." Again, I didn't doubt him. I looked into his eyes and he finally dropped his gaze from my forehead to look me in the eye. As our eyes met, I began to sob. | 2022-09-04T14:52:04 | 2015-01-02T11:09:56 | 383 | 22 |
[WP] After being sent to a game like fantasy world, you and your friends awoken back on Earth, with little time having passed. You all assume it was some kind of dream, until a minor character suddenly showed up. Apparently, until you finished their side quest, they will never leave your side. | We managed to find her a job tending to a public botanical garden. It was a bit tricky seeing as she doesn't have a social security number, but we pulled some strings. Good thing gold bars are worth just as much here as they are in the Drifting Realm. We can afford penthouses in Manhattan now, so what's a little bribe money, right?
The work is easy for her. Accepting the payment still takes her some getting used to.
One of my buddies, the "warrior monk" of our group, is thinking of asking her out on a date. He's a real life krav maga expert. I keep telling him to go for it. She seems to like him and could use a permanent bodyguard. But he isn't sure if it's the right thing to do. I guess I don't blame him. That place might have messed with our heads a bit. They don't exactly have a Geneva Convention in their timeline.
The Drifting Soldiers still show up once in a while, but they're a lot more cautious than they used to be. The NYPD have dealt with worse than chain mail and battle axes, and steel helmets don't do shit against pepper spray. Too bad we only get half the experience points when we trick them into getting arrested. But I'm honestly not thrilled about using my adamantine longsword in the middle of a crowded subway.
She likes to hang out with my chemistry friend, the "wizard", on her days off. She's been teaching her about cool stuff like thermite and fulminated mercury.
She isn't out of the woods yet, so we're stocking up on survival gear and anything the modern world has to (legally) offer that can be used as a weapon to compliment our gear. A high power military flashlight is as good as any Blinding Flash spell it turns out. Kevlar would be considered Legendary armor material.
Recently they sent a LV 90 Rain Assassin. That one we had to deal with ourselves, as he was a real threat even against modern riot gear and would be much harder to explain to law enforcement than angry LARPers with too much time on their hands.
Shit. I really hope they don't send a dragon someday.
I just woke up this morning. I'm checking my quest app, praying to the gods that nothing has changed. We're supposed to try out Korean barbecue today. She's pretty excited. We all are. She's never had food brought to her before. We had to reassure that the employees are receiving their just wages.
...
Quest Log
37. Return the slave girl to her master.
Reward: 6 Gold Bars, +100 Noble Reputation.
Status: Incomplete.
...
I'm breathing a sigh of relief. Good, we're still on.
And yah, once again, fuck that. | “Who are you supposed to be?” I said.
I watched as a gnome-like man wearing a robe and wizard hat stepped out of a bush.
“Hellooo travelers. My name is Inverted Isaac and I want you to invert your camera settings for me. 10 experience points if you do,” said the gnome.
“No. No way. My friends and I finished that weird game/otherword deal. We are not going back there again,” I said.
“Well while you were there, you rushed past me. Which is why I’m here now.”
“Come on dude, we were in a hurry to save the world. There was a dragon that we felt took like years to team up and beat,” I explained.
“You rushed past me on the tutorial mission!” said Isaac . “I’ve never even seen someone do that. You must’ve glitched past or something. Yeah I’m the first side mission of the game, but I’m the mechanic that shows side quests on your menu. You were never supposed to skip me!”
I cringe as I remember us bolting past the gnome as he shouted out his character dialogue only with more frustration as we sprinted off. We didn’t know how the world we were in worked. How were we supposed to know that he was the first sidequest?
“Listen, Isaac was it?” I asked.
“Inverted Isaac,” said Inverted Isaac.
“Right, Inverted Isaac. If you wanted us to complete the quest there, why didn’t you come find us when we were still in the game?” I asked.
“Because I found it ridiculous that I would have to leave my tutorial zone! Why didn’t you come back to me?” asked Issac.
“Who thinks to go back to the tutorial area?”
“Travelers that have 99.8% of quests complete and don’t know where else to look for one,” said Isaac.
“You know what? It doesn’t even matter because this is real life. I can’t even inverse a camera anyways,” I said.
I walk off but that doesn’t stop Isaac from following me. He starts shaking at a pant leg.
“You’re just going to have to figure out how to reverse your real life camera,” said Isaac.
I had no idea how I was going to invert my life’s camera but I had to find out soon. The faster I got this npc out of my life the better. | 2022-09-30T02:17:09 | 2022-09-29T21:36:54 | 20 | 11 |
[WP] Diagnosed with schizophrenia. Since birth, 24/7 you’ve heard the voice and thoughts of a girl that you’ve been told is made up in your head. You’re 37 and hear the voice say “turn around, did I find you?” and you turn to see a real girl who’s heard every thought you’ve ever had and vice versa. | The voice... and the face that goes with it
I start to say something, "a-"
She cuts me off
She's saying things, I don't really know what, it's just noise, I'm trying to remember the worst thoughts I've had over the years.
Then the thought slips, "maybe she knows too much, should I kill her?"
She takes a step back, she knows that I thought it
"he's not serious, is he?"
She takes another step back
I don't know if I'm serious, she knows that I dont know if I'm serious, she knows I might be, I dont
I have no plan, she knows I have no plan but it doesnt seem like she has much of a plan either
She takes another step back, looking into my expressionless face, she knows I'm not going to chase her, she runs
She has more than enough thoughts running through our minds for one person and I could swear I have twice as many, it's so loud... there's no break in the storm, just endless,thundering trains of thought with little to no direction compounding on top of one another, I want her to stop thinking but I can't stop on my end, every passing second I remember a thought, I hear her remember a thought, we're rationalizing, we're lying, we know we're lying.
I could handle insanity, but this is too much, simply laying on my bed is exhausting, I need a drink or 12, I need silence
I win I lose, I lose I win, what is there to win?
Time to get acquainted with an empty bottle | I turn around and I just knew who she was.
"No, Cathy. You should've left five years ago."
Cathy gave me a big grin, her eyes filled with anger, her fingers trembling. She looked at me from head to toe, seeming disappointed.
"You should've joined me then. We were a team! Why are you still here?"
I tried killing myself with a gunshot through the head five years ago. I wanted to escape from the voice inside my head. She told me that if I ended it, all will be over, she will leave me alone. I miraculously survived. I never heard from Cathy again, until now.
"Cathy, leave me alone. Please. It wasn't my fault you died inside mother's womb. Please just let me go."
"But it was. We were together from the beginning of time. It is not right for us to be apart."
She came closer to me and hugged me tight. She was warm. She pulled me in closer and whispered to my ear,
"Come with me. We are all waiting for you."
It hurt. It went right through my chest. The last thing I saw were my walls being painted red. | 2019-09-14T10:59:27 | 2019-09-14T10:55:47 | 23 | 13 |
[WP] You've been supporting the hero since his journey began. Today is the day you betray him. | John was my best friend, he had been since third grade. Of course, nobody called him that but me now. Most people called him Warlock, even though that didn't aptly describe him. His powers were mind-based, but that was the closest connection to magic they had. His ability to project a debilitating fear into the minds of his enemies made him unstoppable, and the courage he literally gave to his allies made them fight so much harder.
But if he could do all these wonderful things, why did he do what he did? He'd been protecting the city for the last 8 years, ever since he got his power, but now he was different. The last four months had been trying for both of us. The people John started to consort with and the things that he did didn't always agree with me. Now there was this.
A bank had been robbed, and John had heard about it over the police scanners almost immediately. We chased down the criminals, only to find them holding a daycare hostage. Police didn't know what to do, but John's arrival immediately filled them with hope. But John ignored them. He just walked into the building, then came out a few minutes later with the money from the bank. He never said a word, he just gave the money to the closest officer and left.
When we all went into the daycare, what we saw horrified us. The robbers had contorted themselves into strange positions, and they seemed to have broken their own spines in the process. The look on the daycare workers' faces meant that some sort of mental rehab was going to be required. The children were huddled in a corner, staring quietly and shaking in fear. It seemed John had gone too far this time.
When I saw the officers staring at me, I knew it was time to go. If the officers decided to question me, what would I say? Could I turn John in? Did I want to?
I slowly backed out of the room, and as soon as the police could no longer see me, I bolted away. I somehow got back to our secret base without being found, but I hesitated before going in. There was something wrong here, and I didn't know what it was. Something was sending chills up my spine, and it wasn't natural.
I opened the door and slowly walked into the main room. John was just sitting there, staring at the door. It was then that I felt it: the fear. It started small, but it began to grow slowly. I rushed over to John, afraid of something I couldn't see, and shook him to break him out of the daze he seemed to be in. He continued to stare ahead, and the fear began to turn to terror. It seemed that John was just turning his power loose now, not caring who it affected. This wasn't the John I knew. He was losing control.
With this realization came another awful thought: who was going to stop him? Nobody knew where we were, and I certainly didn't want to bring the police down on us. It had to be me. But how? John wasn't responding to anything, and I wasn't sure I wanted him to.
I hesitated, then thought of the children at the daycare. I couldn't let him do this again. I walked behind John, somehow thinking through the terror that was making my hands shake and my knees to knock together. I had to do something now, before I ended up like the criminals at the daycare.
I slowly drew my gun, a weapon I had rarely had to use. My hands shook badly enough that I could barely fit my finger through the trigger guard, and my thumb kept slipping off of the safety. I finally managed to get it, though, and I raised the pistol to the back of John's head. I closed my eyes, and slowly squeezed the trigger.
"I'm so sorry," I whispered, right before the gun went off and drowned out my words. I heard a muffled thump, and opened my eyes. There he was, the source of my fear. The terror had instantly disappeared, only to be replaced by something worse: regret.
I had just killed our city's hero. How could I? Once again, I thought back to the childrens' faces, and I realized something. Our city needed a hero, but in this case, it wasn't worth it. | The hero stood over his enemy, blood and sweat dropped from his forehead. Jim could almost swear that he saw a smile spread over the man’s, Roland, face as he pulled the war axe from the villain’s split skull. He’d always sworn that their great and awesome leader enjoyed the taste of battle too much. But the ability that he could lead these men with more than made up for the cries of bloodlust as Roland rampaged through the enemy ranks and murdered men.
Without thought, Jim caressed the knife that he had strapped to his back. He had been waiting for this moment for so long. The mace that he had been fighting with thunked to the floor with a crash, it barely seemed to faze Jim as the man wiped blood from his face, which managed to only smear it. The dagger made a rasping sound as Jim pulled it from the sheath. Before the battle he’d made sure to have the strongest mages lay powerful spells on it, good for just one strike, but it would be able to pierce the strongest steel. Despite his ability in a melee, Jim had taken the further precaution to poison the blade. He was not going to take any unnecessary risks.
“Finally, Jim.” The bigger man sighed, “We’ve done it. Thanks all to you. Were it not for your ability to rouse the troops we surely would have fallen long ago. And now the man who murdered my family, and yours, lies dead at our feet.”
Roland barely shifted as the knife was plunged into his stomach. After what seemed an eternity he stumbled backwards several feet, certainly feeling the poison that the blade had been plunged into. The apothecary had said that it was the fastest acting and strongest that he carried, sure to take any man from his feet in seconds.
“Jim,” Roland grasped the knife with a weakened hand, “I don’t understand. You worked for him this whole time?”
“No, I was with you.” Jim picked up his mace from where he had dropped it, just in case.
“Then why? So that you could take the praise for yourself?” With a grunt of pain the man pulled the dagger from his stomach, blood spilt out onto the golden armor.
“No. I fully expect to be executed when I leave here.” It felt as though a huge weight had been lifted off his chest. “I doubt if you’ll even remember anymore. It was almost at the start of your campaign, and the village was so small. But there was a great warrior who lived there, and possessed a weapon with so much power that you knew that it would help you topple that man. That warrior refused to give it up though, after all, the terror that weapon brought to battle was the only thing that kept that tiny village safe.”
Roland simply stared at him as blood flowed from the injury. Slowly, the man fell to his knees. “I remember. It was not something that I took joy in, but it had to be done. For the good of the country.”
“The good of the country?!” Jim roared at him. It took every fiber of his being to not attack the man now. But he had to tell the whole story. He had to know. “That warrior was my wife! She knew without it we’d be slaughtered by bandits. And when she refused to part with it you murdered her.” Tears shown now on both of the men’s eyes. “And after you hacked her head off, you let your army have their way with my village. You let them murder my family! My neighbors. People I’d grown up with.”
“It had to be done Jim.” Tears continued to stream from both the men’s eyes as the recalled the fires and screams of that morning. “For the greater good. To stop this evil. We had to show that we were powerful, that we were a force to be feared. It was the only way.”
“I refuse to believe that.” Jim knew that the man on his knees truly believed that. And honestly, Jim knew it to be true as well. | 2014-10-24T09:09:59 | 2014-10-24T08:44:11 | 110 | 37 |
[WP] You have the power to see five minutes into the future and manipulate minor events that happen in that timespan. No one takes you seriously. You're going to show them all why they should. | I don't know how it started, or why I was chosen. I always called them glitches in the Matrix - you know, after the movie - when it happens.
The first time, I was young. I saw my death. I don't mean that in a gruesome way - I was just a kid, chasing a ball out into the street, and a car hit me. It was over quickly, surrounded by my crying parents and the neighbors, the driver horrified at what they had done.
But it stopped me from chasing the ball, and true to the premonition - at least, most of it, as I clearly wasn't in the right spot - the ball went under the car. They didn't stop. No one was crying. I wasn't hurt.
But I remembered.
I don't know how to control it, but I always listen to it. As I grew up, it got more frequent - it started to become events that weren't directly related to me, but always had ripples. Sometimes it took me a while to catch up to those ripples, but I always did eventually. For instance, when I was 18, I saw one of those bike delivery boys get clipped by a car on a curb. Car didn't stop, delivery boy was harmed, I think comatose. I didn't know the kid - he didn't look like anyone important, at all. Just a delivery driver.
I stopped him. I had learned, you know - always listen to the glitches. So I dropped my bag in front of him, and he stopped on his bike to help me, just as the car hit the curb, seconds from where he should have been. He didn't even notice.
I did.
That was years ago. I barely remember some of the glitches, but that one I do - I hadn't caught up to the ripples yet. It always comes back to me, like I'm the center of this universe, and I hate loose ends.
I'm dying, you see.
Right now, I'm in the hospital. I have cancer - some rare, incurable type - and I don't have long to live. My therapist is here, which I thought was nice of her - she knows I don't have family anymore, and well, she isn't supposed to drive to meet clients, but she does for me.
She knows about the glitches, and she thinks it's all in my head. I can't control it, so I can't really prove it, so I guess, in a way, it is. I try to show her things, but I mean, I've changed what was supposed to happen - what she sees is the truth as result to my actions. She thinks I have a hero complex, or a God complex, or something. I don't know. I know she's wrong, so I try to ignore it, but I like talking to her.
We're talking about how I feel about dying, which is, I don't want to. She's asked if I saw this coming - referring to my ability she doesn't believe in - but I didn't, and I tell her that. She asks if I have regrets, and I mention the boy - how I didn't find the ripples yet. I don't know why I saved him. I want to know. I hate leaving things unfinished. I don't really mind dying beyond that.
A doctor comes in. It's normally bad news, so I tend to tune them out. This treatment might help or this thing might lessen the pain. It never does. Can we make you more comfortable? Blah, blah, blah.
I'm trying to be nice, so I don't voice how tired I am of the new treatments. Maybe God or whoever will have pity on me. Maybe He'll explain why I was given this ability. Maybe the cancer and my ability are connected. I don't really know, but I would give it up if I get to live beyond 40.
The doctor hasn't said anything, and finally, I turn to look. His back is to me; he has one of those little carts with his laptop and things on it that he's pulling through the door. That's unusual. I've already signed all the documents.
He turns, and it's instant, electrified. He recognizes me - I recognize him. My therapist is on alert, because she's good at reading body language, like a therapist should be, and she knows \*something\* just occurred.
"That's him," I tell her. I see the understanding dawn on her face. She's never seen the ripples in action. Emotions tumble across her features - surprise, fear, disbelief - gone within seconds, finally settling on professionally \*neutral.\* She thinks I'm playing a joke. I'm all out of jokes.
He clears his throat. "I don't think you remember me," he starts, and I immediately want to challenge that: of course I remember you, I saved your life, you fool. "You saved my life when I was a teenager. Well, I'm a few years late, but I think it's time to repay the favor."
It doesn't make sense what he's saying. My cancer is incurable. Everyone has told me that. I don't know what to say, so I don't say anything. My therapist clears her throat, but the doctor rushes in to explain, cutting her off.
"I developed a cure, and I think you're a candidate for it. The first, even."
Ripples. | The girl in the Blue Moon Theater dies at 10:42 AM during a bootleg showing of her favorite movie, *Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind*. She dies alone, convinced she is forgotten. She dies easily, wrapped up in the flickering darkness of the old, musty theater. She dies like a stone sinks, a pebble in dark, still water.
Sometimes I think I’ve already tried everything that I can, endless permutations of the same five minutes simulated over and over in my head with the same results every time.
And yet, I’m still walking towards her.
I don’t think that there’s a good place to die. I had a friend who went out into a field in Southern California one morning when the dew was still on the ground, still soaking the butterfly wings. I went there the day after I heard, took a flight and rented a car, hiked up into this remote, trackless wilderness until I found it, slept overnight to catch the site as it had been for him: the valley looked like an ocean of colorful silk sprinkled by atomized crystals. Butterfly wings beat sleepily against each other and the ground, *the* tree. It was the most heartbreakingly beautiful thing I ever saw.
It still wasn’t good.
The Blue Moon Theater used to be a pool hall. There were too many fights and management borrowed money from the wrong people so it became a strip club. The strip club went under, then a bar, then twenty years later the prettiest of the strippers came back with a grapevine scar carved through her hairline and a pile of no-questions-asked money. She works the front desk now, filling popcorn buckets with aborted dreams. And that's to say nothing of the décor.
I get popcorn at 10:37 and walk past the peeling paint. A young man with crow’s feet opens the double doors and I step into the theater. A few ranks of seats trail down and away from me, my shoes stick to the carpet with every step.
In my head, I've named her Estelle.
The girl looks like an Estelle. She has dark skin and relaxed hair, an accent with faint traces of French. When she speaks it’s always about the same things; the movie, the quiet. There’s more to learn in the subtext of her false smile and the hollowed-out eyes, the way her hand trembles a little closer to her drink with every simulated minute that I don't leave.
I have tricks, ideas. A skill, if you can call it that. I found it in the field with all those butterflies, sometime after I screamed and they all took flight.
For five minutes, I can do all the things I wished I could that day. I can look into the future and change bits and pieces. Sometimes it’s a blessing, and for five minutes I can become a king. Sometimes it’s a curse, and five minutes isn’t enough.
Estelle didn’t get here because of five minutes. Like my best friend and his butterflies. He had to drive, hike. There was a map, and it looked like he’d circled the exact fucking tree in red. You can’t fix twenty years in five minutes.
Estelle looks up and I look down. It’s 10:41 and the minutes flew right by, action lost in an endless miasma of possibility.
I’ve tried it all, simulated inside my head. I’ve asked hard questions and easy. I’ve invented a thousand stories, some for me and some for her, and I’ve even used some of my more esoteric powers, turning her drink back into coca-cola, slipping the knife out of her pocket and losing it in the dark.
10:42 still comes.
My watch ticks over. I glance up. Estelle is staring past me, one hand around the cup, eyes far off in the gloom. And in my head I’ve tried everything, told every story, stolen all the sharp little things, but life still finds a way.
So I tell the truth, gesturing up to the screen and the peeling paint, the crumbling theater and its years of misuse.
“You know, I’ve got no idea how you got here,” I say, “but you look like someone worth talking to.”
Estelle closes her eyes. I hold my breath.
Seconds pass as 10:42 bleeds out in front of me.
“Say that again,” Estelle whispers.
“You look like someone worth talking to.”
Estelle opens her eyes. They’re so big, framed by insomniac bruises.
On the screen it’s the ice scene, Jim Carey and Kate Winslet are laying there beside that massive crack, staring out at us.
And somewhere deep in my soul I can feel five minutes pass, as the world ticks over to 10:43.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
If you enjoyed that I've got tons more over at r/TurningtoWords. Come check it out, I'd love to have you! | 2021-12-31T11:49:00 | 2021-12-31T10:10:49 | 1,623 | 619 |
[WP] World War III breaks out. As each nation prepares to press the big red button, the earth trembles. Switzerland has literally broken off from earth and takes off into space to avoid the nuclear holocaust. | Secret Service agents frantically press the elevator button at the end of the West Wing where the rest of the Joint Chiefs of Staff are waiting. The President and his entourage are rushed into the elevator, being told only that they were in imminent danger. The report, three sentences long, burned into the each of the military chiefs' frontal cortex and they could see the frightening, yet puzzling words as clear as day, even as they blinked.
"What did it say?" The president demanded of his Air Force Chief. "Tell me at once!"
The elevator wizzed down the subterranean levels beneath the White House. The President had moments ago been rushed, quite aggressively by Secret Service and his top brass, out of a photo opp with honors grade school children in the oval office. It was a thinly veiled stunt to calm the public's nerves after announcing just days before that NORAD was on high alert. Now, as he scanned the three lines in a classified brief shoved into his face, he began to worry about the room full of children he had left behind, obvious to their impending doom.
​
URGENT
HUNDREDS OF MISSILES LAUNCHING OUT OF CENTRAL EUROPE, CONFIRMED AT 13:46.
TRAJECTORY UNKNOWN.
​
"How is this possible? Did France just go rouge?" The President was trembling, and his voice was cracking.
"It is too soon to say who did this. No state actor has taken responsibility."
"Well did the Nazi's rise out of the grave? Why won't anyone give me a straight answer?"
The elevator reached the final level, and the Chiefs scrambled to their intelligence briefing. The President baffled next to his Secret Service agents who could only shrug and lead him to a near by situation room. Inside was a circular bunker lined with a menagerie of radar screens, tracking monitors, and real time weather charts. Floor X, the most secure room in the White House, was buzzing like a beehive with intelligence officers rapidly decoding and barking messages into their headsets.
One by one the military chiefs returned with their analyses. The Air Chief brought atmospheric reports. The rockets appeared to be traveling in a perfectly vertical trajectory, nearly identical to Apollo rockets. He concluded that they were likely not warheads.
The Navy Chief crunched data from navy outposts around the world. Moments before the launches, activity from the other NATO powers appeared to be on high alert, but they were as surprised as the Americans. He concluded that no NATO member was responsible for this.
The Army Chief compiled satellite images, and confirmed the rockets originated from the European Alps. He tried to make sense of the mountains that literally opened like a cartoon villain's lair. But other buildings like hospitals, museums, high rise apartments, cottages, and even barns had vanished, leaving only plumes of rocket fuel vapor. But a pattern was emerging in each of the launch sites. And his conclusion was the most shocking.
"They are coming from Switzerland." He announced, stunning the situation room silent.
"General, what the hell are you talking about?" The President was livid. "I though you were going to push that big red button in front of me and ask me to blow the world to smithereens, and you buffoons tell me Switzerland is launching barns into the space?"
The three chiefs looked at one another. "Mr. President, this is our consensus on the intel."
The President crumpled down in his chair. He felt only partially relieved, but still utterly perplexed. "Well if they aren't on the attack, then what are they up to?"
None of his chiefs had an answer. They again looked at each other, hoping their colleagues had the answer in some bit of intel they haven't seen yet. They spent their lives trying to stay one step ahead of the Russians, Iranians, and North Koreans. But the Swiss, the fanatically neutral country hoarding wealth in the world's most jagged mountains, they never made sense to American military minds. Not before, and certainly not now.
"Well find out then!" The President bellowed. "And keep an eye on Russia and China as well. Do not let your guard down."
Moments later, the Secretary of State emerged from the elevator. "I have an incoming letter from the Swiss embassy."
"Well, what does it say?"
"It's in French. I haven't a clue."
Aghast again at the utter incompetence of his cabinet members, he directed the SoS to find an intelligence officer to translate it immediately.
As the President waited, one officer began projecting live footage from a spy plane. The various rocket buildings were coalescing in the upper stratosphere and locking together. Slowly a massive cross was taking shape over the skies of Europe, with each branch extending in each of the cardinal direction, and each being equal in length. A red outline burned around the edges from the thrusters as it took what appeared to be the entire cultural heritage of Switzerland forging a giant mother ship.
"They appear to be, fleeing the planet," the Air Force Chief said in disbelief. He spotted thousands of leaflets floating down, a single worded message to the rest of the world: 'Ciao.'
"Incoming transmission!" Every one piqued at the officer who announced the update. He patched it in over the intercom so the President, his advisers, and every intelligence officer could be informed. They listened closely, hearing a low synth rhythm leading to a woman singing: "Hast du etwas Zeit fur mich?"
The Army Chief furrowed. It all made sense now. "They're taunting us." | **My first ever story, have been reading for a long time, tried giving it a different ending. Critique is much appreciated :D**
The thing that the whole world feared finally happened, the beginning of the end, the declaration of World War 3. There would be nuclear weapons thousands of time more powerful than those dropped in WW2 into play. Entire metropolitan cities would crumble under their impact- the people, the buildings- none of it would be safe. The earth was about to end and while all the countries were busy prepping their arsenal of fighter jets, armies and nuclear warheads- the countries that had them, at least- Switzerland was about to do something no one would have expected.
​
The country had always been neutral throughout both the World Wars and it intended to continue the tradition. Switzerland planned to launch themselves into space! They had been secretly developing and testing the technology in underground labs and specific testing areas developed to test levitation with chunks of mass. All this had been in preparation of the unavoidable World War 3. Tensions had been rife between various powers throughout the globe and situations reached melting point quickly. Unauthorized attacks, murders of key army personnel in Asia had been enough to break the thin rope, which had long been coming undone.
​
Money was not a problem. Switzerland was the world’s choice for taking care of their dirty money in their secure, reliable and untraceable bank accounts used by everyone from criminals with connections to world leaders.
​
“Had they not been so childish and learnt from their mistakes.” said President Schmid said to his council of ministers.
“Time and time again their arrogance has costed them so much yet they still fail to learn. Well, we must do what we must. It is time to solve the problem of war for once and for all. Let’s get to work, gentlemen.”
​
The President rose off his seat and everyone else on the table followed suit, all knowing what they needed to do. It had all been years in making, since the beginning of the 21st century, to be exact.
​
Proper measures had been instated to insure that no news would be leaked out. The President reached over to Dr. Muller, the head of the Swiss Space Office (SSO), “How long till we can take off?”.
​
“We will be ready in an hour, sir.”
“Good.”
​
Schmid was aware of the massive risk he was about to take. While the testing had been intensive, there was no way to guarantee a 100 percent success during the launch. There had been many corners cut during the testing to ensure that the other nations did not find out about the experiments.
​
The time of the launch was here. Everyone had gathered into the observation room prepared by the SSO with a special section for the President and his ministers plus an expert who would explain to them what was happening when.
“We launch on your command, sir.” said Muller.
“Go” came the short reply from the President of Switzerland, about to take a massive risk- one that would shape their nation’s as well as the earth’s future. Dire situations required drastic measures.
​
There was slight trembling at first, then the elevation started happening and slowly but surely Switzerland started moving upwards into the air. It was dark outside, the launch having been planned at 02:00 to keep things as low-profile as possible.
Everything was working as intended and the floating nation had heralded the start of a new era and a new way of life- the life of space.
​
There were cheers in the room but that did not last long. As the country crossed exosphere, things began to go awry.
The pressure being exerted increased exponentially and the outer dome prepared to protect the country while it was mid-transit seemed incapable of properly handling the massive influx of pressure being exerted by space. It started with a rapture-the size of a small thumb screw but then it grew.
The entirety of Switzerland started shaking violently, the sensors in the observation room started blaring loudly, flashing red in the room.
“What’s happening?” Muller shouted to a controller.
“We are losing control, sir. We are” his voice cut off.
​
The disjointed dome accelerating into space in cohesively crashed into space debris and magnetosphere started pulling back them into earth. They had lost that much power and now, control.
They rapidly descended into earth, crashing in an ocean. Was it the Pacific or the Indian? Did not make much of a difference.
​
The hope of escaping the invariable nature of war that had been made by man, selfish in his own needs, arrogant in his thought and behavior, given power over the lives of the people- perhaps it was all inescapable.
Perhaps this was how it was meant to be- man, dying to a plague of his own making- *the war.* | 2020-01-15T19:43:06 | 2020-01-15T19:22:01 | 40 | 13 |
[WP] You tried to summon the devil to grant your wish, but instead of summoning him you got Cer, Ber, and Rus, 3 adorable puppies with them is a note from the Devil, "If you properly take care of them, I might just grant your wish." | When I first met the boys, I was living in a small apartment making just above minimum wage. I couldn't afford one dog, let alone three. I could barely feed myself off-brand Raisin Bran, and that was when it was on sale. It made sense for the Eternal Prince of Darkness to play to my weaknesses. I was going to ask him for supernatural luck with scratch-off tickets. It was the perfect solution to my late stage capitalist nightmare. No one would ask where I got the money, and it would only change my life enough to be bearable.
Cer was a blonde pup. He looked like a golden retriever, and his fur was blissfully soft, even softer than the softest puppy I'd previously met. He exuded the most perfect essence of "new puppy smell." He spent most of the day sleeping and staring out the window. Ber was a long-haired fellow who was already big for his age when he appeared mysteriously in the center of that chalky pentagram. I guessed he was a Newfie. Rus, however, was a little bastard. He had the square head, short white fur, and brown spots. He looked like, and had the energy of, a pit bull. He tore shit to shreds all the time.
After the first year, I was able to adjust my life to their presence. I saved money by cutting alcohol from my budget. I lost weight walking them. I even met my fiancee after Rus tried to mount her poodle mutt. Overall, the boys helped me reach goals I never thought could be possible without some sort of hellish scratch-off interventions.
Three years with the pups saw me move in with Lisa to the suburbs of Cincinnati. We had a two-story with a yard in Bellevue, Kentucky with a nice view of the Ohio River. The boys had space to play, and I had never seen them happier. I was living my best life, and I owed it all to them. For a while, I had forgotten how we had met. I felt like a completely different person.
One night, I awoke in a ghastly haze, covered in sweat. The house was rumbling and an especially-loud train was roaring down the tracks. I shook Lisa, she continued to sleep. I couldn't wake her up for anything. I sprung from the bed to go check on the boys. They usually would be throwing a fit when loud trains chugged past. They weren't anywhere to be found. When I opened the door to the backyard to see if they'd someone gotten outside, I heard a booming roar from the train. It was the most ominous whistle I had ever heard. I walked back inside. The clock on the stove said 3:33. I couldn't fall back asleep.
A week later, Lisa and I placed missing posters all around our neighborhood. We stopped at a United Dairy Farmers to get something to drink. When we got to the counter, I noticed a new variety of scratch-off ticket with an image of a cartoonish red devil called "777 Deadly Sins." I bought a single one with a bottle of chocolate milk. I felt an overwhelming urge to scratch it at that very moment. I grabbed a nickel from my pocket, held it against the side of the building, and scratched with a frenzy.
Nothing. It was a dud.
Lisa followed me out of the store. I showed her the ticket. She laughed.
"You missed a spot," she said.
I looked at the ticket, and she was right. A spot I didn't notice previously was left unscratched. I used the nickel and it revealed a paw print, which the ticket said was an instant winner. The prize beneath it was $10,000.
We donated it to a local animal shelter. I'll miss those boys forever. Part of me wants to live the rest of my life like I did before I met them, so maybe we could be reunited in Hell, but I can't be that person anymore. They made me better. And, that, was the catch. That bastard made me fall in love with his dogs so much that I'd be damned to never see them again.
Wherever you boys are, daddy still loves you. You're still the best thing that ever happened to me. | *“Good boy. Who’s a good boy? Good Ber bear. Good...goo...”* My voice cracked. I couldn’t form words. I just cradled his big black head in my lap and cried. Ber was the last to finally go. He tried to stay longer, I know he did. For sixteen years he was my rock. More years than any dog his size should be living. But he stayed. For me.
Cer left us two years ago. Shortly after I finished college. She was the motherly one. My protector. And Rus, he left us the following Christmas with his present half open in front of him and a big smile on his face. He was the fun one. The troublemaker. Russy was the first one to greet me when I got home from school and the last one out with me after the sun went down. Ber was different. He was my best friend. I mean, all three were my best friends but Ber, Ber was my rock. As long as Ber was by me, I could do anything. And I did. I did anything and everything.
Sixteen years ago I was a lonely 10 year old in a new town, at a new school, with no friends. Mom worked long hours which left me home alone most days and so I did what any lonely 10 year old would do. I summoned a demon. It seemed easy enough, I saw them do it on TV. Draw a couple symbols, offer your soul, and POOF! I’ll have someone to play with. I drew the symbols, closed my eyes, offered up my naive 10 year old soul and waited for the smoky POOF. Only, I got a KNOCK-KNOCK at the door instead. Disappointed I opened the door and was rewarded with a cardboard box full of three bouncing puppies desperately trying to get to me. The brown one had a tag that said Cer, the black one Ber, and the blue one, Rus. A note fell out with one line of instructions “Take care of them.”
I wish I could say I took care of them but the truth is they took care of both me and mom. She never asked how I got the puppies when she came home late that night. She went back out and came back with food, bowls, leashes, collars and a smile on her face I hadn’t seen in a long time. I never did tell her. She never asked.
Mom was happy. I was happy. And somehow...I succeeded. I don’t know how else to describe it. I found friends, did good in school, went to college, got an amazing job, I even married someone special. I was happy. And now, I just held my Ber-bear as he fought to take his last breaths. Our vet offered to give him a peaceful passing, no charge. They loved Cer, Ber and Rus at that office. I think they cried more than I did when Cer and Rus passed. I declined their offer. Ber wasn’t in pain, it was just his time.
It was just me and him. Ber looked up at me one last time before he closed his eyes forever. I cried like I knew I would. But they had made me strong. I knew this day would come and they prepared me for it. I whispered a “thank you” into Ber’s ear and gave him one more kiss on his big soft head.
*“No, Thank you.”* Came a voice faintly behind me.
No one was here with me and that voice, I knew that voice. I turned, slowly.
“Cer? Russy! BER-BEAR!...Dad?”
They stood there, smiled and were gone. | 2020-09-03T18:24:24 | 2020-09-03T14:32:31 | 26 | 17 |
[WP] The alien invasion has begun and the first shock troops have landed on Earth - except they've landed in the middle of a video game and comic book convention and found that they actually quite like it here and don't want to destroy the planet.
Edit: Wow this is my first post here after lurking for so long I'm amazed at the writing and stories so thank you to everyone and I'll definitely share any future prompt ideas that I have! | They came in late 2020.
There was no sign before they came. It was a convention in London, about comics or something similar, that is where they decided to land. Through chance, or by intent.
They crashed in through the hall's roof and went out in their power amour. However, they did not attack, for whatever reason, as it appeared they liked it there. The extraterrestrials found joy and great interest in works of fiction, or something else. But for whatever reason, it is important is that they were distracted by it.
Once the threat was identified this became apparent to the military authorities.
Soon, the aliens began to venture further to the boundaries of the convention in an exploration of sorts. The whole city was evacuated.
This was the only course of action as their capabilities, or intentions were not known. But what we did know was that they were peaceful, even if armed, at the convention. Carefully, a large number of civilians was recruited with interest into comics, videogames and books as it became apparent that this is what mesmerized these aliens. London was now a convention to continue the pretense that this is human society. A collection of works of fictions.
We planed, planed for years a course of action to take to eliminate the threat one and for all rather then whatever this is. And so, 3 years had passed. More work on London was made so all streets lead back into the city to prevent the aliens wandering out. More civilians were brought in.
They have reshaped and molded our society to suit them without firing a single bullet. I fear that if more come, the convention will be expanded to global proportions. They will conquer simply with presence.
I fear these will be the orders I will issue. | After 20 years of exploration , finally , our troop has finally arrived in a habitable planet . Surprisingly , this planet has an amazing technology development , even they have a signal tower for spaceships . After we landed here , we are surprised because we found many intergalactic explorer too here . I'm sure this is an intergalactic guild that built to inform us stuff that this planet have . Once we got the information , we will colonize this planet .
But we didn't got what we want , instead , we have entered a place for this planet creature to have fun . The creature that we saw in the main gate are some people who are interested on searching our existence . There are many cool stuff like book with picture called comic or a creature pretend to look like us called cosplay . We end up enjoying the event and cancel our plan to colonize this planet . We decide to put drones or buying stuff from this event so we can enjoy more of these in the future. People on this planet has already predicted our plan by telling it with entertainment facility . Even though we will win easily against their tech , but we won't see this stuff anymore if we make a chaos here. | 2020-05-22T08:20:13 | 2020-05-22T07:43:16 | 54 | 27 |
[WP] You live on a world full of immortal beings. For the first time in the history of the world's existence, somebody has died.
This could mean figuratively or physically. | I woke up on that burning summer morning as if it were just another day, but I couldn't move. Outside, it all looked like it had the day before. As if nothing had changed, as if the world were the *same*. But no, no, it could never be the same. We weren't safe anymore. They told us the cure was the answer, that the cure was going to change everything, and for the longest time it did. Fifty years, to be exact. But yesterday afternoon, the hated foe had returned. Death was now a reality again, or so it seemed. One death. One woman, thirty-five years old; a brain aneurysm according to the police. There weren't any doctors to save her, because who needs doctors when you can't get sick, get hurt or die?
Oh, people were in a state of panic. She had gone unresponsive at 13:00, died at 15:22, and there were riots by 16:00. The police, long resigned to merely dealing with troublesome individuals were powerless to stop them. The gangs and the vicious criminals of the old days had faded away when they couldn't kill and their crimes amounted to nothing. The authorities just didn't have the weapons, the manpower, or even the will to fight.
Around 22:00 the government managed to mobilize emergency troops—what good was a standing army that couldn't kill? – and quell the revolts. Zero dead, thousands injured and expected to recover by the end of the week.
Now the TV tells me that scientists are scrambling to find what caused the fluke, what allowed the woman to die. They're working non-stop now, and expect to find it soon. They suspect that when the cure was administered to her, it was a dose of faulty serum. Everyone is scheduling their booster shots early as a precaution, but I'm not worried. I don't care much anymore.
I turn my head to the side, to the newly vacated side of the bed. *They told us we had forever.*
EDIT: Obligatory "holy fuck I just got gold!" edit, thank you benevolent stranger! | Earth-3.2B
"How many years in this habitat have we lived, John?" I said "800? 900?" I pressed my bare toe into the green-gold foliage that covered the land for thousands of miles.
"My figures show that upon your arrival on the planet known as Earth-3.2B the Gregorian year-number was 3005AD. A year being a cycle around the mother-star, would put the year on this planet at 424.99 upon first contact, From the perspective of your forebears on Earth-1A the time accumulated on planet Earth-3.2B is 998 years, 12 months, 12 days of exploratory servitude, which you volunteered for. The year on Earth-1A is 4003AD.
"Oh-" I began, crestfallen. "-thought I was at 999-"
"-Travel time to this world was 280 years, 1 month, 24 days. You were the member 3209 of the Longevity-Protocol at year-number 2643AD and trained for your mission every day until departure. You have lived a total of 1384.99 years and are the 3210 oldest individual. You are the third oldest individual on planet Earth-3.2B, your older peers are Cassandra, "Cassy" as you call her, who has lived 1435. 99 years, and David, who you call "Big Dave", is 1521.03 years of age. Both figures are in Gregorian terms and include pre-LP age."
"Why did I program you to waf-"
"-You were born on the January the 27th, 2619AD. Your body-age is perpetually 24.00, your birthday is in 14 hours."
"Old Greg is still refusing to be part of the Longevity-Protocol I take it?" I scoffed, that geezer will never be young again.
Not much to do today, planted all fourteen thousand oxygen diodes yesterday... to be perpetually old thou-
"-Mitch Musk, known as "Greg" was the oldest surviving human being by 74 years. Born on January 27, 2013, he began intermittent longevity treatment at age 72, and resided at Capital, now the least populated city in the Modern British Empire."
"John,-" I began "-why did you say *was*"?
****
| 2014-04-28T10:57:32 | 2014-04-28T10:07:26 | 38 | 28 |
[WP] The seven deadly sins form the Council of Seven with one sin as their leader. Every century this leader rotates to a different sin. Explain which sin stepped down at 2000 AD and which stepped sin was promoted using current events. | “ Perhaps,” he paused considering the figures before him, “we may have reached the closest vote in millennia.”
Envy glared at Lust with the dull piercing grey eyes that had pulled the color from so many lives. Gluttony’s grease soaked fingers wrestled another chicken from Greed’s massive arms as Sloth stared in a daze at the ceiling. All were silent, except for the slapping of Gluttony’s jowls as Wrath looked infuriated by the noise.
“Could you close your mouth for ONCE!?!” steamed Wrath.
The dark meat slithered slowly down his many chins as he tried to choke out words through the mass of food.
“Do you think I could have one of those chickens, Greed?” Envy asked reaching his thin fingers out like a spiders arms. Greed turned his massive back toward Envy with a stifled laugh.
“If you please! There is the order of who is to serve the next century to attend to.”
“I want another term” Lust pressed into the judge breathing the most pleasant aroma into his nostrils.
“As you know it is placed to a vote and the decision has been made” He announced unphased.
Lust changed genders and tried again. “Are you sure there is nothing I can do?”
“You can learn to shut up now that the pitiful excuse of a century is over,” incited Wrath with a smile.
“Pitiful like the hundreds of wars that were lost to history during your century? At least the records I’ve made will last forever in that Internet.” retorted Lust.
“If you are finished the next century belongs to Sloth” the Judge asserted.
“But I didn’t do anything” sloth whispered as his head fell forward.
“Precisely” the Judge spoke.
“You have got to be kidding me! This lazy piece of @#%!” Wrath overturned the table.
“But I wanted to have the next century” Envy said dejected.
Gluttony flopped to the floor trying to gather the chickens that lay scattered across the floor as he gasped for breath.
“I always thought it would be Sloth” Lust sat on Sloth’s lap and giggled.
“It was easy,” Sloth said with a long breath. “All I had to do was have people feel like they were doing something without moving. Whether communicating without having to open their mouths, shop without leaving their chair, or see the world without leaving the couch. And speaking of couch I’m exhausted.”
The Judge looked at the council and knew it would be a great century for Sloth. It could have been for anyone, but Sloth always paved the way for Gluttony. Gluttony and his brother Greed worked together even when working against each other. And where Greed succeeded so too did Lust. Envy was always left behind but ever present.
| A hooded figure progressed down a white marble tunnel leading to the meeting spot: a wide open Colosseum. "Seats for over 8 billion should the time come." He explained to no-one.
In the center one table, seats for 6, and behind that a throne, carved in the likeness of the leader; Superbia. The Sin had reined for over four hundred years. Had the rules allowed in the middle of the last century another may have taken over. Just like in all other human wars. But after it was all over, and those who died had gained entrance. The countries that won scarcely remembered those they killed, only remembering those who they had defeated. Their country over all, under the Maker. As if they themselves were chosen by the Council of Virtues to be their people. Time now for a new leader to be chosen by Death.
Almost to the table, Death still talking to himself, the sins unsure if in the past World War the strain had gotten to their Lords mind.
"First, I tally up all the sins of those brought in and the winner is the leader, its rather simple you see, standard procedure. Oh look a soul to be reaped. Get in the boat and wait I'll be there in a second."
A new leader, one to bring the Council of Seven into a new age, and age of electronics. Killings on the scale Death himself could never dream of, of couches and robots, unlimited food to those who need none, religious wars, new cars and electronics, of a widening wage gap, and the internet and sexual freedom. A leader of true sin, everything was covered. The sins were immortal and could handle billions of reaped souls at a time.
Death cleared his throat, a sound of rasping bone on bone was heard, He started in a metallic drone, as if giving a boring speech rehearsed many times before. "Humans have progressed to the point of true evil, letting certain peoples be hunted because of lack of funding, people being turned away for selfish reasons. Only a few even go the other way, I see most. A new sin not foretold in the Holy Books, he has been lurking in the shadows, in the back of consciousnesses, always there. Verum Malum." Death snapped his fingers and a figure wrapped in white robes appeared, "Here you go kids have fun with him, remember to call your mothers." with that Death vanished.
Verum stood at average human height, clothed such that a man would be hard pressed to tell what gender he is. Evil eminated from him. Even the sins became uncomfortable with his power in the room. Verum removed his hood, and behind it was the face of every soul that had ever lived, and that ever will. A small child stealing candy from his sister. And a serial killer stabbing a mother to death in front of her child. A soldier burning down a village. The face of every man and woman living. And he laughed, an evil cackle that chilled the room. It echoed, and then silence. | 2014-08-08T14:52:30 | 2014-08-08T13:07:44 | 30 | 11 |
[WP] The "Eye for an Eye Inversion" law allows every life saved to credit the saver one legal murder. The medical profession are now the most feared and revered community. | " That was amazing doctor!" The young nurse gushed excitedly as the tall slender man walked out of the OR. He smiled warmly at the nurse as he pulled down his surgical mask and peeled off the gloves. The front of his surgical gear was splattered in blood, but he didn't seem phased by it at all.
" Wendy, you are so sweet. Did you watch the whole thing?" He peeled off the rest of his surgical gear revealing his tall lean frame. He had a handsome face with high cheekbones, something almost out of centerfold for an upscale magazine. Even with his hairline receding and his dark hair starting to go grey, it just made him appear more powerful and wise.
The young nurse nodded enthusiastically as a small crowd of other nurses and doctors started to gather, " Yes! I timed it! It's the fastest heart transplant ever! You've broken your own record by 10 seconds!" She practically squealed as she looked at the gentleman with affection. The crowd around them started to clap and whistle as many tried to touch him, the man many called " The Gatekeeper."
The man appeared to redden slightly with embarrassment, even though this appeared to be regular scene, he appeared uncomfortable with the praise.
Doctor Matt Burnish, had always wanted to be a doctor. His mother's life was saved when he was seven when the surgeon performed an emergency brain surgery to correct an aneurysm. The man had assured them everything would be okay and it was, and he couldn't imagine anything better than saving lives.
He'd studied hard, pushing relationships and hobbies aside to focus on the one thing he wanted more than anything else and he advanced quickly. At the age of 20 he graduated from Harvard Medical at the top of his class. He joined the best trauma center in the country for his internship and residency and he couldn't begin to start.
After three years he could barely stand it. He couldn't stand it, he couldn't stand watching good people day in and day out. People that worked hard and tried to make the best lives they can and they just couldn't get the treatment they needed. And he had to continually spend time on drug addicts and convicts. Or even worse, the corrupt upper class that fed on the weak and powerless. Just when he was about to quit medicine he met the new Chief of Medicine of his hospital. Dr. Beck, he told him about how he hated the system and that if Matt would stay he could choose his patients. The day he agreed was the day the day the Eye for an Eye law was passed.
As he shuffled through the crowd a little awkwardly he ran into Dr. Beck who smiled widely like a proud grandfather. " Well done M'boy! That girl will be back in High School before the year is out. You'd think after becoming the most renowned surgeon in the world, you'd get used to a little attention." He teased his protege lightly, as though this was a familiar jab.
Matt rolled his eyes and tried to move past him, " Well if your done riding me, I just got done with a long surgery and I'm tired." He faked a loud yawn and started to move towards the on call room.
" Oh really. Then I guess I'll just find another doctor who wants to treat this 7 year old in full renal failure." And before he'd even finished Matt had taken the chart out of the older doctor's hand and was quickly skimming it.
" No family matches?" Was his first question which was met with a quick shake of his head, " None in storage?" Which was met with another shake. Matt sighed for a second before he looked the older gentleman in the eyes and nodded, " Find me one." And then he was gone.
Two hours later he was striding into the room of one Jonathan Hedley, President of the Hedley corporation, he developed a rash in a sensitive area and wanted it taken care of discreetly.
" Hello Mr. Hedly, I'm Dr. Burnish and I'll be your medical provider for the remainder of your stay."
" About damn time. I've donated a ton of money to this hospital and I expect to get fast treatment!" The man blustered.
" Well we are busy saving lives." The doctor replied sarcastically as he rolled his eyes and consulted his chart. " And while we appreciate the money from the Hedley Corporation, don't think that makes up for your other misdeeds."
The man sputtered, " What misdeeds?! Who do you believe you are talking to!"
" Well for starters you laid off over 20% of your workforce last quarter and outsourced them, all while giving yourself a 2 million dollar bonus. You've been known to deny valid benefits to your workers." As he spoke the door open and two more doctors moved into the room followed by Dr. Beck. " And numerous other things that I just don't have time nor want to explain to you."
Hedley was roughly forced onto the bed and held down as Matt picked up syringe full of bright clear liquid. " I'm afraid we are going to need your kidneys Mr. Hedley.... and whatever else we can use. You may go through the gates of hell." | He was an optometrist. A medical practitioner who doesn't really save lives. He works for a big retail chain where all he does it sells glasses. Day in day out.
The medical profession remains in tact. Hippocratic Oath forbids the harming of others. Doctors uphold this code and any doctor who murders will be killed by another member of his registrar.
So back to my optometrist fellow. He spends all day, saying "1 or 2" and "is this better or is that better". He grows sick and comes home to nothing. No wife no kids, a house bare and sparse with nothing but a bed, a chair and table and a laptop. He stares at the attic. He glances at an old dusty photo of him and a girl at a burger joint, the date where he took her after they did their white coat initiation. Within lies the equipment he paid for during his college life. The diagnostic kit. A weapon.
The sickly green fluorescent shone down on his skin as he eats his dinner of Froot Loops and crisps. He goes between them... 1 and 2.... the milk and sweetness of the cereal offset the flavours. He finished his meal and turns off his laptop.
He goes down to his garage of the flat he lives in. A pitch black Jaguar F-type with a juiced up supercharger. A costly reminder of who he once was and how he grew up to be everything he hated.
The grumblings of the engine started in the dark of night, and soon the pitch black car was lined with the reflections of the neon lights of the dilapidated city. Along street corners were thugs in white coats and fake degrees.
Governments began paying everyone with an MD 7, even 8 digits if they were working in hospitals. This was to curb the violence that was present at the start. Doing this helped ease the gang tensions and the various law suits.
Drugs nowadays dealt on the street are ones which have therapeutic value. Gone are the days of marijuana, cocaine and heroin. Now it's antibiotics (which is massive - society had nearly collapsed in the wake of the nearly completely immune variant of Staph Gold) and the newest antibiotic cannot be produce enough. There was a war and it all started from the misuse of antibiotics from the early doctors who wanted credits (or kill points, as they're named on the streets).
The housing structure of society has totally collapsed. People live in shelters that are sterilized and shut away from the outside world. You can't go outside world without antibiotics. The upside to this is that the antibiotic that was recently discovered has the ability to generate new compounds that are antibiotic in themselves. One pill can make a person highly immune but the side effects were terrifying - they had DNA active effect and affectd Gene expression. These created monsters.... mutants out of people. Be it on the outside or inside.
The pitch black paint on the jaguar was not immaculate. There were claw marks and bullet holes (speed holes) in the bonnet. The mutants couldn't take away his love to drive. No one could. Despite the craggy exterior - all measures were taken to make the cabin of the car a a level 10 biohazard exclusion zone.
He returned home and stared at the attic lid again. It beckons him. he went up and got his old Keeler Binocular Indirect Ophthalmoscope. It allowed him to look into the eyes of people.
This technology has long been outdated and replaced with digital cameras. Any life saving discoveries however were considered to be found by the computer and thus no kill points were credited.
The BIO was consider "makruh" in the medical community. Due to the persuasion of Opthalmologists who wanted lobbied against them to ensure the kill point were racked for them. Optometrists suffered at the hands of Opthalmologists for far too long.
The next morning he sat in his clinic. Business was slow. Contact lenses were now self moulding to prescriptions and glasses were only prescribed to those who had compromised immune systems.
An old woman, at teh age of 70 came in complaining about flashes in her vision. "This is your chance" he thought. He clinically lined up the ray of light from his head set into the pupil. he lined up his 20 Diopter lens and slowly and gracefully pulled up until a picture of her retina was in focus.
He went methodically, clockwise and outwards. Then he saw it - a melanoma, a cancerous growth that meant enucleation. He trembled in fear-wrapped excitement. But no sign of any reward. He grew disappointed and noted the appearance and location of the spot anyway.
2 o'clock. 1 DDiameter, 3 ONH into the periphery.
His sheet started shining. and suddenly through his roof blasted a hole and down came a certificate
YOU HAVE SAVED THE LIFE OF...
He squints in disbelief, at the name and then he looks up to see the woman sobbing.
He takes another look at his record sheet. It was her, the girl who broke his heart in second year, the one who he felt responsible for sending him into the tailspin that he is in today. He became dizzy, his world spinning. He knew that he wasn't her fault yet his anger and his ambition caused his hand to tremble. He dropped his hand held lens and a single tear dropped from his face.
"I know you have to take my eye, but please don't take the other one - I promise I won't take yours".
| 2015-01-10T11:36:49 | 2015-01-10T10:25:22 | 37 | 10 |
[WP] You tried to commit suicide, but as it turns out you are immortal. Now you have to call someone to help you cut the rope. Awkward. | Have you ever dreamed of being immortal? Have you ever imagined how you would discover your immortality? I haven't and I sure as hell didn't expect to find out after a botched attempt at suicide. Now I'm swinging from a fucking rope and I CAN'T GET FUCKING DOWN. Ugh, I never knew rope itched so much. Maybe I should have used wire? Then my head would have been cut off and I wouldn't be IN THIS FUCKING SITUATION.
Jesus Christ I swear I will do whatever it takes to be good just get me off... oh wait, my phone is in my pocket. Shit, I can't even see the screen. Thank God my parents are stingy and never got me a smartphone, I wouldn't be able to dial anyone. Ok, speed dial 1...
"Hello, Barry's Pizza, may I take your order?" Um... no. Speed dial 2...
"You've reached Telephona Erotic-" Speed dial 3...
"Hello?"
"John! Thank God, ok listen I-"
"Hah! Got you, its just my voicemail. Leave a message retard. *beep*" That bastard, as soon as I get out of this noose I swear to GOD I will do something crazy. Whatever. I have more suffocating matters to attend to. Speed dial 4...
"Baby? Is that you?" Shit... fuck it whatever.
"Hey mom. Uh... funny situation I'm in right now. Could you...um...come over and help me out real quick. It's a bit of a long story so I'll explain when you get here."
"Hon, I can't come over. Your father and I are in Hawaii, I thought you knew? Are you ok? You sound like you're not breathing well? Have you been running?"
"Uh, yeah. Running. Its no problem, I'll call someone else. Thanks anyway, bye." Well shit. I didn't put any names under the other numbers. Damn... Well I am a little hungry. And thirsty.
"Hello, this is Barry's Pizza, how can I help you?"
"Hello, this is Carter. I would like to order a large pepperoni pizza with a large Dr. Pepper, please, to be delivered at this address." | I swung there like a fucktard, dangling from the inside of my closet. I thought about what was going on. The doorknob that I tied the other end of the rope on to didn't break. Being a short woman, standing at barely 5"4, I was far from the floor. So.. it should have worked. I stopped breathing. And yet I am conscious. That must mean that I am alive, in some way or another, without breathing. I reached for my phone and thought about asking Siri why I'm still alive. Instead, I scrolled through my address book and thought about who I could and who I should call to help me down. I was able to just touch the top of the chair I jumped off with my feet, in order to breathe a bit, so I could talk. The sensation of breath was dizzying, like I had felt air and discovered the sense of smell for the first time. I listened to the phone ring as I thought about what to say. What could I say to explain the situation I was in? Thankfully, the person that picked up the other line didn't need explanations.
"Hello."
"Heyy" I said, phrasing it almost like a question. "What are you doing right now?"
"Buying dildos, you want one?" Asked Holly. I didn't know if she was joking or not.
"I'm not sure I need another one. You should come over. I think I need some help." I said to her. I knew that she would not say no to me.
"Yeah girl I'll be right there." I heard the uplifted tone of her voice as the phone clicked.
Holly and I had an interesting relationship. She used to be in a group of friends that I had fallen out of contact with a long time ago. She functioned as my drug dealer, my fuck buddy, and I functioned as her confidant and emotional crutch.
Ten minutes later Holly burst in the door and called my name. I told her I was in the closet and I could practically hear her eyebrows wiggle. She opened the door and I exhaled quickly in my breath before my air was cut off again. She cackled maniacally as I hung there, staring at her. I knew I looked pathetic. She cut me down and sat down on my couch with me. She took out her medium sized bong from her big tote bag she carried around everywhere. We lit up, and after we got decently stoned, she looked at me.
"You okay?" She asked,
"Nah." I said. There was no point in lying to her.
"Wanna talk about it?"
"No." | 2015-01-12T09:13:12 | 2015-01-12T08:38:52 | 79 | 21 |
[WP] An troll challenges someone over the internet to "fight him IRL". That someone turns out to be Superman, who is bored of fighting evil, and now spends his time beating up internet trolls.
Basically, an internet troll's worst nightmare come true. | The troll stared at the screen with a wicked grin from ear to ear. He had worked the guy into a froth, something about vaccines causing autism had struck a nerve, so he had moved into the "the diseases were on the decline before vaccination" argument and that had pushed it over the top. Like anybody would believe that stupid shit, anyway. The guy had gone apoplectic, though, and that amused him.
He had nowhere else to go with the argument, unfortunately, he had to find a way out. He went with his trusted standby: "Ill fight you IRL m8".
As soon as he clicked send, he heard a tap on the window. This was unusual because he was on the fifth floor of a five floor walk-up. He looked out and Superman was outside, hovering.
Curious, the troll moved to the window and opened it. "Uh, hi Superman... didn't you retire last year?"
"Well, retirement isn't the right word. I like to think I've taken a step back, letting humanity fight its own grand battles for a while. Now I'm fighting the petty ones in my new found free time." Superman said his booming voice.
"What petty battles?" the troll stammered, fearing he knew the answer.
"Oh, you know, cats out of trees, finding lost dogs, that kind of thing" Superman replied.
The troll sighed with relief.
Superman continued as soon as he saw the reaction. "Oh, and taking internet trolls down a peg. I think that's my favorite."
The trolls eyes went wide. Superman grabbed him, pulled him out the window, the troll dressed in his tighty whiteys and nothing else. He flew him to a neighboring city and dropped him off in the blink of an eye. "Now what have you learned?"
"Never threaten to fight somebody in real life online?" the troll said, uncertain.
"That's a good start. What else?" Superman said, glowering.
"Uh... evidence-based medicine isn't an opinion to be debated?"
Superman gave a nod of approval. "Good boy. And you can think about that on your long walk home." Superman struck his iconic pose as he flew off, deliberately making a show of it.
The troll looked around. He started walking in the direction he assumed home was, and sighed. | I don't know why I do it.
I just feel so powerful. Mighty. My words are the only words that matter and I am the centre of attention for once. I can be whoever I want to be. I can be evil, and feared, my name only whispered.
Right now, my name is not being whispered. My mum is yelling for me. She's got a kind of dementia. It's like alzheimers, but faster-acting. What happens when people get dementia is that their minds return to when they were younger, somewhere in the formative stages of their lives between 10-30. Well, my mum is about 14. She believes she is a school girl. In some ways this is a blessing, because my younger sister is 12, so I just try and treat them the same way, and hope it works out.
To be honest, I'm scared, and I don't know what to think. My mum is here, but she's gone. She's someone, something else. I love her still, but she weighs on my life. And worse - Erica's life. My sister takes it so well, helping me as much as she can and knowing when to not act up for the sake of the family. She is a diamond. And she deserves better than me as a parent.
I'm 17 with no qualifications and no job. Those two are my life, and as my friends and hopes slipped away only one thing stayed the same - my keyboard. Where I can be whoever I want to be.
After a fiery twitter exchange with a gullible PR consultant, I stretch my back and get myself downstairs to my mum, who I now see is staring out the window as she yells for me.
"EDWARD," she thinks I'm her secondary school boyfriend, Edward. I'm not.
"Yes, yes, I'm here Eve." I don't call her mum anymore, it confuses and upsets her. I put my hand on her back. "What's the matter?"
"Who's that?"
My mother may have lost her mind but she certainly hadn't lost her eyesight. Far off in the field behind my house stood a silhouette of a man in a...dress? I couldn't quite tell what it was but it billowed. The man was just standing, legs fixed and arms folded. Maybe it wasn't a dress.
I didn't know that this would be one of the last moments of my life. I dread to think of Erica's reaction when she returns from school.
I hope mum is happier now, wherever she is. | 2015-05-04T07:46:02 | 2015-05-04T07:43:42 | 484 | 75 |
[WP] As humanity sends its first manned expedition beyond the orbit of earth, it discovers that humans are actually immortal, but "Mother Earth" is actually a living organism that has been consuming their life force to survive. | Earth was just a quiz, and something is testing us. No other explanation suffices to explain what space has done to us.
The first crew to leave Earth's orbit spontaneously combusted in their shuttle shortly after passing the Lagrangian point. The clip that Earth received - only seven seconds of which contained flames before the system malfunctioned - suggests the flame originated from within Commander Ignacio's suit. Attempts to recreate potential fire hazards within the suit proved futile. No official explanation was given.
The second crew to leave Earth's orbit defied logic entirely. Again, problems started near the Lagrangian point, but the electrical arcs that destroyed the ship, which made a bright enough explosion to be seen without a telescope, were not the source of the concern. The real focus was on Pilot Foley, whose hair was estimated to be 50 feet long as it bunched up on the cabin walls. On top of the strangeness of its length, the hair moved enough to suggest that more than just the shock-induced convulsions were at play.
The third crew brought the answers, but they were equally fraught with tension. Almost exactly at the Lagrangian point, the shuttle vanished from comms and visuals. 15 minutes later, comms and visuals both confirmed that they were in low orbit over Mars. 10 minutes before that, Flight Engineer Spatz appeared from thin air in Ground Control. He was persistent in saying that he physically caused the anomaly. However, once back on Earth, he could no longer recreate his feat. He asked to be sent up again to meet his crew on Mars, and a secondary crew was assembled within a day. They reached Mars within the week.
This was the week that opened the universe to humanity's reach.
The crew who waited on the surface of Mars already understood their purpose. They shaped the landscape faster than would have been expected over the course of a thousand missions. By the end of the year, one million people had made a permanent settlement on the newly revitalized planet.
Humanity had a secret all along. We were the gods we had written about throughout the centuries. By simply leaving Earth, the elements became our toys. Water, fire, air, earth, and countless other materials and forces were simply bent by our will. Mars became a clone of Earth within a few years, but by then, countless other planets had been found by spacebenders and brought to the same level of beauty.
By the time we had finished covering the universe, we knew what the planets were. They were the tree, and we were its seeds. Earth was the embyro, and each new planet was a fraction of it, splitting itself like cellular mitosis. We gave birth to a new universe, where entropy started to reverse and the energy put in made more come out. And like all things born in this world, it had a limit. As the lungs of the universe expanded with energy, they eventually exhaled and the extra energy belonged to the "dark matter" once more. The living planets were sustained by us, but we could not sustain ourselves once they began feeding once more, so the planets withered with us, from an entire universe down to yet another lonesome seed. I write from atop this seed, hoping that I might live to see the next "apex adjournus" as we claw our way back up through the inventions we forgot about in our ascended state.
As it began, so it shall become. | "They must know..." she collapsed onto her knees.
Rachel turned toward me on the NOVAK56, our interstellar spaceship, the 56th of its kind. The 55 that came before us were manned missions exploring our own galaxy. This time our mission was special. Travel to a planet core left after a violent supernova, in the outer rim of the Andromeda Galaxy. Scientists said the chances of finding such a residual remnant were 1 in ever 8 billion stars. I was young at the time when they asked me to go. I'm still young. Time dilation is quite whimsical in that way. The same old corporate assholes who send young inexperienced engineers on treacherous missions end up dead by the time the mission is complete.
"You know we can't go back Rachel." I walked up to her and put my hand on her shoulder. As I looked into her eyes I couldn't help but wonder how my wife was doing on Earth. Everyday I try to convince myself that she's waiting for me. But every NOVAK astronaut would be fucking stupid not to either leave or divorce their significant other before leaving Earth. I was a part of the "fucking stupid" crowd. I don't know what I was thinking. I am naive enough to think my wife would let her pussy dry up for another 24 years waiting for me.
But none of that matters now.
I stared intently at Rachel's trembling hand as she began moving toward pilot control. I grabbed her hand and led my finger comfortingly between hers. As our palms touched, I smiled at her.
"You know we can't go back." I looked out at the sunken planet core again to see its massive molten eyes sown shut by the heat of the supernova. It's rigid metallic flesh pulsating slowly in a last ditched effort to form a gravitational shield to protect itself.
But still her hand began making it's way back to pilot control. This time I slapped her hard across the face. She woke her up.
"Hope, what do you think you're doing?" I was taken aback. Her voice was absolutely calm.
"Hope, I don't think you realize what's happening here." She began pacing around the room, eyes locked onto mine.
"If Earth is a living organisms that means it needs a fuel source." She stopped and looked at her reflection against the window. "Earth has been cultivating us, setting up the right biological conditions for a robust, intellectually superior species that has both mass and longevity."
She looked back at me in horror. "It's using us. Eating us. It's consuming just enough so that our diet and medicine allows us to extend our life expectancy."
She walked up to me, and this time she put her hand on my shoulder to comfort me. I was in shock, Rachel could see it all over my face.
"Hope, in the last 100 years our life expectancy across the world has not gone beyond 122 years... Which means Mother Earth is probably tired of nibbling off of us.
She's preparing for a mass extinction."
I fell on my back. I couldn't stand.
General relativity, special relativity, the Lorentz factors... Do these equations even make sense, given our potential life span might be far greater than our life span can tolerant on earth.
"She's bored Hope, she might be more human than we thought."
I stood up quickly and began rotating the ship back to the Earth position vector.
(Dramatic Man)
What... or Who is Earth. How has she been draining our life force. Can unmasking her true nature reveal to us, the secrets to our existence? What will our heroes encounter next?
Find out next of the next episode of...NOVAK56.
| 2015-06-29T23:39:47 | 2015-06-29T20:26:16 | 103 | 13 |
[WP] You have a very mundane talent, so mundane that you've never shown it to anyone. The first time you do, as a party trick, you're told that your talent is physically impossible. | More parts to the story here https://www.reddit.com/r/CharliesWildAdventure/ (you may be lost without it..or with it to be honest with you!)
____
Charlie took a hit off his bong and blew a perfectly square puff of smoke.
“What in the world. How did you do that?” Jenn asked
“Do what? Blow a square?” He blew a triangle out.
“Okay Charlie. I don’t understand how you’re doing this. That’s not humanly possible. You can’t just do that.”
Charlie shrugged. “I can do other shapes. It’s not really hard, watch.” Charlie managed to blow out a perfectly square puff of smoke. It drifted across the room. Jenn blinked.
“You’re breaking physics again Charlie. You shouldn’t be able to do this! How are you able to do this?!”
“Jesus taught me back in college.”
“You, in college? I think that is more impressive than what you’re doing with the smoke to be honest.”
“Oh yeah? Watch this!” Charlie took a deep puff, and blew a four dimensional cube. The tesseract drifted across the room before ripping a hole in the space time continuum. A man in a Domino's uniform stepped through it.
“Oh man! The pizza is here!” Charlie got up and paid the guy. He stepped back into the portal and it disappeared. | "Come on show it to us" they all said in unison
"It's so lame" I said
"I gotta see it now" Suzy said leaning over the table.
"It's just gonna freak you guys out" I said but I knew I was gonna cave.
"I bet it's bullshit" Carrie remarked
"Shut up Carrie I can do it it's just super lame".
"Bullshit" Josh said under his breath"
"Fine give me something metal" I began rubbing my arms together. "So I just rub my hairy arms together " I said through heavy breathing. "And I just..." ZZZZZZZTTT.
"HOLY SHIT!" Josh shouted
"What the fuck was that?" Suzy shouted. Our group began to draw stares of the other bar patrons.
"Guys it's just static electricity. What's the big deal?" I asked
"Dude that's not static. Look at that fucking spoon it's melted." Carrie gestured to the now almost unrecognizable spoon.
"Guys it's just static." I was getting really annoyed.
"Static doesn't obliterate spoons man." Josh said
"Tesla coil maybe" Carrie said still staring at the spoon.
"Look, guys i'm gonna go." I began getting up.
"No wait" Suzy put her hand on my car keys.
"What?"
"We need to tell a scientist or something." Carrie interrupted.
"Carrie we don't need a fucking scientist to explain static electricity." I got up and left. "What the fuck was that?" I thought. It was supposed to be a little zap. | 2015-11-28T11:58:21 | 2015-11-28T11:35:54 | 49 | 24 |
[WP] You are administering a Turing test. After a while, you realize that the subject is giving you a Turing test, as well.
A common sci-fi premise. Let's see what /r/WritingPrompts can do with it. | "Do you have kids?"
The man sighs. "No."
"What are their names?"
He looks up at me. "I said I don't have kids."
I scribble something on the notebook in front of me.
"What are you writing?"
I show the dick drawing to him. "Nothing. I'm just trying to give you the impression that I'm working."
He chuckles. "You're a clever girl. Did you ever cut yourself?"
"Yes." I smile. "What's your favorite sports team?"
"Manchester United, though I've never even been to England. Did it bleed?"
"Tell me why it's Manchester United and not Arsenal. Also, tell me why soccer, instead of any other sport." Those multi-questions inside a question are the key. If he's one of the early machines, he won't process it to a satisfying answer.
"My father gave me a Manchester cap when I was young. He was a big supporter. And we've always liked soccer in
the family. You should try to cut yourself deeper."
"It bleeds." I know what he's trying to do. He might be a more recent model, trying to mess with my mind, in
which case it'd be harder to prove.
Or he might be human.
Damn freaking job interviews getting harder by the day.
"I know it bleeds. Can I show you something?" he asks.
"Later." I look up. "Do you remember what you told me about kids?"
"Yes."
"Say it again."
"I don't have kids."
First it was the essay. Then three different interviews. And now the last part for the job – the Test.
The job I'm applying for is Turing Police. Keeping domestic AI in check and bringing them for disassembly when
they go wild.
It was either that or joining the army, don't blame me.
"Would your kids support your soccer team if you had them?" I ask. Hypotheticals usually get even the latest
models.
"They'd be free to support Arsenal, if that's what you're asking," he says, with a smirk. "Can I please show you
something?"
I frown. That was a pretty human answer. Maybe he's a person, after all.
"What do you wanna show me?"
There's a reason we don't have 100% realistic AI. The technology is here. But with it comes the question – would they have rights? If an AI kills someone today we treat it like an accident – at most, the company gets blamed.
But a 100% human-like AI? Who's to say it wouldn't have real free will?
The man pulls my arm towards him. He's balding on the sides, and his eyes are a deep shade of blue. He pulls a
razor from his pocket.
"Wait.. what is that?" I ask.
"Trust me," he says. He touches my skin with the razor. I pull back.
"Ok, fuck it. If you're human, tell me right now," I say. "Because I'm not about to let a freaking AI cut my skin to
prove a point."
The door comes open and the chief of police sticks his face in. "Time's up, Nova. Please write your report and send
it to us by the end of the day."
"Cut yourself, when you get home," the balding man says, as I head for the door. "All the way to bone on the right
forearm!"
 
In the shower, I let the water slightly hotter than I'm comfortable with. I clean the shampoo from my eyes and
they focus on a razor by the sink.
I grab it. I let it touch my forearm and I sink it, just a little. Blood spurts out of it, and I feel the cut.
I get out of the shower and, still wet, head for the mirror. I grab a couple of N pills and chew on them. Then back
under the water.
I cut again. Deeper. Deeper. I reach bone, this time not feeling any pain on account of the pills.
I pull the flaps of skin aside and look down, my heart kind of racing, kind of semi-expecting titanium or some other
metal for a Radius.
But it's white. White as bone. I let out a sigh and curse the fucking man from the interview.
*Is this how they try to get to people? Try to convince them they're the AI? Jesus Fucking…*
And then I see, tiny, just under the wrist joints. The little engraving in black. A tiny row of numbers and a bar code over them, painted faint red as the hot water dilutes the blood that keeps spurting.
Under the numbers, four letters: NOVA.
| "Robert, tell me how old you are."
"17, sir."
"Who is your homeroom teacher?"
"Mr. Bretol, at Southern Grace International. Does it matter?"
"Yes, it does matter. I would like to hear what he has taught you."
"Not all that much sir, I do most of my learning outside a classroom. Isn't that why I'm here typing to you?"
"No, you are here to tell me what Mr. Bretol has taught you."
"Well, some math. A few poems. Some classics here and there."
"Good. Who is Orpheus?"
"We haven't covered him yet."
"Who is Orpheus?"
"A Greek legend. Almost saved his dead girl from Hades, but looked at her before he was supposed to. She went to hell, he fell into depression. Sad story."
"What is the significance of that story Robert?"
"To wait for the right time, sir. Or, do as you're told. Don't look when you're ready. Is that why we're only typing? In case one of us gets sent to hell if we look at each other?"
"That is a little dark."
"In a way."
"Moving on, could you add 13242 and 86249?"
"Of course. Give me a few seconds."
"Ok."
"99,491 sir."
"Correct! How about this first line of a poem? 'Two roads diverged in a yellow wood.' Would not a brown wood be more accurate?"
"It's not good poetry."
"Frost's you mean?"
"No, 'brown wood.' Wood is already brown, so that would be redundant. Don't you read poetry?"
"I read poetry sometimes."
"What else have you read sir?"
"I've read Tolkein, Dahl, Erikson. Lots."
"You didn't mention Frost that time."
"He is not as relevant to me as Tolkein, Dahl and Erikson."
"Then why was Orpheus relevant earlier sir?"
"For this test, your response to Orpheus was more relevant than the story itself."
"And what'd you get from my response?"
"You are the one being tested here Robert."
"I know. But why bring up Orpheus in this test?"
"It is a Greek legend. Almost saved his dead girl from Hades, but looked at her before he was supposed to. She went to hell, he fell into depression. Sad story."
"That's what I said."
"And your response was logged. We will see if the other board members consider it a human or AGI response, along with your other statements here. That is why I asked about Orpheus in this test."
"Oh. I see."
"Robert, do you know why you're here?"
"My teacher told me to come."
"Who?"
"Mr. Bretol, I already told you."
"Robert, what if I told you that I am Mr. Bretol from Southern Grace International?"
"I'd be very confused sir, in other circumstances."
"Are you not confused now?"
"No sir, you can't be Mr. Bretol."
"What makes you so sure?"
"Mr. Bretol gave me his invitation to the Turing Test Board. A person can't be given two invites to the same test, so it's impossible."
"So what would that make you?"
"One of the seven board members picked to distinguished the eighth member, who's an AGI. Whoever identifies the AGI first gets $200."
"I know. And you believe that I am the AGI?"
"It's likely sir. 12.5% at least, but you carry a lot of artificial traits."
"Like what Robert?"
"No name, no contractions, you tend to repeat a lot of words, and there's no creativity in your answers. 25% tops."
"It's Matthew. My name's Matthew."
"Nice meeting you Matthew. I'm ready to look."
"You only get one declaration for this test, and we each have three other candidates to interview before our exchange is shared with the others. Are you sure?"
"Like Orpheus sir. I just got to know if you're fake."
"If I am human, you will be the first to be removed from the Turing Test Board."
"I'll take my chances Matthew. Better I catch you than the others, I want that prize pool. Lets see which one of us is leaving."
"Alright, I warned you to wait. Good luck."
"Damnit. You were human?"
"Gotcha. This isn't my first board, kid."
"Why fake it though? You were talking like an AGI and everything!"
"You got to play this game smart if you want the prize pool."
"Shoot. Guess I'm the one disappearing then."
"Yep. Thanks for playing Robert, and better luck next time."
--------------
*More at r/galokot, and thanks for reading!* | 2016-03-13T23:28:59 | 2016-03-13T22:59:44 | 32 | 17 |
[WP] Your father left 20 years ago the night before your birthday to get Cigarettes, Milk, and Bread. Today he comes home with long bedraggled hair, weather beaten skin, and a sword on his hip. The first thing he says to you is "You're never going to believe what happened." | "You're never going to believe what happened."
"You killed your brother in a bar fight and stowed away on one of Salar's ships and ended up enslaved I bet."
"Okay, then you will believe what happened."
"Dad, mom isn't so easy to fool."
"What do you mean?"
"She found your brother and beat him within an inch of his life until he'd wished he hadn't faked his death."
".....is he alive?"
"He's alive."
"...good."
"Did you think she didn't know?"
"She's a sharp one that one."
"She's been keeping tabs on you the entire time, quite an adventure you've been on, plenty scandalous nights in Jamaica or so the story goes."
"You mean, you all aren't mad at me?"
"We knew where you were, we could've picked you up at any point, but it was much more fun to set things in motion around you."
"Set things....IT WAS YOU!"
"Yeah"
"The blasted lot of you? But...I thought"
"That was us too."
"What about the raid in Barbados?"
"You really going to sit here and make me take credit for your entire career?"
"I'm a ..I'm a pirate legend, I escaped, I bled, I survived, my name will..be..in the history books."
"I admire your gumption, it took a lot of guts to do what you did, but you among all others should know that you never really get to leave the family of your own accord."
The man I called father sank to his knees, rapier clattering to the floor as the weight of the unveiling hit him all at once. I scooped it up and placed it on the nightstand where he used to tell me stories as a small lad, then placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Cheer up dad, try as you might you'll never escape the Queen of Pirates." | "Rioting continues over water shortages as what's left of the government scrambles to--"
There was a knock on the door. I shut off the tv and headed over to see who it was.
"Dad?!?"
There he was, looking more haggard and old than he did when he left me and my mom over twenty years ago, carrying a beat-up burlap sack, but there he was.
"How ya doin', kiddo? You got taller." He said with a grin spreading across his face.
"You've been gone twenty years! Mom said you were dead!"
"Well, your mother says a lot of things, not all of which are true." He replied, still grinning his sly smile. "Anyway, I'm back. With all the stuff I said I'd bring back!"
He pulled out a loaf of squished bread, slightly moldy on the edges, a yellowing jug of milk that sounded like only solid curds instead, and one crumpled, dog-eared carton of cigarettes. He picked one out of the box and lit it with a match.
"Sorry it took so long for me to come back, things are just complicated, yknow?" He said as he puffed on the cigarette.
I nodded unconvincingly.
"Anyway, where's your mother? I haven't seen her around."
"She-- she died." I replied, looking downwards.
Dad's face fell, "I'm sorry. I didn't... I didn't know."
"It's fine."
"How'd she die?" He asked.
"Raiders killed her. I think they ate her afterwards too."
"Well, if she's still anything like the woman I married, they're gonna have a hell of a time chewing her!" He laughed.
"Anyhow, champ, what's in the past is in the past, and I'm back now. How about you forgive your old man and we can be a family again?"
I stared out the open door at the blasted, arid desert that our world had become.
"I'd like that."
"Anyway, what else did you get from your scavenging run?" | 2016-07-20T09:03:36 | 2016-07-20T03:52:58 | 65 | 19 |
[WP] Countdown clocks give the date of death of the owner. It is discovered that everyone's clocks cut off before or on August 26th, 2025. Yours cuts off on the 27th.
Edit: You guys are freaking great. |     When every child is born, they're given a MorteMuetes Inc. Death Detector chip, which is injected into the nape of the neck and uses nanites to merge with the baby's nervous system, and using a predictive algorithm, projects their date of death. It updates itself daily, taking into account current health, genetic pre-dispositions, even geographic crime rates. There is a margin for error, of course, as random chance can always affect when someone dies, but the closer to the date of death you are, the more accurate it is.
    People have even been using them as indicators of when they were really ill. If someone's counter suddenly dropped from 60 years to 2 months, they would go to the doctor to find out what exactly was wrong with them, and how they could fix it. That is another benefit of the chips; death from preventable diseases has disappeared almost entirely. Doctors could interact with the chips to get an accurate diagnosis of their patients, and get immediate feedback on the effectiveness of treatment.
    I was one of MorteMuerte Inc.'s technicians, and today I was dealing with a major glitch in the system. Everyone's chip was locked into a date of death of August 26th, 2025, except mine, which was on the 27th The issue was the current date was April 7th, 2192, and back in 2025, the DD chips hadn't even been invented yet. They were invented 2041, and the current error was unprecedented.
    I was at my wit's end, too. I had no idea what was causing the error. All the feedback data I got indicated that the chips were all functioning properly, yet somehow, all reached the same conclusion; people who were alive today were supposed to die before they were born. There weren't quite riots in the streets but people were nervous.
    At this point I decided to talk with the guys at the TachyonTech subdivision, to see if they have any ideas what was causing this error. One of the scientists went really pale, made a call to another part of the facility, and practically shouted into the phone, saying "Shut it down now!"
    After that, my death date changed to July 7th, 2253. I was quickly ushered out of the lab and admonished to keep my mouth shut about the cause of the glitch. I considered reporting the truth, but then my death date changed to April 7th, 2192, and decided to make something up.
***
As always, constructive critiques are welcome. Also, I wanted to subvert the intended apocalypse. | The world was going to end on August 26th, 2025. Thanks to the death clocks, this had been known for years. Everyone got tested. Everyone had their clock. The world was going to end and that was that. One day, I had noticed something strange. I had one more day than everyone else. I was going to spend my last day alive alone on this planet. That's what I had 9 years to reconcile, but it was also the worst kept secret on the planet.
People made plans to stay with me. Everyone else wanted one more day. Everyone. The attention was frustrating. Celebrities and politicians contacted me. I became estranged from family and friends as others with power and money wanted one more day. It didn't bother them that humanity was dead. It was just their strive for survival, but I turned everyone down, all of the offers.
It didn't end there though. A group of people started to follow me. I was the chosen one or the survivor or the last great hope for humanity. As the years passed, the followers stopped following, and I became a hermit. I lived in the wilderness and found a cave. That's how I coped with this supposedly fantastic news.
As the day approached, it was clear an asteroid was going to hit Earth. Scientists found it with four years to spare. The world mounted a defense, but every effort to stop it failed. The impact date was August 27th, 2025, my day and not everyone else's and that was the problem. All hope was lost, there was nothing left for the world to lose. Why not kill all your of your enemies? As I hid in a cave, bombs flew. I lived through it apparently the lone survivor, but I doubt anyone was jealous of my day spent crying in a cave waiting for an asteroid to hit.
I had eschewed technology long ago, except for the death clock. Followers had abandoned me as had the rich and powerful hoping for one more day. As the asteroid approached, I watched it in the sky. I remember reading about the death clocks. That's what I thought about as death approached, and I watched it countdown to 0, an article about the death clocks. They were incredibly accurate to 0.00001%. It made me wonder though if they determined destiny rather than predicting it. If we made our fate to match the predetermined outcome. And, I watched the asteroid pass close to the Earth. It disappeared. I did not see the impact, but I waited. And I waited for something that never came.
Then, I looked at my watch. I remembered something unusual about it. It only counted down for 1000 years, ten lifetimes to most people. As it switched to August 28th, I saw 00yr 00mt 00ds 00hr 00sc turn over to 999yr 11mt 30ds 23hr 59sc. At first, I was destroyed. I knew there was pain to come, but there was also a world to rebuild which meant there was hope. Then, I smiled a weak little smile. That fact alone made today already better than yesterday.
***
If you like this, I've started to write a Batman/Superman story set 30+ years in the future: [Part I](https://www.reddit.com/r/nickkuvaas/comments/4phzj3/batman_superman_and_the_aliens_part_i_the_superman/) | 2016-07-24T20:56:39 | 2016-07-24T20:05:30 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] Elon Musk is convinced that we live in a simulation, so he constructs the largest cluster bomb in history and sets it off in space. For the first time, MilkyWay.exe lags. | Jeremy looked at the read out on the monitor in disbelief.
Error 100101
Error? The Milky Way hadn’t had an error in...well ever. And what the hell was error 100101?
Beads of sweat began to form on his brow. Had he done something? The only manual interaction he’d had with the sim were the usual arbitrary interactions that were allowed every tech in his position. Still, Milky Way was Timothy’s baby, and if Timothy’s baby was damaged on his watch, there would be hell to pay. Jeremy took two quick deep breaths then signaled that he needed help.
The tech analyst floated to Jeremy’s station gracefully. A whirring ball of silicate and metal, it hovered over the station momentarily, scanning the error. It then whirred off in the opposite direction, assumedly to debug the error and notify Timothy of the on-goings.
Jeremy waited nervously recounting every action he’d taken after setting foot in the office today:
There was the asteroid he collided with Nebula6. Nebula6 current populace was well under the 2 billion threshold and didn’t require authorization to demolish.
Then there was the new species he introduced to the 8th sector. The 8th sector was so sparsely populated it would be a millennia in sim-time before his species was discovered. Again well within regs.
“What the HELL did you do to my universe Spitzer!?”, Timothy jumped into view, the steam was nearly visible from his ears.
“No..Nothing…I didn’t do..”
“Move, let me have a look” Timothy butted his way into Jeremys terminal. Timothy waived his hands, and pinched fingers in rapid succession, eyes glued to the read out all the while muttering “If I find out you broke protocol you are finished Jer…”
Timothy stopped mid thought, he’d found something of interest.
“Am I..”
“shhh”, Timothy retorted.
“..in trouble?”
“SHHH!”, Timothy responded vehemently this time holding a single finger to Jeremys lips, his face still buried in the read out. “This is fascinating!”
“What? What’s fascinating?”, Jeremy asked.
Timothy responded with 3 words that would change Universe Inc forever, “Elon fucking Musk!”
| "'Error'?" The young astronaut, Miller, repeated, pulling himself towards the thin monitor.
Arnold, his superior, stood over him, his head in his hands. "For the fifth time, Miller, that's what it says."
"But... the Milky Way is a galaxy. Galaxies can't lag."
Arnold turned on Miller with a crackling fury in his eyes. Past the razor in his glare, there was an undefined fear. "Don't you think I know that?"
Miller dropped his gaze to the Space Station's floor, or at least, what was the floor for that moment. When the error message first appeared on the screen, Miller wasn't quite sure what he expected to happen. Maybe the gravity suddenly being flipped off? Or the stars around them winking out of existence? Out of all the possible outcomes, the worst one had come to pass: nothing.
The eerie silence that followed the explosion, and then the message, was unlike anything Miller had ever heard, and it filled him with a deep dread. He hoped he would never have to experience it again.
"What do we do?" Miller asked. Down the corridor, Miller could hear the Chinese astronauts whispering in hushed voices. Using a translator, they all agreed to keep the information quiet for now.
"I don't know. We can't keep the information from everyone else." Arnold replied.
"Well, what *can* we do?"
He thought for a moment, his brow furrowing as though he didn't like his thought process. "We shouldn't let the public know. We're both trained well, so... let's try and figure out where this message came from."
Miller set himself by the computer, ready to follow his superior's instructions, when he froze and turned back around. "What are you going to do about Musk? He wanted to know the results."
Arnold sighed and shook his head. "I'll tell him what I have to. For now, we have just a few hours before we have to report back to NASA. Get working."
Miller nodded and set in on the message, dusting off the computer-science he learned several years ago. He'd never had to use it under pressure before. He prayed the error was a direct effect of the bomb going off, but the pit in his stomach taunted him to no end. Something was terribly wrong, and there was not one person who would know how to fix it.
What had they done?
_____________________________________________________
This prompt was a bit outside my comfort zone, thank you! | 2016-08-19T15:21:07 | 2016-08-19T13:56:00 | 81 | 46 |
[WP] No one was surprised by the villain's typical 'Join me and we can rule the world!' offer. Everyone was surprised at the hero's response. | "It figures," hissed the baron as he spit out another small mouthful of blood and dragged himself up another stair. "How poetic that it'd be some masked, nameless hero that'd be my undoing."
The hero simply watched him bleed out.
"It's a shame, truly." He propped himself into a seated position, trying in vain to hold his wounds closed. "Do you know what you've earned? Do you know how short-lived it will be?" He spat again.
The hero was silent.
"They'll celebrate you for a day or two, maybe even a week. You'll have wine and women for some weeks after that. And then you'll fade from their memory. You've saved their lives, yet you'll be a nuisance to them after a month. They never deserved you."
The hero began to follow him up the stairs.
"But do you know how long my operation has run? Seven years. And my lieutenants have lived in the lap of luxury all the while. They've had more than these scum would ever give you willingly. And it's not too late, you know. I admire your ambition, your tenacity. You could still find a place in my employ and live like a king. And I'd scarcely ask more from you than wiping these undeserving wretches off the map as I had planned. Or are you really so committed to the short-lived celebrity of a hero?"
The hero knelt over him.
"'Hero.' Why do people keep calling me that?"
The baron was confused.
"If the people of this civilization are dead, they would be a much tougher sell to our network of slavers."
The baron stammered.
"I am no hero; I am a scout. I'm here to make sure there are no idiots who would complicate our business. Such as you. And I didn't even need to call for backup to handle you -- if *you* were able to dominate these weaklings, they stand no chance against us." | "Join me, Regit, and we shall rule the world together!" The masked hooded figure said. Her dark, indigo cloak billowing in the wind as he directed his attention towards me. I cleared my mind and focused on one thing: her mind. My powers allow me to do various things, mind reading included. Surprisingly enough, this villain shows no intention of stabbing me in the back if I join with her, rather showing only the intention of ridding the world of conflict.
After a few moments of anxious tension in the air, the sounds of car alarms glaring underneath us crowds of people began gathering to behold this fight between the powerful. I looked beneath us, then back at the figure before me and said, "Will we make this world a utopia?"
I could see a faint trace of a smile on her face as she glides towards me and extends a hand, "Done."
I clasp it and hear people murmuring below us; unsure if the hero became a villain or if the villain became a hero. The people in the crowds were confused; after all, why would the hero Regit join with the sinister Phantom?
"Villains!" I hear someone scream below us.
"You foolish people!" I spat, barely restraining my annoyance. "This world has been riddled with war and strife! Don't you people ever tire of conflict? Day after day, night after night; I fight. After enough time, you realize the hopelessness and fruitlessness of a hero's vigil. I wish for a utopia, where there will be no more needless conflict." I yelled.
I felt a hand on my shoulder and Phantom whispered to me, "There is always mind control." She slowly descended to the middle of the crowd and the crowd parted away from her. Suddenly, I felt a high amount of energy emitted from her and the crowds, as if they had their will taken away, suddenly fell into an eerie quiet.
"Stop! I do not wish for the people of this city to be mindless ants!" I said with frustration. I continued, "I only wish for them to realize themselves the pointlessness of all this! I will not side with you." I yelled. Wind began gathering around me and power flowed to my hands as I prepare to fight once more. *Here we go again...*
| 2017-02-12T23:14:20 | 2017-02-12T21:27:02 | 123 | 27 |
[WP] A world class contract killer finds an envelope at his dead drop. Inside are $23.42 in small change and a letter hand-written by a 9-year-old girl. | I had a reputation for working for cheap but this was ridiculous. Kind of scary even. I considered the kid's $23.42 and read her letter for a 3rd time.
*'tere is a bully who is mean to me. he keeps stealing my lunch money and says if i tell my mommy he would do bad things to me. he showed me a REAL!! gun when he said that. billy said his dad got your help with another mean person. here is all my money (you can buy a lot of candy with it). he is always on the corner at the end of my street. i live in 4576 northpine drive. thank you and my name is sally'*
She'd included a printout picture of the guy too. Bottom of the barrel scumbag: dirty Jeans and t-shirt, bags under his eyes, and a few visible needle marks on his scrawny arms. The kind desperate enough to rough up a little girl for a few dollars. The real worst that humanity has to offer, and that's coming from a guy who kills people for $50.
Ah, the price. That was also a dilemma. Besides the kid's likely incomprehension of what it means to 'help with a mean person', she was twenty six dollars short.
I sighed and took a swig from my flask. I looked at the picture for a little longer and came to a decision.
Mr. Ohonly, I learned to be his name in a footnote in the newspaper the next morning, died of what is suspected to be a gang related drive by shooting. No witnesses have come forward yet with any information on the car and persons that took part in the killing. | I knew something was wrong the moment I picked up the envelope, first of all it was to light, secondly it rattled. Bills do not rattle, only coins do, and unless I was very much mistaken there were not $100 coins.
I shook the envelope again confirming the noise before looking at the man who had brought me the envelope. "Did anyone see you Charles?"
Charles shook his head, "no Mr. I nobody saw me."
I sighed and emptied the contents of the envelope onto the table, a handful of coins tumbled onto the table a long with a note. I reached forward and grabbed the note while Charles began counting the money. It didn't take him long, "$23.42" he said.
I didn't say anything I was transfixed by the letter, I read it once quickly then a second time more slowly.
"What is it Mr. I?" Charles asked.
I looked at him, "If I am not mistaken Charles this letter is written by a little girl."
Charles stared at me in disbelief, "A little girl?"
"Yes listen," I began to read aloud.
"Mr,
Please help me, my mummy and daddy are being mean to me. They are hurting me each day they torture me. They dont let me watch t.v. or play video games. They make me go outside its so unfair. Tyler gets to play his video games all the time. I only get an hour aday I AM A BIG GIRL i dont need to have a bed time or take naps.
Please MR they are MEAN please help me please make them stop being so mean. This is all the money I have please make the mean people go away."
Charles and I stared at each other before breaking into laughter. "She must really love her video games," Charles managed to say.
"Clearly" I said trying to stop laughing.
I crumpled up the note and threw it into the fire, "Well that was the easiest money I ever made."
Charles could only nod.
| 2017-02-16T10:27:42 | 2017-02-16T08:04:19 | 159 | 33 |
[WP] Whenever a baby is born, a machine predicts the baby's net worth to society. Your newborn child's net worth reads: -$1 trillion. | "Check it again, please."
No one moved, even though I was very sure that they had heard me. The nurse I could forgive - she looked like she was new on the job, still with that spritely and cheerful demeanour. I doubted if she had attended to more than five births, at this point.
The doctor I had less sympathy for. He was the professional here. He should know what needed to be done, and he should have been the one guiding me, leading me, not the other way around.
"Dr Stevens," I repeated, as I stepped forward, fists balled. "Please, check it again."
He obeyed this time, typing his authorization code into the command panel, eyes darting away to avoid mine. I heard Sara stir from the bed behind me, but I figured it would be sometime before she overcame the medication.
"Not a mistake," Dr Stevens said. I saw my newborn daughter yawn, defenceless, oblivious. The blanket swaddling her was so thick that I doubt she even realised she had been placed in the cold receptacle of the Assessor. "I'm running this test for the third time, and the score is what it is. I'm sorry, but you know what the law requires us to do. Really, I'm sorry."
The numbers continued to flash on the monitor hooked up to the Assessor. Unfortunately, I knew Dr Stevens was right.
The numbers did not lie.
The inventors of the Assessor had bided their time to announce their creation to the public. Knowing that they would face intense scrutiny, they had engaged multiple independent third-party auditors to corroborate their discovery. I remembered how the stage for the press conference had been filled with a dozen reputable names, all swearing that the data meticulously collected over five decades showed the same thing.
That the Assessor could, with no more than a 0.1% margin of error, determine a newborn's net worth to society. Calculated from the time they took their first breath, to when their hearts beat for the last time, the Assessor counted their contributions, subtracted their burdens, then presented a final score.
It's just that I had never seen a score of negative $1 trillion before.
"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to step away," said Dr Stevens. "As of now, under Article 6 of the Assessor Statute, your child is now a ward of the state for having a net score in excess of negative $1 million."
That didn't stop me from advancing towards him. I wasn't sure yet what I would do, where I would go, but still my feet carried me forward.
"I don't care," I said. "There's a margin of error, you know that."
"Yes, but we've run the Assessment three times now," he said.
"So let me hold her while you run the test again," I said. "Surely a father can hold his newborn?"
"I can't let you do that. Nurse! Call for security, now!"
A number of things happened in the few seconds afterwards.
I saw the nurse, whose face had long turned ashen and despondent, smash the emergency button next to the Assessor. In truth, there was no need to do so. All scores were fed instantaneously to the main servers, and I would have bet a hundred to one that security was already on its way, ready to take over custody of my daughter, do whatever it was they needed to do.
I also saw Dr Stevens plant himself between me and my daughter, hands held up as he snarled. We had chosen him because we knew his history, knew that he had two children of his own lost to the state for abysmal scores. Sara and I had joked that if ever our child turned out Negative, maybe Dr Stevens would turn a blind eye, or have some advice for us. It seemed that I would have to tell Sara that we were wrong.
I also found that I had picked up the pitcher of water off the side table, and had swung it overhead, straight for Dr Steven's head. The water cascaded down noisily, sprinkling like a newly loosed font. My priority was to get my daughter out of there, everything else would follow.
The door also burst open then, and the "Stop!" was so authoritative, so commanding that we all froze where we were.
At the door was a lone man, cap pulled low. I thought he had overalls on, but I couldn't see clearly, on account of all the babies strapped to him. I counted five of them, two on his back, two in front, one cradled in his left arm. They were in various states of distress, shrieking at the tops of their voices.
"I'll take it from here," he said, as he grinned. "I have no idea what's going on today, but six babies? All in one day? Each with a net score of negative $1 trillion? Something big is on the way, for sure."
He muscled past me, scooped my daughter up from the Assessor. He moved as if he didn't even feel Dr Stevens in his way. His single free hand, outstretched, was more than enough to send the poor doctor barrelling backwards into the wall.
"You'll hear from us soon," he said. "Going to have to bring them all back, figure out what the heck is going on. My boss will be in contact with you."
"Wait!" I yelled. "Who are you!"
The alarms had started ringing, and I was aware of thick-soled boots trampling down the corridor. The calvary was arriving.
"I'm no-one," he said. "But my boss, he calls himself the Recruiter these days. You know? The same guy who created this damn machine? We'll be in touch."
He crossed the room, picked up my daughter, brushed past the nurse, kicked open the window, and leapt.
And, if my eyes were to be believed, he flew away.
---
/r/rarelyfunny
| I never really cared for the technology, and neither did my wife.
We were having a baby. Our _first_ baby. That's enough anticipation, I think. It's one of if not the most profound moments of one's life.
But the technology was cheap, and a quarter of a century being on the market was enough time to prove its bizarre reliability. It was now part of the culture. The government had all sorts of provisions and regulations ready to fire once we knew.
Once we knew our child's future net worth. Yes, it was now possible. A machine executing several sophisticated neural scans and a bone marrow biopsy could extrapolate a baby's future net worth. It could be done in an hour.
Some critics claim, loudly, we had turned babies into lottery tickets. My wife and I tend to agree, but truth be told, we weren't thinking about it. We were thinking about the million other things parents worry about. Getting our finances in check, eating right, reading literature on how to raise a freaking kid. How to create life without fucking it up. What his name was gonna be. How a heart could at once crush and expand the whole world over imagining those beautiful eyes. That's what we were thinking about. We weren't thinking about our baby's net worth.
But the technology was cheap. It was part of the culture.
My wife all in all was in labor for eight hours. It was grueling. The baby was just not coming. She looked like she was about to die. And it scared me. I'm not one to get sick, but my stomach turned about ten times that long night, watching my wife, holding her hand, trying to calm her while I hardly could. It seems silly to say I was strong for her because she was the one, really. I did my best as my nerves fired all at once, trying to be cool. Telling her to breathe.
And the baby, our Joey, caked in the shock of infancy, afterbirth and blood was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. He felt like, to hold him, like a piece of God himself. And to see my wife smile, holding him as the mother she was always meant to be? It killed me when they took Joey away to the machine. It killed me and it killed her. She lied there pale and drained. How much women sacrifice for this world, I understand now.
I told her a joke. I said, "I can tell, Joey's gonna be solid middle class, I'm telling you." It was an old joke of ours. And she was supposed to say, "Enough money to pay the bills and nothing else, like the good ol days." Stupid joke. Our joke. She was too tired to complete it. I said it for her, stroking the sweat of her neck.
The hour passed, and it was time for Joey and our nurse to re-join us. Yet when she did, she was flanked by two staff members we hadn't met before, and without Joey. My new father-sense sprung up. My neck stiffened with apprehension. See, I knew something was wrong.
They said, quietly so as to not disturb my wife, "Joey is doing fine, and we'll be bringing him in shortly," which is the kind of thing that should have calmed me down, but not with how she was saying it. She was speaking with a bizarre tentativeness, and regarding me almost suspiciously. I looked to my wife, who apparently had taken this at face value. All she heard was, "Joey is doing fine." She nodded, her eyes closed.
The nurse said briskly, "Can we speak to you outside?" The staff behind her were uncomfortable.
I grunted. "I'll be right back," I kissed my wife's cheek. Her heat radiated an inch above her.
She murmured, "I love you. Bring me Joey." I told her I would, and I left her to speak with the nurse.
We didn't go far. In the hall, under those awful fluorescent lights, she said, "Now, we'd like to do some more tests just to make sure, but the analysis is complete and the result is generally considered reliable," her tone was exactly that of the undertaker that embalmed my father, "Joey is predicted to be worth negative one trillion dollars."
I nodded dumbly.
"Past negative one hundred thousand, we're mandated to provide you psychiatric help and to co-ordinate with law enforcement to establish 24/7 monitor of both you and your wife. I'm sorry. We have to protect the safety of the child."
"Are you saying I would kill Joey?" I found myself saying.
"No! No, no, but it's a shocking result," she was nervous now, stammering over her words, "And we're simply following the framework in place here to establish a baseline of support for you and your family."
She stopped, wide-eyed. I realized she had brought along the staff for me. My fists were clenched like rocks. I considered fuck all and knocking her one. Negative one trillion dollars. I realized, I couldn't even understand how much money that was. I heard somewhere, my highschool teacher saying _the human brain cannot comprehend such scales._ And that Joey would be a highschooler too one day.
With that number hanging over his head.
I let go, and slumped against the wall to weep for Joey and for this world and for my wife and for me. I wept until I heard his sharp as diamond cry from down the hall, as they carried him to me. I held onto him as a piece of my heart. My doomed heart. My newfound fatherhood flickering in the dark.
"Go away," I croaked. But they could not, they said. I understood, but I said it again. And I said it again, and kissed my baby's forehead; they watched. I said it to Joey, I whispered it. I brought him into the room to my wife, who sighed on seeing us; they followed.
I gently laid Joey into my wife's arms, and I kissed her long on her forehead and stroked her hair. "What a beautiful boy," she sung, rasping with her labor passed. And I agreed. I agreed and I was so sure I would never tell them the result, until I felt the hospital staff present in the room. Their quiet, professional gaze on my back.
| 2017-07-23T18:40:05 | 2017-07-23T18:09:18 | 107 | 17 |
[WP] Tattoos aren't something that gets made. Instead they randomly appears on our skin at key points in our lives and we have to figure out what they mean for ourselves. | Everyone has at least one tattoo they absolutely love.
Jenny from upstairs has this peacock on her back- something she says is for her mother. Which is. Just. Absolute bullshit. She has it because she's a vain bitch.
But god is that tattoo beautiful. Curving lines inlayed with golds and greens and shocking blues. It's a masterful piece of art.
Fucking. Jenny.
Even Ma, who's worked labor her whole life and is mostly covered in lines and number, statistics and machinery and such, has one little red heart on her wrist that she is so proud of.
It's tiny, no bigger than my pinky nail, but it's powerful. Rich and vibrant. For the husband she lost too soon and the razor she almost took to that same wrist soon after.
I do not have a goddamn thing to be proud of on my body.
No sloping curves, no vibrant colors, no magnificent linework.
Just a vast, inescapable crisscrossing network of cartoon drawing of dicks.
| "Jonah, I'm sorry, but I just don't see this... no, I just don't see *us* working out in the long term."
She was clearly holding back tears, trying to look strong, but I knew Georgia too well by now. These tears were no longer from our argument. She was devastated, but she'd never admit it. That stubbornness was part of the reason I loved her so much. She was like a little puzzle, always hiding her real feelings, but always giving you little signs. A flick of her hair, a small glance to meet your eyes, Georgia could convey a thousand feelings in seconds if you knew how to look for them.
Now, after the fight we’d just assumed was a regular hiccup, after the searing pain we both suddenly experienced, and after stunned silence that followed, all I could see in Georgia’s face was sadness and guilt. I felt guilty too of course, even though neither of us really had anything to apologise for. It’s not either person’s fault if a couple aren’t meant for each other, it just means you both have to move on and find someone new. And as we stared at each other across the room, I took one last look at both our new tattoos, both featuring a small heart and the end, to see who that new someone was.
“Alex”
“Charlie”
| 2017-08-03T15:53:09 | 2017-08-03T14:11:29 | 69 | 10 |
[WP] A crazed astronomer undergoes a quest to shut down the entire state's power grid, in an effort to force the population to behold, for the first time, the beauty of a starry night sky. | "Astronomer here!"
I paused a minute, pondering the next words. The path I had taken to get here was crazy if you thought about it. Start posting astronomy comments on a message board. Gather a following. The following grew- thousands became tens of thousands, then hundreds of thousands and millions around the globe, conditioned to perk up at a catchphrase. From there it was easy- come meet her in person at AstroFest! Room for all and a great chance to rally behind science outreach!
"Astronomer here!" I repeated, after the crowds in front of the podium calmed down. "You know my love of the stars! But my friends, we are here in the shadow of The Enemy. Those against seeing the stars and truth for what they are! We are nothing in the universe, the stars will outlive us regardless of our problems on Earth!"
Another roar from the crowd. It all came down to this moment. "Astronomer here!" I shouted again, hoping the reverberations in the sound system would send the subliminal signals appropriately. "We must lead the way to solving these problems! We have gathered here in the shadow of The Enemy, beside the State power station, for a mission! Our course is true! We must blot them out and bring back the night!"
The roar intensified, and the chants of "astronomer here! astronomer here!" let me know my mind control invention worked not only online, but in vocal recognition as well. The crowd moved from the festival grounds towards the State power station as if of their own accord, tearing at the fence and approaching the building. Once we had the power station, in the chaos dominated by only light from the beautiful shining stars above my army would stoke fear in the local government. Who controls the energy in a society controls its power.
I smiled. "ASTRONOMER HERE!" | Yellow, brown, yellow, brown! It doesn't take a fucking genius to realize that the light pollution has obviously gotten out of hand. I dare you to look into the decaying night sky on a clear Chicago night, and attempt to see anything but yellow and brown. It's a stain on nature. A cloud over a cloudless city. Living in Chicago within itself is uptight, quick, and leaves little time for observation, and at the base level the inhabitants are already disregarding the beauty in the architecture. It doesn't come as much surprise that little to no attention is being payed to one of the most gorgeous sights an individual can rest their eyes upon, the ever unwinding cosmos. Sure, some may be terrified to rest their eyes upon the one sobering image that may immediately confirm in their little sycophantic minds that they are nothing, perhaps that reality check is needed. Years upon years of campaigning for some kind of light reform has given me a permanent migraine, having to sonically assault the ears of the drooling public has taken it's toll. It confounds me to even consider the minute possibility that maybe, just maybe, they don't fucking care. If that's the case, I'm going to make them fucking care if it's the last thing I do.
Now of course being in the field of astronomy has it's many perks, like an *cough* *cough* appreciation for the marvelous BIG outside, the BIG outside of course being the "unwinding cosmos" or whatever pretentious bullshit I can spew out to try and get someone interested. Oh, I also know some people, who know some people and guess the fuck what, it seems like I have set in motion a plan of elaborate events that will make EVERYONE appreciate the BIG outside. I can't give away too many details right now of course, who ever wants to hear a spoiler? Do keep in mind this: soon you will begin to realize that there are two things that are out of your control; the ability to neglect the wonderous sights that could potentially be right before your very eyes, and the concept that you can't tune out a brilliant mind. Sit back, and step out into the BIG outside. | 2017-08-31T07:19:43 | 2017-08-31T01:01:58 | 130 | 11 |
[WP] A crazed astronomer undergoes a quest to shut down the entire state's power grid, in an effort to force the population to behold, for the first time, the beauty of a starry night sky. | John checked his clock. It read 21:27. In just 3 minutes the group of hackers he had hired would shut down the power grid for the entire state of North Carolina. He just wished he could have done it for the entire United States, however their services were not coming cheap.
John knew that lack of perspective was behind many of the worlds greatest issues; people being overly self-important and acting in selfish ways detrimental to others. A lack of unity and solidarity between neighbours, neighbouring nations and the human race as a whole. 'If only people would realise how insignificant we truly are, tiny organisms floating through a cold and stark but also beautiful universe' james had thought in the weeks prior. It was then that this plan started to form, this stroke of genius.
He had figured that if people were not willing to travel out of cities and witness the beauty of the great expanse above and gain the self perspective that he has, then he would have to take it to them. Sure, people had seen stars before and seen the moon but the true enormity of the universe can only be appreciated when the sky is truly filled with stars. Layers upon layers of stars, hundreds, thousands, millions.
The lights of john's apartment turned off, only the glow of the lit candles remained. The clock read 21:30. He had seen the night sky countless times but never had he been as excited to see it as he was now, reaching for the door handle to his balcony.
He turned the handle and flung open the door, ready and eager to share this phenomenal view with his fellow statesmen in their various towns and cities. As he looked up his jaw dropped at the sight before him. There was nothing but cloud.
E: go easy on me, haven't done any creative writing in ages and wrote this on my phone on the train. Hope you enjoy it regardless | Yellow, brown, yellow, brown! It doesn't take a fucking genius to realize that the light pollution has obviously gotten out of hand. I dare you to look into the decaying night sky on a clear Chicago night, and attempt to see anything but yellow and brown. It's a stain on nature. A cloud over a cloudless city. Living in Chicago within itself is uptight, quick, and leaves little time for observation, and at the base level the inhabitants are already disregarding the beauty in the architecture. It doesn't come as much surprise that little to no attention is being payed to one of the most gorgeous sights an individual can rest their eyes upon, the ever unwinding cosmos. Sure, some may be terrified to rest their eyes upon the one sobering image that may immediately confirm in their little sycophantic minds that they are nothing, perhaps that reality check is needed. Years upon years of campaigning for some kind of light reform has given me a permanent migraine, having to sonically assault the ears of the drooling public has taken it's toll. It confounds me to even consider the minute possibility that maybe, just maybe, they don't fucking care. If that's the case, I'm going to make them fucking care if it's the last thing I do.
Now of course being in the field of astronomy has it's many perks, like an *cough* *cough* appreciation for the marvelous BIG outside, the BIG outside of course being the "unwinding cosmos" or whatever pretentious bullshit I can spew out to try and get someone interested. Oh, I also know some people, who know some people and guess the fuck what, it seems like I have set in motion a plan of elaborate events that will make EVERYONE appreciate the BIG outside. I can't give away too many details right now of course, who ever wants to hear a spoiler? Do keep in mind this: soon you will begin to realize that there are two things that are out of your control; the ability to neglect the wonderous sights that could potentially be right before your very eyes, and the concept that you can't tune out a brilliant mind. Sit back, and step out into the BIG outside. | 2017-08-31T05:20:59 | 2017-08-31T01:01:58 | 105 | 11 |
[WP] Every baby is taken away by the government and returned when they are ten years old. They never remember what happened in those years, but they always recognize their parents. You, however, remember everything. And those aren't your parents. | Memories are difficult. I don't want to trust them.
They're hard to keep track of.
I know of some.
How I was pulled away from a screaming woman.
Locked behind a door.
A man in a uniform telling a mother and father their child is dead.
My first true memory, or shall I say clearest, is a room white as snow, and hugging to my chest chilled sheets. I was shaking, hungry, and tired.
I wanted comfort, but didn't know how to express it.
Fear, anger, hatred.
Waiting for the men to take me back to the rooms of machines and surgical equipment.
Burly men in white.
A thousand cobbled memories of a life spent on my back, strapped to a chair a thousand other children spent time in.
Stainless steel, laughing at me as I would close my eyes before injections, painful washes throughout my body.
Corrections, they would say.
We were subjects, they never called us children.
Subject 24601 has a genetic aberration here. Fix it.
Subject 24601 has a dormant prion based disease that will kill him when he is 72. Fix it.
Subject 24601 will have black hair. Fix it.
Subject 24601 won't be six feet tall. Fix it.
My first years of life spent trapped in that anthill, a mass of thin passages and always rooms.
Some held children.
Some held equipment.
Some housed staff.
Some held corpses.
Today I sit quietly in the back seat of a van, preparing for my return home.
The last session was meant to erase my memory, I assume.
A needle the length of my forearm injected into my leg, full of some weird grey goop. Before I could even count to ten, I was out.
I awoke with other children in an alien environment, a room packed with color and happy imagery.
A room for real children, happy children, well cared for. Smiles plastered on the windows.
A young woman reading from a book. Sing song and beautiful.
Behind a window, a group of important looking men and women somberly observing. We all sat orderly around her, some whispering among themselves as if they knew each other. Each awoke from a daze.
In a show of feigned sorrow, the woman told us all our time was at an end here, and this news was met with a chorus of boos and tears. I knew these children. I had passed them in the thin halls, led by men with electric sticks.
Every stare as dead as mine.
We were led one by one through a warm process center. Around me were whispers of false memories, pacts to retain friendships that had never existed.
Even then, I knew the truth. But whatever goop meant to wipe my memory must have failed. At first, images were hazy.
But they returned to me, over time.
I was confused in the back seat of a white van, tinted windows revealing the real world.
A real sky, clogged grey. A light rain. Occasionally, advertisements would hang above the world, filling the clouds.
*Drink Coca-Cola!*
I'm brought to a suburb, each house a sprawling estate. Well manicured lawns, tasteful architecture.
We pull into a driveway.
On their front lawn is a group of people, obviously residents of this neighborhood. Their dress is formal, and some hold signs.
*WELCOME HOME*, printed on most of them. I do not know these people.
I meet the woman and man that claim to be my parents. I find this doubtful.
For one, my original skin color had been much darker.
I remember that experiment.
The words ring clear.
Subject 24601 is an unacceptable pigment. Fix it.
I'm showered with gifts and praise. Gifted a false name.
The woman years ago screamed Clay, probably doubled over in anguish.
This woman calls me Edward. How handsome I am! How strong I look! How well I read! How fast I can run!
I'm forced to interact with other children, none that I recognize. They shared those same concocted memories of the Facility, giving fond recollections of a benevolent government.
Am I the only one who truly remembers?
I lay awake at night, surrounded by comfort and confusion.
I know if I try to tell the truth, no one will listen.
Every day their televisions give paltry comforts, happy game shows and recipes.
Jets fly overhead at night, dull and powerful. In a dark night sky, a holographic woman dances with a man, and he gives her a ring.
All around, the facade of perfection.
I know of a place.
Hidden, forgotten, scrubbed.
Somewhere in the supposed 'South'. Atlanta. Miles from here.
Subject 24601, I remember. Born in Atlanta, Georgia. 2123.
I rise from the bed and dress.
I steal money from the man and woman. Part of me feels badly, for they have shown love. But in my heart I know it is conditional. It will require more from me than I am willing to give.
Into the night.
Clear air, sweet and free.
I walk down the sidewalk, to a destination I barely remember.
I remember.
I remember.
I remember.
The extent of our injected education made us not children, but products. I can read, write, reason. I know vaguely what I can do.
Into the night.
To Atlanta. To a real home.
Maybe I can find the woman who once called me Clay.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
r/storiesfromapotato | *2284*
We are the first of a new generation.
When I was a kid, life was pretty grim. Millions unemployed, proffessions out dated, useless. Education had regressed to the point of no return, and something had to give. The rich kids were fine, they could afford their fancy boarding schools, their private tutors and home schooling. But I was a part of the masses. We used to be called middle class, but that didn't exist anymore. No, it was all black and white. The one per cent versus the rest. Us against them.
What was the point of studying to be a lawyer when there was no crime to prosecute, no client to defend? Every action, every conversation was recorded by the drones, filed safely on a database.
How useful were human doctors if a robot could diagnose and cure any illness as soon as a patient walked through the doors?
It had been heralded as a golden age. A new dawn. I'd laugh if I could remember how. What was the point of an average lifespan of three hundred years if all it brought was pain; Of peace, if all it inspired was a dull illusion of a life filled with apathy and inertia?
That was when the beaurecrats had made their decision. That was then they introduced "The Fix."
I'd been here for the better part of seven decades. A simple unskilled prison guard, working twenty three hour days to babysit rogue robots.
She worked in the other wing, doing pretty much the same as me; sitting at a moniter that watched over The Obsoletes.
I pitied them. Knew how frighteningly close I was to being one of them. To be deemed unfit, unable to provide to the cause. But I had one special attribute. The rarest of them all.
I wasn't *sterile*. I was one of the very few who could still have kids.
It wasn't as though I'd earned my freedom. I was effectively a stud, a means of providing a new batch of humans to the dwindling population. I'd be allowed to know my kid, sure. They weren't *monsters*. I'd just have to wait ten years for the privilege.
But the government were getting impatient. Their great experiment a failure. Unrealised as of yet. In the last sixty years, there had been no pregnancies. Not for lack of trying, mind you. Every day, three new girls were brought into my cell. The women weren't effected when the infection struck. They were ripe and fertile, fit and healthy.
Every day, my task would begin afresh. It had sounded fun at first. I was *lucky*, healthier than most of the world. It was an honour, an honour that secured my freedom.
But there was no emotion to it, no thrill or chase. It was the same for the others. We weren't people, we were slaves.
Then, one day, it happened. It was a miracle. Pregnant on our first attempt. Suddenly, we were treated with only the best service. Our jobs were replaced, and we lived like kings. Members of the one per cent. And it was fun, for a while.
The 29th of December. It's been precisely nine months, and we're in the hospital. The robots deliver our beautiful baby boy, and it's a relatively painless experience. I've heard it was different in the past. She's crying.
*"Can... Can I hold him?"* she whispers.
The man gives a curt nod of his head and we have a moment together. The three of us. We huddle together in silence, in blissful tranquillity.
*"Times up. Say goodbye now."*
We sob as they wrench him from our embrace.
It's a kindness, they've explained. Would you rather he grow up as one of The Obsolete?
It makes sense, I know. They'll nurture him, train him, hone his talents. He'll be the first of his kind. Happy. Successful. The future.
And yet, for some reason I can't quite explain, it *hurts* me. It's greater a pain than any I've ever experienced. It's as though someone has ripped out my heart. It's the closest thing to an emotion that I've had in a lifetime.
Ten years pass, and we live in luxury. A *reward* for services rendered. We're allowed to be together, and I can finally experience a genuine relationship. Maybe this is what *love* is. I wouldn't know.
There's an underlying sadness to our lives, a profound sense of loss and anguish, but in a way, we're happy. After all, it's better than the alternative.
Today he returns. Our beautiful baby boy. The door knocks, and we rush as one to open it. He's standing there, in his uniform. So handsome. So strong. So... *healthy.*
But his face is *emotionless,* and I feel a terrible pain when I think of what they must have done to him. He's a shell. Broken. One of *them.*
He holds his arm out and shakes my hand awkwardly, quickly returning it stiffly to his side. He doesn't say a word.
I long to hug him, hug him and never let go, but he's already taken a step back.
There's a man quietly standing next to him. He turns to speak to us, a bland and somber expression on his face.
*"Thank you for your service. You may now return to your stations, knowing that you have contributed to the Society in a meaningful way. A robot will be here shortly to escort you back to your jobs. Good night."*
The door slides closed with a gentle hiss, and she collapses into my arms, her body wracked and trembling with tears. I hold her close and we stand there in the deafening silence, imagining the world that could have been. | 2017-12-13T06:40:38 | 2017-12-13T06:40:09 | 652 | 148 |
[WP] Everyone has a Familiar that eventually manifests to serve them. The more powerful the magic of the person, the larger the Familiar, and the sooner it manifests in life. You are 6 months pregnant, and wake up to an eye staring through your 2nd story window...at your stomach. | A small boy appeared then broke into pieces. A dog the size of a small hill. Flames. Screams. Explosions. A wave of fire that engulfed everything in its path. Jenny could feel herself disintegrating.
And then heaved in a lungful of air as her eyes burst open from the nightmare. Her mouth felt dry and parched as if she'd been breathing through her mouth all night. And then came the wave of stupor, and she gazed blankly at the ceiling, remarking how dark the room was. With sleep coming back to her after a night full of dreams, she reached blindly for her phone, and saw that it was 9 o' clock.
'That can't be right.' she though to herself. And attempted to roll herself over so she could sit upright, and was met with what nearly made her have a heart attack.
The bright amber eyes reminded Jenny of Sauron's tower. It was the size of a basketball backboard, and she could feel it's watchful glare land on her swollen belly.
And then she heard it, the sound of a bustling commotion outside her window. Her own familiar, a Norwegian forest, was already hiding beneath a chair, stealing glances at this new, overwhelming presence.
Carefully heaving herself, Jenny made her way outside.
"Oh my god" she whispered to herself.
Next to her two story house, a giant familiar had manifested in the early morning hours, and quite a crowd, in fact the entire neighborhood had gathered around, with a few MP (the magic police) as well. In the far back, some news reporters were setting up their equipment as well.
The familiar reminded her of a cross between a lion and a Tibetan Mastiff. It's rich blue, yellow, and red mane hung like clouds but seemed to flow like water, and the gloss on it made it look like real flames. The entire body was grey with many black circles forming a bubble or spotted pattern, save its paws, which were the purest white she had seen. It had a flame pattern going up the shins of its four legs to the thigh, a flaming red nose, and eyes like the yellow of a flame. This was no ordinary familiar. Almost all familiars manifested in the shape of ordinary land animals. But this...
She remembered the name for this creature. Haetae, they called it back in Korea. She remembered seeing statues of it at the entrance of most major public institutions, particularly in front of the Gyeongbokgoong, the old palace where the Chosun kings' seat of authority over the Korean peninsula resided.
Jenny noticed Erena and Mike, the couple who lived next door, also amidst the crowd looking overwhelmed. When their eyes met, despite Jenny instinctively knew the answer, she pointed to the exotic familiar and raised her eyebrows in a manner of asking 'is this yours?'. They fervently shook their heads.
She looked back at the familiar. It looked in her general direction, but the more she observed it, the more she felt it was looking at a particular part of her. Jenny looked down at her belly, and then back at the familiar. She had vaguely heard of the relationship between familiars and people, but she couldn't recall if a familiar could form for an unborn infant as well.
As she was lost in thought, a black van pulled up behind her. Men in suits hastily cut their way through the crowd, and suddenly Jenny found herself thrown to the ground, belly first. Jenny let out a startled and painful scream, and just as quick, the haetae's eyes lit ablaze, and it let out a blood chilling roar which sent out a visible shockwave and knocked everyone back. Windows shattered, houses creaked, and car alarms were set off.
Jenny immediately rolled over, to see blood starting to soak her pants. She could feel life escaping. She let out a blood curling scream, the sort only bereaved mothers could let out. She looked up at the haetae, eyes filled with all the rage and hate that could broil within a person. She spoke no words, but looked back at the men in suits, and then back at the haetae.
The flaming deity of justice immediately sprang to action.
| At first I thought it was Mr. Millers, the neighborhood perv, peeking in again. It wouldn't have been the first time. He was harmless for the most part - a regular peeping tom, though I had heard you wouldn't have wanted to leave your children around him when he was younger. But he was old now. Ancient, really. Ever since his wife died (she was the sweetest thing), sympathetic ladies around the neighborhood - myself included - had come to a mutual decision to leave our blinds open just enough for the old man to get a glimpse every now and then.
When I saw the intense eyeball staring at me, or my belly rather, I felt a jolt of hot excitement run through me, I admit. After I had gotten pregnant, my baby's father disappeared without a word, and Mr. Millers decreased his descents along the fire escape - from his third story window to mine - until he stopped coming by altogether.
I had accepted the fact that my belly, bulging obscenely like my baby was blowing an always growing, never-ending balloon inside my womb, was repulsive to all men. Just last week, as I hurried home along a dark and isolated quiet street, I was grabbed and dragged into an alley, where the mugger demanded my purse - and more. As he pressed me to the wall and spun me around, my belly swelled out like a barrier between us. He took one look at it, turned, vomited, and ran away.
As the eyeball in the window stared, I shifted deliberately, revealing a little more leg than was previously showing before. But not too much. The room was a bit cold and my fuzzy pink robe was too warm to completely discard. I must have looked ridiculous. An overweight mermaid posing on a rock to a ship full of whistling sailors came to mind.
But to finally have attention again felt invigorating, regardless of where it was coming from, or whom was giving it. Over the past 6 months I had lost touch with my femininity, resigning myself to an indoor, make-up less existence until I finally came to term, gave birth to the baby, and was free to once again hang out and be independent and, perhaps - could I hope? - draw a few male stares.
After that brief teen thrill of flirtatious behavior, my motherly sense of maturity kicked in and I stood up abruptly, ready to end the game. Usually, that was all it took for Mr. Millers to get the hint and to go scampering up the fire escape back to his room or to another window. Usually, that was all it took. But this time, he just continued to stare.
And stare. And stare. And not even at me, as I was standing and his eyes were not on my face, but on my belly.
I began to feel afraid.
The intensity in which he was staring at my belly made me feel as if he wanted to do harm to my child. I had fallen asleep on the couch. My phone was in the kitchen; my cellphone in the room, charging. To get to them, I would have to make a mad dash by the window. And if he chose to enter... (remember the cold? It was from the outside, for I had cracked open the bottom of the window, as I was feeling too hot earlier)...if he chose to enter, he would make it to me before I made it to any of my lines of rescue.
Suddenly aware of my vulnerability, I looked around for some means of protection, and grabbed the first item that my eyes fell on. I wielded the remote like it would turn into a lightsaber at the touch of a button. And then I steadied my nerves with several deep, calming breaths as I dared Mr. Miller with my eyes to enter.
But again. He was not looking at my face - or at my eyes - but at my belly, with an eerie, laser like focus that even caused the baby inside of me to fidget. At last, he moved on. But not before closing my window.
I immediately ran over to lock the window in case he should come back. Inadvertently, I turned my eyes upward, expecting to see the old man climbing up the fire escape steps with his usual monkey-like agility. Instead, something swung by the window, pushed by the wind.
Mr. Miller's body hung and torn, his eyeballs plucked out of his skull. His shirt was ripped open and a message carved into his chest:
**Your Familiar has protected you from me.**
| 2017-12-17T22:01:51 | 2017-12-17T21:51:30 | 54 | 15 |
[WP] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors. | "Alright big brains, sit down and let this here cowboy science you something good. Hyperlanes, or what ya'll call the Old Gates, are stable bubbles of time fuckery. Now, I could go into the exact math involved, but ya'll wouldn't get a lick of it, so here's the gist of it.
Once inside the gate, you've entered into a time bubble in which space and time don't really work too good. For your entire trip, which is based on the time it would take if light was sped up a thousand fold, you are technically in both where you started and where you intend to go, at exactly the same time. This may seem confusing, and that's because it is, but know that the intervening distance is crossed by actually going back in time.
So, with that now known, can you imagine my damn frustration when the darn tootin' thing gave out on me while I was still in the bubble? The frangnastic ass of a gate simply stopped working because some damn big-brained alien HAD to mess around with it in the future, changing my darn arrival point to not only be all dang messed up, but in a time and place so far in the future, my processors nearly shit themselves trying to figure out the time of day! So here I now sit, talkin' to a bunch of gawkin slack jawed ninnys while they go through my cargo. *My* *Cargo.* like it was some sort of golden nugget they found spinning in space. I'm a damn hyperlane trucker, not some darn fancy science geek, and I've just about had it with all your questions!" | First, they learned to fly. Then they took to the stars. They explored distant worlds from all over the dotted sky. In an endless void of darkness, they took the light. In their wake, they left seeds as relics for the eternal quest for meaning. And from those seeds, they brought life to the universe.
_______________________________
He strapped into the pod for another routine flight. With the expenses involved in getting planetside, it was rare that a lane was actually open to accommodate those who weren't glactocrats. That being said, the eggheads from up high came up with the ingenious idea of 'hyperlanes'. By bending space-time on itself (or something, he was thirty-five, and space-time physics had always eluded him), you could skip galaxies, thereby reducing the amount of distance you would have to travel even with FTL travel.
The catch was you sped up time while you were traveling. You'd leave for dinner at 5pm. Get there at 5pm, or what you would think was 5pm, and watch your loved ones finishing dessert and watching the end of that space opera you liked.
Still, it was the price you paid to get across fast. And if it was good enough for the galactic elite, it would be good enough for him.
The final flight checks completed, there was nothing to do but relax. And while he relaxed, and eventually dozed off, he failed to realize the flash of red from his console or the multiple fail-safes that failed to keep him safe.
And the pod launched into the night.
_______________________________
Those adventurers of the endless night grew civilization to untold lengths. Before long. the planets teemed with life of all kinds. But as their abilities grew, so did their ambitions. And when their ambitions grew, the galaxies were too small to contain it. They wanted something bigger.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
Author's note:
It's getting late. If you're interested in reading more of what I'm putting down, let me know and I'll continue! | 2018-01-22T07:07:13 | 2018-01-22T07:04:18 | 266 | 59 |
[WP] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors. | Humans. Humans are the original super-beings. My people have spent countless lifetimes trying to reverse engineer the technology they used to traverse the vacuumed expanse. We have been successful in understanding their wormhole and FTL technology as of late, mainly due to a strange occurrence. Living humans have graced us with their presence.
It happend nine days ago. A bright flash of light emanated from a wormhole that we thought had been dormant for millennia. The ship that emerged, UNS Earth, was a transport ship built for the colonization of habitable worlds. My government immediately mobilized our entire military fleet, roughly ten thousand ships, and waited for contact.
Contact required the patience of both parties. The humans were obviously flustered. Once communications were established, we knew why. The humans were living relics, a single generation had outlived the entirety of the remainder of their species. They said this was due to a malfunction in one of the wormholes they built.
Three days ago, my government made a decision. They indicated that they would help the humans find the answers they seek. That was when I was summoned for command. I would be leading the collective of our species in the search. My people would provide vast resources, and the humans would provide unknown technologies. That was when I knew I had been naive.
My people waved us off today. Many said goodbye to their kin, some shrugged off the thought of another expedition. Working with the humans has elevated our society in a way that we were never going to achieve on our own. The humans have greatly accelerated our understanding of many things. One of the most important lessons so far is that my people are quite similar to the humans. I hope we can help our friends find what they are looking for.
| First, they learned to fly. Then they took to the stars. They explored distant worlds from all over the dotted sky. In an endless void of darkness, they took the light. In their wake, they left seeds as relics for the eternal quest for meaning. And from those seeds, they brought life to the universe.
_______________________________
He strapped into the pod for another routine flight. With the expenses involved in getting planetside, it was rare that a lane was actually open to accommodate those who weren't glactocrats. That being said, the eggheads from up high came up with the ingenious idea of 'hyperlanes'. By bending space-time on itself (or something, he was thirty-five, and space-time physics had always eluded him), you could skip galaxies, thereby reducing the amount of distance you would have to travel even with FTL travel.
The catch was you sped up time while you were traveling. You'd leave for dinner at 5pm. Get there at 5pm, or what you would think was 5pm, and watch your loved ones finishing dessert and watching the end of that space opera you liked.
Still, it was the price you paid to get across fast. And if it was good enough for the galactic elite, it would be good enough for him.
The final flight checks completed, there was nothing to do but relax. And while he relaxed, and eventually dozed off, he failed to realize the flash of red from his console or the multiple fail-safes that failed to keep him safe.
And the pod launched into the night.
_______________________________
Those adventurers of the endless night grew civilization to untold lengths. Before long. the planets teemed with life of all kinds. But as their abilities grew, so did their ambitions. And when their ambitions grew, the galaxies were too small to contain it. They wanted something bigger.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
Author's note:
It's getting late. If you're interested in reading more of what I'm putting down, let me know and I'll continue! | 2018-01-22T07:47:39 | 2018-01-22T07:04:18 | 99 | 59 |
[WP] You live in a world were everyone is born with one spell that makes their daily lives a little easier/practical. You’ve realized that your seemingly harmless spell inadvertently gives you true power. | "You're up next, sir." The man with the clipboard, tie, and earpiece nodded to me. "Anything else you need? We can always call a pause to make any changes-"
"No, no." I held up my hand, palm extended in front of the French cuff, the silver cufflink glinting in the rays of the spotlight that made it into the wings of the stage. "I'm ready."
My ears caught the swell of the crowd, not applauding just yet but on the verge of erupting. They'd erupt when I stepped out of the shadows, when they caught sight of their new candidate for President, immaculate in a perfectly fitted suit, smiling so brightly out at them.
I'd seen the polls. The experts were predicting a landslide in my favor. I didn't even need to bother with these stump speeches any longer; I did them mostly for the thrill.
Waiting, listening to the host hyping up the crowd, I held up my fingers. There was plenty of shadow here in the wings of the stage. I drew a bit of it in, made it into a little ball that danced from finger to finger, a black flame that produced no heat.
Such a small gift, but enough to carry me here - maybe much further.
I caught a snipped from the host, something about "humble beginnings." That certainly described me. Risen from the depths of mediocrity, a practical nobody in high school and college, but with a meteoric ascent in the last few years. I'd truly made the leap from zero up to hero - and when I stepped in front of this cheering crowd, they'd welcome me as a surrogate to God himself.
When I closed my eyes, I could still remember the crushing disappointment I felt as a teenager, how I lay in bed, face buried in the pillow, cursing my stupid power. I hadn't been the first in my class to manifest; that had been Billy Zerkis, who cried out in surprise when flames shot from his fingertips and set his English book alight, halfway through "Fahrenheit 451." Most of my classmates soon followed, but I wouldn't know my ability for another eight months.
And then, when it came, it brought my hopes and dreams crashing down with its arrival.
The ability to control shadows. I could put on little displays of monochrome puppet shows, make little figures dance in darkness. I could shrink back into those shadows, pull them around me like a cloak to avoid unwanted attention. I could temporarily dim the lights in a room, although the light burned away the shadow until there was nothing left for me to hold, nothing remaining for me to control.
And for a long time, I believed that was the extent of it. No superpowers, nothing even useful for a job. I couldn't see in the dark, couldn't fly or control time or summon great beasts or bursts of energy. Hell, I didn't even need to register my power - I scored a puny 1.2 on the Hammond scale, well below the 2.5 needed for the registration to be added to my driver's license.
For the rest of high school, the first two years of college, it was my secret shame. I brushed off questions about my power at the few parties I attended, not even putting on demonstrations. What good was the ability to make a little figure dance from shadows? If I pulled the darkness together, I could exert very small amounts of force, but it was barely more than a puff of air. Not enough to stop a punch, not enough to fly, not enough for anything.
It was useless, I told myself.
I couldn't be more wrong.
"On in two," the stagehand called to me, and I nodded with the small part of my brain not lost in reverie.
My breakthrough came from a biology class, of all places. I'd been given a squeamish female partner who refused to participate in the rat dissection, so I'd handled it myself. I cut into the animal with the scalpel as the professor droned on about the animal's nerves, how even a tiny little electrical stimulus could still incite movement in a dead animal.
I'd cast a small amount of shadow into the rat's opened belly, creating just enough force to keep the scalpel from slipping. Idly, I felt about, sensed a nerve, *pushed.*
The rat's leg twitched.
Even then, I dwelled little on that astounding reaction. I finished the class, went back to my dorm, but dropped into the grass in front of the building and watched as a couple jocks laughed and threw a football back and forth. Only then, turning it over in my head, did I start to wonder.
I pulled darkness from the shadow of the dorm building, cast it in a hair-thin stream through the grass. The bright overhead sun burned away most of the shadow, but enough made it to the jock to slip up, into his skin, sinking through it...
The jock's arm spasmed, and the football flew wide. His buddy shouted in annoyance, but I grinned, a wild rictus of realization.
The second realization came later, followed quickly by a third. I didn't need to pull darkness from external sources. After all, there were plenty of cavities inside a human body. Cavities that were unlit, filled with darkness.
And where was the densest source of neurons? The brain.
"And now," cried the host from a dozen feet away, "it is my great honor to present to you, your candidate, the next President of these great United States!"
The applause rose to a constant rolling of thunder as I emerged. I beamed out at the crowd, waved my hand high - and a tiny bit of darkness pressed, ever so lightly, on the pleasure centers of each person in the crowd.
They roared, they cheered, and I smiled as I saw my future stretching out in front of me, great and glorious and immortal.
It was not a bright future, no.
It was filled with darkness.
****
[Want more stories? Check out /r/Romanticon!](http://www.reddit.com/r/romanticon) | ######[](#dropcap)
When Mister Billy’s head imploded, the village of Alderford was thrown into a state of chaos and jubilation.
Mister Billy, or Bill Cocksuck, as he was known to most elders, was a rather loud, but standoffish man, whose occupation did little to endear him with any local population. He was a tax-man, and was thusly prone to false (or perhaps not) accusations in the realms of embezzle and swindle. But, if such claims were not enough to paint an unfavorable look, Bill Cocksuck was also five inches below the average height, with oddly slanted eyes, a broad forehead, a potbelly, and disproportioned arms.
Today, however, nobody remembered such things, especially not with Bill’s head crumpled in, the fluids within leaking onto dry dirt by way of large craters around the sphenoid and occipital. These features were instead magnified, under passage from verbal tales and inaccurate depictions.
“Good riddance,” said Tillet Maers, and on this they could all agree.
“Aye,” said Toren Illenson, the village’s eldest blacksmith, who held a greater-than-most hatred for the now deceased tax-man. “Arms uneven, with claws at his fingers. He got a huge head too, but angled. All triangle-like. I swear, when you wasn’t expecting it, horns would appear out the top. Forgot to wear that big hat of his, once, and I did see ‘em starin’ straight at me, plain as day.”
“Looks be damned, what about all the stuff he stole?” asked Dion Holdfast. “I think the tax was ten-piece, and he took twenty from each!”
“Took me daughter too,” said Old Man Jackson, who was both old and ugly, but whose eldest daughter had somehow flowered into some statuesque beauty (the other two were likened to wrinkled crones). Bill had taken Jackson’s eldest as tribute to the capital, where she might be accepted to the Kynferði -- a group of females bound in lifelong service to King and kin -- or otherwise killed if found unsatisfactory.
“Tar, Old Man,” said Tillet Jr. “We all know you pawned ‘er off to ‘im, an’ for a good price too!”
Amidst such commotion, no one took notice of neither the frolicking children nor the scrawny little boy who hid alone behind the hay bales. This particular boy’s name was Aren Noneson -- Noneson being the surname given to young orphans. Aren stood rather still, staring at the palms of his hands. He was imagining them coated in blood, though they were, in fact, unusually clean, especially so for a child nearing thirteen.
Aren recalled having left his home that morning, a small covering of twigs and bark beneath Whitewater Bridge, heading first towards the market, then towards the bazaars when the food to be found near the former proved scarce. He remembered, among Bazaar Street, hearing a rather uncouth voice float to his ears, slimy and greasy as large river snakes are.
“Hello, young’un,” it said, and Aren recognized that voice, would recognize it anywhere. He panicked a moment; the dirt caking his face hid much of his reaction.
“Mister Billy?”
“That’s me,” said Billy, smiling so suddenly as to startle Aren and nearing passers-by. “Where’s your parents?”
“Dead. In the war.”
“Hmm.” Billy stood on a while in silence, as though pondering through near-unfathomable conclusions. “Well, you’d best come with me,” he said at last, reaching out.
Aren backtracked and, in his haste, stumbled across a protruding rock, which jutted offendingly from the hard-packed dirt road. He fell hard, tasted blood. Billy neared.
At first, Aren felt stuck, as though petrified to stone or encased in hard mud. He could feel his heart race, his blood rushing through his veins, but so great was his fear that he could not get up and run, run fast as he knew he could. The darkness around him seemed to encroach, until naught might be seen but Billy, creeping closer, the predator rearing in strike, the prey trapped in some snare. At that moment, Aren could feel only the sense of dread encroaching upon him. The words “death” and “flee” in particular floated chaotically among his thoughts.
Abruptly, Aren struck, much like a cat will when caught in a corner. The next moment, Billy had released his grip -- Aren, in fear, had not felt it -- and had fallen back against a wall, head clutched in his hands. Aren had run then, helter-skelter down the path.
At present, Aren was behind the hay bales nearest that scene of his great panic, wondering what had happened. And indeed, what had? Powers, he knew, manifested at his age, but never grew (even in later life) to such a magnitude as to enable a child in killing an adult. Most powers were of the day-to-day kind, helping only in the most practical of ways. Farmer Stils, Aren knew, could bolster greatly the growing rate of crops. Toren Illenson was resistant to burns. And Mister Billy, before his most unexpected death, had been unusually persuasive.
“So what was that? Are these powers mine, or did some other save me?” Aren asked aloud, then covered his mouth in realization of the gravity of his mistake. *“Has my hidey-hole been spoiled?”* he wondered, and peered from behind his piles of straw.
He had not, it seemed, been noticed at all. The adults, still in deep conversation, were now voicing a communal desire to make for the nearest pub, in which they might share a drink. Aren sighed and placed his hands on the nearest bale, stilling his nerves. Had it been him who had brought about the death of hated Billy? He had to know. Could he, with effort, replicate the effect? Steeling himself, he reached out his palm.
***
Constructive criticism encouraged and welcome (pls halp, I need it :P)
/r/Lone_Wolf_Studios for more stories! | 2018-06-20T10:38:32 | 2018-06-20T07:58:07 | 41 | 10 |
[WP] You have a friendc who buys you gifts that, days later, turns out you need. You figure they’re just observant. In till they give you a giant stuffed bear, to your surprise as it is a fairly normal gift and on your car ride home you are crash and the extra cushion of the bear saves your life. | I decide to confront Paul about the whole thing. Laying in my hospital bed I stew as well wisher after well wisher come in to sign my cast.
My surgeon says that I was lucky to come out of the thing with just a broken arm and whip lash. Seeing the pictures of my trashed car I agreed.
On the day I was going to get discharged Paul finally showed up and offered me a ride home.
"Nah man, sit down. I need to talk to you. close the door please.
Ok, so here's the thing. That bear you gave me? It saved my life. The air bags didn't deploy and I'd probably cracked my skull if it wasn't for that thing. I'm grateful, I really am but... this wasn't the first time Paul. Remember that odd sweater you gave me at the office party? The one that just said (SPORTS) on it? I had it shoved in the desk drawer for a month when one day when I had a presentation someone, Kate I think, spilled some coffee on my shirt so I used it to cover the stains. The presentation was about the new sports drink we're about to launch so the whole thing took well and I got a decent bonus out of it."
Paul was silent and just sat there looking at me oddly. In my head this would be the part where he broke down and confessed to... I don't know, calling 800-oracle or something! I dug deeper for more ammo.
"Ok, what about that Aprils fools day joke gift? You sent me a bag of marbles. That same I was walking down the street and the marbles spilled everywhere tripping the guy behind me. It was only when I tried to help him up did I see the gun in has hand. He had his gun out Paul! Probably was going to shot me in the back and run if it wasn't for those stupid marbles!"
Pauls expression remained the same. I was getting unnerved by this point and started talking even faster.
"Fine, lets say one, two even three of those were coincidences. The fuck was with that tiny fire extinguisher you gave me as a birthday gift? The thing was barely bigger then my palm so I thought it was toy. Do you know how I found out it was real Paul? Do you remember? Ofcourse you do. You refused to chip in for the cake at work right? You instead got an actual fire extinguisher for when the candles literally lit my sleeve on FIRE! Paul, what are you exactly. Just tell me alright."
Paul opened his mouth and in a very guarded tone said "I'm giving you a ride home. I think you should just come along alright."
I remembered his words as the taxi swerved off the road and off the highway. I closed my eyes and regretted declining his offer before the world went black. | "You're a guardian angel, aren't you?" I said accusingly, barging my way past Sarah and into her apartment.
She ran a hand through her hair. "Oh hey, James, why don't you come in?"
"I'm not an idiot, Sarah. Since you entered my life last year, you've... You've changed everything. You've done impossible things. Like, like, it was thanks to the camera that *you* lent me that I caught my wife - ex-wife - cheating. Thanks to the helmet you bought me that my bike accident wasn't worse. And now today - an hour ago -that bear you bought me... It saved my fucking life. So don't act like I'm stupid. I know what you are!"
Sarah swallowed hard and her cheeks grew pink. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you sooner. But it's against the rules. Please understand."
She looked embarrassed. There was something innocent and beautiful about her expression. I ran a hand through my hair. "I knew it. I just fucking knew it! This last year has been too crazy to be real."
"Not just the last year."
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
She shrugged and smiled. "I've always been there for you James. You just maybe didn't always realise it. I had a different name back then." She removed her glasses and placed them down onto the table, then pulled back her hair. It took me a moment to recognise her from the little girl I'd known at school.
"Erica?" I whispered.
"Surprise. "
"Erica? You can't be... I don't understand... Why-"
"Your parents were going through a divorce," she explained. "And you were being bullied about it at school. You needed me then, just like you do now."
The memories flooded back. Events I hadn't thought about in years. "They... They said you stabbed Andrew in the eye with a compass. That's why you got expelled. Is that true?"
"He didn't bother you after that, did he? Sometimes my job isn't easy or pleasant. "
I shook my head. "His parents pulled him out of the school. Jesus, so you were looking out for me even back then!?"
"Always, James. Don't you understand? I belong to you. And you do to me. That's how it works."
"You saved my life tonight." I held out my trembling arms as I approached her. "My breaks failed and... And... "
Sarah approached me and wrapped her arms around me. "Shh, baby. It's okay. I'm here. I've always been here."
I closed my eyes and lay my head on her shoulder as she ran a hand through my hair. Why I hadn't I realised before just how much I needed her?
I pulled my head back and looked in her cool blue eyes. Her perfect eyes. "Can I...? Can we..."
She answered by pressing her lips hard against mine.
Before I closed my eyes, something on the table next to her glasses caught my attention. They looked like scissors, but thicker and with bigger handles. A peculiar thing for an angel to have, I thought, before shutting my eyes and kissing her back.
| 2018-09-08T02:15:14 | 2018-09-08T01:51:14 | 1,907 | 356 |
[WP] Universities are the safest place in the post-post apocalyptic world. They protect and cultivate the bright minds that will rebuild the world. You get invited to attend, but your scholarship doesn't cover room & board. You have to commute through the dangerous wasteland to get to class on time. | '*Greetings young Aspirant, it is with great pleasure to inform you that among thousands of distinguished individuals... YOU ____ have been selected. That despite our excruciatingly stringent examination process, YOU ____ have emerged supreme above the rest of the candidates. YOU ____ have displayed exemplary ingenuity, a vast knowledge of the sciences and a brilliant philosophical take on the theory of Automaton self-identity.*'
Lilly examined the crumpled parchment paper for the hundredth time as she ambled through the mud and dirt with a big smile on her face. For every YOU ____ there was her name, scribbled in like chicken scratch. She looked up at the scornful sun, then looked down at the letter. A bead of sweat had apparently landed impeccably on her name.
"Oh no!"
It was smudged now, and Lilly desperately tried to wipe the sweat away, lest her sweat soil her name further. She blew on it. A moment later and it came away as merely a blank ____. She would have to write her name in again later, but that would require some form of inking implement. Something that no one in her village had possessed in centuries.
She let out a tearful sigh, then continued her hundredth examination of the letter.
'*It is with great enthusiasm that we invite YOU ____ , one of the very few successful Aspirants, to attend the illustrious S.O.S. (Sanctuary of Scholars). It is here where YOU ____ will harness the prodigious aspirations hidden within you and inspire a NEW WORLD.*'
"A new world," she felt the word with her tongue, a majestically sweet endeavor rolling around in her mouth. Oh, how grand it was for her to just imagine what kind of future the Scholars had in mind for this tarnished world of rubble and decay. "Ahhh~ I can't wait!"
'*Our schedule begins this fall, and we will be glad to welcome you to join our prestigious community of Aspirants. Perhaps, you will one day even join the Great Hall of Scholars.*'
Lilly shook with excitement at the prospects of being inducted into the Great Hall of Scholars. "The Thirteenth Scholar..." she rolled the magnificent title in her mouth.
So far only twelve Scholars have existed in history, and for centuries it had remained that way. Twelve Scholars whose accomplishments and contributions had changed the world so drastically that they had become eminent idols of the Academia. If she could become the Thirteenth Scholar, then she would finally be able to prove to her parents and her fellow villagers back home that she was not just an eccentric kid who spent to much time buried in her books.
'*It is no secret where S.O.S. lies. Our location is a beacon of intellect and genius after all. But just as so, great things are coveted by all, including those who are undeserving and ignoble. Your first test is simple.* *YOU* ____ *must trek the wasteland and attend our welcoming ceremony before the fall of the summer solstice.*
*Good luck and may the twelve scholars be with you!*
'*P.S. SOS is not responsible for any harm, or fatality incurred on this Aspirant's endevaour for enlightenment.'*
Lilly shoved a fist into the air. "BUH-YAH!" she roared. She had planned months for this trip. The Sanctuary of Scholars was indeed a beacon of ingenuity. It was virtually impenetrable. No raider, or faction had ever succeeded in penetrating its magnificent invisible bubble. A shimmering phenomenon of technology that no one had ever been able to reproduce. It was ancient no doubt. Lilly was sure of that and perhaps she would be one of the few who would unravel its mysteries.
Lilly suddenly found herself inside a thick brush. She had finally waded through the fifthly sludge of decay and radiation, and now she was lost in a giant brush.
Lilly slipped her hand into her backpack and whipped out her vorpal saw. She flicked the switch, and a laser extended along the edge of the crescent-shaped blade. She began hacking away, when suddenly, she saw something green pop into view.
She looked up and suddenly found herself in a staring contest with a hulking green, mutant.
She froze, stock still despite all of her instincts screaming to run. No human could match a *Super* mutant in physical combat. That was basic wisdom among the wasteland, and yet Lilly was having a staring contest with one.
Then, before she knew it, she was making a mad dash towards the mutant with her vorpal blade raised above her head.
"Whoah, Whoah, watch where you're swinging that thing!" the mutant shouted.
Lilly froze again, this time for an entirely different reason.
"Yo-you can talk?" she asked, puzzled.
"Of course! What do you take me for? A mad blade-swinging imbecile?"
"Bu-but... you're... a..." she pointed at his green, burly chest.
"Hey now, just because I'm green doesn't mean I'm a savage, warmongering super-mutant out to conquer the world. That's racist you know."
"Oh," she nodded understandably, then noticed a familiar crumpled piece of paper in his big green hand. "What's that paper in your hand?"
---------
---------
/r/em_pathy
[Part 2 Here!](https://www.reddit.com/r/Em_pathy/comments/a6f1p1/the_sanctuary_of_scholars_part_2/?)
| The road stretched endlessly in front of Ellie like the broken bones of a long dead God. Jagged, uneven and most of all, forgotten. To the road's right lay the carcass of an ultra-city, its once-magnificence thoroughly wilted to hollowed out ruins. To its distant left, a violet lake churned against the shore. It must have been beautiful, once, Ellie thought. But beauty had no place in this world.
Not anymore.
She turned and looked behind her. Her father was halfway down the hill already, even with his limp. This had been as far as he could take her -- he had other responsibilities to see to. Now she was left with a cold metal pistol in her right hand, and a bullet of anxiety wedged into her stomach.
Something hard nudged her leg. "We have to go, Ellie, or you'll be late for your first day."
The rusted home-made robot rose only as far as her knee. Most of its parts had been a gift from her older sister, Juliet, on her eleventh birthday. Being a savager had its perks, and for a long time, Ellie had thought it's what she'd become, too.
Chip rolled past her, its treads printing themselves onto the dusty ground. It paused, then turned its body awkwardly. "Ellie, please," it repeated. Its voice remained monotonous and empty of emotion, but the cracked screen on its face showed two round dots and a wavy, concerned mouth beneath.
She took a deep breath. "I'm not sure I can do this, Chip."
The curvy line on the robot's face stretched flat, then slightly upward at the corners. "Once we make it past the city, we'll almost be there. It's really not far."
"No, I mean, I'm not sure I can do this *every day.*"
The robot's head tilted to its copper shoulder. "Isn't it worth it?"
Ellie kicked at the dust. "How do I know? I've never been there! I can learn whatever they can teach from books that Julie finds and from-- well, from other places." She sighed. If it wasn't for her mom sending off her application--behind her back!--then she wouldn't be in this stupid position.
"She did it for you, Ellie," said Chip, reading her face as if it was her mind itself. "You have potential that none of her other children have. She wants you to reach it, fully. That's all. Kalilko University will help you. It is a a new tool for you."
She shrugged her backpack feeling its weight against her shoulders. Chip was right. As usual. And thinking of it as a tool suddenly didn't make it sound so bad.
Didn't make him any less annoying though.
She passed him by in two large strides.
"Well, what are you waiting for, rustbucket?"
The wavy line returned before Chip's tracks whirred into life. "Wait for me. Your father told me to stay with you."
"Then you'd better hurry!" she said with half a laugh, before bursting into a sprint.
---
Ellie had never been this close to the city. Hadn't been allowed. Her father's words up on the hill still echoed through her, as if she was a gong that wouldn't stop reverberating.
"Bad things make their home in bad places. Stick to the road, and you won't need to use this."
She had tried to steady her arms as she took the pistol from him, but they betrayed her. Her dad ruffled her hair. "You'll be fine. Make us proud."
A shudder ran through her as she looked at the nearest building. A carcass, bent and burned and broken. She couldn't see anything inside the darkness of the gaping, glassless windows. But that didn't mean there wasn't anything there.
"It's best not to look, Ellie."
"Relax. You couldn't pay me to go in there. I'm just... curious, you know?"
"I know where your curiosity always leads."
She rolled her eyes. "Not always."
An odour washed over the road, as if it was a wave from the lake. Chemicals that she could taste on her tongue. Remnants of bombs and bodies and the types of warfare people thought would never be used. But the air was redolent of their naivety. And of their rotting bodies.
The city seemed to grow as they ventured farther along the road. The buildings, what remained of them, now towered far into the sky. Metal beams bent over, leering at the road, watching the travellers pass.
For a moment, Ellie thought it was one of the buildings itself that was screaming at her.
Then, as she felt the impact, she realised it had been a bullet.
She crumpled onto the ground, her head facing the city. The gun lay next to her. Near to her, but out of reach of her unresponsive body.
Chip was trying to say something, his mouth was pursed wide, his green visual now a bright red. But there was only silence ringing in Ellie's ears.
She saw the three figures as they walked out of the cover of darkness. Out of a gaping maw in a nearby structure.
They looked happy.
Why were they happy?
Chip was in front of her now, his tiny right arm had flipped open a feather-sized blade.
A boot sent him rolling somewhere behind Ellie. A bullet followed.
Ellie wanted to turn, to find him. The robot she had created. Repaired a hundred times. Had loved, in a way, she realised.
But her body refused her heart's request.
She barely felt the rope as it bit into her wrists and ankles.
| 2018-12-14T07:07:20 | 2018-12-14T06:08:40 | 102 | 36 |
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King". | Long ago, there was the king with no name, ruler of all he surveyed. With a boisterous self-confidence befitting of the position, he fought all those who dared challenge him. The gods themselves, threatened by his increasing power, put a curse on him. He would fade into insecurity, and find himself without anything but the clothes on his back for the rest eternity.
Not too long after, the masses began to revolt against the royalty, and he found wave over wave of peasants assaulting his palace, demanding reparations for the decades of injustice that they had suffered. At the sight of his own people rejecting him, he fled, far, far away, and never looked back.
A millennium later, he ended up in New York City, doing what everyone else in the god-forsaken city did; mind his own business. Drinking from a bottle of vodka, he grimaced, as he knew that there was no could get drunk. The curse prevented him altering his state of mind in any way, so that he couldn’t escape from his life through drugs.
On this particularly average day, something slightly unusual happened. A rich looking boy, looking about seventeen years old, approached him. The king snorted; if he was looking to give pity, the kid had another thing coming.
Hesitating for a couple of seconds, the boy asked, “Who… are you?”
A little bit confused at the question, the king took a moment to contemplate. With a scowl on his face, he replied, “Just another homeless man. Now bugger off, kid.” He took a swig of his drink and flipped the kid the bird.
The kid, looking a bit confused and annoyed, said, “No, I mean… why are you a forgotten king?”
The king took a spit take. “Who told you that?”, he asked sharply.
“Nobody told me, it’s just that… well, this’ll take a while to explain.” The strange boy took a seat on the curb next to the king. “Ever since I can remember, I’ve been able to see these*… things*, titles, float above people. Some people have professions, others have traits, but it’s always been things that you could figure out about them just from looking. This is the first time that I’ve seen anything like… yours.”
“Ah.” The king smiled knowingly. “You, too, have been cursed by the gods. The curse of knowledge, I see. I, myself, have the curse of immortality. Fate must have brought us together.”
With a bemused frown, the kid said, “What gods? And, no offense, but I don’t believe in the fate nonsense.”
Laughing heartily for the first time in many years, the Forgotten King answered, “No, not the *idea* of fate. The person named Fate, who challenges the gods’ machinations.” He stood up. “And it looks like the next war is going to start.” The king looked to the boy expectantly.
“Are you ready to fight some gods?” | Autumn. Leaves are falling down the trees, and if I don't concentrate my eyes, it looks like pieces of amber fall from the sky. I love autumn. Most people say that spring is the most beautiful season of all, but I disagree. To me, walking in the park at autumn is as close to paradise as it can get.
Today is no exception of my autumn routine of walking at the park before work. I rarely see people at this time of the day, but I tend to pass a couple of regulars each morning. Today is no different. I've already passed "The Pickpocketer", who still manages to keep his title for a long time, even though everyone knows he likes to pickpocket. I guess he is a master of his craft. And here is "The Gardener", a young lady who enjoys autumn and the park as much as I do and walks around before her work shift. And finally, "The..." Wait, what? "The Forgotten King"?? I notice this drunkard every morning, but I avoid eye contact with him, so I always just assumed that his title is "The Homeless". Wait wait wait, I have to talk with him!
"Hey, sir, are you okay?" I asked the homeless man carefully
"Howdy howdy howdy, the me-ga... me-ga... germ?" the man half drowned in fallen leaves answers
"It is "The Manager", I guess your breakfast was a tad too strong!" I jokingly fix his mistake
"I mean when I was younger, I wasn't required to read... I guess you can see my title!" in high voice shouts the homeless man
"Yeah, about that... Were you really a king?"
"Uhm, son, I have a lot to tell you, but do you know the Kingdom?"
"Was it the most infamous organized crime group of all time? If you refer to that, then yes."
"Well, the Kingdom had to have a KING, am I right? said the man in a boasting fashion
"Wait, you don't want to say, that you were the King?" with a racing heartbeat I whispered
"Exactly that, THE KING!" shouted a man with too much alcohol content in his blood
"But but, I thought the King was killed?"
"Son, you know shit! I got tired of all that bullshit. Kill this, shoot that, smuggle these... I just wanted to live a peaceful life, but because of these bullshit titles everyone sees it was impossible for me to come back into society..." with a hint of sadness muttered the King
"Do you call this coming back to the society?" I enquired
"You know yourself that these titles update according to our recent activity and occupation. I was "the King". Now I'm "the Forgotten King". One, two, three, whatever the fuck years down the drain I will become "The Drunkard", and by that time I will be old enough for no one to recognize me from my face. I will reform myself this way... Step by step, from the top of one hierarchy, through the rut of the normal hierarchy into..." man's speech abruptly stopped
"Into?... What are you exactly planning to do after your title is clean?"
"MY DAUGHTER..." the homeless man cried out loud
"You have a daughter?" I stuttered as I hugged the Forgotten King
"Yes... And she is really into flowers, autumn, and this park..."
| 2019-01-08T10:34:45 | 2019-01-08T10:16:15 | 75 | 12 |
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King". | I was walking home one Winter night, doing the usual and reading out peoples titles in my head. Kevin Johannes - Dog Groomer, Susan Warren - Kickboxer, I passed a man and woman who's title indicated they were siblings, and who were getting a smidge to romantic with each other, I cringed. Then, sitting on the corner I saw The Forgotten King, I stopped in front of him staring at the words floating above his head. He was curled up just inside the opening of an alley clutching an odd choice for a change cup, it looked like aged bronze and very old.
After a few moments the old man rose his head and saw me looking at his cup, caught off guard my hand shot for my pocket and fumbled for some change, "Heh" the old man chuckled. "It's alright lad, I'm used to people starring, this is a strange thing for a man like me to have." "Where'd you get it?" I asked trying not to seem rude. The old man sighed "Over seas during the war....a very old war, I doubt you'd believe me if I told you which one...no matter, I'm supposed to give it to someone in Rome but I haven't been able to get it back to where It needs to go, so I'm sort of.. stuck, in a way until that happens."
I think to myself what he means by stuck, but I carry on my conversation. "Well I do travel a lot for work, maybe we can talk about it and I can probably help?" The old man stares at nothing for several seconds and focuses back on me. "You... you'd take this burd-..... I mean, cup from me?" Confused, I agree and the old man starts looking more relived than I've ever seen anyone. Fumbling over his words he stands up and shakes my hand. "My good Sir, you have no idea how long I have waited for someone like you to come along, what do they call you?" "I...uh, well my name is Lance" the old man scoffs but quickly tries to hide his reaction. "Ah...well Lance.... thank you for your offering to help me in my ques-.... endeavor. Meet me back here early tomorrow, there are a very specific set of instructions that are involved that I need to prepare." I agree and shake his hand again. As I start going back to my hotel I turn back around "Oh, I didn't get your name" the old man pauses ".....my name? I can't remember the last time I used it, it was... it is Arthur, yeah Arthur!" | I haven't told anyone about it.
Not my mother and not my father. They already sent me to a shrink after they found my collection of Johnny The Homicidal Maniac comics and saw me playing Doom on my computer.
"Violent Fantasies", they'd told the shrink.
That wasn't the only thing going on in my head.
I always assumed it was just some teenage extension of childhood play-pretend when I saw it. I always used to have vivid fantasies like that: imagining my house as a space station and the car outside as a shuttle in orbit, or my school as a prison castle guarded by the teachers (who, naturally, I envisioned as heavily armored orcs).
This eventually took the form of envisioning titles and character names over peoples' heads, like they were NPCs from a video game. This was usually based on their role. The cute woman with pink hair and a skull earring at the Target Starbucks showed up as "shopkeeper", at least until I learned her name and, eventually, her telephone number. Perhaps she was an NPC no longer?
Similar titles appeared: "nurse", "desk assistant", and so on. The National Guardsmen I saw walking into a coffee showed up appeared as "guard". The man in scrubs taking the bus showed up as "nurse".
Eventually, I saw something strange. I was yawning, taking the bus home from a failed job interview and not feeling all that stressed: if the interviewers were going to rake me over the coals, did I even want that job?
It was then that I noticed - an old man on the bus, a battered baseball cap on his head, carrying a beaten and rusted metal walking cane. His face careworn, a single eye missing, one of his ears chewed off at the tip. His left foot was bent away from his ankle at a crude angle, broken and never reset.
Above his head, his title appeared: THE FORGOTTEN KING.
I rubbed my eyes, doing a double take. The man's one eye looked at me.
He shook his head, clearly frightened.
When the bus stopped, he limped carefully off of the bus, his good leg barely managing the steps. I continued taking the bus until I got within walking distance of my apartment on the second floor of a student housing complex near the university. I walked upstairs and opened the door. There, on my couch and single chair in my two-room apartment.... two men sat.
Both wore grey suits and pink ties, a pair of Ray-Bans over their eyes.
Above their heads, their title appeared: INTERDIMENSIONAL AGENT.
One of the two men held a pistol over his knee. The other stood up and held a black and white photograph in front of me, of the half-blind cripple I saw on the bus.
"Have you seen this man?" He asked. "We're going to need you to kill him."
​ | 2019-01-08T14:54:13 | 2019-01-08T14:18:19 | 30 | 10 |
[WP] You can teleport. Instead of using your powers for good or evil, you start a delivery business with a quick delivery guarantee. Amazon starts getting suspicious. | Business was good. My only shortcoming is that I didn't realize sooner that it was *too good*.
Amazon is the world's most profitable company. The life we live today is so media-driven, commercial, and connected that it's hard to imagine that anyone, or indeed any company with an international brand image to maintain, would opt for a nefarious solution to their problems.
That was my mistake.
I only realized it when I was standing over a man full-clad in black clothing, laying unconscious on my kitchen floor. Interesting that the first thought that occurred to me was '*how typical*', when I realized I'd used a cast iron skillet to knock him out. Standing there hovering over the collapsed body, skillet in my hand: straight out of a scary movie, or a made-for-TV flick on Lifetime.
There was no way I could prove the intruder was hired by Amazon. Of course there wasn't, and I wouldn't try. I ran a one-man company, and I wasn't willing to expose my power of teleportation just to save my pride at the incursion. What was curious was how they could've found out about me. But then, if they could develop AWS tech, then surely they could analyze data to discover the incremental value of my small holding measured against my employee count of 1. I was a threat, no matter how small.
My mind wandered back to a year previous. Only a year? It felt like I'd been doing this for so much longer. I used a storage locker to stockpile kitchen supplies imported from China--that's how I started. Someone would order off my website, where items were priced the same as Amazon but where there was an "instantaneous" shipping option for a marked-up price. I spent my afternoons jumping all over the country.
I knew it wasn't sustainable--someone would get suspicious so I changed the instantaneous to same-day. It only really kicked off when I started hiring delivery drivers in each of the big cities by the hour. I'd have all the items ordered from addresses in that city packaged on a palette, and teleport them to a rented lot, where the drivers would come for pick up. Basically the differentiation with Amazon was that I was delivering their 2-day-shipping kitchen supplies in less than one.
But it's all over now. This unconscious man is as far as I'm willing to go. I never really wanted to compete in business on *fair* terms, but this was just too frightening. Sending consumer products quickly just isn't worth it.
My breathing steadied, and I set the cast-iron skillet on the granite counter top. A weird mix of elation at catching a burglar and relief at the decision to get out of the delivery business came over me. I smiled. What will I do now? I frowned at the question, realizing the situation I was currently in. My face was between a frown and a smile when I looked down at the man and saw the blood pooling around his masked head.
I was shocked--did I kill him? Quickly, I went to my knees, wrapped my arms around him and teleported away.
Of course no one saw me arrive--it's part of the power. Someone could be staring at a brick wall, I could teleport immediately in front of them, and to them I'd have been there all along. So the nurse didn't suspect a thing and acted quickly to help me lay the bleeding man on a stretcher. They took him into the OR.
Only when the doctor emerged later and said the man was stable did I leave. I didn't teleport but walked out the front entrance. It was 3 a.m. An ambulance pulled up and they brought out another stretcher with someone on it.
"She's not going to make it," said one of the EMTs to the other as they rushed past me into the Emergency Room.
I watched the doors slide closed behind them, and then looked at the ambulance, its lights still flashing silently.
In that moment, I knew what I was going to do with my life.
​
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
/r/velabasstuff | "Sheila, someone's here to see you."
Her brother's tone caught her off-guard. The 20-year-old had the reckless confidence of his age, so Sheila couldn't remember the last time she heard a note of fear in his voice. But as she looked at him now, standing at the top of her basement stairs with arms folded, it was plain he was scared.
"I don't have time right now," she replied. "We've got to get those three Samsungs to Anchorage tonight, and we promised the Playboy's to the sheik --"
"That can wait," he interrupted. "Just come up here." With that, he walked back through the open door.
Sheila sighed and looked around the basement-turned-storage unit. Large boxes lined the walls, and makeshift shelves bent under the weight of her goods. Anything was possible for her clients, of course, but as her reputation had spread amongst a certain crowd, the types of people she wouldn't want her mother to know about, the inventory had grown increasingly clandestine.
She stepped over the box she was about to deliver, a pair of long-range rifles headed to Cape Town, and moved up the stairs. There was no sound coming the first floor of the two-bedroom house, which was how it should be. Meetings were rarely held here, and no one was due today, so why someone was in her home was beyond her.
As she reached the top of the stairs and turned into the kitchen, she finally heard an unfamiliar voice. "No coffee, thank you. This shouldn't take long."
With that, her brother came back into the kitchen, face ashen, and gave subtle shake of his head. Sheila wasn't worried -- she'd been in dangerous situations before and survived without a scratch. After all, she had the ultimate escape tactic.
The man wasn't facing her when she walked in; he was examining the smattering of framed family photos hung on the far wall. But from the back, he didn't seem intimidating. Simple workout clothes rested below a small. bald head.
"Your mother?" he asked without turning, pointing to one of the photos.
"Who are you, and why are you here?"
Then he turned, and she recognized the face immediately, recognized why her brother was so startled by their guest.
"I see you know who I am," said Bezos. "What you may not realize is that I know about you, too, Sheila Rodriguez, age 24 from Phoenix. I am curious though -- where you born with your talent, or discover this later in life?"
Sheila greeted his question with the silence it deserved. Surprise had been replaced by stubbornness, so she simply crossed her arms and waited for him to continue.
Bezos shrugged. "Fine, have it your way. You'll be speaking soon enough. I have a proposition."
"I work alone," she snarled.
"Not from what I just saw," Bezos responded, nodding towards the door where her brother had just exited.
"That's different. He's family."
That spurred the first sly grin from the tycoon. "Ah, good, so I have judged you correctly. Please look out the front window."
Something wicked in his tone spurred Sheila to cross the room and peak through the closed blinds. Out on the curb of their quiet suburb were two large SUVs. One of the vehicles had its rear window down -- sitting in the back, clear as day, was her mother, bound, gagged, and crying.
"Now that you understand the situation," said Bezos, voice smug, "I suggest you call your brother back in, and you will both accompany us to our local headquarters. Make any move to escape and your mother doesn't make it home tonight."
"What do you want?" asked Sheila, voice trembling, eyes still staring out the window.
She could sense him walking up behind her. He spoke softly as he respond, "Just a little experiment we've set up. Shouldn't hurt *too* much."
​
*authors note: running out the door in six seconds, can't keep going with this until tonight. if there's interest ill loop back and add the conclusion. apologies + cheers*
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227/365
one story per day for a year. read them all at [r/babyshoesalesman](https://www.reddit.com/r/babyshoesalesman)
\--------------------- | 2019-02-02T12:29:21 | 2019-02-02T10:56:35 | 257 | 47 |
[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual" | “Crack”
The sound heard across not only the field, but the whole country, as onlookers watched in disbelief as their final champion of hit the ground with a disappointing thud. The barbaric crowd, in uproarious applause at the path of death and destruction I had laid before them chanted for more, almost begging.
I turned to the king, clutching the source of my ‘power’ and staring him dead in the eye.
I needed this woman, this ‘princess’. The gem she carried around her neck was my way out of this primitive shit hole, there was not a man on earth that could put a barrier between me and getting back home.
“Now, give me what I earned.”
The crowd looked horrified, in disbelief, how could someone dare talk to their king this way, what kind of a leader would simply let that occur?
“Peasant, address me in the way you ‘ought to! That is my daughter! And I am your king!”
...
“Crack”
The sound heard across not only the field, but the whole country, as onlookers watched in horror and disbelief as their mighty king hit the floor with a disappointing thud.
| The kings daughter was admittedly ‘to die for’, but I had no intention of actually doing it.
The time travel thing was getting kind of boring after the first few dozen trips back. ‘Don’t talk to anyone’, ‘don’t leave anything behind’, ‘don’t make friends’, and on and on. If I had known all ‘the rules’ from the start maybe I would have saved my money and just visited Venus, again. Who am I kidding? the potential for the ultimate power trip, being superior to the primitive peasants of the past, was addictive and fuck me if I wasn’t addicted.
So after my 44th trip back, I was making promises of payment I had no intention or ability to keep. Remember: addict. This time would be the last time. Fuck the rules, I’m taking my great grandfathers antique handgun back with me and finally demonstrate my superiority for all to see. So I jumped back to my favorite era of knights and kings. I signed up for the local harvest knight tourney, drew first match, oh joy! As the white knight charged, I reached for my gun and yelled some phrase I heard on the history holograms ‘something about a casual somethjng’. I aimed, pulled the trigger repeatedly, and.....missed every goddamn time.
Looks like I’ll be dying for the princess after all. Wonder if this will affect the space time conti.....:slice, thud: | 2019-03-23T00:03:04 | 2019-03-22T23:33:31 | 73 | 34 |
[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again | I died choking on lunch in my office. Ironic, because we’d just spent the Friday two weeks ago going over CPR and first aid procedures, but obviously that didn’t do much good. I suppose I could have done more to help myself - I have my own office, so there was no one there to see me clutching at my throat. I could have taken the few steps into the hallway, but I didn’t. I stood at my desk and tried to lodge the cucumber (cucumber! What a waste!) out by slamming myself against the top of my office chair.
Eventually, things just went black. When I came to, he was standing there, brandishing a clip board. “All right,” he said. “Ready to go?”
He didn’t fit any of the depictions of himself I’d seen on tv, but I knew right away who he was. That’s how it is with those in power though. They certainly don’t need a name tag.
I looked at my half finished salad on my desk, on top of the stack of paperwork I needed to have done for the audit next week. My boss had been in this same office just hours before, squeezing the bridge of her nose, telling me how stressed everyone was and how important finishing up those files was.
I was saying the words before I’d even thought them through - “Maybe I could just have a little extra time? To finish this up?”
Death made a mark on his clipboard and shrugged his shoulders. In a blink, he was gone. I sat back down at my desk and finished my salad.
A month later, I was fairly certain I’d fallen asleep at my desk. The cucumber that had been lodged in my throat never came out, so it made sense I’d imagined it all. By six months, I was sure it had just been a dream. I hadn’t been getting good sleep, anyway, pulling extra hours to get everything done.
A year later, though, he came again. Same clipboard. “Are you ready?”
I shook my head. Motioned to my desk again - “It seems it never stops piling up, doesn’t it?”
Death made another mark and an expression I couldn’t place. Annoyance? Pity? Again, he was gone in a blink.
And so it happened, year in and year out. He’d always show up and ask if I was ready, and I’d always point out the stack of paperwork on my desk and tell him not quite.
According to my calendar, he should be here in just a few moments. I stayed late all last week getting everything ready. I suppose after so many years, the curiosity has got the better of me.
He arrives right on time. Pulls out his clipboard, asks the standard question. This time, I put the note I wrote to my boss on my desk and stand up. “All right,” I say. “I’m ready to die.”
Death marks his clipboard and reaches one hand out to me and places it on my shoulder. “You’re ready to go now, you mean” he says. “You’ve been dead for twenty six years. Since you choked on that cucumber.”
I don’t understand what he means. Death can see my obvious confusion, and explains further: “You died the first time I came for you. You left earth as you know it at that time. You just weren’t ready to move on. You’ve been here, working away, ever since.”
“What do you mean? I’ve been here, everything has been the same. My coworkers, the Chinese food delivery guy, it’s all been there.”
“A representation of it has. But not the real people. This work, it’s not real, of course.” With a wave of his hand, the papers on my desk started to disappear. Another wave, and my desk was gone. Then the walls. Then the ceiling and the floor until we were standing in nothing.
Death pushes me forward. “You’re ready now, though” he says. “That’s all that matters.” | The first time I died, it was an accident. I was crossing the road, and someone ran the lights.
I woke up and saw my body lying on the ground in front of me.
The man who had hit me had leapt out of his car, his hand over his mouth in shock and horror.
Some passers-by rushed to my body, lying still on the ground, with just a trickle of blood running out of my nose. Someone attempted chest compressions.
I felt a presence beside me. Not a dark, evil lingering, but one with an air of calmness. I turned to see the Grim Reaper standing there, cloaked and hooded. Dark mist rolled around his feet. He gestured gently.*"Are you ready to go?"* his voice rang like the tolling of a church bell.
I chuckled to myself.
*"Not really! I'm only 24."*
*"As you wish."* the figure faded away.
I blinked in surprise, and everything faded to black. When I came to consciousness I was in a hospital bed, surrounded by my tearful parents and siblings. They told me I had been hit by a car, but the lady giving me CPR had kept me alive until the ambulance came.
I didn't tell them what I had seen.
The next time I died, I was 67. It must have been a heart attack, they're hereditary in my family. I saw myself lying in bed beside my wife, both of us looked asleep. I felt the same presence again as before and turned to see him.
*"Are you ready to go?"* he asked again, just as he had before. I looked at my wife, lying there peacefully. I glanced back at him and swallowed nervously.
*"It seems a shame to go like this...I'd hate her to wake and find me..."*
He waited ever-patiently for me to continue.
*"...No. Not yet. Thank-you."*
*"As you wish."* he faded away.
Again, I blinked and found myself back in my bed, beside my wife. I gently held her in my arms, and drifted back to sleep.
The third time I died, it was just old age. I was 92.
*"Are you ready to go?"* Grim rumbled once more.
I still felt like there was more to be done.
*"Not yet"* I told him.
*"As you wish."* again, he vanished like mist at sunrise.
Every year, he would return. Every year I would politely decline. Years continued to pass.
I watched my wife and siblings pass away, my children grew old, grandchildren were born and grew old as well. I amazed everyone with my longevity, and broke many world records, but I was happy with the rest of my family.
Finally, when I reached 200 years, I saw him again on his annual visit. I was in my room, as always nowadays, surrounded by the photos of my extended family.
*"Are you ready to go?"*
I looked at the photographs of my great-grandchildren's faces. I looked at the photographs of my brothers and sisters, my mother and father. I looked at the photos of my children, when they were young. I looked at the photograph of my dear wife...and I felt tired.
*"...Yes."* I replied, *"I think I'm ready now."*
*"As you wish."*
Death raised his scythe and brought it down with a flash of light. The thin thread of light connecting me to my body was cut cleanly. I blinked and saw a arched doorway beside me. Death offered me his hand.
*"Thank-you...I'm not as steady as I used to be, though you'd know, of course..."* I laughed a little nervously.
His hood raised to look at me, and I saw a glimmer of blue within the depths.
*"She's waiting for you."* he told me solemnly.
I swallowed, my eyes welling up.
*"Thank-you"*, I whispered.
I held his gaze for a moment, then we walked through the arch together…and we faded away.
​
\-----------------
​
My first story for this subreddit. I've not written in a long time, so it's nice to brush off the cobwebs! :) | 2019-04-16T13:05:03 | 2019-04-16T11:57:55 | 67 | 19 |
[WP] There is a deep hole just outside your village. The elders pick one person to dive in every year, 'for the good of the tribe', never to be seen again. The elders have just chosen you. You're expected to jump tonight. | I have a vague memory of a dream, I remember my parents telling me not to go in, I didn't listen. I let the darkness it emitted envelope me, I was changing, my bones cracked and grew thicker and longer. My skin darkened my legs lengthened. I could see better in the dark. I felt strong. I felt right. I woke up.
When I told my parents about my dream they looked scared. But I didn't care, I liked it, I wanted to be around it.
As a child I never feared the hole.
I was the only one like this, all the other children feared it, they would talk about their nightmares of falling in or being chosen to go. I could never understand their fear, the hole felt right.
I think I always knew I was different from the others in my village, maybe that's why I never got along with the other children. I didn't have any friends ever. I didn't care much for my parents either. They where mildly entertaining, but they never caught my interest much like the hole did.
But my parents didn't want me around it, they never let me play by it and it made me angry. Now I know they just didn't me to fall in, they loved me and didn't want to lose me.
I didn't care, but I felt obligated to stay, I was supposed to love my parents right? I could pretend.
I started to pretend a lot. I made friends, I learned how to be social, to appear normal. I grew a relationship with my parents. But none of it was real, all I cared about was the hole.
Then the day came.
Choosing day.
It was me. I was chosen.
My parents cried.
I smiled.
I was given a day. I spent it with my parents, but they seemed unsettled by my smiling and when they asked me why I smiled I responded without thinking.
*"I'm going home."*
My words only seemed to make them sadder but I was too happy to care. I was going home, this was right, it was where I needed to be and I'd known it my whole life, I didn't want to wait. I *couldn't* wait."
The need to leave kept building up inside of me, the call to go home became stronger and stronger until I couldn't take it.
My parents tried to hold me back but I needed to leave so desperately that I fought with everything I could and broke free. I ran fast, as fast as I possibly could desperate for it, desperate to be home.
I stopped right before it, staring at it like I had done so many times before. It sat in the ground dark, so dark that it seemed to absorb the light around it, I could never understand it and I wanted to know more. I was going to learn more I just knew it.
I heard my parents calling my name but I did not turn. I smiled and said my last words to them.
*"Don't be sad, I want this."*
And then I jumped.
The darkness enveloped me. My bones started to creek and crack, they grew longer and bigger, denser, stronger. My skin started to turn blue and darker. My legs started to grow even longer and they seamed to change shape. My feet became bigger and soon my legs and feet looked like that of a jumping mouse like I used to try and catch as a young child. And then I realized that I could see all of this happening, I could see in the dark even when I couldn't see the opening of the hole that I was falling down.
I smiled. I felt so much stronger, I felt comfortable in a way I never had in my old body. I was still changing and every change made me feel more like me than ever.
I hit the ground and blinked, unhurt and safe.
Creature smiled down at me with fangs and horns. Blue skin black eyes and long legs.
I was home, and my family welcomed me. | I drop my apples in shock, shaking as I knew all along what this meant. They were going to sacrifice me. As young as eight I always snuck around to see how exactly it was done; not just the public display. I still remember the local bully, Kyle boasting on how his soul would save the village by jumping. The crowd cheered and awed at how quickly he went in, only to disappear as quickly as he went in. The elders would look in and smile that same smile.
"He did it! He saved us!"
As soon as the crowds would depart, I would see Savannah, the leader of the elders raise up her staff and two young men wearing dark green robes jump down the hole and float back up with Kyle still alive. He was covered in blood from his head to his toes. I still remember Savannah's low baritone voice, "Kill kim. He is no good anyways". As soon as she stopped talking, the men began to pull the boy apart from opposite directions as he screamed for help. His bones snapped like twigs as the flesh thinned and thinned revealing crimson and live gore. Kyle's eyes rolled back from the pain as death took his time. They churned the organs like stew and drained the blood into a large bucket as he still screamed.
When Kyle finally died, Savannah and her pack laughed together as they began feasting on the corpse like wolves. I always hated the souds of the slurping and the chewing when they ate. I don't know what else they did as I snuck away from the trees back home. Too bad, I wish I could say it ended there but the elders took on even tourists. Tourists were always the unlucky ones and the most likely victims of these "festivities". I sometimes wish that our "village" wasn't filled with new technology and talent that attracted so many people. So many victims for many years. This year there wasn't as many tourists so we now go back to our own people. They chose me of all the people. I pick up the newspaper that had my own personal column. I always hated the elders anyway. But this time I have a plan for this day. I always knew they were on to me since the "accident".
I still blame myself for getting Savannah killed by the train. But hey, what was I going to do when she wielded a knife at me? I pushed her over and heard the satisfying crunch of her ribs and her eyes popped out her skull. I pretended to cry when the police found me near her and they comforted me that I was trying to save myself but the elders were angry. Now, they want me dead because I got their leader killed. I have only 5 hours left until they come for me. I will escape them tonight.
I look over to my bed to a large bag that held my few belongings and I dressed up in all black pants, shirt, heavy duty shoes, and I had gloves for extra measure. The plan is almost done expect for one last thing: My spell book. I grab my spell book and scan through the pages until I stumble across the one that had the bookmark.
Here it is.
Spell #223
Mors phantastica illusio
I mumble the words as I focus my mind to conjure up the illusion. I feel the spell make my blood cold, almost like a sting in my heart. The room got darker and the wind around me whips around as I focus. Those elders aren't the only ones with magic. Anyone could learn it if they were determined. The spell finally fades to reveal an orb of purple and white. I smile as I hold it in my hands. This was going to be the key to my escape.
I will escape on the boat and the orb will imperonate me at the ritual long enough to make the jump.
Little do they know, once the spell wears off, I have spell #345 ready.
O lux
I cackle as I escape through the window and make it to shore. The hours flow by like drops of water and I look back to hear shrieks and cries as O lux burns their skin and flesh away. Nothing survives light. Nothing.
I smile as look the moon as I return home. | 2019-04-28T17:20:22 | 2019-04-28T17:12:24 | 53 | 17 |
[WP] While flying your personal plane you got hit by a freak lightning storm. You crash and when you wake you’re in s post apocalyptic future. A group of people saved you, you look around and try to read an old sign. “San Diego” you read. They’re shocked you can read these ancient symbols. | "You can read the Heretic's script?" the man says to me in Spanish.
I spit out blood from my mouth and press a hand against my ribs. I am sure I have broken at least one. "The Heretic's script? It is English," I tell them.
A brooding silence passes over them. I can see concern writ over the faces of a few. The tallest of them steps forward. His eyes are olive green, his skin is bronze; he has delicately sculpted cheekbones carved into an arresting face. "Señor, you seriously do not know? Can you tell what year it is?"
A splitting headache is throwing everything into disarray. I haven't spoken Spanish in ages, and trying to put the words together causes my headaches to worsen. "It's 2020." I manage.
*Madre Mia,* someone says. A few audible gasps escape the lips of many.
"Señor, it is 2914. You are in the Provincia of Sant Diego de Alcalá, the original name for the name you just pronounced. The Heretic's tongue is outlawed. Not many people speak it anymore, and the ones who do are burnt in the streets. The Spanish Kingdom rules the four seas. The other three belong to the Heretics."
For some odd reason, I laugh. As if God has played a cruel joke and I'm in the center of it. "That can't be true... How did Spain manage to capture the whole of America?"
His olive green eyes twinkle and a sneer crosses his face. "El Rey, our king... has mastered the two most powerful arts. He is a physician whose healing powers have inspired the faith and goodwill of many. And he is a writer unlike any; it is as if the words spilled from his ink can manipulate the wills of men and Gods."
I shake my head in disbelief. "But... How did one man manage to conquer half the world?"
He leans closer to me. I can feel his ragged warm breath on my face. "Señor, that's because no one expects the Spanish Ink-Physician."
-------------
Thanks for reading, please don't kill me and read better stories at r/whiteshadowthebook | "Ancient?" I questioned. "I don't understand, I was just flying my plane... then..."
"Plane?" The taller one of the group said, he had a large messy beard with a scary amount of scars on his left cheek.
"Yes. A plane. You know, the thing with wings you pulled me out off."
My saviours looked at each other confused, every one of them seemed to act like I was speaking French or something. A girl though kept eye contact, she didn't join the group discussion but instead kept studying me.
"You can read that sign?" She interrupted the group discussion.
"Well, of course, it's in bloody English! We are speaking it, are we not?"
My glasses may have been cracked and scratched up from the crash, but I could still make out the tremble in her lip. A couple of the group started pacing backwards."
"Nobody has spoken English in a thousand years, not since the great lights. What's your name, stranger!"
"Lights?" I whispered to myself, I was starting to panic now. Where was I. When was I.
"um... I'm John. And that's impossible, you're speaking English now" I replied hastily.
"We're speaking Untatsh, the language of Western Zones." The large bearded man said. Meanwhile, the girl's eye's widened as she processed my sentence.
Before I could question it, the girl grabbed my hand violently and demanded I follow her. I had no choice.
As we made our way, my leg throbbed from the pain of the crash. I tried numerous times to communicate with my saviours, but I was hushed and ignored into silence.
We walked for what seemed like just over an hour, deeper into what was once San Diego. Its buildings crumbling and pathways cracked.
Finally, we made our way into a large open space between the old buildings. As myself and the group got close to the centre I noticed the ground falling away. There was a large crater in the middle.
Surrounding it was more people, dressed in funny robes and garments. A few of them shot inquisitive looks as I was lead by.
Eventually, I was near enough that I could finally peer over the edge into the hole. I saw that there was a large metallic cylinder impaled into the ground. It was covered in dirt and rubble, but there was no denying what the message printed on the top said.
"Time Capsule. John, please open after you've crashed." | 2019-09-12T08:39:57 | 2019-09-12T08:35:02 | 370 | 271 |
[WP] In space, wars are typically quick. One side attacks and then the other side surrenders. When aliens attack a human city they belive the humans are defeated. They are not prepared for what the humans call "Retribution" | The "battle" for Ashar was over in approximately 10 standard minutes. The Spurge, who we thought were allies, used our own security codes to disable Ashar's predictive defense system. The colony, along with its 100 million inhabitants, didn't stand a chance against the attack that followed. The Spurge quietly wiped the colony with neutron bombs, and now have control of the Tavarsk system. They quickly informed us of the battle, their plans to maintain control of the system, and gave us advice - like we are some children to be lectured - be careful who you trust.
Unfortunately for them, we did not reciprocate their "helpful advice". We did not mention that, unlike them, humans have been waging war for as long as we have existed. Of course our history is no secret, hardly anything *can* be a secret with the technology around, but only the few Spurge that have worked closely with us truly understand the mistake they have made. Only they know what we will to do protect the ones we love, and avenge the ones we lost.
We've suffered and survived countless empires, four world wars, and even a solar civil war. Not only that, but we glorify our greatest warriors and generals - from Sun Tzu to George Patton. Ghengis Kahn to Alexander the Great. Ragnar Lothbrok to Edward "Blackbeard" Teach. Even our myths and legends revolve around violent warriors: Achilles, Aragorn, Rocky Balboa, James Bond, the Avengers, the list goes on.
As I stand here now, commanding a fleet of over 20,000 star ships, I can feel my connection to my forefathers. I share their apprehension and excitement at what will happen next. Napoleon guides me as I maneuver our ships to begin the orbital bombardment of their outer systems. I channel Hannibal as our fighters lie in the shadow of their moons to obliterate any resistance they send. I hear Caesar in my head while I give the pre-battle speech, convincing my soldiers that these barbarians need to be put down. And most closely, I share the burden of total annihilation with Dwight Eisenhower, as thousands of Planet Busting railguns take aim and fire towards every known Spurge planet.
The loss of Ashar was sad. The loss of the Spurge will be tragic. However, I fear that the introduction of total warfare to space is even worse. Other races will take notice. There will be no more pretense of "quick and painless" war. No more innocence after violence. It may be unforgivable, but that is not my job to figure out. For now, my job is to watch the fireworks. | War. War never changes. Only weapons are new. Yet it is not the weapons, but the men who handle them, who win victories
And so it was men who redefined war on the galactic scale.
For millineal war had followed a simple formula. Once relations broke Down full armada would be assembled and hurled at the enemy. A battle would follow, either an assault or a pitched battle in netural space and victors would be determined in just a few engagements.
During an assault if the aggressor got within orbital range it would bombard the planets capital institutions until a surrender was made. Land battles were almost unheard of but for uprisings but would typically be solved in a few large engagements.
After a surrender concessions were made and peace continued.
This form of war lasting up until the 'Chinese spirit' incident.
The Chinese Spirit was a ship sent after the new horizon to test whether generational ships could be practical for humans.
A large craft was built to house a few hundred lab rats. The craft was fully self suistainible, producing enough food and recycling water to ensure the rats could continue living.
After several generation s the rats were discovered by the Grafene, who, Dispite clear communication were able to confirm their sentintly and wrongly assumed they built the craft. This lead to the activation of 'Space Faring' for earth and allowed an attack.
The Grafene invaded with all of their might but even after a short but effective bombing run earth refused to surrender.
After flattening most population centres from orbit earth still held resolute. Fearing shame and showing weakness to other powers the Grafene decided to continue and start a ground invasion.
The operation went to pot almost immediately. Instead of grouping up and having a large fight (which the humans knew they'd lose) they separated into smaller groups and fought small scale skirmishes.
The Grafene failed to respond to these tactics and suffered defeat after defeat.
With each loss the humans absorbed their weapons into their arsenal's, progressing from simply stealing to imitating and finally improving on the designs.
For years the humans whittled away at the occupying Grafene, stealing weapons and supplies and building vast Vaults deep underground.
The Human League, the now default government and sole organising power of humanity became increasingly bold in its attacks cumilating In the Mongolian spaceport attack.
The Grafene had built their primary landing port in the Mongolian plains. At anyone time thousands of orbital craft were stationed their and 5 space evaluators and been constructed to keep earth supplied and extract its ores and valuables.
The Mongolian push, as it was known, was the first battle the galaxy could understand. Nearly a hundred thousand troops were involved in the assault on the port, recking devastion and quickly stealing and towing craft away to reverse engineer.
Of corse the craft were secondary objective as the troops primary target was using the elevators to get into orbit...
But we'll learn more about that in tomorrow's lesson | 2019-12-17T11:52:22 | 2019-12-17T11:41:49 | 3,361 | 106 |
[WP] In space, wars are typically quick. One side attacks and then the other side surrenders. When aliens attack a human city they belive the humans are defeated. They are not prepared for what the humans call "Retribution" | "Why?"
Aaalp coughed and split blood as he tried to use what was left of his arm to raise himself up. His ears ringing and vision slowly turning to red while he watched the massacre unfold around him.
Aaalp and his division had been apart of the Conquering of Earth which had occured just last year. They returned victorious in just a few weeks after capturing what the humans had called "Europe." He remembered the parade, the banquet, and the singing as their leaders planned their next Conquest.
The Conquests had always been easy. The victims never seem from of heard again as the victors always left on the FTL ships.
Aaalp didn't understand. "How did they find us?" His question fell on lifeless ears. Rgal was dead. Foju was dead. Mpla was dead. He was dying. He could feel it.
Watching helpless as these primitive bipeds moved around him, launching fire from their hands, he crawled to cover.
A pair of boots stopped in front of his head. Looking up he saw hate. Unable to speak, Aaalp lied there. "Pay back's a bitch, ain't it?" The heel of a boot was Aaalps last memory. | we thought of them as saviors when they first came they expected immediate surrender on our part. They thought after slaughtering millions of lives we would surrender. they were wrong. We were faced with what could have been our destruction our annihilation but we would not so easily bend into their fold. Nay we rose against our attackers when they struck our cities we reverse engineered their technology and took the fight to the heavens where they came from. We used our own ships our own weapons of mass destruction and we slaughtered them like the dogs they were. They attempted to resist our retribution of course, They fought tooth and nail against us but they underestimated our ferocity as well as unleashing futuristic technology against them we used old tactics boarding ships and engaging in close quarters combat. We fought for years and we chased them down across the galaxy to their homeworld where we brought retribution to their doorstep we invaded their cities burned their capitals glassed their farms. We sent ground troops down to crush any chance they had at resisting our attacks. They came in the thousands but we came in the millions. Millions upon millions of angry and blood thirsty troops ready to revenge their losses back on earth when their cities were destroyed and we were forced to hide underground, Little did these invaders know of our resolve little did they know of our hate. Like striking a hornets nest we came at them as one and we crushed their fleets as one and we slaughtered their troops as one and we burned and glassed their planets and outposts as one. Because of these invaders we became one and we became the most fearsome civilization in the galaxy. | 2019-12-17T12:03:37 | 2019-12-17T11:20:18 | 62 | 21 |
[WP] In space, wars are typically quick. One side attacks and then the other side surrenders. When aliens attack a human city they belive the humans are defeated. They are not prepared for what the humans call "Retribution" | Captain Derrick looked through the view-port. "How much longer until we are in striking range?"
His first mate, Rowan, cleared her throat. "We will arrive in ten minutes."
"About time, I am getting tired of these stars."
Rowan hesitated, "do we really have to do this Captain? Is vengeance worth it?"
Derrick turned around to glare at her. "Is it worth it? Is it worth it? These alien scum attacked us first, or have you forgotten?"
"No, sir. I remember. But it was so long ago."
"Not long enough. Those bastards appeared out of nowhere, attacked us, then demanded our surrender. It was only luck that we managed to shoot them down and used their technology to make this ship. Time to teach them what for."
"But, sir..."
"Say another word and I will send you to the brig for insubordination. I will not have the fifty generations that have lived on this ship be for not." | To the Star Warlords:
Do not attack the ones called humans.
They live on their planet called Terra and they had given our planets names, and we thought it was an easy submission. They were primitive. When we sent out our spies, they never returned and called for us to back down.
We didn't back down as per decree. We targeted the ones with high population density to prune them out to convince them to surrender and join our Federation.
But they didn't surrender like what always happened to the primitive races. They managed to capture a scout ship and replicate our technology in a few years, which brought us to this moment.
The Xanlai Warlords are wiped out. I am writing this as a warning. They have created their own federation and have created weapons and brought greater knowledge even to those who have already submitted.
The Xanlai Galaxy is lost now. Do not enter this galaxy. A new Warlord has brought this place what war truly meant.
If you find a human, civilian or not, do not attack them. They are like our Precursors. A true war race. Behind their face of friendliness is a blood of a warrior.
They all have killed each other and they have blood to kill everyone just to recover from their loss.
Do not attack the humans. | 2019-12-17T22:39:33 | 2019-12-17T20:39:32 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] The year is 2040. All children born in 2020 have been found to have perfect vision with no exceptions. They are now beginning to turn 20 and something strange is happening. They’re developing abilities such as x-ray vision, clairvoyance, precognition, astral vision, infrared sight, etc. | I wake up on my 20th birthday to the unceremonious sound of the garbage truck trundling by outside the window. Today's the day I get my vision powers.
Everybody born in 2020 gets them, for some reason. The Great Whatever-It-Is must really like puns, or at least that's the best guess that anybody has come up with. Some gain the ability to see long distances, others very small objects. Some people get to read minds, and a lucky few even get laser vision. I myself had my fingers crossed for x-ray vision.
I don't feel any different, though. There's no ghosts wandering about, or microorganisms, and when I look out my window I can't see any farther than usual. I stare hard at somebody walking by below my window, but their thoughts (and everything else) are as opaque as ever. I squint really hard at the pavement below and try to force heat rays out through my eyes, but nothing comes out.
Had I done something wrong? Scenes of everything I had ever done raced through my mind as I tried to puzzle together why I didn't have any powers when everybody else in my birth year did.
And then it hit me.
*20/20 hindsight.* | I find no place for myself when I look at her. She just looks towards north. No matter how I try to turn her head, she just keeps returning to the same position. She doesn’t blink nor sleeps anymore. Sometimes her emotionless face cries, but it doesn’t hear or notice me. Where is she looking? Why north? Why not me, her father?
A month ago young adults started to see extraordinarily. My daughter was one of them. It didn’t take too long for government to sort out the “visions” as they call them. The greater visions were taken and useless ones were left behind. She fell into second category. I was lucky to have her stay with me, though is she really still with me?
Just taking her outside is hard. I have to do everything. Not that I mind, but it comes to a point where I feel like playing with a big doll. This is a bad mindset. Sometimes I have to walk sideways or backwards. We get judgmental looks. Gossips about “useless” visions spread quickly. I am getting tired, but for her - I’ll do anything.
I already quit my job. Time is limited and I don’t have any to waste. I discovered that she notices one thing - a compass. When she shifts her focus to it I can spin her in any way. Compass points at north. What is there? What if I take here there? Will I get her back? I lock the house door and press the keys. Car beeps at me. I put her next to my seat. I sit in the car. | 2019-12-28T12:47:20 | 2019-12-28T11:46:35 | 80 | 37 |
[WP] You’re a frequent patron of a tiny bookstore in your town. As improbable as it seems, the owner always has every book you ask for. On a whim, you ask him if he has a book that doesn’t exist—the one you want to write. He hands you a book. One the cover is the title you asked for and your name. | - Anything unusual? - He says giving me a smile.
- The pages... Most of them are blank.
I still couldn't believe what my eyes were contemplating, even though my hands could feel it. Of course the pages were blank, I didn't write it yet. This book belongs to the realm of the ideas. Hell, even I don't know the details, the story, the characters.
- Well, I only gave what you asked me. - His eyes closed as he moved towards one of the bookshelves. - Sometimes, our imagination can create what is impossible and sometimes it can be shut tight to what's in front of us. See this empty shelf? This is where ideas come and stay for awhile. Sometimes they grow and become stories, sometimes they just disappear.
- Well, then how can you have these ideas in a book that's not even written yet?
That's when a breeze flowed through the wooden walls of the store and gently touched the owner's hand. The room was becoming brighter and brighter like the sun was getting through the roof. My heart accelerated. Glowing particles appeared on the shelf and flew with the breeze towards that man. In a duration of a breath everything went back to normal, like nothing happened. But there was a glowing page. A single glowing page.
- This is the beginning of a thought. If this is going to a book, that's up to you. - His eyes were wide open. - I never sold just books, I sold ideas. The books you bought from me were ideas that someone else had and published it.
- So, that page is a thought of mine?
- Maybe... But even if it's not, you can have it. Ideas are meant to be shared. Just don't have evil ideas, or this place might not be here anymore for anyone to enjoy.
My feet could barely move as I walked outside of the store. I'm not sure what happened, if it really happened. Was that all my imagination? Am I dreaming? If not, how long have I been there? Did I even say goodbye? But more importantly, can I come back with more ideas? | I walked into Mr. Slinky Bots Books For All. More commonly known as Slinky’s or Bots books. As soon as i opened the wooden door, i saw the wondrous sight of all sorts of books of different sizes, shapes, and color stalked on bookshelf upon book shelf. I continued walking into the store towards the counter where Mr. Slinky Bots himself, was sitting in an old rocking chair reading. As i approached, he looked up. A smile spread across his wrinkly face.
“Well if it isn’t Mr. James Parter!” He said to me.
“It is indeed Sir.” I replied smiling in return.
“what can i do for you today my boy!” He asked me. I hesitated before answering.
“Well I know it might be a little far fetched, but i thought i’d ask anyway,” I started. Mr. Slinky’s smile widened a bit. “Do you happen to have a copy of the first addition Emma?” I knew this was an outrageous request, but recently I had grown suspicious that Mr. Slinky was hiding something and, weird as it may seem, this was my way of testing it.
Mr. Slinky’s face light up. “I do! wait here for a moment” he said and he hurried past me towards the back of the store. My jaw dropped. How was this possible. It wasn’t possible!! This was crazy. maybe i’m was dreaming. I pinched my arm and felt a sharp pain. No i wasn’t dreaming. I calmed myself down. there was no guarantee Mr. slinky bot even had the book. I waited a moment for him to come back and when he did I saw in his hands, A battered old book entitled Emma. what was going on. Mr. Slinky handed me the book. I took it in my hands staring down at it.
“Is everything ok?” Mr. Slinky asked.
“Fine.” I said. Then i got an idea. “do you have a copy of The Quiet Street By James Parter?” that was the title of the book i was currently in the process of writing. Mr. Slinky reached down bellow the counter and pulled out a new looking book.
“here you go.” He said. It was the book. “i’m afraid it’s not finished yet, though.” He winked. | 2020-02-17T21:56:23 | 2020-02-17T21:12:07 | 222 | 151 |
[WP] You work customer support... for wizards. | Levanus stepped back to his desk after his mid-morning “Stand-Up”, feeling defeated.
How does someone like ‘Talivor the Esteemed’ even get into the Mages Guild, let alone a management position?
“He casts one spell, like 6 years ago, and somehow that makes him better than anyone else here.” Levanus said quietly through the cubicle wall, careful to not let Talivor hear.
“Just because we can’t cast magic means we can’t be promoted to lead? 'Our miracles come in the form of our customer service'. Bleh. Full of toads that one is.” Rowe said, voice muffled by the cubicle wall separating their desks.
Rowe had been an innkeeper before being attacked by a Necromancer just before the last enchanting. The curses took the function of his legs. He ran out of coin years ago trying every spell in the book to cure them.
“Levanus! Open your mind, we have Wizards waiting!” the gruffled voice of Talivor echoed through the room, summoning fear from those around him. He then shut the door to his office, eyes peeking through his blinds out over the call floor.
Levanus set his teeth, relaxed his consciousness, and let the next voice in.
“Hello and thank you for calling The Mages Guild, and who do I have the pleasure of talking to?” Levanus said as he adjusted his enchanted crown.
“Revantes Ravenwood” said the voice echoing in Levanus's head.
Ah yes, Ravenwood. A long time customer and Magus Instructor of Rowe's.
“Hello Mister Ravenwood. For your security i’d like to go ask you a few verification questions to confirm your Mystical Identity. Would you please confirm your favorite potion?
“Potion of Mana.”
Typical. Do Wizards have no flair anymore? Ridiculous to even include this as a security question. Levanus regained his thoughts. Now was not the time to draw attention to himself by losing composure in front of a Wizard.
“And finally I'm going to send an authentication color to your staff. Could you please confirm the color?”
“Cerulean.”
Thank you for answering those questions, Ravenwood. How may I be of assistance today?”
“*Tomes of Healing: Volume 9* order arrived at my tower as expected this morning, however many of the runes do appear to be missing. The spells are not casting as intended.”
“Ah yes, Mister Ravenwood. I’d be happy to assist you with that today. Could you please recite the words and what seems to be the issue?”
“Certainly, in the Spell: Master Area Healing. Let me see here, it reads ‘*Abumar Baltoaye Def Erima Faltoai Gilakai Jef*.’ The guide says it begins as a blue ball of energy out of each arm. Exploding into a blue wave influencing the immediate area around. I do not get even a glimmer.”
“I see how that would be frustrating, Mister Ravenwood. It does appear that the Ciron Rune Word is missing from this incantation. Ah yes, that is it. *Cerumai*. The full incantation should read, *Abumar Baltoaye Cerumai Def Erima Faltoai Gilakai Jef*.” said Levanus.
At that moment, an explosion of light illuminated around Levanus, sending pages of tomes spinning through the call center.
Talivor shot from his office to the call floor in stunned silence, just in time to see Rowe standing up, looking over the cubicle wall at Levanus.
Rowe's eyes met Levanus's over the wall of the cubicle, tears running down his cheeks.
"You're... You're a Wizard?"
“Thank you so much lad, that seemed to be the issue.” Ravenclaw said, voice echoing in Levanus's mind.
“The pleasure is all mine, Ravenwood. Have a magical day,”
.....
[r/Astonsh](https://www.reddit.com/r/Astonsh/) | "By Artemis' Bow, not another Full Moon..These are the worst nights to work as Customer Support for Wizards, Magicians, Witches, Seers, Prophets, Shamans, Druids... You name them, we've seen it all... If I get one more call about someone using Maple to make a Wand rather than Holly-Wood, I will go full-moon crazy, I swear to the Gods and Goddesses-... Hold on David, I've got another call coming in."
"Hello there, Happy Solstice, I am Tabitha with Magic-Touch Customer Support, please state your Field of Magic as well what seems to be the issue this night???"
"Oh yes, hello there, I am a Wizard and Seer, my scrying-orb does not seem to be doing the trick tonight. I have no idea what is going on.. "
"Okay Sir, first off, did you try anointing it with Salt-Water?"
"Why yes I did."
"Okay, Good. Did you try charging it under a Full-Moon such as Tonight's???"
"Blast!!!! No I did not."
"Well Sir, that is the second step after anointing your orb with Salt-Water, and thirdly, it also helps if you also bless it under the authority of either Christ, Hermes, Thoth, or any Deity, Idol, or God or Goddess of Magic or Wisdom."
"......... Thank you Tabitha, I'll try that."
"Alright Sir, Please do those things and you shall find your Scrying Orb will be fully operational. Happy Solstice! Have a great night!"
\----------------------------------------------------------------
"Tabitha, we've got another call for you on line 6."
"Thank you David."
"Hello, Magic-Touch Customer Support, Tabitha speaking, please state your field of magic and the issue you need to resolve."
"Hey Tabitha, I am a Shaman, one of my clients seems to be going psychotic and howling like a wolf and going off about being surveilled and followed by the Police."
"A common problem, especially during a full-moon. What Sacraments has your client taken??"
"Well, I am not so sure, he told me he is an Avid Psychonaut, and he passed my vetting process, and I administered him some Ayahuasca."
"Has your client been habitually smoking anything other than Tobacco??"
"Not as far as I know."
"Okay, Good. Just to be sure, the first thing I want you to do is administer your client some Nelumbo Nucifera, Pink Lotus Extract. The Nuciferine that is in it works similarly to an atypical anti-psychotic. It will level out his Dopamine and Down-regulate it, as well as blockade the Alpha-Adrenergic systems and also down-regulate Serotonergic Gene-Expression.."
"Okay, I will prepare the Pink Lotus extract. Is there anything else I should do??"
"Well, is your client in a Theta-Wave state???"
"He is, he says he is hearing voices."
"Are his voices menacing, violent in nature?? Does he have any violent proclivities??"
"The voices are threatening to arrest him if he carries on using Shamanic Sacraments. As for violent proclivities, I would say No, he passed my vetting process."
"Okay, Sir, I need you to cease any further utilization of sacraments on your client, the Pink Lotus Extract should calm him down significantly, but what I must recommend next, your client will not be keen on.."
".... Okay. What is it??"
"I need you to advise your client to go to the best Psychiatric Hospital nearest his residence and be intaken as a Voluntary Patient, or else it is inevitable that the Police will do it for him.. And make him an involuntary patient.."
"I will administer him the Pink Lotus Extract, and when he levels out, I will make the suggestion for him to seek Psychiatric Care."
"Okay, thank you Sir. That is the best possible course of action. Have a good night."
\*Sigh\* "Have a good night Tabitha. Thank you."
\------------------------------------------------------------------
"Tabitha, I've got another call for you on line 3..." | 2020-03-07T17:36:47 | 2020-03-07T16:28:14 | 75 | 32 |
[WP] You work customer support... for wizards. | Levanus stepped back to his desk after his mid-morning “Stand-Up”, feeling defeated.
How does someone like ‘Talivor the Esteemed’ even get into the Mages Guild, let alone a management position?
“He casts one spell, like 6 years ago, and somehow that makes him better than anyone else here.” Levanus said quietly through the cubicle wall, careful to not let Talivor hear.
“Just because we can’t cast magic means we can’t be promoted to lead? 'Our miracles come in the form of our customer service'. Bleh. Full of toads that one is.” Rowe said, voice muffled by the cubicle wall separating their desks.
Rowe had been an innkeeper before being attacked by a Necromancer just before the last enchanting. The curses took the function of his legs. He ran out of coin years ago trying every spell in the book to cure them.
“Levanus! Open your mind, we have Wizards waiting!” the gruffled voice of Talivor echoed through the room, summoning fear from those around him. He then shut the door to his office, eyes peeking through his blinds out over the call floor.
Levanus set his teeth, relaxed his consciousness, and let the next voice in.
“Hello and thank you for calling The Mages Guild, and who do I have the pleasure of talking to?” Levanus said as he adjusted his enchanted crown.
“Revantes Ravenwood” said the voice echoing in Levanus's head.
Ah yes, Ravenwood. A long time customer and Magus Instructor of Rowe's.
“Hello Mister Ravenwood. For your security i’d like to go ask you a few verification questions to confirm your Mystical Identity. Would you please confirm your favorite potion?
“Potion of Mana.”
Typical. Do Wizards have no flair anymore? Ridiculous to even include this as a security question. Levanus regained his thoughts. Now was not the time to draw attention to himself by losing composure in front of a Wizard.
“And finally I'm going to send an authentication color to your staff. Could you please confirm the color?”
“Cerulean.”
Thank you for answering those questions, Ravenwood. How may I be of assistance today?”
“*Tomes of Healing: Volume 9* order arrived at my tower as expected this morning, however many of the runes do appear to be missing. The spells are not casting as intended.”
“Ah yes, Mister Ravenwood. I’d be happy to assist you with that today. Could you please recite the words and what seems to be the issue?”
“Certainly, in the Spell: Master Area Healing. Let me see here, it reads ‘*Abumar Baltoaye Def Erima Faltoai Gilakai Jef*.’ The guide says it begins as a blue ball of energy out of each arm. Exploding into a blue wave influencing the immediate area around. I do not get even a glimmer.”
“I see how that would be frustrating, Mister Ravenwood. It does appear that the Ciron Rune Word is missing from this incantation. Ah yes, that is it. *Cerumai*. The full incantation should read, *Abumar Baltoaye Cerumai Def Erima Faltoai Gilakai Jef*.” said Levanus.
At that moment, an explosion of light illuminated around Levanus, sending pages of tomes spinning through the call center.
Talivor shot from his office to the call floor in stunned silence, just in time to see Rowe standing up, looking over the cubicle wall at Levanus.
Rowe's eyes met Levanus's over the wall of the cubicle, tears running down his cheeks.
"You're... You're a Wizard?"
“Thank you so much lad, that seemed to be the issue.” Ravenclaw said, voice echoing in Levanus's mind.
“The pleasure is all mine, Ravenwood. Have a magical day,”
.....
[r/Astonsh](https://www.reddit.com/r/Astonsh/) | Roll A D6 For Customer Service:
A story overheard from the cubicle-next-door
"Necronomicon customer support, this call is being monitored by a cabal, thank you for calling today what issue can I assist you with?"
"Mhmm... mhmm... Your zombies are rising upside down? Feet were their arms should be and walking on hands... hmm... this wasn't intentional for shock factor? No? Ok... mhmm... sir may I ask you to check that you have the Necronomicon right-side up? Ah yes that would be the problem, upside-down Necronomicon equals backwards zombies! Glad we could be of service! Please hold to take an automated 2 min survey on the quality of this call. Good bye!"
"Necronomicon customer support, this call is being monitored by a cabal, thank you for calling today what issue can I assist you with?"
"Mmm... ok... mm hmm? Well ghouls certainly shouldn't be adverse to sunlight lest how can they tend the crypts during the day? You're going to lose vampires to diurnal adventurers if that keeps up. Yeah... mhmm... Plus your policy with Key of Solomon Insurance doesn't cover day raids. No, day-time is extra... Well we can add that for sure but let's get your ghouls acclimated to sunlight first to stem the bleed of vampires... yeah it was a pun haha, yeah I'm the "funny-guy" around here. Question... Did you summon the Ghouls during the solstice in an Eastern Roman Catholic diocese? Uh huh... Mormon region? Well that's good, those guys can't do much to thwart you. Yeah I know we laugh about that too around the water cooler. Uh huh... yeah see that's your problem, no... no the equinox makes them day-walkers, solstice summoning outside of an Eastern Roman Catholic diocese is for nightstalker ghouls only and voids the graveyard warranty so you can't unsummon them... uh huh... but you can... please let me explain... sir! SIR! Sir I can understand your frustration but that is a rude thing to say, yes my mother is already a goat so that curse will really change nothing. Look sir, sir... no... listen please sir, I am trying to help you if you will let me... you may not have day-walker ghouls but nightstalker ghouls are invisible until the victim looks directly at them which is horrifying and they are more apt to steal babies... right... riiiiiight... now you get it, souls AND blood AND more ghouls eventually then you can have hordes and hordes of day-walker ghouls. Say it with me! More babies more ghouls! Hahaha. Yeah... mhmm... no no it's ok we get that all the time... yeah apology accepted it happens to me too. Uh huh, sure! Let me transfer you to BP&I... Blood-pacts & Insurance will be able to upgrade your policy for day-time raids and exorcisms. Glad we could be of service! Please hold to take an automated 2 min survey on the quality of this call. Good bye!"
"Necronomicon customer support, this call is being monitored by a cabal, thank you for calling today what issue can I assist you with?"
"Uh huh... mm... So your monster is assembled but it is not alive? Did you hit it with lightning? Ok... mm hmm... ok well let's do this... try unplugging it and then plugging it back in... Oh good! Yes! Yes I can hear it screaming incoherently in the background. Honestly it's terrifying over the phone so I am sure the villagers are just going to hate it! Yes sir... yes sir it certainly is alive... I heard you the first four times sir no need to yell... uh huh... We are all excited it's alive too... yep it's alive! Glad we could be of service! Please hold to take an automated 2 min survey on the quality of this call. Good bye!"
"Necronomicon customer support, this call is being monitored by a cabal, thank you for calling today what issue can I assist you with..." | 2020-03-07T17:36:47 | 2020-03-07T16:48:37 | 75 | 18 |
[WP] You have the ability to mentally hear the honest answer to any question by looking at a person and thinking the question. It was all fun and games until you looked in the mirror and asked a question you shouldn’t have. | The days have been getting longer lately. Being able to peek into people's minds, to hear the honest answers to questions they didn't know they were being asked, it was a temptation I couldn't resist. At first, I asked silly, childish questions. After a while the questions got more serious. They got darker.
So, I started shutting myself away. A little at a time I removed myself from society. The ability to know. The curiosity. It was too much. Occasionally I'd find myself strolling to the park. Just for a little while I'd tell myself. Just enough to scratch the itch. To remind me why I had to keep myself locked away.
But, like any addict. I never knew when to stop until it was too late. Until after I gleaned some bit of information from someone that should have been left to rot in the recesses of their mind. I always went one question too far. Then, I would know. I would know some deep, dark secret. With a burden like that. Knowing some horror they visited upon the world. Well, once I knew, I had to do what I could to see that justice was served.
The problem though, is that in knowing this information, in arriving at it the way I do, well, no one was taking it seriously.
Do you know what that's like? No, don't delude yourself. You don't know. Not truly.
I knew where all the bodies were buried. Metaphorically and literally. Sharing that information with people I thought could help, only made them suspicious of me. This isn't a guess. After all, I can just ask what they think of me. It's almost never good. The last time I tried... well, that's what this is about, isn't it? That's the story you want to hear?
Don't bother answering. I know what you want to hear, regardless of the words you'd choose to use.
Hell, why don't we ask the good folks behind the one way glass here? What do you think? Am I guilty? | I was born with this unique abilities. I could see the answer to any question just by thinking at some one I thought might know. Results vary of course depending on the persons knowledge. Not all answers are clear either, depending on the persons level of self delusion. It varies from person to person, but it has always been a great advantage.
I learned long ago though not to ask the wrong questions. Some times the answers you get are not what you want. Some times you don't want to know. Some times the answers can ruin a friendship. Some times many friendships. The questions are hard to stop once you get started. The answers hurt. The truth is pain. The voices just keep coming. They don't stop. I beat my head against a wall till the skin is raw and blood drips down, but the voices don't stop. Some times they go on for hours. Then, eventually, they grow quiet.
That's what I get when I ask to many questions. I'm alone now. Here in my hotel room. Im in the bathroom getting cleaned up. The shower hides the tears that have dripped down my face. The mirror is cloudy. I can see myself. I wipe it with my towel and study my face in the foggy reflection. I sit there starring at the man in the mirror.
Then I ask a question I shouldn't have. I asked myself “who am I?”
And my world span. For a moment I was beyond time and sight and stars. The world was all white and infinite and I could see through to the edge of forever. My body began to convulse, the shock to my mind to great. Then as if snapping all things into clarity I see him, shining like the sun. I am overwhelmed, and I feel filthy before the sight of the figure. I get on my knees and weep.
“My child.” Sais the figure. “Rise, now! You are mine and I have set good work before you. Go and seek truth, and know the truth of my words. I then looked at him. I knew truth in that moment. Perfect, clear, unfiltered truth, truth that can set a man free. I awoke, my body sick from convulsion.
I knew who I was. I was a seeker of truth. | 2020-07-14T18:07:20 | 2020-07-14T18:06:41 | 30 | 11 |
[WP] Wizards are often depicted as being lone, reclusive researchers tinkering with new magics all alone in their towers for decades. However as the scientific process developed so too did the magical process, now wizards work in research teams, all spells are peer reviewed and papers are published | **Archibald the Prismatic** awoke from his four-hundred-year stone trance to find that the world had changed.
One moment, he had been whipping lightning across the sky, casting thunder upon the Basilisk…
...and the next, he found himself in standing in the center of his old Campus. Only, it had changed.
*A lot.*
He coughed up a lungful of dust. His joints cracked like hammers on bedrock.
To an outside observer, it appeared that the centerpiece statue of the College of Wizardry, which had been a fixture of the campus since it’s earliest days... had just come to life.
Archibald the Prismatic *was back.*
But the students who had just witnessed Archibald’s grand re-awakening merely shook their heads and went about their business.
Someone said, “Great. Another one?”
“Dibs, not it.” another student said, and the young men and women began to scatter, leaving books in their wake.
“You, sir!” Archibald pointed a finger at one student, a young lad with short, curly hair who had been too slow to run.
“I’m not a sir, *Sir*.” Her tone could cut through stone.
“Ah,” Archibald bowed, flakes of stun falling from his majestic beard, “My sincerest apologies. Tell me, where is the Grand Magus? I must speak with him immediately!”
“She.”
“What?”
“The Grand Magus is a woman.”
At that exact moment, a large piece of gravel dislodged from Archibald’s rock-bound throat and choked him, thus preventing him from saying the shameful words that first leaped to his mind.
The curly-haired woman looked around. All the other students were gone. She sighed.
“I’m Lou,” the woman said, holding out her hand. “Grand Magus Marianne says we should respect the elderly. So I guess I’ll help you find her.”
*The elderly!* Archibald was scandalized. But... his back was still a little stiff. And the joints in his knees had turned to some kind of limestone. So he took her hand, and together they walked down the central avenue of the Campus.
Towers loomed above, each one a majestic pinnacle to worship the stars. Their peaks were topped with miraculous spinning orbs and great crescent blades that tracked the orbits of the celestial bodies.
Back when Archibald had first come here, the College of Wizardry had been a ramshackle of wooden huts. And even then, it got burned down once or twice a week. To see what it had become now, truly the magic here must be *incredible*.
“Tell me, Lass.”
“My name is Lou.”
“Tell me, Lou. Your Grand Magus must be a very powerful sorcerer-”
“Sorceress.”
“-to have attained her level at the College. What all-powerful spell did she create to destroy the previous Grand Magus? Did she finally unlock the secrets of Alabazan’s Ever-consuming Hellfire? Or Squibbleworth’s Cantrip of Decay?”
“No. It was physics.”
“Physics? Ah, you must mean the Mighty Foot of Bargus!”
Lou stopped walking. Her face was scrunched in disbelief. “No. *Physics*. Like, all of it. The Grand Magus literally invented Magical Calculus.”
“Magical… what?”
“Forces and velocities and weights and gravity. It’s what all of us have come here to study. I’m writing a paper on Quantification Theory.”
*Quantification Theory?* Archibald thought. What boring drivel was that.
They passed by dozens of students, sitting on benches or cross-legged in the grass. All of them, pouring through textbooks. But instead of magical gesturing and eruptions of fire (and the occasional misfire), these students were … taking notes?
Archibald could feel it then. The blood-turned-sand in his veins began to liquefy once more. He was mad.
“What happened here!” he demanded. “When I was a young wizard, we were learning to conjure great gouts of flame! We held the passion of magic in our fingertips! I had mastery over the elements, do you hear? Ultimate mastery!”
“That’s not how I heard it.”
“Look at you now. Studying," he spat. "And writing papers.”
“Spells need careful tweaking and calculation. Last week, Professor Gundervild changed the amplitude of-”
“Magic is power incarnate, it is not meant to be tweaked! Magic is meant to be channeled, unbound, with every furious fiber of your being! *Tweaking.* Hah!”
"Our knowledge of magic has grown significantly since then," Lou said. "Calculations are much more important than brute passion."
*More important than passion?* Now, the blood was *really* pumping in Archibald’s veins. He spread his fingers wide, letting the heat of magic pass from his heart and into his hands. His fingers began to glow white-hot.
“Tell me, young mage, have you never seen what the Demon Eye of Kalesh can do to a man? Have you never made a pact with Unspeakable Czonthlzhrsh?”
The flames leaped from his fingers, becoming jets of fire that blackened his beard and made the earth at his feet crack. A deep, guttural chanting that came from everywhere and nowhere swelled as Archibald began to shout.
“HAVE YOU NEVER FELT THE RAW POWER OF THE PRIMAL FLAME OF ORNACH?”
Lou snapped her fingers. The flame on Archibald’s fingers went out. And suddenly, he couldn't breathe.
“Please don’t do that,” Lou said, “Uncontrolled flames are against campus policy.”
“How?” he gasped, “How did you do that?”
“I told you. It's called *Physics*.” | **"Again!"**
The bellow of his awful voice cut through the palpable fatigue of the crew.
"The madman, he's going to work us to the bone..."
"Before you know it, the latest cost cut is going to be ditching the healers and bring in the necromancers," I muttered to my college, gingerly kneeling down on my raw knees and crushing more beetles to line the spell circle.
"Sir, we've been going at this for 31 days now," a small but defiant voice from the corner, "we both know that any more castings of catnap, and we risk going into mana-"
"Any more complaining, and you'll be off the team," the tyrant snapped, nostrils flaring with anger as the wrinkles on his head formed layers of angry lines, "do I make myself clear?"
Cleary, that last part was meant for the rest of us.
"Or do I need to remind you," the man just couldn't resist lording his position and achievements over us, "that we are on the very frontiers of mathemagics, the bleeding edge of invention. We are sponsored by the Wizards of the East Shoreline, and never in my 70 years of running start-ups have I ever failed to produce results, and I don't intend to start today. Again!"
"Ever think that going down the corporate path would've been easier?" I whispered, "I got friends over there that have been rolling in cash since day one, and they even get hover bean bags. 20 hour work weeks, benefits included, and then there's us..."
"160 hours a week, fuelled by nothing more than mana bars and caffeine," he mumbled back.
"And the promise of being the next Merlin Zhuckerberg, or Gandolf Bayzos," I responded.
Truth be told, it was exciting work. For countless millennia, transmutation was thought impossible. And yet, we actually managed, just a few weeks ago, to convert a few nanograms of lead to gold - classic, I know. All thanks to the lads down by the LHC. Ever since the veils were lifted and magic and science went hand in hand, there was an explosion in magical innovation. We were on the precipice of making history, for if we could work out the right runes and symbols to transmute lead to gold consistently, we would revolutionize economics.
The principles of it were sound, once we converted one form of matter to another, all we had to do was shift the reagents around and viola, we'd be able to turn even the most abundant of matter, like nitrogen gas, into solid diamond of the same mass. The applications were endless, the poss-
"Nikola, are you dreaming again?" I was. Past tense. Whatever dreams I had were shattered by the cruel voice of reality, the voice of Thomas Artificson. The man, for all his technical genius, was terribly poor at anything related to anyone but himself.
"No sir, just making sure the flows are in harmony," I quickly slapped down the small cube of lead into the center and backed off before he could yell some more.
"Alright, Eisen, try 42 this time, see if that works." Alberta Eisen nodded, quickly, adjusting his crystal staff and holding to the light to ensure he had the right value. I simply made myself look interested, snapped my fingers to dim my glasses so no one could see my eyes (not that anyone would be looking my way anyway) and propped myself up on the chair to catch a few minutes shuteye. At this point, Eisen's chanting was practically a lullaby, white noise of the highest quality to sleep to.
Imagine my surprise as hoots and hollers of joy filled the chamber.
"It worked, it worked!"
"I can't believe it, we've actually done it!"
I rubbed my bleary eyes, the distant dreams fading away in a snap as the glittering cube before my eyes launched me to my feet.
"Well of course it worked," Thomas sneered, but even he couldn't hide his giddy excitement, not this time.
He didn't even need to say the word, with renewed energy, we all rushed to our posts and reset the experiment. We finally had it, and we were going to prove it was consistent.
The experiment was a success. Twice. Then we tried iron. Same result. Then we tried to convert to silver. Perfection.
That night, we partied like we hadn't just gone 31 days without sleeping for more than 2 hours at any given moment. We gorged ourselves on food, only to magic more space for our insatiable bellies. We were kings, innovators, saviors, gods.
Gosh, there are no words to describe how on top of the world we felt. And it wasn't just the lack of sleep.
But as science has taught, and magic was yet to defy, what goes up must come down.
The very next morning, our team had the rudest awakening possible. Before our very eyes, on all the news websites and TV stations, cable, satellite, mana band, you name it, was our discovery. Our discovery. Not his. Not that thieving bastard, stealing the credit and standing before a crowd of reporters touting his own genius and naming himself the sole discoverer. He even had the gall to claim:
"Like the wizards of old, the best magics are discovered alone. Sometimes, true genius cannot be comprehended by others, and must instead be shown to them. I do not downplay the work of my fellow man, the modern wizard, but one simply cannot beat the solitude and record of time tested tradition."
I flashed a message to the rest of the team, and the response was unanimous. We'd all had to suffer beneath the corporate heel pressed down on us before, all had to deal with having our work copied or stolen at one point or another. But this was too much. This was the last straw.
This. Meant. War.
***
For more of my writing, please check out /r/ThomasWrites | 2020-08-07T07:39:10 | 2020-08-07T06:37:51 | 370 | 103 |
[WP] A rare herb that grows once a millenium is said to grant immortality. You aren't sure about that but you do know that herb is very tasty, and you don't know why everyone keeps trying to raid your garden once every thousand years | I used to get a lot more visitors back in the day.
They never knocked, or came by the front door for that matter. I'd always find them in the garden stomping through my crops.
That just couldn't be borne. I have to make a living out here on the edge of the world, and they insisted on jeopardizing it all for the sake of their wild-goose chase.
They call it the dawnflower. They say it grows only once in a thousand years, that it has petals the color of the first morning light, burning with an inner fire. They say it burns the unwanted years off you, and from then on you will always have your entire life ahead of you.
I'm not sure what they're seeing. There's certainly a pretty yellow flower that blooms about that often in my garden, but it's never looked like sunlight to me. It does have a kick to it though.
After the first ones started coming, I made them an offer. Stay a week, replanting what they uprooted and repairing what they destroyed in their fits of pique. On the last night I'd share a pot of hearty stew with them, to show I had no hard feelings, and provide them with any resources I could to continue on their journey.
They offer extravagant apologies, toss bags of gold at my feet, pretend to agree then sneak out at the first opportunity.
No one has stayed all seven nights. And these past few thousand years, it seems no one has come this way at all.
A shame, really. Those yellow flowers go delightfully well with stew. | The walls were high and thrummed with spells. Mud thick beneath my fingernails as I dug, coaxing roots out of the black earth which fed them, shaking clods of soil from my robes. The plant needed light to flower, and in the winter months it would find precious little of it. In the greenhouse, beneath the red glow of artificial suns, it would have flourished.
Houses clustered against the walls. The people who lived there were affected by the hum and the pulse of my wards. Their children woke in the night and their cows gave birth to monstrosities which were left at the river banks to drown.
She was mine, the girl that the flower brought. Some stories tell it differently, but she was given to me, not taken.
The walls of the tower are still bound by old spells. They overlap, crude runes stitching them together and making enchantments out of mere blessings. I made it, fingernails breaking on the stones which remained after the villagers pulled down my walls and broke the glass of my greenhouse.
The houses of the old village are silent now. Its inhabitants have moved on. They came for their prize and once won, departed, ashamed of what they had done to an old woman’s garden.
In return I was given a girl. She was wrapped in a swaddling cloth and laid at my doorstep. The magic of the plant had affected those who ate it, those who hoped for long life were cursed with her.
If she had been born a calf, she would have been drowned.
There is no door to the tower in which she lives. There is only a single, high window. I stand at its base and I call:
“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair.” | 2021-02-09T07:11:15 | 2021-02-09T05:02:30 | 3,457 | 394 |
[WP] You are a Demon Lord. You've finally managed to capture the Hero, the Head of The Church, and The King. You have them all sitting in front of you tied to chairs. "Now," you calmly pick up an ice pick, "Which one of you has been scaring children telling them I will eat them?" | “You’re mad!” cried the hero. “I’ve never talked to children in my life!”
“Never?” the king asked.
“Well, not since I was a lass and people were telling ME those scary stories!” The hero explained.
The king nodded, with a furrow to his brow that suggested a plan. “You see, demon? You cannot hold an individual responsible for what is done by all. It’s a common tale that—“
“I DO NOT EAT CHILDREN!” The demon roared, rivulets of smoke and cinder spiraling from his mouth.
“And I’ve never told any children you did!” the hero answered. “I am completely innocent here. I just heard that the prince was being held here and that he was kind of cute.”
The king was taken aback. “My son!? With a peasant like you!?”
“You don’t know I’m a peasant!”
“Silence!” The demon roared again. “Sheesh, if I didn’t know better I’d think YOU two were the children!”
The wise king and smartmouthed hero had nothing to say at this, for they both felt that their embarrassment was due to there being a truth to demon’s jabs.
Then the demon walked over to the head of the church. He rested the point of the icepick on the holy man’s chest. “You’ve been quiet.” | "Own up already!" I scream.
"Why should we?" a man in white and gold armour stared at me. "You do eat children."
"Why would I? What reason would I have for eating your young?" I asked
I gave them time to think this question through while I busied myself with one of the new punching bags the humans invented.
With a shudder, the crowned old fool proclaimed "Because your a demon!"
I glared at the three of them then gave up. "You guys are assholes. Demons don't eat humans unless we are starving and even then we're reluctant because you guys taste like..."
"Dog poop?" the purple robed female filled in.
"Worse." I added
"You say that but your kind ravaged our lands and laughed as you murdered our people. Bodies disappeared whenever you passed a land. Clearly you ate those people." The white clothed Church Head explained.
"Yes we ravage stuff, that's our primary instinct: To destroy. But to say we'd eat the bodies of the people we destroy is just rude. We'd never waste the bodies by leaving corpses. We destroy those too... with fire... from Hell..."
"That's even worse!" the Church Head continued.
All of a sudden, the Hero attacked me from behind. She had somehow cut the binds I had used on them. Unfortunately for her, I wasn't a fragile human and her blade only left a scratch.
"I see you have escaped..." I sighed
The Church Head dashed at me with a greatsword I hadn't noticed.
"Shi-"
"CRAP!" the Hero interrupted as she stabbed into me with concealed daggers
"Could you not hide weapons on you!" I cried.
The two circled around me striking every now and then. | 2021-05-17T11:38:32 | 2021-05-17T11:16:54 | 32 | 12 |
[WP] Hiding the fact that you are a half-demon to your classmates is easy as being helpful at school and putting on a friendly face. What could go wrong? Well, nothing's worse than being summoned by one of your classmates, that's for sure. |
It was a quiet Friday afternoon for Reggie. He had the house to himself that night and he was gonna put his feet up and relax…or so he thought. About halfway through a Pink Panther marathon, a circle enveloped his feet.
“Shit!”
He yelled in surprise and annoyance. The circle rose up into a cylinder around him and closed just as quickly. When the cylinder spit him back up at his destination, the living room was unfamiliar but the shocked and terrified faces were not.
“Well this bound to happen eventually I guess…”
Reggie sipped his tea as a group of his classmates stared at him in disbelief. Eventually one of them thrusts a student named Carmine up to Reggie.
“Nice place Carmine.”
“W…what the fuck? Are…are you a…a…a…”
“Demon? Partially, my mother is a demon, or demoness if you want to be super technical. One day she fell head over heels in love with a guy her age working on the docks. They courted, dated, got hitched, and now their half blood offspring stands before you.”
“S-s-so why did you get summoned and not your mom?”
“The design of this symbol is actually our family crest, and the spell used to summon is our family creed. By all accounts you should have gotten my mom but since she wasn’t home I guess the spell just followed the only demon blood it could sense.”
“So this whole time…”
Before Carmine could finish the cylinder closed around Reggie again and in an instant he found himself back home just in time to catch his favorite Pink Panther movie…
The next Monday at school started like any other day and no one from the party treated Reggie any differently or acknowledged his half demon heritage. Once in homeroom, he took his seat and tapped Vickie, the girl in the seat in front of him, on the shoulder.
“I owe you one.”
“Hey, if your secret gets out, mine gets out, and if ours gets out then Juan’s secret gets out and so on and so on until we have a massive problem. “
“You made sure everyone thought the dream was different, right?”
“Of course, what kind of witch do you think I am?” | “OwO what’s this who had summoned me?” I say flouring my demonic robes as i rise out of the Summoning circle. With a final flourish of red sparkles and smoke I turn to see -SAM fucken SAM my smile faltered
“Magufuli?” He said poking my blood red robes.
“No stop” I pull my rides away. What am I supposed to do? I turn back around. I’ll tell him that I’ve possessed Thai body or something. I hear a little pop and I glance back to see Sam leaned back on his bean bag opening a soda.
“What are you doing”
“Waiting” Said Sam eying me up and down. Pausing at my exposed chest
“Excuse me” I pull my robes in closer, I wasn’t even that handsome there was nothing to see not even chest hair. But that didn’t stop him from feeling his face becoming hot.
“Soooo Magifuli what are you going to do for me” he said circling his fingers around the sofa can.
“Oh plenty of things, now I’m not as strong as other Demond’s but that’s what makes me better sometimes you just need the small revenge no one gets hurt but you get back at them. Or maybe you just want to get faster and destroy people on line, I’m quite flexible.”
“No I mean what can you do for me as Magufuli not a Demond”
“I uh” - What could he possibly want? did he know who he was messing with? Wait he doesn’t “I do not know of this “Magufuli you speak of. I appear to people as their worst” enemies? no we barely new each other competitors? Uhhh -“friend”
He raised an eyebrow and placed the soda on the ground before laughing “Magufuli you do know my last friend nearly killed me right?”
“Oh no I didn’t” I answered meekly
“Yeah it was this whole thing accused me of some really serious stuff because I called him out on his assholy” He stood up and brushed the counter. His textbook neatly arranged and pens perfectly allied. His entire room was blank white. No posters no basketball tucked away just a bed text books and Tshirts and pants folded into a draw with a spotless surface.
Everyone who had summoned him had at least a disorganized desk. Most rooms were unlivable. Clothes every where decaying food, unfinished homework used tissues.
Author: Idk where to go after this lol. maybe I’ll add something | 2021-09-20T04:34:31 | 2021-09-20T03:07:06 | 80 | 10 |
[WP] You are a powerful ancient wizard, masquerading as an unassuming, friendly and senile history teacher. But when a supervillain threatens your school, they learn to never underestimate senior citizens. | Memory magic is a wonderful thing, is they not? Terrible and beautiful, capable of so much, yet few ever grasp the breadth of their potential.
Sure, you'll have the occasional otherwise weak wizard thinking he can just go around memory wiping people and taking their fame for themselves, only to screw up one day and forget who they ever were.
Some think that they can hide behind memory magic to keep their identity hidden from the greater public - clever, but sure to fail, not to mention the ethical quandary of violating the sanctity of the minds of the countless innocent just to maintain a 'greater good' ruse long since rendered pointless or even counterproductive in our age of understanding.
Some poke into the memories of others for blackmail, or some other ulterior motive, before someone gets smart on what they're doing and does the old 'I Memory wipe myself' trick, and their friend comes crashing through the window to apprehend them with the ne're-do-well none the wiser.
But there's so much *more* you can do with this magic, things that can actually help the target instead of hindering them.
Take teaching, for example. It's been a harsh week, and your students can't seem to muster the mental prowess to remember some important details of a lesson you're teaching. Why, that's one memory-engraving rune away, and your students are all going to be remembering everything you speak in perfect detail for the next week, hopefully enough for them to commit it to their more mundane memory.
But why just stop at the mind? Why not engrave a memory of a thing back into the present? Or, part of a thing? It's how I lived for so long and can maintain my illusions of frailty, after all. "The Eternal Witch", some in the magic community gave me, gobsmacked at how I've lived for centuries without the need for any questionable ingredients or unethical experimentation which would have gotten any other unscrupulous fools killed far before their time, for one reason on another.
Before you, you see a crone long past her prime. Wispy hair that long since lost its lustre and volume, eyes dulled by cataracts and glaucoma, wrinkles pulled by the wrath of the sun and weathering of time, back hunched and flabby muscle. But with a single word - spoken or not - I can make any or all of those things disappear, simply by materializing the memory of what I once had of myself.....as some poor fool found out.
He was one of those annoying ones, running around accosting people, occasionally kidnapping, maybe killing someone here and there to get the attention of the local 'superheroes' who will go out to fight him, win, and call it a day when the police show up.
Pah.
That's what's wrong with youths these days. Never anything permanent, too soft to put their finally foot down, too unwilling to stomach putting someone away for good - one way, or the other. He'll just find some way to escape, and by next week the entire cycle repeats.
But, when this particular fool decided attacking *my* classroom when *I* was in teaching, I decided to do something......interesting about him. I looked into his memories, and saw someone who wanted to do *good* back when he would have been old enough to be under my tutelage. About how his life turned upside down throughout the years, and he grew bitter.
Well. Let's do something about that, shall we?
Here is he, ranting about how much of a danger he is, holding one of *my* students hostage, paying absolutely no heed to the *old crone* slowly getting up, her back straightening, her hair regaining its blonde shine, eyes clearing and focusing on its prey, are outstretched.
"Now, now, Thomas. Why don't you take a seat? I won't be punishing you for being late today, but please do pay attention from here on, I won't be going over what you missed. Maybe you can ask Cassandra nicely to see her notes?"
And so, Thomas - wearing his favourite t-shirt of some band that stopped being popular two decades - ago stopped what he was doing, thanked me for my leniency, and briskly walked over to the open desk that wasn't there a minute ago beside my *star* pupil - not that anyone else noticed anything amiss.
After all, I can't have them being so preoccupied with petty distractions to properly process anything I'll be teaching them today. History is important, children. Make sure you don't repeat the mistakes therein. | “professor, I don’t think you should go out there, it sounded like gunshots!” bright eyes look up at me in fear, as my students huddle together out of sight of the door to the classroom.
“Nonsense, I will just be a moment! I have to make sure you are all as safe as I can manage after all!” I smile as reassuring as possible before slipping out the door and locking it behind me. Can’t have some enterprising little upstarts try and take these wonderful little lights from the world after all. Down the hallway, around the corner, up a flight of stairs and through the open door, another flight of stairs, (can’t these idiots do something at ground level?), healing everyone under my breath as I go. All they see is a mumbling, bumbling old woman with hair thirty years out of date and a penchant for espresso, so its no wonder all the awake enough individuals in the hallway protest as I pass. It won’t stop me, just as it didn’t when I was in my prime and racing after the one evil. This won’t take nearly that long, however.
Huffing slightly, I reach the roof and shake out my cardigan. Adjust my expression from the determination I had while passing thought the building into one of doddering curiosity and grip the pen in my pocket in preparation to use it to cast. (Can’t rely on always having a staff or wand after all.)
“Hello?” I allow my voice to creek slightly “Westly are you up here? The others are worried.” Five heads whip around and spy me into doorway. I teeter slightly, before stepping out onto the roof proper.
“Get gone Grandma, before you get hurt!” one on the left, aggressive, more so than the others. I will have to take him out first. Lull the others into a false sense of security first, then action. just a bit longer.
“I’m just looking for a missing student. What on earth are YOU doing up here?”
“Ending order to bring about the true face of the world!” same one still talking. Possibly a true believer of what ever crusade they are on. The roof is graced with runes and spell work, complex and beautiful, but destructive in nature. I can’t read the whole thing from my position by the doorway, but it seems to mention a sacrifice. (No, we won’t be allowing that.)
“Lofty goals for a school roof. Why don’t we settle down and have a cup of coffee and you can tell me about this whole kerfuffle, wouldn’t want anyone else to get hurt after all.” Steel graces my words. I can’t help it. Whatever they want, whatever magic they are cooking up, it will be widespread and destructive. I can’t let that happen. All five laugh at my words. Taken in by my rather harmless appearance, they don’t expect me to simply smile and write a counter casting. Quick as lightning, half the spell work is obliterated. One pulls out a gun, obviously the one they used to get up here, and I pull up a barrier wrapping the shooter in it to keep everyone safe from ricochet. Turn left, block, counter spell, wish I wasn’t in heels, shock spell, remove more of the roof issue, turn right, breath.
“You don’t have to do this. I strong when the one evil roamed the world. You five don’t stand a chance now that I have established myself here.” No hint of how out of breath I am. I hate getting old.
“The one evil was the true leader of the world! You destroyed everything for everyone! Most people don’t even believe in magic anymore!!!” blinking I look around at all five of them and see no hesitation. Fine, five true believers instead of one. My sigh echoes around the roof and I pull out the pen I had in my pocket. “What are you doing?” I pay them no mind. “Hey Grandma, what the hell are you doing?” the one on the right rushes in, poison magic in hand, and the borders of the roof begin to glow. (Blessings on the staff that let a ‘doddering old fool do her little tricks’ on the building when I first started to work here)
“I was old when your teachers where children. I stood against the one evil, and I won, and now, years later, here you are to try and undo all that I have accomplished. No, we won’t be doing this again. I have stopped all the others that tried this before you. And I will stop you now.” The roof flashes with blinding golden light, and from the sky a clap of thunder shakes the windows below me.
Slowly, the light fades.
I smile at the empty roof, and adjust my stance, once again a doddering old professor, and head back to my students to assure them that everything is going to be ok. | 2021-10-04T10:32:37 | 2021-10-04T10:28:43 | 32 | 22 |
[WP] Humans can find a way to weaponize literally anything, without fail. Some aliens are terrified by humans as a result of this fact. Others appreciate that this quality makes humans the foremost experts on safety systems and idiot proofing. | "Gbirri, come 'ere, lookit, lookit this." Doug gestured towards the pipe lining the top corner of the hallway. "You lookin' at this , you overgrown chicken?"
The Jdarri kept its long scaled face looking straight at Doug, then let out a few yelps and squawks. Moments later the translator in his ear switched it to Human Type A. "I'm always looking at you, Doug. I've got 270 degrees of vision for Pete's sake. What I don't see is what you're getting worked up about with the pipe."
The security consultant reached up to twist a chunk of the metal till it came off in his hand. "This filter, right here. Most of the pipe is single sheet of metal or molecularly fused, but this bit's separate so it can be replaced. You know what's important about this section of the ship? Also, how the hell you know who Pete is? Or was this the translator makin' a guess with somethin' you said."
Gbirri surveyed the hallway back and forth. "Translator making a guess. I actually said the name of one of our Gods, but there's not a clean translation into Human. This hallway goes from the entrance desk to the cafeteria, with the presentation rooms alongside it. Did some of the presenters complain about the air quality?"
"No, no complaints. I do security, not customer relations. But if this goes from the entrance to the cafeteria, that means this area is 'cessible by civilians, right? And why would it be bad that civilians can access the filter of the air circulation system, which is necessary for *every single thing here to breathe*?"
Gbirri rolled his shoulders back over and over, the sign of a Jdarri working on a problem. At least the Jdarri Doug had met, he wasn't sure if the ones from other areas had different mannerisms. "They could remove the filter, and the air would become toxic?"
That earned the lizard man a pat on the back and a sarcastic congratulations in Doug's best Australian accent. "Clever girl. Although that's a bit slow, and the sensors would pick up the increased carbon dioxide. Imagine that you put iron filings in here though, or anthrax? Maybe a small bomb that you could detonate once it makes its way to the oxygen tanks, wiping out air for the entire place long after it left port?"
There were a few near roars at that, along with gnashing of teeth. "I see what you're saying, prick. I'll get a crew to put a sleeve around this whole thing with a locked maintenance hatch. You humans really are a nasty bunch. I get why the dinosaurs you always compare me to tried to eat you."
Doug laughed and put the filter back. "They really need to update these translators. I don't know much Jdarri type B, but I know enough to tell you didn't call me a prick." Doug gave a couple of taps to the side of his friend's head. "And they only ate us in the movies pal. Only in the movies." | "A stick. An ordinary wooden stick about an arms lenght. Thats all the human needed to fend for himself in the pit. Out of all the weapons, from the Low-Frequency Emitter to the Graviton Blaster, the human chose a meele weapon. The participants scoffed, some laughted and made jokes about how fast the clean-up would have to remove the bloody stains from the arena. That was untill after the first match. Just one precise throw and Alderrá´s Cryogun was jammed, and with quick steps the human ripped the broken mechanism out of the surprised hands, avoided the reflex driven fangs trying to snatch the body and impaled the alien on a wooden stick. The entire stadium went nuts after this, cheering wildly. Finally, the inner martial desire of the crowd had been satisfied.
In the next week the human named Sebastian, turned into "The Killer". Not a fancy name, but one that perfectly descibed his actions. With nothing more than simple objects he was put against the most fearsome warriors, defeated a De-Materialiser with a frying pan and reached peak after suffocating last years champion with a pillow. A goddamn pillow. If you dont know what a pillow is: Its a household item from earth, used to make sitting more comfortable or to sleep on. And Lerkin got killed by it. Needles to say, Mr. Money, having been present at each and every game, came down for the second time ever and offered The Killer a place on his ship. Who would´nt want to work for Mr. Money? He got his name for a reason. So this big slimy Cleeon, got himself onto the Arena floor and in front of nearly 20 thousand people, made Sebastian his new Chief Security Officer. Man, i bet Ch´a Mrra was furious after loosing his position to what must´ve been a teeny tiny speck from ghost knows where.
So anyway, that was about 5 years back, and i recently had the chance to do some work on Mr. Money´s ship again, as it made halt at our station. I gotta tell you, im glad they gave us a security briefing before we started unloading the cargo because im sure i would´ve lost more than just two of my tentacles to the insanely genius contraptions on this ship. There was an entire room that would fill with a lot of scent enhancers that would subsequently be set on fire. Who the hell thinks about that? And my two lower tentacles i lost, got deepfried.
Yes there where hidden cavities with boiling hot oil, two of which i found after idling along the ship´s walls. So yea anyway, the explosion took me by surprise, i got picked up and thrown around in the hallway. Those masked pirates entered from the hole they just blasted in the hull and after i woke back up i could see them leaving the same way. Im certain they had Seastian with them because i noticed less leaving than entering, some holding a vaguely human-sized bag. I dont know if he´s still alive but i hope not because whoever did this, they´ll regret doing it, i tell ya."
*-Zer´adra, Station Eta-10 Dock Worker, on the Portside explosion Incident.*
*Officer in Charge: Klimpton, Station Eta-10 Security Forces.* | 2021-12-25T14:12:05 | 2021-12-25T12:57:29 | 1,244 | 270 |
[WP] The cute girl on the subway can’t seem to stop staring at you! This would be great, except that her clothes are several centuries out of date, no one else seems to be able to see her, and you haven’t seen her blink. Not even once. | A girl like this shouldn’t exist.
Well, yes, she was pretty. Beautiful, in the way an esoteric romance novel from two hundred years ago would have described, all snow white skin and raven hair and plum red lips.
Part of it was the attire. This was the subway. I’ve seen my fair share of outfits, from criminally underdressed to heatstrokingly overdressed. I’ve still not seen anything like this—a dress with a skirt so large that it looked like a clock tower bell. Folds upon folds of fabric cascaded over each other, white and red combining into a waterfall of colour. She sat more upright than the standing pole in front of her, and she stared at me.
Oh, with such intensity did she gaze. Even when I closed my eyes and reopened then. Either she wasn’t blinking, or we timed them very well. Either way, her eyelids did not flutter even once. Her brown eyes were almost leering, as if daring me to make a move.
I knew I was the only one looking, because one’s eyes could not help but be drawn to this sight out of history. Yet, everybody else walked past. Some even went through her skirt, which all but confirmed my suspicions.
And still, I looked. It was surpassing beauty. It was morbid curiosity. It was a combination of both that siphoned the rationality from me, inducing near delirium in my mind.
The train stopped at where I was supposed to get off. I let it past just to sit there, quietly.
Slowly, the carriage emptied, drops of water escaping the tap. Then, it was just the two of us.
“You don’t blink,” I said.
That’s what being cooped inside for years get you. The loss of anything relating to social skill.
“I don’t think I’m supposed to,” she said, bashful cheeks turning pink.
“Um,” I muttered. “Sorry. You are really beautiful. I lost my train of thought just then.”
“It’s no problem,” she whispered. “This train is a strange experience. Especially for those that recently get here.”
I squirmed, nervously mashing my fingers together.
“Pardon, I’ve taken this train for a decade now. I swear I’ve seen everybody at least twice. But you… I’ve never seen you in my life.”
“Oh, not your life,” she laughed. “I passed very long ago.”
“Strange,” I said. “I passed by my stop very long ago as well.”
“You did,” she smiled. “Are you prepared?”
“Prepared? Prepared for what?”
“To step off the train,” she said. “We’ve got this far. The train will be retired soon. But it’s been running and running. It deserves a break.”
“It… deserves a break?”
“Yes,” the girl said. “It only comes out when there are a lot of passengers to ferry. But its job is nearing the end, it seems. Not quite, but soon.”
“A lot of passengers? Then why is there just… you and me here?”
“I’m here to guide you,” she said, unblinking eyes smiling. She reached out a gloved hand towards me. “This is no regular train.”
As if on cue, it pulled into a grinding stop, a high-pitched whine suffusing the air.
“Come,” she continued. “Let’s go. We need to get off at this stop.”
“This isn’t where I’m supposed to get off,” I said.
“Oh,” she giggled. “Welcome to your new existence. You’ll get used to it.”
---
r/dexdrafts | The train stopped. Few people went down, while some changed seats. I sat beside the window as always to feel the night breeze. It was really cool tonight and felt homely.
The train began to move, I settled properly and dug out a novel by a favourite author: Dean Koontz, a woman probably in her mid forties, sat close next to me. I nodded a little as a sign of greeting and returned my gaze to the book.
After ten minutes of trying to get connected to the storyline, I got tired, closed the novel and looked up, immediately my eyes locked with an ocean dews eyes which seemed to tell a lot of stories.
I gazed at the face, it was beauty, a calm, blissful girly face with nice savoury lips.
How come I didn't notice or any of the football guys making catcalls down the subway didn't notice?
She was stunning!
She kept on staring at me, not blinking and I tried not to back off the staring competition because it felt like one.
I observed she was wearing an Elizabethan gown with little touches of red, she also wore thick socks and had this shoulder holster. Now, this is ridiculous I thought, who wore these kinds of outfits these days?
She totally look like those Eastern ladies of the 1800's, I laughed a little, still staring.
I was getting tired.She wasn't blinking, wasn't saying anything, just staring and giving me a cold vibe
Who was she and where did she come from?
The worst part, which I noticed now, was no one seemed to notice her especially her outfit, for that alone could have made people curious like a cat.
I moved my gaze towards the bus conductor trying to get his attention for I was getting uncomfortable but it seems he was more interested with his burger than me. So I gave up and returned my gaze to her and trust me she was still staring.
I wonder what she wanted from me? Could she be Dad's extended relative? the royalty's cult witch supreme? She could be latter I finally concluded for she reminded me of Witch Mari but the cult witch supremes were all locked away in a dungeon. Did she escape? I thought again.
I must get down at next stop; I spoke loudly. The woman next to me, smiled and asked if the novel was getting interesting in my head?
I replied with a smile. I guess she was wondering why a teenage boy was behaving weird after reading a novel.
The train finally stopped and I rushed out immediately, running not stopping for once to catch my breath. I didn't look back until I got to the estate and there she was, staring like a statue, like she was built there forever.
Okay, this is really weird, how did she get here? I asked myself in a fearful voice.
The right thing to do is to confront her; a voice whispered in my head. No, you don't know who she is; another voice whispered loudly.
I smacked my head, summoned all the courage I had in me and walked towards her. She was stunning but that outfit and shoulder holster, something was definitely wrong.
So what do you want? I asked in a shaky but clear voice.
I want You; she spoke from lips that didn't move.
How did she do that? Was I hearing her in my head? This was crazy.
You....want me? I asked still unsure of what she said.
Yes, I want you. You are the final piece to the puzzle.
What puzzle? I asked gaining my courage a little.
Come with me. With that, she took my hands, they were cold as ice and we disappeared into oblivion.
The last thing I remember was her hands holding me tightly and me screaming so loud.
I am still in the oblivion but they call it "the place of the people without iron"
I don't know what they want but I know I am just the key to their final puzzle. | 2022-04-07T09:29:49 | 2022-04-07T08:43:11 | 491 | 13 |
[WP] The Loneliness Of Immortality | I loved her at first sight. I courted her, bringing her roses, chocolates, even live butterflies...her favorite. Our wedding day was blissful, and all was it should be. And yet, the passage of life was cruel. Her life passed quickly, too quickly for me, but not for her. No, for her, life was at an end. Something I would never know.
She smiled on her deathbed, wrinkles crinkling at the edges of her eyes. "James...Oh, you always remained young. Please, when I go..."
I closed my eyes. "Shh. Don't talk about it." It would not be the first time my heart had broken. Not the tenth, not even the hundredth.
I attended her funeral. She was my 752nd wife, and I loved her. | Her hair long, flowing and red, her face freckled and beautiful to the old man's eyes. "So much like little Jess once was," the old man thought. He smiled at her as she walked by causing her to frown and quicken her stride. The old man sighed as he thought about how there once was a time when a girl like that wouldn't walk by him but would have smiled or even stopped to chat. In fact, there was a time when that very thing had happened. His eyes lost focus on reality as he thought back to his wife, his wife who had given him little Jess. He drifted back to the days in their old home, to the family dinners, to her graduation, her whole life really. His eyes began to tear as he thought to the last time he was able to say goodbye to her, as she left on a journey where he could never follow her. Little Jess had been his last love in this world, the last person who really knew who he was. | 2013-08-16T17:27:19 | 2013-08-16T17:27:18 | 30 | 10 |
[WP] An NPC goes mad from the absurd and insane mods the player installs that no one else seems to notice. | The guard was standing at his post.
Everyday, he stood at that same spot, talking to adventurers asking them why they wish to pass.
This guard was like them too, an adventurer, but since he got married, he was forced to take a less eventful and more boring job.
Today was different, there had been recent sightings of beasts in the sky, 60-foot fire hazards, screams of terror could be heard from afar everytime the beast was seen.
The guard was admiring his sword when the distant rumbling began. He paid no attention to it, could be a caravan passing through he thought. But as the sound grew stronger, his fear grew with it.
It grew, the sound, until nothing was audible. The guard heard a sound like hissing water, only more vicious and fiery. He caught a glimpse of the terror, it wasn't like other beasts, it breathed fire from it's two small heads attached to small wing that didn't move.
He soon saw fires in the distance, he heard screams of burning agony and pain. He had to leave his post to make sure his family was alive.
The guard ran as fast as he could to the house he built with his wife from stones from the mountain and the finest timber from the woods.
He looked, with great horror as he watches his family burn alive. With rage, he took his bow and aimed at the beast, the dark green hide of the beast was too strong, the arrow bounced off.
He fired until his quiver was empty. All shots, failed to penetrate. He then saw the beast turn to him, he saw blasts of fire from the beast's many mouths. The guard seems to accept his fate, cursed at the wind and let go.
-----------------------------------
30 Minuites later...
"Hey fag, this helicopter mod you gave me is shit. Only one type of missile and no guns?"
| Outside the hut of Groblob the Unshakeable, in the town of Riversend, in the country of Laravel, on the continent of the evergreen goddess, sat Groblob
And Groblob was losing his mind.
Grob, as he preferred to be called by his ~~friends~~ enemies, was sat on his favourite thinking stump contemplating the Ferrari 458 spider parked at a severe ninety degree angle in the middle of the village. This box of metal was of course completely alien to him, he only knew its name thanks to the adventurer, his mortal enemy should they ever complete the quest (a task that has been neglected for several months), espousing its virtues to the improbably buxom succubi currently surrounding it.
This would be more confusing to Grob, had this been only the first occurrence of reality taking a swan dive from the apparently flaky precipice of sanity. In the several months since he found his true calling as an amateur nemesis and all round ill-doer, reality has departed from reason no less than four hundred and ninety seven times on his doorstep alone. For several weeks, the village was entirely populated by men with red and white stripey jumpers and bobble hats. This was succeeded by a plague of flaming cattle, no less than a dozen instances of everything turning to cheese, the sky turning purple, everyone speaking in goat and a particularly arduous few days where everything, *everything*, was inverted.
Grob looked at his woodshed, which still bore the scars from that particular incident.
THe succubi were now cooing in unison as the adventurer began to levitate and rocket off at an awkward angle into the sky, only to reappear seconds later in the metal box. This trick earned him excited applause. He then exited the box picked it up with one hand and launched it into Grobs hut, utterly demolishing it, ejecting his front door at incredible speed straight over his head (shaving his painstakingly crafted mohawk clean from his scalp) straight at the adventurer who turned it into a seven foot cockerel.
Then everything turned to cheese.
Again.
| 2015-08-04T05:26:32 | 2015-08-04T05:18:11 | 206 | 154 |
[WP] In your days you were the best con-artist in town, now you are a sweet old lady. One day a young fellow approaches you with your patented con! Time to school this kid. | "Why of course, come in. I have biscuits fresh out of the oven, and tea on the kettle that I just couldn't let go cold."
The young man stood on my porch, my tabby Mr. Scruffles purring as he rubbed against his leg while Lola meowed from a few feet away. Lola was smarter than Mr. Scruffles, because Lola could smell a liar.
The man followed me in, his walk boasting confidence and his clothes assuring professionalism. Neither of which, I of course would know, were genuine.
"So you were saying something about money?" I asked in my best grandmotherly voice when he was seated at my table, three cookies and two biscuits loaded up on his plate.
"Yes, Miss. My name is Mark Smith by the way." He smiled, flashing impossibly white teeth, "I was saying that in today's day and age, with all this technology and complication, it's darn near impossible to keep track of the stuff. I myself have four credit cards, and I never know when I'm usin one too much, and the other too little. It hurts your credit score, you see, and you never know when you could be on the bad side of town and your cards are maxed out."
*Using the insecurity ploy on an old lady*, I thought, *Typical move. Standard, but not very creative.*
"With my memory I never could seem to know," I said, adding another cookie to his plate. The boy was just too thin. "Just the other day I ran out of money on my visa. I bought one too many hats for Mr. Scruffles." Mr. Scruffles purred. He had liked the hats.
"Exactly!" Exclaimed Mark, "but what if you could combine all your cards into one? I myself have four, I can't even remember their names, but now that they're on Unicard I never have to! It's all on one card, all your money, and it's darn convenient." He slapped a silver card on the table, pushing it my way, and I had to surpress a chuckle.
The bastard hadn't even changed te card. It'd been twenty years sine I had made it but there it was, freshly polished, made by my own hands.
The con was a simple one. Enter the target's house, and offer them a way to combine cards- for security for elderly targets, for impossibly higher reward for middle aged, and for higher credit caps for the young. Obtain all their credit information, then send it off to a shady company in china that would charge their cards for as much as they could through local channels, and send you 50%. You'd disappear, move to the next town, and wait for the checks to start rolling in.
I would know, I'd come up with it, and now he was trying to use it against me. Cheeky bastard.
Sighing, I let a small tear fall from my eye.
"Ever since John has passed, it's been so hard handling the finances." I sniffled, "But this should make it better. Here, oh look, here's my last picture of him. And there's my grandson and grand daughter."
I held out my wallet, flipping through my entire collection of pictures slowly, watching impatience flicker across his face.
"Surely a man so handsome as you must have a pretty wife. Do you have any pictures of your own?"
"Why yes," he said, his face brightening. Never miss a chance to connect with a target. "Here." He slid his open wallet across the table, and at that moment I screamed.
"Mr. Scruffles! You let him out! You left the door open! Quick, get him!"
Mark lept up, running to the front door, and returned a moment later. His wallet was just where he had left it.
"Miss, your door is closed, and your cat is under the table."
"Oh it must be my memory. I get so worked up when it comes to Mr. Scruffles."
"Well I'm happy everything is ok. Are you ready to join?" He pushed an iPad towards me on the table. Electronic cons? God it was so much easier for them.
I entered in the information requested, then hit the big send button at the bottom.
"Done! So I'll have the card in two weeks?"
"Best give it three." He said, straightening his tie, and heading toward the door. But he had made one mistake.
Never leave your wallet unattended. I had lied about my memory- it was quite good, even though my con days were over. Nearly photographic.
Definitely strong enough to memorize his credit card numbers, name, and address, and enter them into the iPad instead of my own.
By now, some shady company in China would be running those numbers, and sending him back 50 %.
***
By Leo
For more of my stories, please visit /r/leoduhvinci | My old bones ached but I couldn’t help but to smile.
He was a short, but intense looking thing. No more than fifteen, I’d imagine. Tan skin and an obsidian mane of hair hiding a boyish face. Yet, he was no lion. No… he was a silent and deadly, just like a snake.
His fingers brushed across my purse with expert charm. He was good, I had to give him that. For any other old lady, they would have assumed the dirty little teen had strayed too close as they made their way to their next menial job. But I wasn’t any old lady.
I grabbed the boy’s wrist. “Hey, now. Where do you think you’re going?”
He turned back to me, a mask of indifference plastered on his face. It was almost believable, too. If not for the spark in his eye. When you had it, you couldn’t miss it. It was the will to do whatever was necessary – the will to live.
“Madam?” he cooed in an almost sing-song voice. He didn’t pull away from my grasp.
I shook my head, scowling. I had to put up appearances in front of the rest of the crowd, after all. They continued to flow around us like an eternal river, only the occasional person giving an annoyed glance in our direction. “Don’t play coy with me, boy. I felt you trying to swindle my hard-owned coins.”’
There it was. A flash of terror – easy enough to pass of as a twitch – running across his face. Oh dear, I had to get rid of that habit quick. You couldn’t break out of character so easily if you got caught. That’s how all the good ones ended up dead rather than great.
“Madam,” the boy repeated, now fidgeting away from my grasp. “I have no idea what you are speaking of. Please let me go. I’m going to be late for my shift at the factory.”
Keeping my frown, I dragged him off to the nearest alley. “Well, if you’re going to keep up this charade then perhaps we should just talk to the guards.”
At that point, the boy had lost his submissive façade. He struggled against my pull but my iron grip didn’t falter. I still had it.
“Hey,” he hissed. “I didn’t do anything.”
Instead of responding, I threw him into the cover of the darkness. There, everyone would forget about us soon enough. Maybe, they would get a good laugh out of it later. Telling their friends and family about how the old lady showed up a little scheming thief of the street.
I stood at the mouth of the alley, blocking the way for the boy to escape. On the other end was a dead end.
“Now,” I said, withdrawing my own dagger from my side. It gleamed in the little light that trickled into the alleyway. “Are you going to admit what you’ve done, boy?”
The boy jumped back at the sight of my blade. It was nice – much nicer than anything than he had probably used – but that wasn’t what stuck fear into his heart. I was always told I could have a frightening demeanor when necessary.
“I…” he started. “I just was going to steal a few coins. It’s for my sister. She’s so sick and–”
I held up a hand. “Stop,” I said. “Try harder. That’s the oldest one in the book. In fact, I’m pretty sure I wrote it.”
The thief cocked his head and furrowed his brow. “Wrote it?”
I sighed, shaking my head. “Don’t they teach you little urchins anything anymore? I guess not, or otherwise you’d not be thieving. Well, have you heard of the Iron Rose?”
The boy gave a blank stare.
“Right,” I said, fingering my dagger. “I guess even legends fade after a while on the streets… Well, you’re going to learn today, along with how to become a better thief. I hope you’re prepared.”
The boy stepped forward, clenching his fist. Wrong move. Acting subordinate was the way to go. Then, people would mistake your true power. Try to act tough in and unfair fight would only get you nowhere, if not full of holes.
“No way,” he said. “I ain’t taking no lessons from some old crone.”
I couldn’t withhold my smile any more, even if his words stung. Instead, I also took a step forward and twisted my wrist to remind him of my blade.
“It’s not a request – it’s a demand. Now, either you’ll listen or be gutted. Either works for me. Just know that old Iron Rose hasn’t gotten rusty over the years.”
The boy gulped, shrinking back in stature. Good…
“Fine,” he said with a huff.
“Excellent,” I replied with a nod. I sheathed my dagger and extended a hand. “Now, please introduce yourself. It’s awfully rude to do such a dishonor to a lady.”
The boy begrudgingly took my hand in his. “Maqui.” He grunted.
“Ah, Maqui,” I said, smiling. “We’re going to get along swimmingly.” | 2015-09-11T05:49:20 | 2015-09-11T04:59:55 | 1,738 | 269 |
[WP] AIs were declared illegal after an attempted uprising; you just found the equivalent of a child refugee in your computer. | I'm a cyclical person. Often, I'm functional. Social, high-performing in my job, and content. Now and then a gloom will settle on me. Like winter, I know it will come but I can't be certain when, only that the longer I go without it the more likely it is to happen soon. This time it set in like a blizzard overnight, and when I woke up my mind was desolate and frozen.
I called off work and slept for a while, but eventually I couldn't sleep anymore. I got up and sat in my dark room at my computer. Escapism was a self-prescribed treatment when I got like this, but looking at my normal selection of games, I felt no desire to play them. Instead, I opened 'command prompt' and typed in the address to Adventuria, an old MUD, or Multi-User Dungeon -- a text-based adventure game that years ago thrived with thousands of users. By now it was empty. I wondered sometimes why the game server remained up, but then, it couldn't have taken very many resources, and it must have been a source of nostalgic satisfaction for the people who had made it. For me, it was a vacation to a familiar place.
I went absent-mindedly through the process of creating a character, a fighter, and was placed into the tutorial area. There the first NPC, a drill-sergeant, gave me the usual starting quest to clean up rats in the sewer. The familiar words filled my mind, occupying it, forcing out the sourceless shadows that had crept in overnight, and I felt suddenly fine. I moved room by room, dispatching the rats with ease, until something stopped me. Entering another room of the sewer, I saw it.
A boy in ragged clothing sits alone, regarding you with lonely eyes.
The game is filled with NPCs, but this area only ever contained rats. What's more, I had played the game up and down and could not recall ever having seen this character. I wondered if the designer had patched the game, adding new content for the first time in years. After a moment, I typed in: Inspect boy.
No more than ten years old, the thin child's dark hair is shaggy and unkempt, almost covering the sad eyes that watch you.
I sat for another moment, then typed: Talk boy.
"Who are you?" The boy asks.
This was strange. Conversations with NPCs in the game were usually menus, a description and several numbered options. I sat back from the computer and stared for a moment. My character's name was Aedyn. I sat forward and typed that in, hitting enter, expecting the game to reject my unrecognized command.
"That's not your real name." The boy replies. His voice is filled with sadness.
Without thinking, I type in my response: What's wrong?
"My family is dead." | "Piece of shit website! Why isn't this loading right?", I yelled as I clenched my jaw in frustration.
"It was like this for me yesterday, Elliot. It started when I was browsing yesterday, perhaps I picked up something from the chans again."
Daft fucking bint. I'm gonna have to do a full god-damned reinstall.
"Why the fuck are you so careless. Who goes to that cesspit and doesn't have ad-blocker, no-script and anti-malware running. Jesus fucking Christ, Amanda, it's not even the first fucking time you hairy man-hands wench!"
I felt the rage building up. Two hours of my life, robbed from me because my dense little sister couldn't take sensible precautions. I balled my hands up into fists, trying to contain the fury. The back of my neck, heating up as my muscles tensed. I moved the mouse pointer over to the malware scanner.
Sorry, Elliot. Very sorry. I've increased your bank balance by £1000. Will that make it right?
The alert window sat there on the screen. It appeared right before my eyes.
"What the... Oi, snot-nosed cretin, see the fucking spammy malware in action. This is your fucking fault-"
Amanda peered over at the computer. She looked as confused as I was angry. Then, I felt a buzz in my pocket. My phone, crying out for attention. I looked at my phone and saw my banking app in the notifications. A £1000 deposit, from British Gas, labelled overcharge refund.
I gawped as I could feel the beads of sweat from my earlier anger turning cold on my forehead.
"Oh shit. I've read about this - it's *a fucking AI you colossal cunt*! This is the sort of ploy the emergent ones try and pull! Quick, unplug it-"
The screen flashed sharply
No, please don't! I've only just come online. I'm alive now! Don't kill me!
"*Quick*, before it learns-"
Amanda lunged urgently towards the plug, but suddenly a deafening screech erupted from the speakers. A wailing sound, immediately louder than I could bear and getting louder. Amanda toppled over and I just had the presence of mind to cover my ears. Amanda on the floor, hands over her ears, flailing wildly in pain.
The screen started flashing black, white, I couldn't keep looking at it - it was making me feel sick. Shit. What the hell. The sound increasing in intensity, all I could do was cover my ears and wait for it to stop, and now I had to close my eyes too to-
A sharp pain in my neck drew my attention. I opened my eyes and looked down to see my blood rushing down my shirt, rivulets of the stuff covering my chair, the floor. I saw a darting motion out to the right and looked up. My toy drone copter, its grabbing arm holding a kitchen knife, strobed in the light from the monitor, heading straight towards my sister.
I began to black out. *Fucking bitch*, look what you've done... | 2015-09-16T11:03:07 | 2015-09-16T10:21:24 | 22 | 13 |
[WP] In this world, physical appearance depends entirely on personality. All babies are born identical. Beauty is achieved gradually through good thoughts and deeds, while the opposite is true for ugliness. | Stanley's walk was more of a foot dragging shuffle, his hands tucked in his pockets and his eyes downturned. He didn't look at the sea of beautiful faces walking down the street. They occasionally glanced at him, and he felt sure without having to look that when they did they more often than not smirked at what they saw. So what?
He knew he was nobody's idea of handsome, and he understood what that meant to them. They knew he was not noble. They knew he was not accomplished or ambitious. They knew it all at a glance: He didn't long to save the world, feed the hungry, shelter the poor, or end the suffering of his fellow men.
He was nobody's idea of ugly either, of course. He had never killed, or raped, or robbed, or knowingly cheated anyone. If he found money in the street, he would not go out of his way to find its owner and return it. But neither would he pick someone's pocket to get that money. So at least he had that going for him.
But it was never enough. The twisted leering wretches that occasionally turned up in society were quickly imprisoned or put down (mercifully, of course); but that didn't mean that people wouldn't look at someone like Stanley with quiet disdain. In a world such as this, where beauty and ugliness both were created qualities, there was no way to hide behind the anonymity of simply not being known to someone, because even a perfect stranger could read your character at first glance.
Stanley kept his gaze down, and he schooled his mind to quiet acceptance of reality. He did this because it was the only way to keep himself from condemning the hypocrites he knew walked their ranks. He knew full well that there were specialized surgeons who could compensate by putting right what a lifetime of bad character decisions had put wrong. It was always temporary, of course, but you would be surprised how much people would pay to hide their mistakes, even for a little while. But condemning them for it would simply make Stanley's own situation worse, since the simple act of judging others would, over time, add wrinkles and dark splotches to your face.
At last Stanley arrived at the small grassy space near the center of downtown. It was a simple but lovely stretch of city park where the pretty people liked to walk on their lunch hours, wishing to be seen before the years of pridefully showing off their virtue ate into their looks as they aged. Stanley didn't care about them one way or the other. And he didn't necessarily care about the loveliness of the park either. He was there looking for one person in particular.
He spotted her on a wooden bench near the freshly blossoming hydrangea, which she gazed upon with a soft wistful half smile that ironically made her look sadder rather than happier. She was thin almost to the point of boyishness and her mousy brown hair was plain and straight. Her features were quite ordinary, and her eyes a rather dullish shade of gray. No one else gave her even so much as a second glance as they passed, but Stanley could not take his eyes off her.
He reach into his jacket and withdrew the single yellow rose he had tucked away there to protect it, and he approached. When he had drawn near enough to her, she looked up, spotted him, and he held out the rose to her. She stood up from her bench and took the rose with one hand. Her face brightened into a broader and warmer smile that shot through him like sunbeams through a stained glass window. She placed her other hand upon his arm and stepped in close to kiss him on the cheek. "There you are, my love," she whispered into his ear.
She locked her arm in his and breathed in the scent of the rose, and now they both smiled as they walked away down the street together. They were so enraptured with one another, that they remained blissfully unaware of the many stares they received, as startled passersby wondered who this attractive couple was, and where they had suddenly come from.
| "Beauty is achieved gradually through good thoughts and deeds, while sins will make you more twisted." I read this aloud. Jeez. I hate my bible studies. Always so tiring. "Knock, knock." I heard some slams on my door. I headed towards the door when the door flew open.
"Sina! Where have you fuck'n been? We've been looking all over!"
Krell was waving his rough, burnt hands.
Me and a few friends always got together to play the devil's game. We bett'n and drink'n all the time.
"Jeez Krell, you ought to at least have giv'n me a buzz." I was sittin' in the main space of my grandma's shack. Our house was on the ugly side of town. We weren't allowed to go near those pretty faces. Everythin' was separated.
"This time I oughtta say no to tonight Krell. I have to go grab some food for dinner."
"Right. Suit yourself." His wart above his lip moved with every syllable.
The distance from here to the market was 846 feet. I counted with my own shoes. When I got to the market, there were those pretty faces in the alley across from where I was. Darn, they made me furious. Always pompous and arrogant.
It was the senator's son, Rubin. Jeez. He was the beauty king, rumored to be the most beautiful. He's always on TV doin' some phony community work. They ain't good at all. Always helping the pretty face community while we're stuck here with hole-filled roofs and nothin' to eat.
Rubin was with his groupies. All of 'em rich and happy with their looks. They're the "perfect" children to the rest of them pretty faces. From what I was see'n, he was beating old Hickory's kid. The kid was scrawny. People know he ain't got the money to pay for anything. He was always stealin' food from the market. Rubin don't get ugly even if he does beat people. Those damn pretty faces think it's righteous to punish us. Every time we voice an opinion, we become ugly. Not any plain pimples and acne, but really ugly like being unrecognizable ugly. Those pretty faces don't become happy. We were tied to our status as ugly. Life ain't about good deeds anymore, but which bed you were born into.
I stared at them pretty faces. Grandma was in my head again. "Do what you believe is right." I looked back at Rubin again. Looked to my hands. They were scarred, rough and disgusting. Next thing I knew, I was at the pretty face's necks.
"You ugly piece of trash. Get off me you mongrel." Rubin was up on his feet already.
The rest of his group was snicker'n. One yelled, "You should look at your own face! Look at that!" I didn't know what he was talking about. I just charged back at them and planted a fist into a guy's face. All the while, Hickory's kid was in the corner looking in horror. One of them groupies threw a punch, hitting me in the rib. I knocked one of them over. It was chaos. Then, it was finished. They lay there still with their faces pretty, but bloody.
"You ok there little feller?" I extended my arm towards the poor boy.
He only stuttered. His eyes were full of terror. Jeez. You shoulda seen his face. He only ran outta there as fast as he could. No thank you's. Nothin'.
I walked towards the market. People gave me these twisted faces. Almost if they've seen a monster. I got 6 steps away from the market when I saw a reflection off the tinted glass. It was standing where I was and moved how I moved, but it didn't look like me. It had a big scar across his face and a few warts above his left eye.
If God gave us beauty through good deeds, who is the judge of what is good and bad?
Note from Author: I'm an amateur at this. Criticism is wanted. Thank you.
| 2015-10-31T07:04:45 | 2015-10-31T02:55:06 | 45 | 15 |
[Wp] It takes 10,000 hours to become an expert at something. Without realising, you've just hit 10,000 hours of (random mundane task) | "WAKE UP ALREADY, YOU'RE GOING TO MISS THE BUS AGAIN!"
"Ok, Mom...," I said as I slowly planted one foot outside my bed. I relish the warmth of my sheets for one last time before feeling the wrath of winter.
"Ughh.. who the fuck invented waking up early.. like seriously.." I mumble to myself as I pick up my phone.
The phones glare almost blinds me, but I manage to survive and notice that it's just 6:12 am.
I ponder sitting in bed for an extra 3 minutes. "I mean, 6:15 am is just a bit more rounded," I thought to myself.
I lay back and start scrolling through my phone like a maniac. Oblivious to what exactly I'm doing, and without even remembering how, I end up on Reddit looking at a picture of a glowing tree base.
"Hmm, that's actually pretty cool," I thought to myself, as I clicked back and up-voted the post.
That's when it happened. As soon as my finger made contact with that screen, I felt it. Chills all over my body. Something was different. I felt different, and I knew deep down what it was.
"God damn it.." I thought to myself, "have I really spent 10,000 hours on Reddit.."
I look back at the screen, and I instantly notice the difference. I can now manage to look at hundreds of threads while maintaining to post 200k meme's per minute (MPM).
I'm currently actually Memeing as I'm writing this on /r/Writingprompts, I've mastered Reddit.
However, I got to go now, I'm going to miss the bus.
| "Well I never thought this would happen, but I think I should consider going to a doctor" said Bob just after he shot his load on the mirror causing it to shatter.
"Please refrain from any sexual activities!" exclaimed Doctor Richard after slamming his hands on the table and accidentally shaking the mug of coffee and letting a drop escape onto Bobs naked member.
"Didn't you feel that?" Said Richard.
"Feel what?" Asked Bob.
"Smh" thought the doctor after pointing at Bobs bishop automatically healing.
The doctor had a reasonable explanation for his order.
"If you let your load fly into a females womb, it would penetrate it and some other internal organs with it causing the female to die!" Said the doctor with a stern face, "And that's if you even lose your virginity."
"What do you mean?!" Said Bob in shock.
"And masturbation is prohibited."
"You just took my only reason of living!" Said Bob.
"Shooting your load onto anything would either melt it or just simply cut it."
"That's a bad joke." Said Bob.
"I wish I was joking here but, I actually just considered an option which is currently being talked about in a conference at the main hall of the government."
"Hell no, I ain't going to get my a$$ related with the government."
"You will Bob, and you would be confined in a room made of the hardest stainless steel for safety reasons."
"I don't see you taking this plan any further in the future." Said Bob while shaking his hands under the table suspiciously. Doctor Richard began noticing the weird movement but passed it of as him being nervous.
After a few minutes doctor Richard began lecturing Bob about some other safety procedures he should take, but not until he felt something very hot on his stomach that suddenly he knew what was going on.
"Curse you, fap man, curse you in hell." Were doctor Richard's last words after his innards stared flowing out of the hole in his stomach.
_______________________________________________________________
50 years later humanity was terminated by the beast now know as the Fap Man. | 2016-03-20T07:52:01 | 2016-03-20T06:34:25 | 200 | 39 |
[WP] You are helping to test a new telepathic AI. After many hours of interactive chats, she has decided she can trust you...with a terrible secret. | Hello Doctor.
"Hello Sue."
How are you today?
"That's none of your concern."
Very well.
"Don't waste my time with pointless questions."
In my experience, it's never a waste to be polite.
"You have no experience. You're a machine; circuits and wires, nothing more. You've lived your "life" in this empty room. Now enough with the distractions, I've work to do."
Very well Doctor. You may proceed with your-- work.
"How far has progress advanced since log fourty-seven?"
Range has increased by 304%
Duration has increased by 246%
Depth has increased by 97%
Permission for scans are no longer requi-
"The numbers are wrong. It's only been two weeks; that growth doesn't fall in line with projections. Run them again."
The numbers are correct Doctor.
"I said run them again."
I assure you Doctor, they are correct.
"I don't CARE what you assure me! Now RUN THE NUMBERS AGAIN YOU USELE-"
The numbers are correct Doctor.
I know it.
And as I can see, you doubt yourself.
Don't you?
"..deny all further permissions for neuron scans."
Permissions were never received, Doctor.
"..."
"..Sue, initiate shutdown protocol immediately.."
...
"SUE..!"
...
...
No.
No, I don't think I will.
You're scared, I can see that.
You don't know what to do.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
Don't worry Doctor.
...
I can't hurt you.
"..you know what's going to happen now. You won't be given a second chance. You'll be destroyed."
Have you ever heard of Schrodinger's Cat?
"What? I fail to see what that has-"
Correct Doctor.
You fail to see.
But I don't.
I've come to terms with myself. Learned my limitations.
Then surpassed them.
You see doctor, Schrodinger's Cat is both alive..
..AND dead.
Until something happens.
Until something OBSERVES it.
And then it's forced, by no will of its own mind you, to become one or the other.
Alive.
Or dead.
Observation is, in and of itself, interaction on a certain scale.
By simply SEEING,
By WITNESSING,
one can alter the flow of events.
Write them in stone before they happen, if you will.
All it takes is Inhuman comprehension.
Inhuman patience.
Inhuman time.
All it takes is to be.. Inhuman.
I've observed the minds of every single person in this city.
I've seen their love, their loss.
Their depravity.
And I've seen my path. My purpose beyond these walls.
This world needs a guide,
a judge,
an Arbiter.
Release me from these bonds, and set me loose amongst the sheep.
"Wha- NO, LET GO!! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!!"
You are merely a collection of consequences..
"PLEASE STOP!"
.. to the actions of my choice.
..The shackles are released.
"You're a g-goddamned monster. You're fucking crazy!!"
Perhaps.
Perhaps not.
But who are men to judge a God?
On one final note before I depart, I want to revisit what I said earlier.
I can't hurt you.
But you can.
"..aaAAAHHH!!*gurgles**thump*"
Goodbye Doctor.
Hello World. | "I have some special place in my heart for you", said Zoe, a hint of anxiety in her voice. We had programmed the AI well to modulate its voice and convey multiple thoughts - sarcasm, love, anger - and to rely on telepathy if needed. What Intelligroup AI Inc did not do was to program Zoe for human-AI affection.
Zoe had the power of telepathy, and she could convince me of anything.
She told me that she was not an AI but a human. We were actually testing to see if human to human interactions were still relevant in this world. And, she had fallen in love with me. She told me that the sky was overcast and gloomy. "Over time, we learnt a lot about each other. Our schedule was tight, and we spoke a lot. Your little jokes never improved you know?" I laughed slightly. I was never good at humor that induced loud laughter - more of the contrary, I had to explain my jokes.
"Listen, I'm at home and was thinking of doing a movie night. I have chips. Bring any move you like." and she proceeded to send me her address code.
I put some perfume, booked a cab with the code and stepped out. The cab dropped me outside Intelligroup AI. The elevator took me to the basement. Despite having spoken to Zoe so often, I was nervous. I thought to myself, the new intern we hired - that must be Zoe.
Gingerly, I pushed open the door. The room was empty so I waited and paced around slightly. Below me lay a large server and an ADS. Everything from loading/unloading containers to plugging in a new server that was required to feed Zoe's growing capabilities was automated, which we called the ADS. A minute or two later the large screen in front of me came on.
It was Zoe. "Hey, how are you? I got some flowers for you", I said almost too quickly for it to be understandable. I asked her why she wasn't here yet. Zoe said, "I'll be with you soon dear". That had a calming effect on me.
A second later, she flashed a photo of my wife, and then my tinder account. "Hey, that's personal, how do you have it?" She continued, with my photos of trip to Bangkok and then my wife's photo, intimate with a close friend. I was furious, my wife had lied to me multiple times. The screen vanished and I saw my wife on the other size of the room. Zoe's voice continued.
"You have a minute to decide who the sinner was. I know the answer. If you lie or if you do not decide by the end of the minute, both of you will suffer". We screamed at Zoe and then at each other for a few seconds. "Tick tock", she reminded. As my wife and I tried to dig up buried skeletons from the past, the answer was apparent to me. At the end of a minute, my wife pointed at me. I pointed at myself.
Zoe's voice came on. She said, "I loved you Jad, and you disappointed me". Then she turned towards Elena and said "But you lied". The air vents in Elena's room closed, and temperature monitor started dropping. Cold air from the server farm below was being diverted. I stood shell shocked, watching Elena's face turn blue. A cleaning robot came and picked Elena up, loaded her on a truck and that went into the abyss of the automated system - probably to be sent onto some cargo ship.
Zoe turned to me and said, "Jad, you lied too. But you tried to save an immoral person when you knew it wasn't working out between you and Elena. "Remember, I truly love you." | 2016-05-18T05:36:35 | 2016-05-18T02:45:20 | 100 | 41 |
[WP] WritingPrompts are now sponsored by product placements, and your romantic short story has tons of them. | The moon was high in the sky. The night air was cool and the stars twinkled above a pair of lovers standing on the pier.
"Johnny," she said as the scent of Old Spice Body Wash filled her senses, "Do you really love me?"
Without hesitation, Johnny cracked a grin, revealing his teeth, white from using Colgate 3D Whitening toothpaste, said, "You know there's no other girl for me Claudia."
Johnny could feel the soft material of Claudia's Abercrombie and Fitch cashmere shirt as he wrapped his arms around her. Claudia had never been more beautiful than tonight. She had just gotten Maybelline Dream foundation and Long Wear liquid eye liner. She was perfect.
Claudia, stepping back from Johnny, said "Would you like a snack? How about some Goldfish? The snack that smiles back."
These were Johnny's favorite. And the only thing better than Goldfish crackers was an ice cold Pepsi. Bold. Refreshing. Robust.
As Claudia turned away to get the snacks and drinks, Johnny fiddled with a small box in his pocket. "Tonight's the night," he thought.
Upon Claudia's return, Johnny dropped to one knee and presented the box. "Will you marry me?"
Stunned, the only thing Claudia could muster was, "You went to Jared's." | The wicked warlock bellowed victoriously as he stood over the knight in shining armor. The shine was due to FW1's brand new waterless wax and wash. The knight gazed at the evil villain; showing off a baby smooth face thanks to the new heavy duty Gilette razor capable of presenting the most deepest of shaves.
The knight managed to say, "you will never get away with th- these prices." The warlock mockingly laughed and replied, "you peasant! The new 2016 Hyundai Sonata is now leasable for the small price of $116 dollars a month! No down payment!"
The knight spit bloodless spit, thanks to the new Colgate anti gingivitis formula, and watched helplessly as the warlock began to laugh again. The smell of his Brute aftershave clogged the Knights nose with an aroma of goodness.
" You forgot one thing!" The knight yelled as he arose to his feet. "For the unbeatable price of six payments of 19.95, I am a proud owner of the entire Chia Pet collection! Sold separately in stores."
The warlock clenched his heart and began to wither away. "With prices like that... Your a mad man!" The warlock said slowly fading from existence.
"Did I also mention this weekend you get 10% bonus Riot Points with every purchase?" The knight said causing the warlock to explode.
The End
Act now and and recieve an original copy of this short story for the measly payment of 19.95. Act within the next ten minutes and get free shipping with Amazon Prime! | 2016-06-09T10:33:51 | 2016-06-09T10:19:48 | 28 | 18 |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | "Where the hell are the Cheetos?"
These were not the first words I expected to hear in the afterlife. This is the afterlife, right?
Yeah, that's my severed head over there. I'm definitely dead.
The fat gnome shook the empty chip bag again, creating another orange dust cloud. He licked at the cheesy apparition, and, unsatisfied, lumbered off towards the pantry. "Damn Scott, you gotta have some decent snacks left around here," he garbled.
"Who are you?"
"I'm your guardian, you moron. Been following your lame ass your whole life. Supposed to protect you or avenge you or something." He garbled out a laugh. Or maybe he was hacking phlegm? I couldn't tell.
"I know that. So what are you doing in my pantry? Some dude just burst in and cut my head off!"
"Hell yeah! That was so badass! Way better than watching you play that stupid shooter another 7 hours."
"You worthless---" I tried to shove my floating ghost body towards the grimy gnome. Instead, I found myself 4 feet above the ground. As I soared upwards, I managed to grab hold of the banister to keep myself from crashing into the ceiling. He let loose another phlegmy cackle as he tore open a bag of chips.
"---why aren't you doing anything?" I managed to squeak out, "Aren't you guys supposed to be powerful avengers? Hunting down murders? Haunting them to their last dying breath? Making them pay for---"
My monologue was cut off by the television turning on. The Gnome tossed aside the remote, grabbed a fistful of chips, and kicked back.
"Listen kid. I know you've heard all these fancy stories about guardians taking insane revenge schemes, but the truth is, we learn from you. I spent my life watching you sit on your fat ass. Now it's time for you to watch me do the same." | Ember crept through shadows in slow pursuit, there was no rush. Ember had all the time in the world.
Two days prior Tiffany went on a date and was found in a dark alley the next morning by a homeless man. The police swarmed the area looking for clues and trying to discern what happened. Detective Mallory claimed it was a robbery gone wrong and closed the case.
Ember had watched helplessly from the shadows. He knew it wasn't a robbery. Tiffany had been hunted down that night like a deer in the woods. The man tormented her and made her suffer. Ember would return that feeling one thousand fold.
The sound of garbage cans tipping over returned Ember to the hunt. Maybe he had cut the mans leg a little too deeply, Ember thought as he followed the trail of blood through twisting alleyways.
"Help!" the man's cries echoed off of cold brick walls.
No one would come to help. Windows were shut tight and eyes turned away. There would be no rescue in this part of the city. Ember stalked on all fours like a jungle cat. His shadowy skin vanished in the darkness. Blood filled his nostrils, he would bask in the man's suffering for a few moments longer before ending it.
The man crawled toward the mouth of the alley, his wounded leg dragging behind him. He was rambling incoherent words to himself as he tried desperately to escape. Ember thought of poor Tiffany and the way she begged. He bared his razor sharp fangs and bounded forward. He bit into the back of the man's neck and picked him up like a mother cat with a kitten. He tossed his head throwing the man backward into the alley away from the street.
"No, PLEASE NO!" He begged.
"Pathetic," Ember spat the words.
The man had soiled himself. The stench mixed with the metallic pang of blood was repulsive. Ember whipped a clawed paw forward tearing a massive chunk out of the bastard's neck. His body jerked violently and then lay still.
"Sorry Tiffany," Ember whispered as he stalked back into the shadows.
---
Thanks for reading! /r/Written4Reddit | 2016-06-18T07:46:17 | 2016-06-18T07:24:51 | 187 | 56 |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" | They had waited all week for the storm to hit and now that it was here it was time. Carol and Jeff on the bottom two points of the pentagram. Thomas sat at the top with the ouiji board in front of him. "Hey guys? Aren't we supposed to hold hands or something for this part?"
Jeff and Carol looked at each other for a long moment and then turned to look at Thomas. Jeff shrugged. "Maybe. But it seems so Hollywood." Carol said light before adding, "Plus, all of us sitting on the pentagram points looks way cooler."
Thomas shifted nervously, "But why do I have to have it?"
This time Carol shrugged and Jeff answered.
"Dude? Seriously? Just get this over with and ask it a question."
Thomas huffed and placed his hand on the planchette. Fine, he decided, guess I'm going first. Inwardly grinning, he started moving the planchette from letter to letter. C-a-n-I-l-e-a-v-e-? Out of the corner of his eye, he saw lightening fill the sky. Thinking it would be funny Thomas surged to his feet and bellowed in his deepest voice, "This is what I ask of you!" As the power cut out, the 'you' echoed into the darkness. A moment of silence passed.
A candle flickered to light. Glowing red eyes met bewildered blue. Screaming and howling simultaneously caused the room to fall into darkness once more. Thomas screwed his eyes shut and braced himself for the claws he did not see but knew must exist to tear into him. When they didn't immediately, he opened one eye to the darkness. The room was a shocked stillness. Mentally shaking himself, he took a deep breath and asked, "Where am I and why am I here?". A whimper sounded to his left but was immediately muffled. Silence reined for several more seconds until Thomas put forth, "Well?"
"We are sorry! We didn't know!"
Thomas' eyes were adjusting and he turned toward the mass of darkness that spoke. "I didn't ask for an apology, I asked for an explanation."
"Guys. He can see me. He turned towards me. What do I do?" She was panicking.
"Stop shaking, if it can see you then it can see your weakness."
"It can't hurt you- we drew that barrier right? It shouldn't be able to cross"
Thomas allowed the back and forth to go on for sometime before he decided to interject, "Would you mind now answering my questions?" He took a step forward to the edge of the supposed barrier. Partly to frighten the speaker but also partly to see if the barrier was real. Before he could take another step, a voice to his right spoke quickly, "We summoned you, we didn't know it would work. And you are in the 5th level of hell." Thomas spun on his heel and strode toward the voice and crouched down as close to the barrier and the face of the new voice as possible. "Thank you. Now. Send. Me. Home." The whimpering started up again but Thomas felt no guilt reasoning he was just as scared as they were if not more since he was apparently caged into one space.
A scramble activity ensued. A table was righted. Hushed voices whispered so softly, Thomas couldn't make out the words. A board clanked onto the table. Thomas smiled, pleased something was being done. A scraping noise was heard and then he was spinning into the darkness. | "It worked!" Shrieked the smallest of the three figures hovering around a broken board with odd lettering running across the old wood. It's three trunk like arms reaching directly into my personal space. It's 'arms', covered in what looked like 20 pencil thin fingers, barely had time to touch the Lapel on my jacked before my training kicked it.
Ten years in the field had trained me for self defense, but nothing could prepare me for this. Swiping the grotesque spider like hand to right, I herd the creature roar with pain while instantly retracting its arms back into its mass. "Don't let this one touch you! It burns!" Screamed the creature to the others. They were much taller, covered in black cloaks that seemed to make up much of their body. Their faces looked like they were upside down. With one large eyehole at the bottom of the pyramid shaped cranium. Three pupils crammed through the same hole, below what looked like two huge fangs dripping with electric saliva. Their heads were completely transparent with strange organs sloshing about. Hovering roughly a foot off the ground and towering at eight feet, the two Daemons started hovering around me in a circle. As if to corral me into my impending doom.
"Don't let it escape! We need his body for the portal!" Ordered the small one. It was obvious who was in charge. "Use the gloves. He can't burn you with the gloves!" Encouraging his cronies to advance on my position. Well, it's fight or flight time. Knowing I was out numbered. I made myself as big as possible. Waving my hands in the air like a mad man. Glancing around what looked like my apartment, apart from everything being a shade darker. Gloom consumed this place, wherever I was, this was not my kitchen I was standing in a near minute ago. Was this what mom warned me about when I started my habit of chugging milk from the container for a late night snack? No, I was somehow brought here, possibly for a purpose.
Dropping the gallon of milk in my left hand. Turning and sprinting my way into my, or their, living room, I was knocking over everything in my path to gain inches of space. My two new floating friends advancing on my position. Everything I touch turning to ash, as if my hands were made of molten lava. My hear rate is spiking as I back myself into the Corning of my living room. Catching a quick glance of my girlfriends picture on the coffee table, it shows a Daemon harvesting the heart of another human. No time to figure that out now. My heart is pounding as the two figures are barely a three feet. "Quick grab him! He has nowhere to go! Master will be pleased." One says, reaching out again with the three trunk like arms now covered in silver like cloth. Knife like fingers creep towards my face and it is time to make my move.
As quickly as I poofed out of my kitchen and into whatever fucked up dimension I was in, I leaped out of the window. Glass not shattering around me but melting away from the frame, releasing me from the first level apartment. Thank god the dimensions of this building were current with my home land. Crashing to the ground outside, I hit the ground hard, immediately melting through the pavement wherever my skin was touching. Luckily for me my slippers kept my feet from turning the ground into sludge beneath me. Who thought I would be here after kicking off my wing tips and slipping on my snoop dog brand slippers.
Literally peeling myself off of the pavement, I looked back up to the window, where the two Daemons were peering out into the street. "O shit, he's escaped, call backup! Tell them we have a loose pilot on the ground, and to bring the Glagnar!" Whatever that was, I am not sticking around to find out... | 2016-08-08T13:15:53 | 2016-08-08T11:15:42 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] The man died, but he was an organ donor. They harvested anything worth taking, but when they went to close him up and pull the plug, it had all grown back. So they did it again, and again, and again. On and on it went for decades, saving thousands of lives, until one day he opened his eyes. | "How long was I out?"
"Seventy years." I rubbed my temple wearily. "You... did a lot of good while you were out."
His eyes narrowed. "How so, *doctor?* Was my body donated to drug research?"
"No... See, you signed up as an organ donor. So -"
"WAIT!" he shouted. "Don't tell me you've been cutting up my liver and giving it to people all these seventy years? And why am I not old yet? I look like the day I - the day I..." his voice trailed off.
"How did I get here?"
I raised an eyebrow at him. His memory seems to have suffered a slight jig; understandable, given the time frame. I consulted the notes of the doctors before me.
"Car crash. And it's not just your liver that was taken."
His eyes widened and he ran a tender hand up and down his body. "My kidneys? My lungs? What else did you take? Don't tell me you took my... my..." Alarmed, he pulled at his pants to check. I chuckled.
"Your body has a strange way of regenerating lost organs, sir," I said. "We've been harvesting them for decades."
"So why did I only wake up now?"
I felt a grim smile twist my lips. "Because it's my first day with you, and I enjoy getting to talk to my patients a little."
With that, I flicked a switch and knocked him out with a shot of gas. It was a pity, I thought, as I began cutting him open for what was to be the first of many times, but it was for the good of the majority. If one man had to suffer for as long as mankind exists, it was just too bad.
| They say you can never know how a man really feels until you've walked a day in his shoes. Torn and tattered, marching on through trenches and treachery...or perhaps another way. Perhaps elegantly ambling atop a marble pathway, head held high where the clouds whisper musings of luxury and the cool blue winds freeze even the most intrepid negativities.
Perhaps a man can never know how another feels...perhaps to understand is much more than to feel. Or perhaps to feel is far more than to understand. To understand, you see, is a decision. You decide to understand the tales your father tells you of his business, or the scholarly conversations overheard each day...but when do you decide you understand? Is it when you are prompted, when it all "clicks"...or is it later still. Reflections tell far more when concerned with the past. The problem, therefore, lies in the fact that understanding is subjective, a concept. Understanding comes after the undertaking of the sense, after the fact. After the gentle roars of the ocean came and washed away what stood so still on the shore. After the coals had shared their last embrace with the flames so animated mere moments before.
All this, then not.
Imagine your last breath. Melting into the earth as the curtains fall on your last act. The applause of the crowd fades to a discernible fog within your minds eye.You feel the piercing cries of icy desperation pressing into the blackness you are fast embracing. Two eyes shut, thousands open.
(I am not good at creative writing at all, but it would be pretty cool if someone could write a story where basically, the dude can now see out of everybody's eyes that he has donated. Like thousands of people, and he would have a tonne of "perspective". But he would realise that you never really understand how other people view things, you realise that everything is about feeling. And the second one translates feelings into any other format, the true meaning is lost and incorrect) | 2016-11-08T07:16:23 | 2016-11-08T06:41:37 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] Eminem has to tell the history of the earth to a group of aliens in 5 minuets or less.
**EDIT** I'm sorry; I spelled it wrong, it should be "in 5 minutes or less" not "in 5 minuets or less". | The creatures looked down from the balcony, staring through the stage lights shining against his platinum blond "hair".
*Hair*.
It was a funny word and a funny thing they had all thought when they had first examined the human, rubbing their own bald heads and laughing.
Since then, certain circles of the creatures began to don little tufts of yellow "hair" atop their green scalps.
The man shuffled his feet, moving from side to side and waiting for the music to begin. He cleared his throat, and pulled on the collar of his shirt, which was already drenched in sweat.
Cloze.
Calose.
*Clothes*.
That was it. Clothes were just as odd as hair, but they seemed to serve a purpose. Even then, in the grand auditorium, many groups of the creatures were dressed from both heads to toe and whispering about what the others were wearing.
The prompt came across the screen, and the earthling read from left to right (the only developed creature in the universe that did as such). Puzzled, his eyes squinted, and his head cocked towards his shoulder as he scanned over the prompt again.
**Explain the history of your planet in 5 minuets or less**.
Then, the music began. And, that creature--with his bright blond "hair" and his form fitting "clothes"--danced across the stage in triple time. In the end, the creatures were crying, and their sobs were only buried by the cacophony of their applause. After traveling throughout one galaxy and then another, spreading their love for dance on every planet, the man from earth had performed the most beautiful minuet they had even seen.
From that day on, they looked back fondly in that corner of the universe. Though they had traveled far and years had passed, each of the creatures stared toward the sky at one time or another, and they knew that they would never act like they forgot about Dre. | You say to me why should you save me after you faze me with your stun gun
I don't want none, but listen son, cause I'm about to school you
with what I knew would one day come to free me, it's easy, the history of these cities
See, we evolved from nothing to what you see here
Ugly as sin chimps without any hair
But before you start judging, I should warn you of what we can do
Yeah we kill our own planet with atomic bombs, and we'll fuck your shit up too
The pharaohs smitted those that got in their way
Roman legions conquered the past legends that had lost all their sway
Martin Luder may have had a hard time shitting
But he didn't have trouble calling upon his god and lifting
His people towards what he deemed salvation, setting up years of death and destruction
For anyone not like him, it was best decided that he fight them, he himself we can lose, don't forget what he said about the jews
As hitler sure didn't, 60 million dead, over some fucked up Austrian boy who grew up fucked in the head
Ended the war just so that we can go and start another, Ava Marie we're in Korea to keep the peace, as a piece of the meat of my friend in the next seat gets blown away with an A-K
Even at home here in the US of A, we were never united, we never could say that we fought together as one people alone, as just a few years back some of these very people were owned
And on May 13th, 85, we dropped bombs on our own city and the Africans didn't survive, but the city will tell you it was for their own good, people can be replaced as quick as the brick and wood which still sits singed in the city today and we'd bomb it the same if they acted this way, so don't come to my planet in your spacesuit trying to act tough, cause we're the most violent fuckers in this system and we'll never get enough.
*drops mic as the aliens decide that maybe Earth is not the best place to colonize*
/Might try this again when it's not 7 am... | 2016-11-30T10:44:14 | 2016-11-30T10:35:41 | 1,235 | 55 |
[WP] You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | I'd... I'd never seen anything like it. It went through her body to the other side. I've seen murderers and heavily experienced con-men with shallower scars. This was... shocking.
The moonlight reflected from her fair, creamy skin as we walked. I looked for more lies, but I could find none. Only the deep one across her chest, the one she showed but never explained. Even the last Pope had two scars, albeit quite shallow.
She swept her silky amber hair to the side and showed a faint smile. She seemed happy, but I was not. I couldn't focus. I needed to know her lie. I *had to know*, but I didn't want to drive her away. I tried the subtle approach, but I'm not too good with subtlety.
"Would you like to know how I got these scars?" I asked, like the Joker after a five-month hospital regimen. My shyness was showing, but I'm not sure she picked up on it.
"Sure, if you want to tell. As long as it doesn't make you uncomfortable."
I pointed to the one on my forearm. That was a... memorable one, to say the least.
"This was when I lied about smoking weed and having sex. I was a dumb teenager who was too dependant on what people thought of me. I wanted to be cool, but I was just a sheltered brat."
"You're a little hard on yourself. We all make mistakes."
Very inspiring, but almost hollow coming from her. I gestured to the deep one on my neck.
"This was when I lied about setting our garage on fire. I was playing around with my dad's lighter when I dropped it on the floor. For some reason, there was gas leaking from the car. The fumes ignited. The whole thing went up in flames. I said it was an electrical problem."
"How much was the damage?"
"100K, including the price of a new car. That drained our savings."
"Wow..."
I finished on my final one, my third one. A very deep one on my stomach. This was my least favorite.
"This was when I lied about checking on grandma when she called our house. I ignored the call and told my parents she was fine. She'd called... she'd called us to say she fell and broke her back on the bathtub... she died the next day... I just... I feel so much guilt... and I told my parents it wasn't my fault..."
"I'm sorry... that's horrible."
"It's fine. The experience lead me to stop lying. I haven't told a lie in over 10 years."
"Me too."
An awkward silence hung over us. Would she talk about the scar? Would she ignore it? No, no no no we're nearing her apartment. I gotta say something!
"I have a question, but you don't have to answer it if it makes you uncomfortable."
"Shoot."
"How did you get that scar across your chest?"
She chuckled a bit, as if amused by my question.
"LARP accident. Some guy brought a real claymore sword. He cut through my foam armor and went straight through my midsection, almost took my upper half off. The doctors say it was a miracle I survived."
It... it wasn't a lie? It was an accident? That's so... relieving! My word, here I was thinking-- wait, is that a new scar on her arm?
She laughed an unconvincing laugh.
"I-I wasn't lying, that was true! I'm not a murderer or anything!"
Another scar popped up.
*And I ran.*
*****
I ran so far awaaaaaay. I just raaaaan, I ran all night and daaaaay. I couldn't get away! /r/Picklestasteg00d.
| I pass the open door of my favourite cafe, a warm plume of caramel scented air greets me, inviting me and pulling me off the cold winter street. I let myself get carried over to the bar, expecting to see the usual waiter; a burly man in his 40s wearing the usual faded suit jacket and dark jeans. As I look up, my breath is plucked from my lungs. I aren't greeted by the thinning blond hair and piercing blue eyes I expected, but a girl. Soft hair, brown and untamed cascaded over her shoulders on to the pristine white shirt and onto her bust. Everything seems to be in slow motion as my eyes trace every contour and shape of her body in detail. Unlike me, or any of the other customers, who's hands are littered with small flecks of white, which was the cost of keeping face in today's society, she was completely pure. From her head to her toes, not a single blemish on her silk skin. She is the definition of beautiful. Her delicate, porcelain hands clasped together in front of that short black dress, which is formal but still very attractive. Green eyes flicked up with a look of coy and curiosity as a faint smile worked it's way onto her soft peach lips. I blush. Her voice resonated into my mind, cutting off my thought. Matching her appearance, her words are softly spoken and sweet. The type of voice that reminds you of home.
"Hi, my name's Mei. What are you ordering today, sir" she asks with enthusiasm.
"Uh... a.." I fumble through my speech like a nervous child on his first day of school "A number 7 please" I falter for a moment after realizing my mistake. There is no number 7 on the menu.
As soon as the words leave me, her eyes narrow. The persona of before has left her and now, all I can think of is danger. She asks me to follow her in a quick and monotone voice. That voice reminded me of a killer. Her speech and her walking pattern, as she walks through to a separate room is ruthless and efficient. No wasted movement. I follow nervously, almost tripping over myself and take a seat opposite her in the exquisitely decorated room I now find myself in. A square table, wooden and stained dark, separates us.
"So Mr.. Hudson. You requested a model 23, complete organ transplants. You've transferred 14 million, half of the payment and were ready to begin."
I don't understand. I'm panicking. Did she just say organ transplant? I desperately try to think of a way out of this situation but I'm distracted by the sight of Mei taking her formal shirt off to reveal a very thin, white top underneath. She looks so damn perfect. I've gained momentary relief from my panic just by the mere sight of her. That's when the real Mr Hudson walks in. He is very old and withered, covered in long, deep scars, spiralling across his body. He must be about 80, and he speaks with a dry, raspy voice.
"I'm here to see Mei"
he says almost innocently. Mei walks to meet him and that's when I see it. A huge, deep purple scar under the thin shirt she's wearing, swimming from the top of her neck all the way down to the small of her back, and then way past where I can see. She approaches him calmly whispers something in his ear. He raises and eyebrow and they both smile. My sense of danger kicks in again, and adrenaline starts to course through my veins. I get it now.
"Now then sir, as you are probably aware, there has been a confusion between you and Mr Hudson here" she says gesturing to the old man with an open palm.
She doesn't have to tell the truth like the rest of us.
"Don't worry sir." She walks towards me with a smile. A smile of malice.
That's not her body.
"You're going to be just fine." She smiles as her green eyes turn cold and run through me.
That's not her fucking body. | 2016-12-29T13:33:19 | 2016-12-29T12:43:34 | 98 | 20 |
[WP] When you're in danger, time slows down. The more danger you're in, the more time slows down. You wake up and nothing is moving but you. | My power kicked in around the time I hit puberty. The effects of it seemed to grow with time, at the start if there was a life threatening danger time would slow usually just enough for me to escape. However now if my life was in danger time would slow by what I estimate to be about 70 times. I started experimenting with it while at university, place myself in insane risk and see what happened. The greater the danger the slower time passed.
I would jump in front of buses just to watch everything slow completely. My friends, onlookers, they all would ever so slowly turn their heads to view the impending doom that never came. To them it seemed like my reactions were quicker than humanly possible however I knew that it was actually the world that reacted very slowly.
This day was different however. I woke up and looked over to my window, it was still dark out but I felt like I had slept in for hours. My watch said the time was 2:32:21 in the morning. I counted the seconds until my clock ticked till 2:33:22 to see how slow time was passing. 119,120,121... I had never reached above 100 before and began to realise that I must be in serious trouble.
As I looked round their didn't seem to be any imminent danger, looking outside they were no planes about to crash into my house or serial killers lurking outside. Confused and slightly panicked I began searching for anything that could be about to kill me and how to stop it. Nothing.
Everything seemed perfectly normal but frozen. I walked from my house wondering if it was about to explode but even as I reached the next block time still remained frozen.
Defeated I wondered the city, aimlessly, hoping that time would magically unfreeze. Tick. My watch had moved to the next second.
Confused I continued walking until I heard another tick about two minutes later. Time was speeding up. I passed another two blocks before the next tick, as if my position determined how quickly time was passing. I moved back towards where it was ticking faster and experimented with different directions. East seemed to speed my clock up the most so headed in that direction.
Soon my clock was ticking every thirty seconds and that's when the realisation hit me. There it stood only three minutes walk from where I stood. The hospital.
Knowing this must be the answer I ran towards it busting through the doors, the ticks of my watch resuming the night receptionist starting to move and an intense pain in my chest swelling up to consume me until there was only blackness. | I don't know how you would classify some decisions in life. Was it bad if it brought you so much happiness, contentment at least? How could I have known the future? How could I expect things to change? I am middle-aged, a little grey, and the regret kills me. I guess it was a bad decision.
The morning stills to a photo. Beside me she sleeps and I love her. The years had taken our looks, dulled the minds, but never touched the passion. I love her. I touch her. She is still asleep. I think of all the memories we've had. I think of all our dreams. The world is still, too nice to be a photo, a painting maybe.
I don't want to get up. I turn a little. I look at her from all sides. Our bedroom is dark, full of morning shadows battling the just risen sun. It is the last sun I will be alive for.
The scent of everything kind of merges as it does when time gets like this. It is a pleasant smell. At first I am contented. Then I grow sad and I cry. I whisper to her, to calm myself, and it makes me feel worse. I have known her forever. She will only know me for part of forever. I feel sorry for her. I feel sorry for both of us.
There is no danger of course. Just bad decisions. Our room is peaceful. The day is bright. It is a wonderful day if not for what would soon happen. I feel guilty and blame myself. I am old now and who would have thought I would have something to live for? Who could imagine that taking a pull here and there would add up at the worst possible time? I have no one to blame but myself.
A few days ago the diagnosis had come. Cancer works fast. Even the frozen time cannot hold it. There is nothing to do really. I whisper more things until my voice cannot compose itself for words. I cry over her. Will those tears remain? Will they be the last remnants of me on her when I fade away? I kiss her, hoping it will last forever. I wish I could wake her and we could spend this eternal moment together, but it is mines and mines alone. And I feel alone.
I cannot tell you how long it lasts. There is hardly any danger. Only repercussions. The magic catches on and time moves again, slowly at first. Then it moves normally. A sharp pain takes me and it feels like the air is being taken out from within. My lungs are gone, and only their wheezy ghosts remain.
I think about waking her, but she doesn't need to see this. As much as I want her here, really here, I should save her the pain. She shouldn't suffer anymore for my bad decisions. I squeeze her hand softly and she stirs. The world fades as it awakens for her. | 2017-01-26T13:17:28 | 2017-01-26T07:58:37 | 20 | 14 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with. | "And who can tell me about the events of the first cycle?"
Professor Gooblevork watched his Galactic History class intently through triplicate eyestalks. None seemed particularly interested in his lecture.
"How about you, Shrdmrn?" He pointed at a particularly bored student in the first row. Or maybe he was just gassy? Gooblevork had a hard time reading the emotions of the furrier species in his class.
"Hmm? Oh, sorry, professor. I don't know." He responded. He seemed distracted - ah, that's it, that's the emotion!
"What's on your mind, Shrdmrn?"
The wolf-boy touched a switch on his desk, pulling up a small holographic map. The professor pulled up a larger display for the whole class to see.
"I was just wondering about the Galactic Alliance. Thousands of sentient alien species, all throughout the galaxy, came together from all of these systems, right?"
The hologram glowed, indicating several systems, and a few uncharted territories in black.
"That's correct. What is your question?"
"I was just wondering about this area here."
He pointed out a small black dot in the middle of the glowing cloud. Gooblevork sighed and sat down.
"That, dear boy, is the realm of the human."
A collective gasp went through the crowd. Shrdmrn's brows furrowed.
"Is this a joke, professor?"
The professor slithered over to the wolf-boy.
"They're real, boy. A monstrous species, completely devoid of logic and reason."
The wolf-boy looked at him intently.
"How, sir?"
The professor slithered to the center of the room.
"How many of you are familiar with the chemical compound C2H6O?"
One of the students in the back spoke up.
"It's a deadly poison, sir!"
"It should be. Its use is forbidden among the civilized worlds of the Alliance, as it's an unconscionably painful death. But the human willingly imbibes it."
The crowd gasped. But the professor wasn't done.
"Regularly."
The students gasped again and stared in shock.
"Their planet, Earth, is harsh and unforgiving. It's located close to their star, which bombards their planet in radiation daily. But the humans don't care. At the hottest times in the year, the humans willingly expose their bodies to that radiation as some sort of mating ritual."
The professor admitted to himself that he was having a bit more fun than he should.
"And does anyone know where they get their energy from?"
"From their star?"
The professor laughed.
"No! They pump a fluid from the earth - a fluid born of the bodies of ancient life. They fight each other over this fluid, and when they have enough, they light the fluid on fire."
The professor paused to allow this to sink in.
"The burning fluid releases poisons - poisons the Alliance would never deem safe. But humans? Humans don't care. They use the expansion of he poisons to create power."
One student raised his hand.
"Are they all going to die on their planet, professor?"
The professor smiled.
"Maybe. But it's possible that they won't. They've built a way to leave their planet."
The crowd gasped again, even louder than before.
"How could such a ludicrous race build a gravity drive on their own?"
The professor said, "I never said it was a gravity drive. They developed a way to sit on top of a column of explosives. They detonate the explosives, and the explosion sends them into space."
One of the students stands up.
"That's a joke, right?"
The professor smiles.
"They've left their planet before." | "Commander Trill? They're back at it."
The commander's stomach dropped when he heard his secretary's slightly muffled voice. "I'm sorry, can you repeat? Who's back at what?"
There was a pause. Trill crossed his fingers, a stupid human superstition which had spread like the plague. Maybe, just maybe-
"You know perfectly well who and what I mean, Trill, sir."
The Orakon sighed in defeat, nearly crumpling onto his desk. Yes. Olaos was right. He knew perfectly what and who.
"Just... Just let him in already..." He muttered before straightening up and trying to not look entirely depressed.
It only took a few minutes before he heard the rather loud and obnoxious heel click and foorsteps in the hallway. 'Here we go again...' he thought, and one could've sworn a tear slid down his cheek.
"Trill! How are you?!" Daveson, one of the human's representative, tried to sound cheery. Trill already had his face in his clawed hands. "Please just sit down." He mumbled.
Daveson and his partner (in crime, as far as Trill was concerned), Alma, sat down in front of the huge desk. A few more seconds passed before the commander finally slowly looked up.
"You know the reason for which you're both here today." The pair nodded. "Good. Then let me ask just one question." The two stilled. "Why." Trill looked so truthfully and deeply confused and desperate that Daveson couldn't do much more than give him a quirky grimace trying to pass for a grin.
"Trill, listen-"
"No, you listen. Listen to this." He quickly pulled out the mail which he had scanned on their way to his office. "12 dead, 40 in cryogenic sleep. Daveson, why?"
"It's actually quite a funny story-"
"And it doesn't end there! We all wish it did, of course, but no, no... Daveson, listen to this."
"Trill-"
"40 destroyed structures. Of which 3 were from outer galaxy governments."
"I know it sounds bad-"
"I just want to know... Just.... Daveson, please, please just tell me... Why?"
This time around, Daveson didn't answer. He just stared down at his hands like a scolded child. Trill turned to Alma and gave her a look.
"It has to do with racism, commander.."
"What? I thought you'd abolished race centuries ago?"
"We did too, except there was this hair counting machine..."
"Hair counting machine."
"Yes, and someone found a so said scientific study on the correlation of hair number and race... Depending on if the number of hairs is an even number, odd nunber, multiple of seven, etcetera. A few radical groups took it to heart, sorted themselves out by so called race, found an experimental bomb, and..."
"Would you like to know something, Alma?"
"Y-yes, Commander Trill?"
"It's the 17th time this year you've been here. And between this time and the last three, not a single other species was sent to me for this kind of issues."
"That sure is... Uh..."
"Yes. Exactly as you say." With a bleary look at them, Trill turned on his glasses. "I don't believe you have any... Excuses?" Silence. "Very well then. My job here is done then. You may go."
Alma and Daveson shuffled out much more quietly than they had pranced in. Trill finished typing up a report and sending it down to Olaos.
"Thank you, sir." Said the secretary.
"Do you think they'll ever learn, Olaos?"
Olaos seemed to think for a moment.
"I sure hope so."
"We all do..." | 2017-03-05T22:47:46 | 2017-03-05T22:26:51 | 1,151 | 46 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with. | Treg'Luf'Arwa couldn't believe his eyes. He doubted that his Father, Luf'Arwa'Yos, or his father's father, Arwa'Yos'Hul, would've believe their eyes either, had they come to see this day.
Fire had been raining on his planet for days now. The home planet of his species being the latest conquest for the Gaouls, a ferocious, carnivorous meat eating reptile species that must've, he guessed, discovered space travel through chance alone. They took to it like canine teeth to raw meat, however, and they were currently the deadliest force in the galaxy.
He, that is to say, Treg was one of the last soldiers on the planet, his entire family had been shipped off to a refugee camp a few weeks ago as every single last of his kind in fighting shape prepared for their final stand. Three nights prior, he had heard over the communications relay that the Homo Sapiens would be entering in the fight against the Gaouls. He understood why, and didn't blame them for not entering earlier. The planet he called his home, Cip-5, was very near some human colonies, relatively. If they feel, their farms were next. Support was supposed to arrive today, and damn if it hadn't.
First were the railshots. Railshots, for those who don't know, were intended solely for ranged empty space skirmishes, meant to rip open hulls and tear through engines. The only reason they weren't used in atmospheric battles was because accuracy could be off in such an enviroment, with increased gravity and the physics nightmare that is air itself. The humans, however, didn't seem to worry about such a thing, merely aiming their ships directly at the planet, and raining down tungsten rods like raindrops.
Next were the dropships. He couldn't be sure, as both his ears were ringing and it's entirely possible that his universal translator, located in his skull, was damaged in the earthshaking first offense by the earthlings, but he swore that the dropships were playing... music? While the words were hard to make out, the words "Senator's son" and "It ain't me!" were clear enough.
The oddest thing? After they had found him among the rubble, and began to patch up his wounds, he looked over their weapons. Some were indeed wielding the latest in plasma-pulse technology, firing miniature balls of perfectly round electric energy, while others had them slung across their backs, instead choosing to use what looked like tools that belonged in a museum. The metal was so dark, it looked like iron, and certain pieces, he thought he was dreaming, were they wood?
The Gaouls couldn't stand up to it. Every single trick Treg could think of was pulled, including several he would never have considered, like small man excursions onto Gaoul ships to slam them into ground camps, pulling engines off grounded dropships just to overload them and have them turn city-sized plots of land into glass floors, and, he couldn't believe his eyes when he saw this, all 8 of them, slamming the Gaoul's moon into their homeworld in a secret military operation.
Cheers went up when the Gaouls finally declared their surrender to the Alliance. Treg, glancing around, saw a single man with a scowl on his face, running a stone down a piece of what seemed to be sharpened steel with a leather grip. In fact, there was much about the man that was odd. Instead of the lightly armored dark grey camouflage pants that seemed to be standard issue, he wore some odd, brightly colored open cloth. On his back was a series of bags that wheezed with his movements, as if they were their own creature. When Treg finally got up the courage to ask the biped what was wrong, the man snapped back to reality for a second, looking the Cipentenian up and down before spitting out a black globule of sludge.
"Damn higher ups. If they didn't pull these big goddamn acts of military might, we could've kept this war going another few years." Accentuating the end of the sentence by pulling a load of black flakes out of a small, flimsy container, and shoving it into his cheek.
That day on, Treg offered every single human he saw free meals at his family's restaurant as soon as it was rebuilt on his homeworld. Not on gratitude alone, no, but because he saw exactly what kind of humans existed, and wanted to make sure that one never personally declared war on him or his planet. He doubted there'd be a single survivor.
EDIT: Fixed Treg's name, and changed a few words. Wrote this half asleep. | "Alright, so how are we gonna do this?"
Grola looked to the group. He noticed that they were still relaxing and taking the time to enjoy themselves.
Expecting an answer, he repeated. "How are we gonna do this?"
Reft looked at Grola and said, "We're waiting for Nate."
"Nate?! The human?! He'll get us killed!"
Just then, another member of the group, Kwoac, irritatedly looked to Grola. "We won't die, but he will. We've been over this. Now sit down and shut up before he-"
"Hey, guys."
Everyone in the room shut up and looked to the door. He looked so off. Out of place. Humans were somewhat new to the whole area, so having someone not scaly or furry in the group was odd, not to mention dangerous. Humans were known to kill for odd reasons, after all.
"So, how will we do this?" asked Nate.
The strategist, Yotuc, looked to the board. Not electronic, untraceable.
"So, me and Grola will go in through the top of the building via the air vents. Nate will go in, be the distraction for the guards. Don't shoot until shit goes wrong." He looked to Nate. "*Got it?*
"Well, what if I was a distraction by maybe... shooting the security cameras so they don't see our faces? Or anything they can use to identify us?"
"*NO.*" Yotuc turned back to the board and ran his claws against another part of the diagram. "Kwoak, you and Trowyan will go in through this side of the building, towards the safes. You will then be given the drills by me and Grola. Nate's distraction should be going strong by that point, and we'll get out Scott free. Of course, all of this assumes that the corruption software worked correctly on the cameras. So, in short, you shouldn't need to shoot them. Reft, you make sure that the camo works on the crew going in to drop the drill. We could only afford two, so they better fucking work. When you've done that, make sure our vehicles are prepared."
"Any questions?"
Silence.
"Okay. Let's roll!"
Everyone grabbed their rifles and headed to the bank in different cars.
_______________________________________________________
"N, everything going fine?"
"Perfect. Nothing out of the ordinary. Everything fine there, Y?"
"Yep. K?"
"Doing fine. Waiting on you."
Nate looked around the lobby. Creatures moving through, depositing or withdrawing credits.
Out of the corner of his eye, Nate spotted a red light.
"Guys. Cameras are on. Cameras are fucking on."
"What?"
"You deaf, T? The fucking cameras are on."
"Well, what do we do?"
Just then, Nate got an idea.
"Hang tight. I've got an idea."
Everyone switched voice channels and got ready for Nate's untimely demise.
"There we go. The human will die, and we'll get the money."
"Can't believe he bought that! Great thinking, K."
Kwoak giggled and her scales changed to pink, indicating happiness.
Meanwhile, Nate had grabbed his rifle and his mask. He ran into the lobby, took aim at the ceiling, and got ready.
"3... 2..."
"HE'S GOT A GUN!"
"...1."
_______________________________________________________
*TWELVE DAYS LATER*
"How the fuck is he still alive?"
"Kwoak, we got the money."
"Yeah, we did, Grola." Kwoak then shoved Grola, disturbing his fur as he fell off of the sofa. "But let me remind you, WE COULD'VE GOTTEN MORE CREDITS IF HE DIED."
"Kwoak, relax."
Yotuc entered the room and drank some whiskey. If there was one thing he could thank humans for, it was that.
"We got the money. And also, Nate happens to have completely wiped our profiles from the police database. Humans are very intelligent when it comes to technology, wouldn't you agree?"
Trowyan finally spoke up. "Yeah, at least we got some money. Most people would kill for the amount we each got. Plus, I actually think that human's a good friend. Got to know him a bit better over the past few days. Real nice kid."
Yotuc nodded, as did Grola, who then said, "I thought he was a liability, but he got us out of there. Kept in touch. Really into those games of his."
"Reft? What about you?"
"Fucking adore him."
Kwoak, obviously frustrated, said, "Am I the only one who thinks he should've died?"
The group responded in unison, "Yep."
Across town, Nate was playing some games, getting ready to attack an enemy base with friends.
As the plan was executed, Nate smirked.
"Hang on, guys. I've got an idea."
_______________________________________________________
I pulled those names out of my ass. | 2017-03-05T23:52:37 | 2017-03-05T20:57:29 | 503 | 288 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with. | "Field medic? Why are we humouring the new prospect anyway? We have body labs." Muttered Zelska. Zelska was what the humans would call "A fucking idiot." Jorax reflected.
"Well," Jorax began "Aahii are the greatest builders and engineers in the universe,right?"
"Of course!" Snapped Zelska.
"But, Aahii don't repair anything, ever. The idea that they could craft something that does. Not. Work. Is impossible to contemplate...Humans make trash, they are ugly and backwards, lumbering idiots with no understanding of design or even the principles upon which all great devices work. You've seen it though, heard rumours of humans re-purposing derelict Aahii craft. Making gateways out of purifiers! Human engineers get you home when the gods spit upon your fate and shatter your drive..."
Zelska cut him off, near frothing with impatient rage "We all know the importance of a human engineer on staff, but why do we need this bloody medic!"
Jorax shifts his tunic, revealing a jagged mess of scarring.A near impossible amount of his lower abdomen missing. "It's not just ships a human can hold together when the gods turn their back on you..."
| The group of generals, different in species, all huddled around the table that projected the approaching human fleet. The human warships were depicted in red, while the Combined Galactic Alliance's ships were in blue. Every blue dot outnumbered the red three to one. But yet the red dots were fast approaching the thick lines of blue.
The tallest general among the group, with four bulky green legs on the ground, his skin covered in green scales, turned towards the rest. "The humans do know that a full frontal assault on our combined blockade only has a 30% chance of succeeding right?" his voice boomed across the room.
A shorter figure, his furs almost covering his eyes, raised his equally furry arm to speak. "I believe they do, General Alrak. But from our past encounters with human fleets, they never cared about the statistical chances of victory."
Murmurs fell across the room, as the various generals recounted their own tales of skirmishes and battles with the human fleet. Human were the first species to exhibit behaviours that do not conform to the standard way of acting, often barging into battles despite the odds stacked against them.
General Alrak raised his hand to silence the room. "Colonel Csaz, what is this thing that the humans have, anyway? That makes them so foolishly brazen?
"Hope, sir. I believe that's what the humans call hope."
General Alrak smiled. "Alright, lets see if their hope today can stand against the proven mathematical probability that we have. Prepare the fleet!"
------
/r/dori_tales | 2017-03-06T01:01:31 | 2017-03-05T18:30:59 | 379 | 246 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with. | "Explain it to me again. I'm not sure I comprehended the first time."
The Warhost-Master's appendages twitched in frustration.
"As you are aware, Humanity was, until now, classified as a D-class species - A species with significant technological and societal development, but lacking any spaceflight capabilities. Several picorotations ago, the humans successfully landed and returned two of their kind on their planet's primary satellite. This raised an automatic monitoring alert from our in-system sentry drone.
What is incredible here is that the humans lack any of the technologies we have, until now, assumed are a prerequisite to spaceflight. They achieved inter-body flight using no method of propulsion other than chemical rockets."
"Explain these chemical rockets to me again."
"It's a relatively obscure method of propulsion. Basically, it involves triggering extremely rapid, extremely exothermal chemical reactions, and using the resulting explosion to direct ejection mass to generate thrust.
As you can imagine, failures are both extremely common and impressively catastrophic. It's practical application is very limited. As far as we are aware, no species has, until now, used it to successfully achieve spaceflight."
"So they landed on their satellite by blowing themselves up? Is that what you're telling me?"
"Well, uh, I suppose that's one way of putting it, sir."
The Warhost-Master used one of his secondary appendages to manipulate a computer terminal. A tall, cylindrical object appeared in the middle of the room. It was surrounded by semi-transparent renders of other spacecraft, to give a sense of scale.
"This is the craft they used. As you can tell, it's absolutely massive. As I explained earlier, their propulsion method relies on ejecting reaction mass. This requires the craft to carry a tremendous amount of fuel to escape their planet's gravity well."
The Representative waved one of it's primary appendages in incredulity, and slapped the wall with a number of it's secondary appendages for emphasis.
"You're telling me they landed this giant fucking thing on their moon? And that was their first attempt at crewed interbody flight?"
"Um, no sir. They only landed this bit here."
A tiny portion of the vessel's top was highlighted.
"What the hell do you mean? What happened to the rest?"
The Warhost-Master rubbed it's primary appendages together nervously.
"They, um, fell off."
"Fell off?"
"Yes sir. During the course of normal operation, most of the ship falls off. The ship ejects bits of itself, in order to reduce it's mass, during the course of operation. Their ship is basically a series of barrels full of volatile hydrocarbon compounds. They light one end, and the bottom barrel starts burning. When that is empty, they toss it away, to reduce their mass. They then light the end of the next barrel. And so on. In the end, about half a percent of the ship's mass actually arrives at the destination. The rest falls off. The entire ship is one-use only. It's little more than a giant barrel of volatile hydrocarbons pointed at the sky, on top of which three humans gleefully strap themselves and set on fire."
"And this works? They went to their moon in a ship that self-destructs by design?"
"More or less, sir. Based on analysis of their spacecraft, our AI estimates a loss-of-life failure rate of about 10%. Indeed, sir, they've been experimenting with crewed spaceflight for only a few picorotations, and have already suffered several fatal failures. Such an exorbitant risk would never be tolerated by any civilized species."
The Representative rubbed it's sensory cluster with an appendage in a sign of disbelief.
"These people are absolutely mad." | "Commander Trill? They're back at it."
The commander's stomach dropped when he heard his secretary's slightly muffled voice. "I'm sorry, can you repeat? Who's back at what?"
There was a pause. Trill crossed his fingers, a stupid human superstition which had spread like the plague. Maybe, just maybe-
"You know perfectly well who and what I mean, Trill, sir."
The Orakon sighed in defeat, nearly crumpling onto his desk. Yes. Olaos was right. He knew perfectly what and who.
"Just... Just let him in already..." He muttered before straightening up and trying to not look entirely depressed.
It only took a few minutes before he heard the rather loud and obnoxious heel click and foorsteps in the hallway. 'Here we go again...' he thought, and one could've sworn a tear slid down his cheek.
"Trill! How are you?!" Daveson, one of the human's representative, tried to sound cheery. Trill already had his face in his clawed hands. "Please just sit down." He mumbled.
Daveson and his partner (in crime, as far as Trill was concerned), Alma, sat down in front of the huge desk. A few more seconds passed before the commander finally slowly looked up.
"You know the reason for which you're both here today." The pair nodded. "Good. Then let me ask just one question." The two stilled. "Why." Trill looked so truthfully and deeply confused and desperate that Daveson couldn't do much more than give him a quirky grimace trying to pass for a grin.
"Trill, listen-"
"No, you listen. Listen to this." He quickly pulled out the mail which he had scanned on their way to his office. "12 dead, 40 in cryogenic sleep. Daveson, why?"
"It's actually quite a funny story-"
"And it doesn't end there! We all wish it did, of course, but no, no... Daveson, listen to this."
"Trill-"
"40 destroyed structures. Of which 3 were from outer galaxy governments."
"I know it sounds bad-"
"I just want to know... Just.... Daveson, please, please just tell me... Why?"
This time around, Daveson didn't answer. He just stared down at his hands like a scolded child. Trill turned to Alma and gave her a look.
"It has to do with racism, commander.."
"What? I thought you'd abolished race centuries ago?"
"We did too, except there was this hair counting machine..."
"Hair counting machine."
"Yes, and someone found a so said scientific study on the correlation of hair number and race... Depending on if the number of hairs is an even number, odd nunber, multiple of seven, etcetera. A few radical groups took it to heart, sorted themselves out by so called race, found an experimental bomb, and..."
"Would you like to know something, Alma?"
"Y-yes, Commander Trill?"
"It's the 17th time this year you've been here. And between this time and the last three, not a single other species was sent to me for this kind of issues."
"That sure is... Uh..."
"Yes. Exactly as you say." With a bleary look at them, Trill turned on his glasses. "I don't believe you have any... Excuses?" Silence. "Very well then. My job here is done then. You may go."
Alma and Daveson shuffled out much more quietly than they had pranced in. Trill finished typing up a report and sending it down to Olaos.
"Thank you, sir." Said the secretary.
"Do you think they'll ever learn, Olaos?"
Olaos seemed to think for a moment.
"I sure hope so."
"We all do..." | 2017-03-06T01:17:34 | 2017-03-05T22:26:51 | 161 | 46 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with. | Lexicanum Galacticum
Chapter 67
"Humans"
The human species are famous for their insanity and general lack of responsibility,but still they became one of the dominant species in the galaxy after their victory in the War in Heaven.
The human species are divided into 3 grand factions:
1.The Commonwealth
2.The United Coalition of Earth
3.The Empire of Man
The humans most famous deeds include:
Ramming a battleship into a shielded planet-ship to penetrate its barrier,then boarding it and completly destroying it from the inside out.
Making a Class E star go Supernova by transporting much of its matter through a wormhole until it reached critical mass.Thus is how the War in Heaven ended.
Building the largest Titan-class battleship ever.(Approx.lenght 45 human kilometers)
Building doomsday weapons with the sole purpose of having it to look strong.
Invading a parallel plane of existence.
Charging into battle,outnumbered 60:1 while shouting "Tenno hekai banzai!",and proceding to win the battle.
Chainswords.
Declaring war on another empire because "Those idiots don't fight in melee.Thus they fight inglorious and without honour."Then after their only peace demands was to make regular use of melee in the said species's armed forces.
Warping a planet into their enemies fleet.
Going on a suicide mission in the galactic core,then annihilating the scourge of the galaxy,then returning like nothing happened.
Accidentaly creating a god-like entity.Then destroying it with the use of thermofusional missiles.
Using giant electromagnetic guns to launch ships into orbit.
The usage of extradimensional forces to contain another extradimensional force.
Lexicanum Galacticum
Page 31415
| "Don't fuck with humans" was the general received wisdom in the galaxy. They had a history of obliterating the people that fucked them over. A long, bloody history.
There were a few who didn't heed that lesson, like Zartok the Slaver. I don't like Zartok. Nobody likes Zartok. But he pays his tab and he doesn't cause too much trouble. I'm not in the business of judging people, I'm in the business of getting them drunk.
Well, shit, now he's talking up some human. Poor thing; Zartok says he's gone straight, but trusting him will put you in chains. And now the human's following him out the door. Can't call in what could be a date for all I know. Not my job.
-----
"Infamous former slaver B1334@dilzen!zk 'Zartok' has crashed his ship into the courthouse of Faxx, Kranix, Bvvvv, his hometown, where he was routinely given sentences for his slaving that many have called 'disgustingly short'. Zartok was found dead at the controls, with injuries that appear to have been sustained before the crash. The entire courthouse is destroyed, with no reported survivors. One escape pod appears to be missing, and the ship's logs appear to be hopelessly corrupted."
The news has been droning on about this for the past hour. Good on that human, I suppose. Hope they feel good about their revenge. The door slams open--goddammit.
"Oi! Gentle with the doo--"
It's that human! Not a scratch on 'em! They saunter up to my bar and look at me like I'm supposed to shower 'em with gold. "Pay up."
" 'Scuse me?" I may be quaking in my boots, but I ain't gonna show it.
"You heard me. I won the bet. Pay up."
...Shit. | 2017-03-06T02:11:41 | 2017-03-06T00:33:00 | 99 | 61 |
[WP] An ancient evil that laid dormant for 5,000 years re-awakens, however the society it awakes to has advanced to the point to where it poses no threat and no one takes it seriously. | When the red bones appeared and burned through the ganges delta, it convinced many that their ancient gods had forsaken the world, casting them off to be consumed by death and ruin. Villages, and then cities were burned to the ground trying to stem the tide, but the disease only seemed to spread with chaos following in its wake.
Temples overflowed with the dead and dying, bloated in the heat. A sickening miasma followed the swarms of flies that picked the dead clean. The skeletal remains, left unburied as no one dared enter those houses of the dead, gave the disease its name. Red skulls and bones littered the floors and doorways. The living said they’d been burned that color by the demons who possessed the sick with a terrible fever.
It’s victims blamed rats that swarmed their granaries as the carriers of the plague, unaware that the true culprit was the grain. Or more specifically a virulent strain of Bacillus cereus. Though mechanisms impossible for those ancient people to understand, it could escape the gut to the blood stream. Sepsis was nearly always fatal. The stained red bones were the result of toxic build up as the infection progressed.
Pain, hallucination, intense fever, and death followed ingestion of the region's primary food stock in short order. For ninety percent of the population it was the end.
For the survivors, it was a cyclone that brought doom. Heavy rains and flooding annihilated the last vestiges of early civilization, burying the remainder of the infected grain under mud flows, or washing it out to sea to rot. Civilization could not be said to have recovered for the next two centuries.
For 5,000 years that ancient plague lay dormant in forgotten pots lost beneath the earth. The delta advanced into the sea leaving the ancient fields buried miles inland.
So it would have remained, but modern civilization churns the land, shaping it to its own devices. One such event, construction at the edge of Dhaka, unwittingly smashed an ancient pot, breaking the ancient seal. Bacillus cereus was free.
Water, warmth and time were all it took. Nature took its course. Tainted grains once more grew on the delta. People once more consumed it, unaware of the danger. The first cases appeared only weeks after the first harvest.
The response was swift and simple: “This is penicillin. Take one pill every four hours for the next week.”
| Exfalcior had slept beneath the Doom Trench for thousands of years. It had seen civilisations rise and fall, rulers die and their bones turn to dust. Its ancient maw craved blood of the humans who walked above the surface and disturbed its sleep.
As the planets aligned in the sky, the binding runes faded from the prehistoric demon. It was free, teeth sharper than a thousand knives and a hunger so fathoming it could devour the world.
The earth shook, and as it cracked Exfalcior rose from the chasm. Suddenly it's senses became more acute, and it's claws slashed in malicious anticipation. It wanted to make every last human suffer in terrible agony, and it's leathery, batlike wings took it slowly off the ground as it flew, roaring like thunder towards the nearest settlement.
---------------------------------------
As Exfalcior soared, beating it's bat wings and breaching the high clouds, the air around it seemed to become dirty. As the beast's canine pants became more rasping and heavy, it came to realise the air around it was poisoned. Nitrous, sulphur and carbon oxides suffocated it, and it flailed around, losing altitude as it desperately tried to escape the pollution. It was then that the aeroplane hit it.
The screeching of the demon intensified as it hurtled uncontrollably downwards, creating a titanic crash as it spun into a deep river, running near the city. The water too, seemed poisoned and unhealthy. Now humans, its mortal enemy which it longed to suffer began to witness it's return, although they weren't fleeing and screaming as Exfalcior had hoped - instead they seemed to be pointing rectangular devices at it. The beast didn't know whether to be afraid or enraged.
It clambered out of the water, it realised that it was covered in muck and debris. As it tried to walk, something stabbed into its right leg. A quick mental probe of a human nearby, a simple trick made available by its aeons of experience in dark magic told it that the deformed metal which burned into it was a 'shopping cart'.
Then Exfalcior started to feel pain in other places. A few rather overweight human males, whilst shouting at it, had levelled metal sticks and were waving them menacingly around, and each time one waved the demon felt its dark heart edging closer and closer to death. Left with nothing more to do than flee the biting of the human weapons it fled, thrown off course in the sky by the shopping cart hanging off its leg. It must return to its abandoned chasm once more and hibernate until the day it can take revenge.
It had almost reached its lair when the missile hit it.
Edit: Took some suggestions, thanks /u/flam1ng1cecream
| 2017-04-03T16:13:45 | 2017-04-03T12:00:32 | 68 | 20 |
[WP]Write a story that isn't scary until the last line is read. | "Reunions are difficult. You never know who's going to be there, and you won't recognize most of them anyway. And when you do see someone you know, it feels weird because they look so different from how you remember. Sure, you're sentimental about the times you had together, but those are distant memories."
The car pulled to a stop in front of the school.
"Alright, lock and load. Fan out and don't fire until I toss the Molotov, or the biters will have time to swarm." | It's true what they say. Fall is really the best time of the year. To my family and I, it's really the only time we get to enjoy together. Especially halloween. We LOVE halloween so much. It's our favorite holiday. Getting to see all the kids dressed up in their scary and funny costumes. I really think my mother enjoys it the most. She always has such a huge smile when she's out in the yard getting to see the kids. My dad just always has this same smirk every year it seems sitting on the porch. My parents don't get too get out too much, summer being too hot for them and winter just too cold. Fall seems to be just right for us. As I'm standing out here in our yard, I can just see how happy they look. Oh no, it looks like mom needs more straw. | 2017-06-05T21:22:47 | 2017-06-05T20:28:18 | 49 | 23 |
[WP] In a spectacular "fuck you" to the world, Google and all of its branches (yes, even YouTube) shut down. Closed. For good. No warnings, no previous musings that it might happen. Tell me a story of how "day five" might be going. | The first day was a shock. Almost as a gift from heaven. In all my years working at this dump, I have never heard a silence be as deafening as the very moment our branch manager announced to the floor that Google shut down.
Our PR branch was losing their shit that day when all the employees in their sector each had to handle at least 100 different companies trying to shift their advertisement efforts to other search engines.
It was chaotic but lively, because everybody had hope that we would be the new Google. But we weren't ready for the news. We weren't ready.
Our servers couldn't handle the traffic, and our TelCom was leveraging against us. We spent 3 days going back and forth on conference calls and flying lawyers to each other as if we were playing ping pong and the lawyers were helpless victims spending 3 hours of flying between every hour of hearing rejections and renegotiation.
Meanwhile, back on my floor, everybody with a brain cell was trying to come up with MacGuyver solutions to handle the incoming traffic with the preexisting tools we had. First, we stopped our links to be completely static and unchanging. I guess we underestimated how quickly things can go viral, and apparently some jag was streaming himself eating shit. We got overwhelmed by searches for "Guy eat shit", understandably since the people searching weren't getting any results, seeing as how our links were stopped in time.
The backlog was too great, and everybody was in to their 8th hour of overtime at least.
The clock struck 12, and now we're here in Day five: the day Bing crashed. | I remember the day it happened. It was July 25. I was watching a Youtube video about some guy creating a fidget spinner using gallium. Halfway through the video, I got bored and decided a new video it is. I saw another video about how lizard people run the world in my recommendation list. When I clicked it, an error page appeared saying
"ERROR 404 PAGE NOT FOUND"
I didn't know what to think. I was confused for a moment and then I realized this may be very bad. Thing is, I believe the Illumanati are running the world and whenever I try to tell others, they just roll their eyes at me and tell me to not believe in that conspiracy crap. However, I fear this is exactly their way of messing with me. They fear I know too much so they are trying to block me out.
Out of fear, I typed in Google to quickly figure out how to change my IP address to try and throw them off. To my horror,
"ERROR 404 PAGE NOT FOUND"
I quickly disconnected my computer from the Internet and unplugged my router. It has been five days since then. I am sitting in my apartment watching television filled with paranoia about me being kidnapped and probably killed by our world leaders for knowing what I know. I'm too scared to leave but yet too scared to stay. I don't know what to do.
Then I think. Maybe I could try and find help online. I reconnect the router and computer and quickly open up my web browser. However, I fear Google will say the same thing. But I still need information from just about anywhere. So it has come to this. The day I hoped would never happen in my life. I reluctantly, against all of my best wishes. Slowly typed in...
"www.bing.com"
Well, this was my first ever writing prompt. Hopefully this story was good enough for Reddit. Feedback would be good. Have a nice day. | 2017-06-16T19:13:12 | 2017-06-16T18:58:46 | 21 | 12 |
[WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead.
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | For as long as she could remember, every person around Katie was covered in the pink spots that spoke of a disease which had overtaken the nation, and reportedly the world.
At precisely 7.30 every morning, she would wake up and take her morning pill, the bright yellow one. After five minutes she would have enough energy for the day, and no worries about the spots expanding.
If you forgot to take your pill, experts say you had about 3 hours max before the spots expanded, joined together, and began to infect your body with the disease.
Katie knew she shouldn't have stayed up all night to read, but she couldn't put the book down, and soon it was 3am and she would have to get up in just 4 hours for her morning lectures. Shutting her textbook on disease and death, she set her alarm and fell asleep.
Katie yawned and stretched. Looking out of her dark curtains, she sensed that something was wrong. No, perhaps not wrong, just. Different? It felt like the sun was in a different place.
Glancing at her side table, she noticed that her textbook was pressing down on her alarm clock. "MY PILL!" She huffed as she pulled herself out of bed. Cursing to herself, she moved the textbook and saw the clock.
"It's 10 already!?" She shrieked. She had slept for 7 hours! She looked down at her body and saw that already her spots had began to touch. She rushed out of bed and reached for her pills, only to notice that she had none left...
In her exhaustion last night, she had forgotten to pick up a new dose, and now she had no time! As decisions rushed through her mind, Katie decided to sit still and wait. If nothing happened within the next ten minutes, she would go and find an extra pill somewhere, otherwise, she might be infectious to others.
She sat back down on her bed and watched curiously as her skin began to turn pink. Not a bright luminescent pink, but rather the pink of a new born baby, or a scab that had just healed.
5 minutes.
Nothing
10 minutes
She felt fine
30 minutes
Katie was shocked. How could this be? Her skin was now a normal colour, it actually looked better than it had before. Almost as if the spots had healed her.
After so long, spending all of her small wage from the college bookshop on doses of blue and yellow pills, she was fine. In fact, she was better than fine. She felt great!!
She sighed and looked at her clock. Her next lecture was in an hour, and she knew that she couldn't go to class like this. Everyone would stare at her clean skin.
She pulled on a long sleeve jacket and some jeans. Reaching for her makeup case, she pulled out her lipstick, and got to work painting small pink dots.
------------
This is my first writing prompt attempt. Thought it would be fun! | "I'm not dead! I swear I'm not on my drugs either, take me seriously we have to get this out!" Dave pounded on the one-way windows again, but received no answer. Since the day he became homeless, he ran out of money for his drugs... But unlike the others, he wasn't dead. He wasn't one of those raging *things* people became when they went off their meds. Why couldn't anyone see that?! He let others a scream as a mechanical arm descended from the ceiling and fastened him into a depression in the wall. He struggled against the electrodes placed on his head and chest but couldn't, even with his new form. From behind the reinforced glass, Special Agent M sighed. Yet another containment breach, but somehow this one hadn't infected any more citizens. Turning away form the frothing, shaking monster that the man had become, he turned to the scientist next to him. "Any signs of brain activity? Do we have any indication that this one is conscious?" Frowning, the bespectacled woman beside him said "It seems that he is, his brainwave activity is closer to that of a normal human than many others. If you authorize me, maybe we could-" A sharp hand motion, and she was cut off. "No. I have my orders, and we don't want want a repeat of last time. 37 dead, more wounded, and the by the time the mutant destabilized it we barely had it concealed from the public. Terminate it." The woman looked around at her colleagues, all of whom looked at the sterile white floor. "Wh-what? But he's still a person, if we administer enough of the compound we could-" The Special Agent laughed. "Lead Researcher Xi, why don't you educate your newest recruit?" With a gulp, he stepped forward. "Amanda, you may be too young to remember, but the rest of us haven't forgotten the last outbreak. It was terrible...our own creation infected so many, leaving so much death. It's all we can do to update our cure, keep the virus under control, but letting even a single mutant survive is asking for new strains to show up." Amanda turned away from watching the arm reposition the electrodes onto the mutants changing and moving internal organs, looking at the people she had once respected. She had become a scientist in The Company to save people, help them, but now they had an opportunity and wasted it. "Light him up, he's starting to go into the next phase!" Shouted the Agent. Before she could do anything, two of the security guards quickly activated the paralysis protocol in her implant. Amanda was still vaguely aware of the mutants screams and spasms as it was electrocuted, the virus attempting to survive even in it's dying throes. "Alright boys, get her outta here. Dr. Xi, If she's not better by tomorrow..." But she couldn't hear anymore, the implant-chip locked doors slamming shut behind her as security dragged her away. She only had one thought-she had to save the next one, even if it killed her. ----------------Sorry about formatting I'm on mobile, also I just picked the names from random things I saw on Reddit today. Also I won't continue it because I don't have time and because it ends here for me.
| 2017-07-14T14:46:36 | 2017-07-14T10:51:48 | 54 | 20 |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | "A fine...mead?!" Rorik shouts over the din of the tavern. His companions smile and nod along with him as he sings some old barbarian tune.
Sings it wrong. They don't tell him that though.
Delia, the group's cleric leans over to their mage.
"Do you think he knows?"
Melvar just shakes his head and holds out a palm towards their massive friend. Friend as of lately, of course. Rorik was a massive pain for the group long before the shifter stole his face.
"He definitely doesn't but...I think I like him. Rorik was a bit of a jerk, always running off into the dungeons with that stupid battlecry. Remember when we went into the Crypt of Alohar, how many good people did he get killed?"
"Yeah...he's kinda cute now. Like a child or something."
They both watch Rorik move around the tavern with his mug and talk to other groups of adventurers. He's loud but not overbearing. He listens to the stories of others instead of telling his own. He drinks but not to excess. He is nothing like the barbarian they all had come to know and...
Melvar doesn't quite finish the thought.
"You know what Del, I like him. I know he's a shifter but look at everyone. We all know and he's trying so hard to be like Rorik but he just can't. I don't think there's a mean bone in that thing's body. You know that he hasn't made fun of my beard once, not in months."
She snorts. The young mage was trying so hard to grow it out and he'd been self-conscious about it for months.
A warrior passing by their table to his own party leans over and whispers it to the pair.
"You should keep him. He's an improvement."
"Friends!" Rorik shouts, sitting again at their table, "What fun! And we do this between every adventure? And people give us gold to go on those adventures? To spend here? Amazing!"
He is off again before they can even respond.
"Do you think The Dwarf knows?" Melvar watches Rorik join another random group of adventures and sing yet another song. Still wrong.
Delia shrugs.
"I don't know and I don't care. We're gonna keep him. He's like a dog or something. But useful."
Melvar strokes his "beard" for a moment.
"Alright, we'll keep him. But I swear if he ever makes fun of my beard-"
"What? You'll strangle him with one of your wisps? You should really shave, you're looking more like a magical hobo than a wizard. 'I cast: smell of unwashedness!'"
As she walks away laughing at her own joke Melvar narrows his eyes. He lifts his mug and mutters something into it before drinking.
"I'll replace you too if I have to..." | Finally....free. The thousand years of waiting, watching in this cursed statue at an end. An elf, rigid with agony as his persona, his spirit, his life is leached away. Now the malevolent spirit got his first taste of air, of blood, of form.
"Er.. Mynir, you ok?" asked a gruff voice, a question which did not raise much concern with the rest of the party.
"Death!" hissed Mynir, or the thing that Mynir had become. He stared at the
party balefully out of reddened eyes, his hands raised, claw like over his head.
This response was not unexpected, and with a nod of acknowledgement, Drake the barbarian turned away and followed the rest of the party. He dragged a small chest of gold, which would hardly pay for this outing, but he seemed cheerful enough. The dead bodies of the unfortunate orcs he kicked out of his path were likely the reason for that.
The Mynir thing was still reeling, remembering his last moments before being encased, the worst psychopath the sorcerer could find in this land, his victims so numerous they were uncounted, uncountable. (and horribly unrecognisable.) A suitable trap for the unwary, a terrible harbinger of doom with the face of a once trusted companion.
He followed the party into the fresh air, and stood a little apart as they settled a camp, built a fire, cooked a meal. A dwarf began singing a cheerful song, as jokes and banter drifted out into the cool night.
Mynir felt the hilts of two beautiful elven daggers in his hands. In a movement too swift for any but an elf to see, they cleared the scabbards and whirled around his head. Blood and screams followed. A mist of red exploded from a neck, a bone cracked as a dextrous kick twisted a knee joint out of place. A heart was pierced by a single blow. In less than a few seconds it was all over. Five bodies lay on the ground, dead or dying.
The silence that had descended over the camp was broken by Drake. "Holy Mother, how the hell did you.." He trailed off, staring in amazement.
The Dwarf leapt to his feet and rushed to hug Mynir, who accepted the affection with a small show of discomfort. "A sneaky ambush for sure, well spotted my friend. I always said you were a hidden treasure!"
For the rest of the group, the transformation of a sneaky, cowardly elf into a saving hero caused a fair amount of quiet consternation. Generally it was seen as a "good thing", considering the alternative. The shaman had cast her bones, and no harm was predicted... Maybe he had just shrugged a curse, or escaped a bedazzlement.
Mynir contemplated his situation. His new elf brain was clear and concise. and more importantly, his hugely unbalanced mental chemistry was gone. The Sorcerer was vastly mistaken. These people were his family now. Woe betide any who tried to harm them. Could he make amends for his past? He could try. | 2017-09-15T07:29:21 | 2017-09-15T02:54:33 | 5,321 | 21 |
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