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[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Alex,
It has been 99 days since you left. 99 days. Some days are easier than the rest. There are days when I genuinely smile as I remember you. You left me with so many good memories; and I thank you for each and every one. I miss you. Every. Single. Day.
You said we'd be together for the rest of our lives - we just didn't realize how short the rest of your life would be. I will love you, for the rest of mine.
Yours Forever,
Aya | Dear Jeremy.
I'm sorry I didn't call.
I don't remember if I was busy, or tired, or anything else that could be considered an excuse. I felt like it was all my fault. I could have stopped it. When I met your family and found out you had been living with this all your life, I almost gave up.
I should have called. I had a bad feeling and I couldn't get you out of my head. Now I know why. I could have stopped you.
I could have gotten you help. I could have been a better friend.
But that morning I found out you killed yourself. I knew.
I should have called.
Your friend
Charlie.
P.s. I forgive you.
(Edited, spelling) | 2017-11-05T21:44:07 | 2017-11-05T19:17:09 | 1,462 | 508 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Dear self, I hate you. I hate what we've become. When did we change, when did we grow so old and angry, and when did we decide to be alone? I know that we did not always act like this. I know we used to laugh, and let other people get close. Remember when we had so many friends? remember when we go to other people's houses and just hang out. Everything was so easy then. Why is it so hard now? I want you to know that I miss you. The way you used to be, the way we could be again, maybe. I want you to know that I need more. I need to make a change. I want to be different. I won't be like you anymore. Yours always, you.
| Dear Melody,
It's been a year.
I guess I know why you didn't call me. It's not like I bothered to keep in touch. Not like we stayed close. Besides, I'm pretty sure I was kind of a jerk to you when we were still talking.
I miss you. I wasn't really expecting to, I hadn't thought about you for a long time. I don't even really remember the last time I saw you.
But couldn't you have called Kyle or James or anyone? Or even what's his name, your boyfriend who I really don't like?
He calls you his angel. He says he was planning to propose. I don't think he really knew you. Either that or he's why you left. Doesn't really matter. You're gone now.
I know this is silly. I feel silly writing this. I'm going to burn this anyways and hope it gets to you somehow.
Hope sounds better than pretend.
I miss you. And I'm sorry. | 2017-11-05T19:56:15 | 2017-11-05T18:20:52 | 799 | 157 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Dear Jeremy.
I'm sorry I didn't call.
I don't remember if I was busy, or tired, or anything else that could be considered an excuse. I felt like it was all my fault. I could have stopped it. When I met your family and found out you had been living with this all your life, I almost gave up.
I should have called. I had a bad feeling and I couldn't get you out of my head. Now I know why. I could have stopped you.
I could have gotten you help. I could have been a better friend.
But that morning I found out you killed yourself. I knew.
I should have called.
Your friend
Charlie.
P.s. I forgive you.
(Edited, spelling) | Dear Melody,
It's been a year.
I guess I know why you didn't call me. It's not like I bothered to keep in touch. Not like we stayed close. Besides, I'm pretty sure I was kind of a jerk to you when we were still talking.
I miss you. I wasn't really expecting to, I hadn't thought about you for a long time. I don't even really remember the last time I saw you.
But couldn't you have called Kyle or James or anyone? Or even what's his name, your boyfriend who I really don't like?
He calls you his angel. He says he was planning to propose. I don't think he really knew you. Either that or he's why you left. Doesn't really matter. You're gone now.
I know this is silly. I feel silly writing this. I'm going to burn this anyways and hope it gets to you somehow.
Hope sounds better than pretend.
I miss you. And I'm sorry. | 2017-11-05T19:17:09 | 2017-11-05T18:20:52 | 508 | 157 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Dear grandad,
You died 11 years ago when I was only 10years old. I had begged my parents to go to your funeral but they refused and I never got to go. I never got a formal goodbye so here it is.
I loved playing the violin for you. It always brought you such joy. I loved how you would always say “one day I’ll be better than you” after I finished playing. I stopped playing after you died. I’d like to think we’re equal at playing the violin now even if just by default. I remember I would always play the violin downstairs at your home but one day I visited and you were upstairs in bed. Struggling to be alive and being in pain. Even than you listened to me play. Little did I know that would be the last time I would play for you.
You would look at me now with such proud eyes. You were always proud of everything I did. I wish you were here to see me graduate university despite all the odds. I wish you were here to listen to me play the violin one more time. I wish you were here telling me how proud you are of me and everything I’ve ever done.
One day I’ll play for you once more. Until then rest easy granddad.
Love from your granddaughter | Dear Dani,
After everything that happened I continue to see you everywhere I go. Whether it's bringing up the past or driving through town and seeing a car just like yours or in my dreams sometimes I can't escape you. And I always think about what exactly it is I will do when I see you again. I want to scream at you or just flat out ignore you. There are so many options and I have ran each one through my head multiple times. In the end I know though it will be none of those things. As usual I will just forgive you and allow you to hurt me again. Because as much as I keep telling myself that you hurt me for the last time and I need to shake you off I just cant shake the fact that I miss you.
I miss your contagious laugh and smile. I miss the times we hung out and talked for hours. I miss not being judged and just having fun with you. You were so beautiful. I had people tell me you weren't that pretty but they were wrong. You were the most beautiful girl I had met at the time. In the end they were right though. After what happened I need to remind myself that you aren't. I don't miss how you made me feel. I don't miss the times you avoided talking to me or not showing up to places we were supposed to hang out. The last time we had seen each other was one of the greatest nights of my life and as much as I know deep down there is a part of me that misses you and would love to see you again.
I hope to God I don't. | 2017-11-05T21:06:53 | 2017-11-05T19:53:10 | 351 | 95 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Dear grandad,
You died 11 years ago when I was only 10years old. I had begged my parents to go to your funeral but they refused and I never got to go. I never got a formal goodbye so here it is.
I loved playing the violin for you. It always brought you such joy. I loved how you would always say “one day I’ll be better than you” after I finished playing. I stopped playing after you died. I’d like to think we’re equal at playing the violin now even if just by default. I remember I would always play the violin downstairs at your home but one day I visited and you were upstairs in bed. Struggling to be alive and being in pain. Even than you listened to me play. Little did I know that would be the last time I would play for you.
You would look at me now with such proud eyes. You were always proud of everything I did. I wish you were here to see me graduate university despite all the odds. I wish you were here to listen to me play the violin one more time. I wish you were here telling me how proud you are of me and everything I’ve ever done.
One day I’ll play for you once more. Until then rest easy granddad.
Love from your granddaughter | Hey Em,
I'd love to say I've changed, I'm new, brag about things I've done. I'd love to say I've grown.
But you, with your disarming blue eyes, somehow always knew. You always knew when I was making things up, when I was caught in little white lies. You'd encourage some.
And I'd love to say how different I am, from when we last saw each other five years ago. We were excited when we met, we were kids; when we last saw each other, we were adults, we had grown, but we were still ourselves. But you never cared about words.
You cared about actions. You cared about us, about people, about how the coolest kids at the bus stop were still kids, waiting at a bus stop. My record shows I was the one with the loud mouth, insecure, but always willing to stick by anyone down on their luck.
After I left...after I went soul-searching, I took your advice to heart. I stopped saying how good I was, or how I changed. I showed it, from 2010 through today. I never did it for my ego. I never did it for pride.
I did it after some kids walked into my life, told me I was a jackass, and helped me change. I did it for the cool kids... the ones I cut ties with.
So...please. Let's meet up, chat about the old times, and see where things go. Let's let the chips fall where they may.
-M | 2017-11-05T21:06:53 | 2017-11-05T19:02:54 | 351 | 55 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Hey Moose,
We had a good run. 16 years is good for a dog that somebody else starved in their back yard for a while.
You did really good. You remembered all those tricks somebody else taught you, showed the cats/birds love, and learned to stop being scared over food. You gave the best hugs on the planet.
I'm sorry that your last days hurt so much. We tried to work around your sickness best we could but it was too late when we figured out what was wrong.
I know you couldn't understand at the time but the other twin dogs were hurt just like you, but instead of missing food they never had love or anyone else. Thanks for trying to love them, too. They've gotten a lot better at nipping and trusting people over time.
That last year was really rough but the time the family had with you was beautiful...even though the " dog ate the sofa" story still makes the rounds at parties. Say hi to Herky, Xena, Scouty, Jazz, Ouma and the birds for me.
Thanks for that last smile.
Hanging in as always,
E. | Dear friend,
Oh dear friend. If only I could just step back for just one day and talk to you about all that has occurred since we last saw each other. I’m so thankful that we were able to spend the time in life together that we did.
I miss that little sigh of excitement that would rise up from my chest and escape my mouth every time you’d call or anytime I’d see you walking toward me with that little mischievous grin on your face. You were the best part of my days and for that I am forever grateful to you. I want you to know that. I’m so grateful.
The hours we spent on the phone talking about everything and anything and nothing at all. Sometimes talking about nothing at all can mean the world to someone and make all the difference. I just want you to know it made all the difference to me.
I want you to know that you taught me to love in a time that I felt nothing was worth loving.
I want you to know that you taught me my worth in a time of my life that I felt like I had no value and like my life wasn’t worth living. You made breathing exciting. You made laughing and crying together something to live for. I want you to know I’m so thankful for that.
If ever a miracle brings you to this letter, I just want you to know you are forever imprinted on my heart and every once in awhile I feel your mischievous grin creep across my face.
Stay golden | 2017-11-06T00:29:00 | 2017-11-05T23:44:56 | 235 | 32 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Hey Moose,
We had a good run. 16 years is good for a dog that somebody else starved in their back yard for a while.
You did really good. You remembered all those tricks somebody else taught you, showed the cats/birds love, and learned to stop being scared over food. You gave the best hugs on the planet.
I'm sorry that your last days hurt so much. We tried to work around your sickness best we could but it was too late when we figured out what was wrong.
I know you couldn't understand at the time but the other twin dogs were hurt just like you, but instead of missing food they never had love or anyone else. Thanks for trying to love them, too. They've gotten a lot better at nipping and trusting people over time.
That last year was really rough but the time the family had with you was beautiful...even though the " dog ate the sofa" story still makes the rounds at parties. Say hi to Herky, Xena, Scouty, Jazz, Ouma and the birds for me.
Thanks for that last smile.
Hanging in as always,
E. | Hey kiddo. It's been too long since I've seen you. It's crushing to carry this weight some time. I'm really trying to show you that you can grow up and accomplish anything but it's manifesting in me leaving you behind. Your mom and I weren't right. She will forever hate me for it but I needed to do this for my happiness. You'll learn one day that everything comes at a price, and I've paid a huge one in losing you. There's this part of me that hopes one day you'll understand. There's also a part of me that knows you might grow up and feel abandoned and alone and lacking a male influence in your life, find the first shitty guy that comes along and fall in love with him because you never knew what love from a man is supposed to look like. I made so many huge mistakes. I just was trying to be more. I grew up with nothing and I was determined to make sure you never had to live like that. Your mom thinks I'm selfish and only care about myself. Somehow it always felt like I was doing it for you. So you could see. You can start with nothing and still achieve your dreams. You can be anything. I hope one day you see that I never stopped loving you. I just wasn't happy with your mom and someone else made me feel the way I was supposed to feel. I hope when you are given the choice, you choose happiness. I love you and I miss you. Please don't hate me. | 2017-11-06T00:29:00 | 2017-11-05T22:18:21 | 235 | 14 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Hey Moose,
We had a good run. 16 years is good for a dog that somebody else starved in their back yard for a while.
You did really good. You remembered all those tricks somebody else taught you, showed the cats/birds love, and learned to stop being scared over food. You gave the best hugs on the planet.
I'm sorry that your last days hurt so much. We tried to work around your sickness best we could but it was too late when we figured out what was wrong.
I know you couldn't understand at the time but the other twin dogs were hurt just like you, but instead of missing food they never had love or anyone else. Thanks for trying to love them, too. They've gotten a lot better at nipping and trusting people over time.
That last year was really rough but the time the family had with you was beautiful...even though the " dog ate the sofa" story still makes the rounds at parties. Say hi to Herky, Xena, Scouty, Jazz, Ouma and the birds for me.
Thanks for that last smile.
Hanging in as always,
E. | I really miss the look on your face when I would pop up unannounced... You would walk into the room, eyes lit up and say "my Andy!" That always made my day. I loved feeling wanted, needed, loved. I'm starting to ache from the pain of no longer hearing your laugh. The way it would hit me full on in the chest and bounce around all of my insides until everything was right in the world. I miss the way your eyes glowed when I was happy and the way they would darken when I was putting on a false smile. I miss the way I could tell you anything and you never judged me, you shared a story of your own. I miss my best friend.... My heart, my rock, my everything. And though I have so many people around me that love me and care for me, try so hard to keep my head above water for me... I can't help but feel like there will always be a part of me that's missing. No one will ever bounce around my insides until they are a gushy mess of happiness the way that you did. They say the memories will make it easier in the long run... But sometimes... The memories crush me.
I just need you here with me. It kills me that you’re gone and I can’t do anything about it. I can never see you again and my soul aches with exhaustion. I don’t know how to live without you alive. | 2017-11-06T00:29:00 | 2017-11-06T00:06:31 | 235 | 13 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Dear Omar,
I know, I know. The last thing you wanted was your obituary to read "...an Oakland Man." I was telling some of my other friends that despite the fact we'd only been close friends for something like a couple years, you were someone that I would've wanted in the groom's party when I eventually got married. I don't share feelings easily, but with you it always felt okay.
I've moved to LA. I left Rdio that October. You'll be happy to know that Darrell and Raquel have bought my old place. They actually stay in the room you were in; they've converted the master bedroom to a gym.
Oh right! I finally went to Coachella. Your father had expressed to me, with tears in his eyes, how happy you seemed from all of the pictures you'd taken on your phone. I couldn't stop thinking of you and how you were always so easy with everyone. Totally understand what you loved about the music festival scene, now that I've gotten a few under my belt.
I try to live my life the way you did: always enjoying the moment, truly! These days I also chastise people for texting while driving. I have to confess to checking my phone at lights, sometimes. The traffic is just so bad here.
Oh! Also, I don't know if you know this happened, but your brother, or was it a cousin? He got super proselytizy at your memorial service, and left a small stack of pocket bibles for everyone. Your father kind of yelled at him to stop after a little while... it was kind of awkward.
I had to unfriend you on Facebook, sorry about that. Someone in your family had taken to using your phone, and hadn't deleted messenger, so it would show you as online, and after a while I just couldn't take it any more.
I think that's it... Every year, around that time in April, memories come up; you were such a brilliant light in our lives, and we miss you, and will continue to miss you.
Your friend always,
kevin | Dear Pop Pop,
I miss you. It's been about 11 or 12 years since you died. I was really young at the time, so all I remember is the last few months you were alive, watching the cancer slowly eat away at your body. With each visit you got more and more frail. I didn't recognize it at the time but looking back, seeing what it was doing to my dad, your son, was almost as bad as watching you. I wish I had more memories of you, more good memories anyway. Mom and dad say you adored me, that you loved me more than life itself, but I'll never know. They tell me stories about you, how you used to take me for rides in your convertible and I loved every minute of it, if only I could remember it. If only I could remember your laugh, your smile, your voice. Sometimes my dad looks at me and says how proud you would be of me, it's hard looking at his face when he says that, I can see the pain in his eyes. I still remember the note I wrote and put in your coffin. It said 'You were a good Pop Pop.' I was a little kid at the time so that's all I could think of to say, but I think it was enough I remember putting it in that little drawer in the side of your coffin to be buried with you. I even remember wearing that Mariachi suit that had been in the family for generations, but I don't remember you. I still have that suit, it's still hanging in my closet. I look at it from time to time, and I try to remember something, anything about you but the frail old man dying of cancer, but I can't. I think my parents are right when they say you would be proud of me, I've had a steady girlfriend for almost 5 years now, her name is Hanna. I think you would like her, she's amazing. I have a steady job too, full time working with dad at the airport. I graduated high school too, two years ago, and now I'm getting ready to go to college. I'm gonna get a business degree and then learn to be an airplane mechanic, and maybe if I'm good enough I'll open my own shop, that's when the business degree is for. Well I have to go now Pop Pop, I've got work in the morning and I need to get to sleep. I miss you. | 2017-11-05T22:20:06 | 2017-11-05T20:37:15 | 78 | 16 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Elizabeth
I never really knew you, but I'll never forget you. I see your face every time I'm alone in my car, and it always brings me to tears. I want you to know that I tried so hard to save you. I tried everything I could. I'm sorry your parents had to see what we did to you. I'm sorry they had to see the tubes sticking out of your throat and the needles I drilled into your bones. When I realized in the back of the ambulance that we weren't going to get you back no matter what we did, it nearly broke me. I'm so sorry for what happened to you.
- the paramedic who tried to save you
#2321 | Alex,
Its been nearly 15 years since I have seen you. While we were only kids then I think about you often. We were best friends, and even when we had so little and our families argued we still found a way to hang out. Be it play wrestling games in your room, or have grass fights...it was the highlight of my youth. I miss those days.
I wonder where you are, how life ended up for you as we both grew up with very difficult lifes. I even think of your sisters, Ashley and Angelica.
Most of all I am sorry how it ended. How much I miss you even after all these years. How you handed me the empty envelopes already stamped and addressed, how someone got ahold of them and decided to tear them up so we couldn't contact each other anymore. Quite often I find myself searching for you on social media or the internet, but I have never found you.
I only hope that you are alive and doing well. That you are happy.
-GM | 2017-11-06T02:41:21 | 2017-11-06T00:29:01 | 27 | 17 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Elizabeth
I never really knew you, but I'll never forget you. I see your face every time I'm alone in my car, and it always brings me to tears. I want you to know that I tried so hard to save you. I tried everything I could. I'm sorry your parents had to see what we did to you. I'm sorry they had to see the tubes sticking out of your throat and the needles I drilled into your bones. When I realized in the back of the ambulance that we weren't going to get you back no matter what we did, it nearly broke me. I'm so sorry for what happened to you.
- the paramedic who tried to save you
#2321 | Emily,
I know this isn't where I should be writing this, and I know i should just tell you outright, but I think everything's just too fucked the way it is right now. Shit's complicated, and you found someone else who might be able to make you happy.
I've done a lot of wrong, both to you and everyone else I've loved, and I know that if you had found out our arrangement would have ended much sooner. I never did thank you for it, it was a little bit of joy in a very grey life.
I can see your name pop up, and I can't bring myself to click it. You're happy now, you stopped drinking and started living healthier, and I can't ever drag you back to where you were.
I do hope I'll hear from you though. Maybe hang out, mix a drink and play some Puzzle League or run a dungeon, like we used to.
Live long, and live well.
Leo | 2017-11-06T02:41:21 | 2017-11-06T00:29:03 | 27 | 13 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Dear old friend,
I saw something that made me think of you the other day. And sometimes I think of you for no reason at all.
I want to talk to you, but I know there’d be no point. I wonder what you’re up to, but I don’t ask.
Because we have both changed so much since then, or maybe we haven’t changed at all. But something’s changed, and we both know that things can never be as they were. We could make an attempt at a conversation, but it will only make us feel more distant from where we used to be.
So I won’t talk, and I won’t ask, but I want you to know that I keep you in my thoughts and in my heart.
Because even though it’s run its course, and even though I don’t want to rekindle it, that friendship will stay precious to me.
Love,
A stranger you once knew like the back of your hand | Hey Dad,
I've grown up and got a decent job. I have 2 sons and I've carried on our family name like you always wanted. I was only 11 when you passed but I still think about you all the time. I never got to tell you I love you and I'm sorry I was scared to give you a hug in the hospice, I was young and scared. I loved you very much. Mom didn't let me see you often because we lived a few hundred miles away but I always cherished our time together. She gave me the letters you wrote after I turned 18 and it makes me mad thinking about how she kept me from you. I have forgiven her, it's not like she or anyone else knew the cancer in your brain would take you so fast. I hope I make you proud with what I have become. I wish you could meet your grandkids. Logan, the oldest, asks about you from time to time. I tell him a lot of stories and how great of a dad you were. Anyway I'm babbling on. I'll never forget you and I miss you everyday. I love you.
-Mason
Thanks OP, this has really helped even though I'm laying in bed with tears swelling in my eyes. I have to be quiet as to not make the pain visible to my sleeping wife. | 2017-11-06T03:25:39 | 2017-11-06T02:11:26 | 23 | 15 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Dear old friend,
I saw something that made me think of you the other day. And sometimes I think of you for no reason at all.
I want to talk to you, but I know there’d be no point. I wonder what you’re up to, but I don’t ask.
Because we have both changed so much since then, or maybe we haven’t changed at all. But something’s changed, and we both know that things can never be as they were. We could make an attempt at a conversation, but it will only make us feel more distant from where we used to be.
So I won’t talk, and I won’t ask, but I want you to know that I keep you in my thoughts and in my heart.
Because even though it’s run its course, and even though I don’t want to rekindle it, that friendship will stay precious to me.
Love,
A stranger you once knew like the back of your hand | Dear anyone,
I’ve had bad times the past couple years since their blood bath of a divorce. The way she handled everything. Destroyed everyone’s lives. Picked a new family with new children to cook them breakfast before school like I️ would get. I️ know I’m an adult, I️ know I️ can take care of myself. But I️ just feel... discarded, thrown away, me and dad. But we’ve become best friends now so that’s the only positive. I️ don’t miss you, I️ miss the old you before you’ve changed so much but stayed just the same, the way you just dropped into a new family and act the exact same way you would with us. I️ want to hate you, I️ need to hate you, but how can someone hate their mother who was their greatest role model and friend growing up? It just hurts, and makes me not miss anyone. Not feel anything. Not want to feel anything. Not want to try anymore. Everything is just everything and nothing is bliss
-Falling son
P.s sorry for bad grammar it’s late and these other comments hit me right in the feels.
Edit: I️ don’t know why there’s question marks in a box but there supposed to be “I’s” | 2017-11-06T03:25:39 | 2017-11-06T01:52:49 | 23 | 13 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Dear old friend,
I saw something that made me think of you the other day. And sometimes I think of you for no reason at all.
I want to talk to you, but I know there’d be no point. I wonder what you’re up to, but I don’t ask.
Because we have both changed so much since then, or maybe we haven’t changed at all. But something’s changed, and we both know that things can never be as they were. We could make an attempt at a conversation, but it will only make us feel more distant from where we used to be.
So I won’t talk, and I won’t ask, but I want you to know that I keep you in my thoughts and in my heart.
Because even though it’s run its course, and even though I don’t want to rekindle it, that friendship will stay precious to me.
Love,
A stranger you once knew like the back of your hand | Hi,
You’ve been gone for about a month and it feels like the longest month of my life. It’s crazy that I spend so much time worrying about the possible bad outcomes of every situation but you truly never know what is going to happen. Six months ago I did not think we would still be together. Yet after everything that’s happened recently I’m still glad that we are.
I hope when you come back that we can keep growing together and experiencing life together. I want to know what it feels like to actually work on something, to not give up and in return, not be given up on.
I’m worrying even now about all of the possible outcomes, what you did while you were away. It’s so hard not to torture yourself with thoughts of the person you love with someone else. Especially being “young” as everyone says that we are. I really couldn’t care less though. I cannot picture my life without you in it. I can’t wait to see your smiling lovely face. I’ve missed you every second of every day.
When you find something special you do not let go.
PS:I hope you aren’t lying.
| 2017-11-06T03:25:39 | 2017-11-05T23:59:24 | 23 | 11 |
[WP] You are God. You have just discovered that the world you thought you had destroyed in a flood still exists. You've never heard of this 'Jesus' dude, or anything else since the flood. You really just thought you'd canned the thing and walked away. | Oh, Jesus Christ. That guy. What an entrepreneurial spirit, and a big pair he has.
First of all, it's my fault for leaving the burner on, planetarily speaking. I should've come back and checked that that flood did it's job. My b. But still, you don't go around telling upright monkeys you're my son.
I mean, it'd be one thing to do it just to earn a quick buck. I can't blame a guy for spinning yarn to put wine and crackers on the table. But what JC did has gotten completely out of hand.
Crusades? La Inquisición Española? Pedophiles? I don't know how he figured out the whole resurrection thing, I thought I had that totally under wraps, but as soon as he pops back up like they say he's going to he and I are going to have a little chat.
And it's "he," not "He." Only i can violate pronoun norms.
I will say, I'll miss the guy's sense of humor. To say that I created *those* things in MY image... | "Wait, what?"
Travelling along the universe and passing through the Milky Way I decided to check the environment of Planet Earth. It had been many years since I just doomed the place and was done of it. Humans... Disgraceful race. Even the Zorgons were better, and they were my first creation.
I thought it would be just a watery planet with a few minimal animals, my effects would still linger at this day but as I approached I saw something I never thought I would see again: Humans. Lots of them. Millions. Billions! From everywhere and everywhere.
"This can't be. How?"
In less than a second I accessed all the database from Earth and studied their history. The thing that stuck out the most was religion. Ever since the flood I made no contact with Earth but still they spoke on my name, they idolized me, committed crimes for me.
"This is pathetic."
Jesus Christ was one of the most famous of them. Even though he claimed he was my son, he was only a skilled illusionist. All the things he did were so easy it made me chuckle at how easily the humans were fooled. But I was not happy about the way things were at Earth.
I decided to have a little fun with them. The humans are a sad excuse for a life form and now, they are getting a visit from their creator... | 2017-11-11T07:57:57 | 2017-11-11T05:36:05 | 195 | 95 |
[WP] The year is 2038 and net neutrality has been dead for almost two decades. But a rebellious group managed to travel back to 2017...
https://www.battleforthenet.com/#bftn-action-form
Edit: Obligatory thanks for the gold! Just trying to do my part on this fight, but as I don't live in the US, raising awareness is the most I can do, glad it worked! | Ajit Pai lied back on his throne and sipped his goblet. He roared in laughter Soon Net Neutrality would be repealed, and every link on the internet would redirect to a picture of his face unless people payed money to make it go away.
Suddenly, a group of brave souls appeared out of nowhere.
“Mr. Pai, we came from the year 2038 to stop your reign of terror! In the future, we have to pay 1000 dollars just to browse Google!” the man charged towards Ajti and threw a phone at him.
“NO! Calls to your senators! My only weakness!” Pai started to melt away.
“I almost got away with it, but you brave group of future resistors foiled my evil plans! Curse you, the C.I.R.C.L.E.J.E.R.K.E.R.S!!!!!” and with that, he melted into a pile of goo.
“Great work gang! Now let’s go stop EA!” The members of the group pulled off their masks, revealing none other than Bernie Sanders, Elon Musk, and Dan Harmon, as they raced off into the night. | Chapter 1:
Two birds with one stone.
Those were grandfather Elon's last words.
He hadn't whispered them, no.
He had invented them... and engraved them onto the side of the titanium sphere.
It was no secret that our family had been part of the revolution. Grandpa's effect on the world had been as far reaching anyone could've imagined. His constant innovating and activism, and his unwavering commitment to ultimate truth had been garnering unwanted attention since before any of us were even born™. It's a miracle they even pardoned him after the corporations finally shut it down.
Strange as it seems, things felt pretty normal for us.
How was I supposed to know that 10' by 10' crate in the basement was any different from the myriad of inventions and rocket parts gathering dust in storage? In fact, I hadn't even noticed it until its specific mention in our power of attorney meeting last fall. Grandad had been deteriorating and all I had wanted to do was see to his care.
Who the fuck leaves their grandkids a time machine?!
Chapter 2:
"Box Clause"
(I swear I have a whole plot outline drawn up for this, but I have to go to bed. Will try to finish up tomorrow. If you want it, PM me and I will share it with you.) | 2022-08-04T05:58:14 | 2017-11-21T23:06:17 | 186 | 44 |
[WP] You joined a mob. The boss asks you to prove your loyalty by killing your girlfriend. Failure to prove your loyalty will result in your loved ones dying. You look around the room at all the pictures and notice, you're dating daughter of the mafia boss. | “Now go.” The boss grumbled, leaning back in his slick arm chair.
“But sir,” I️ tried to protest, twiddling my thumbs and glancing at one particular photo of his daughter, it was one of my favorites. “Sir you have a very beautiful daughter.”
“I️ know.”
“It would be awful if you were to lose her.”
He pressed his palms into the desk and leaned forward. “Are you threatening me boy?”
That came out wrong didn’t it. “No sir, it’s just that-“
“Cause if you are-“
“Sir, I’m dating your daughter.”
The room went so quiet, you could almost hear the mice in the basement gnawing at the pipes.
“Sir?”
“How long?” His expression was mute.
“A month or so, we met the first time I️ came in, she was sitting out in the hall waiting for you to finish up.” I️ tried my best to swallow but my throat was sticking to itself.
“Well. I️’ve got a new job for you then.”
I️ nodded blankly, unsure of what to expect.
“Don’t let any harm come to her, or else-“
“My loved ones all die?”
“Exactly.” His face was still fairly neutral, but unless it was just my imagination, there was the smallest hint of a smile.
“Yes sir.”
| I at her and said, "Ok, Boss Lady. I'll take care of it."
She stared at me for a moment. "You have 24 hours." One of the grunts standing next to me chuckled. I decided he was going to bleed out.
I nodded and turned to leave.
"Jimmy." She said. "I want to read about it in the news. Make a splash."
Without turning, I nodded and made for the door. It was definitely going to be in the news. Goon 1 on the right who had laughed came a bit too close, so I broke his finger and held on, pulling him down with me as I punched the side of Goon 2's knee, who collapsed in pain.
Goon 1 took both barrels from the shotgun that the Boss Lady had under her desk. He stared in shock at his arm laying on the floor, inches from his face. He didn't seem to care much as I pulled his gun out and put a bullet in the brain of Goon 2 trying to reach his own gun.
I swung the barrel around and fired, catching the Boss Lady in the middle of her large chest. The shotgun dropped from her hands, along with the shells she had been trying to put in.
I stood and walked over to her. Blood bubbled from her lips as she spoke, her hands clutching the wound.
"I guess you're in charge now."
"Me? No. I don't run things. My girlfriend will." I looked up at the picture of Maggie with her mother and then back down at the former Boss Lady. Her eyes widened for a moment, understanding as she died. | 2017-12-02T19:22:11 | 2017-12-02T18:38:07 | 512 | 64 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | Jason was surprised, Death knows who he deals with.
"*Any* game?" he replied, with a hint of confidence in his voice.
"Any game you want. Remember, cheating is allow-"
Jason cut him off. "Do you want to get the setup or should I?"
"Setup? What do you mean? You haven't even told me a game yet." Death was confused. Of course he wasn't shaken, he had dealt with this many times, people overconfident in their poker skills.
"Very well, I shall summon a deck of cards an-"
"No, we're not playing cards Mr. Reaper. Hold on, give me a couple minutes and I'll set everything up, okay? Shouldn't be long."
Death conceded. "10 minutes. I've got some emails to catch up on." And like that, Death vanished.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Jason runs down a checklist of what he needs. "Two controllers, yeah, an old CRT, check. This seems in order."
"HEY DEATH." Jason yells, as a black smoke emits from the wall before him.
"Game's ready."
A familiar glow fills the room. Jason takes a seat on the metal folding chair he set up and picks up the purple controller.
*MARTH* blares out of the TV.
Death stops. A supernatural being is frozen by the sound of a simple character selection in a video game.
"You can pick Fox, he's pretty strong, Mr. Reaper. Can I pick the stage? I want to play on Final Destination." | “You got it?”
The question takes me off guard, I’m still trying to process this new info. The tall man with the black hooded cloak at the end of my bed tilted his head slightly, the scythe that rested in the crook of his arm caught the moonlight ominously.
“Sorry, this outfit does normally startles people. How’s this?”
His form shimmered and before me stood an old gentleman with immaculately manicured whiskers and a twinkle in His eye. His tweed suit with matching trilby in stark contrast to His previous outfit. He adjusted his grip on His suspiciously scythe-like curved cane.
“Ahh, less doom and gloom now. Gotta keep up appearances though,” He indicated His cane, ”So how’s that choice of game coming along?”
The question was delivered with considerably less dread attached than the previous proposition. More like that of certain playful gods from the pantheons rather than Death come to claim you.
A small whoosh of breath escaped my lips. A decision has to be made. This body of mine was considerably less spry than my younger years, and nor was my mind functioning at full capacity. What game could I choose and what chance did I have, it seemed like anything was on the table. Did I even want to win? I had lived a full life, I tried to be kind, a good person, I saw the world, I loved my family. Did I need more of that if He has decided it was my time?
Resolved, I look up at Him. He smiled broadly, a smile of a man confident in himself “What shall it be, a game of strength, of skill, or perhaps of wits?”
“A game of chance perhaps,” I responded, his smile broadening to one of pure glee.
“Now this, should be interesting.” | 2018-03-07T07:23:27 | 2018-03-07T02:57:36 | 88 | 46 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | "Hey Death, whats up?"
Gary knew the bitter cloak of cold that surrounded him was the physical manifestation of Death. Most mortal folk would have cowered in fear if they knew the Grim Reaper was coming for them.
But not Gary. He had played this game before and won.
*You know why I have come, mortal.*
"Of course I do" he said as a smile crept over his lips. "I look forward to our little meetings".
In the corner of the room, a figure formed out of nothingness. The eyes always came first, they burned like a white hot fire if you looked into them for too long. The first of the Death god's bag of tricks, looking into those eyes for even a second would turn you into ash. Next came the cloak, a cloak so dark that it drank any light that tried to illuminate it. Even the human soul would be drained if a mortal made contact with it, the soul just being another form of energy and thus, light. Then the hands formed, more human than one would expect. Albeit, they were gross hands, diseased and raw with no skin. Touching those hands would be a slow and nasty death, but Gary knew better.
"Done showing off, old friend"?
*We are not friends. I have a debt to collect. Name your game, mortal.*
Gary chuckled the same way an adult would chuckle at an insolent child. "No need to get all hostile, I know this is just business for you". He tapped his chin in thought. "Any game right"?
*Don't play dumb. You know the rules.*
"Okay. Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2: Rust. Intervention only."
*Son of a bitch.*
Gary knew he had another ten years coming.
| My heart was pounding as I sat in the plane, staring at the map. There was just me and one other person on board. I was waiting for him to take his exit first, staring at that yellow dot. However we were almost halfway through the island, and he was still there. Panicking I decided if I jumped and went straight down I might stand a chance.
I jumped, looking straight now to the center of the island, the school I knew so well. So many good and bad times in this school with my friends. I angled for the high roof, landed, and then fell off the roof.
I looked up, and say the tip of his parachute disappear over the rooftop. He had the advantage. Panicking, I started to run. I dived into a first floor window and into a classroom. A frying pan was on the teachers desk. I picked it up sadly, knowing it would not save me.
I went to the door, checking left then right, on my turn back to the left to start my run, I heard it. A slight footstep from the stairs nearby. There it was, the bastard himself, in a yellow banana suit, shot gun pointed at my face...
BAM! It was over. I was dead. A feeling I had had many times before, but this time I knew it was forever.... Except not! DINK! The bullets hit my pan! Saving me from lethal damage. I was alive, but in my shock I did not move. It was too late, he was going to end me with the next shot.
And then it happened. He never pulled the trigger. I just stood there for a second, confused. But I realized I had to take this opportunity. I took my pan and bashed his head in. WINNER WINNER CHICKEN DINNER.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
"Brendan it's done, that ban wave we promised just rolled out. We even kicked them mid match."
"Good job intern Steve. That should keep the masses at bay for another day" | 2018-03-07T07:52:34 | 2018-03-07T07:11:15 | 41 | 17 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | "Hey Death, whats up?"
Gary knew the bitter cloak of cold that surrounded him was the physical manifestation of Death. Most mortal folk would have cowered in fear if they knew the Grim Reaper was coming for them.
But not Gary. He had played this game before and won.
*You know why I have come, mortal.*
"Of course I do" he said as a smile crept over his lips. "I look forward to our little meetings".
In the corner of the room, a figure formed out of nothingness. The eyes always came first, they burned like a white hot fire if you looked into them for too long. The first of the Death god's bag of tricks, looking into those eyes for even a second would turn you into ash. Next came the cloak, a cloak so dark that it drank any light that tried to illuminate it. Even the human soul would be drained if a mortal made contact with it, the soul just being another form of energy and thus, light. Then the hands formed, more human than one would expect. Albeit, they were gross hands, diseased and raw with no skin. Touching those hands would be a slow and nasty death, but Gary knew better.
"Done showing off, old friend"?
*We are not friends. I have a debt to collect. Name your game, mortal.*
Gary chuckled the same way an adult would chuckle at an insolent child. "No need to get all hostile, I know this is just business for you". He tapped his chin in thought. "Any game right"?
*Don't play dumb. You know the rules.*
"Okay. Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2: Rust. Intervention only."
*Son of a bitch.*
Gary knew he had another ten years coming.
| I look at the game’s Death has surrounding the room.
There’s the ornate antique marble chess board, polished to a gleam with ivory and ebony pieces.
In stark contrast, right next to that there’s a well loved and worn checkerboard. It has obviously faded areas where players over the years slid their pieces over the board, rather than picking them up and placing them.
There are also many branded board games: Battleship, Connect Four, Monopoly, and *shit, is that...* ***Candy Land*** ?
There are some more modern ones that I’ve only heard of, but never played, like Settlers of Catan.
There are also a glut of various card games, like Uno, Magic of the Gathering, and even *Pokémon*!
Of course there’s also a deck of regular cards set out, and they’re somehow both a void of boundless incomprehensible black like a black hole in which no light can escape on the backs, and a ghastly bone white on the front.
The clubs and spades are more of the depthless black. The hearts and diamonds are glistening blood red.
I am intrigued.
“Go Fish.”, I say.
Death nods.
I think several times about cheating and not telling Death when I have I card, but I know I have a poor poker face. Even when cheating is aloud in the rules, I still can’t bring myself to do it.
Death, sets down four fours, then the aces, then tens. I was only putting down about one set to every three that Death was managing. I was going to lose.
The last sets were made, and there was no need to count them, I was so far behind.
My stomach sunk to my knees.
Death smiled, “You passed the test.”
I blanched, “How so? I lost!”
“You didn’t cheat. The test was whether or not you cheat, win or lose, you pass the test when you decide not to cheat.”
The next thing I know, I blearily wake up to the steady sound of a hospital heart monitor.
-fin
Edit: formatting, again | 2018-03-07T07:52:34 | 2018-03-07T07:49:56 | 41 | 10 |
[WP] One night, you go to bed in 2018, and you wake up in 1853. After going to bed in 1853, you wake up in the year 2183. After falling asleep in 2183, you wake up back in 2018, then the cycle repeats. Somehow, you managed to create a life in all 3 time periods. | *George. I forgot your wife's anniversary. You might wanna deal with that. - CC*
Ever since it began two years ago, the three of us had learned of each other's existence and made it a habit to leave notes, emails, and digital imprints for one another. I was George Stanson from 2018, the other was Oliver Jemmings from 1853, and Chip Cummings from 2183. We all (previously) lived very different lives and had never met one another, but we knew more about each other than anyone ever could. I had woke an hour earlier and was now going through my emails and catching up on what Oliver and Chip had to tell me. Oliver struggled the most out of us because he still didn't really understand modern technology and was a completely hopeless wreck when it came to the future. But my wife absolutely loved it when it was *his* days because he was ever the perfect gentleman. If not for him, I don't think my marriage would have lasted.
Chip was a bastard. Oliver and I had *both* left him notes in each time period reminding him that he would be active on my anniversary with Clarice, but he just couldn't be bothered reading anything that didn't pertain to his own life. He was the youngest of the three of us and was more immature than Oliver's children. And he'd forgotten the anniversary, which meant the tickets I bought for the play had been wasted, the dinner reservation was wasted, and I would have to spend the day trying to make it up to an upset wife who wouldn't understand why I would have snubbed her on our special day. I growled under my breath and shut down my computer. It was time to go face the music.
I dismally explored our apartment and casually picked up things as I went. Oliver was a gentleman, but he viewed housework as strictly a woman's job. Chip was just lazy. Things were messier than normal and so far I hadn't seen either Clarice or our dog. God, I hope she hadn't gone back to her mother again. It took me and Oliver two weeks to get her back after Chip had yelled at her for interrupting a television program. I just didn't know how I'd do it again if she *did* leave. I certainly couldn't risk explaining anything to her. Not after we witnessed one branch of Oliver's descendents be completely replaced when I tried to explain my behavior to his daughter. Maybe it was just time to accept that I would never have a normal and healthy relationship again.
I sighed and stumbled into the kitchen where I assembled a bowl of cereal and sat down to eat a lonely breakfast while I contemplated how I was going to talk to her. I was halfway through my bran flakes when my phone buzzed with a text from my wife. I felt my heart skip a beat and risked a wary glance at the contents of the message. *I loved my spa day, thank you. Can't wait for our big day. See you soon!*
For awhile I just stared at the message without comprehension. But eventually I stumbled back to my desk and found my journal. The last entry was written in Oliver's fine and elegant handwriting. He apologized for forgetting our password again and explained that he had the ticket refunded, the reservation moved a day, and got the wife out of the house for the next day. I breathed out a silent thank you and wrote my own entry in turn to express my gratitude. I had only an hour to get myself and the apartment clean, but I was going to get it done. For tomorrow, I was going to have to do my absolute best for the Jemmings family. It was the least I could do. | "Alexandria! Wake up, dearie!"
My eyes shot open, shocked to hear an unfamiliar voice a name that wasn't mine, but also felt... oddly familiar. I looked up and saw a canopy above my bed, draped in what looked suspiciously like white silk. It was odd-- I couldn't quite see very well. I thought my eyesight was perfect. Was I going blind?
An oak drawer sat next to the right side of my bed, with a pair of black-rimmed glasses sitting, fuzzily blending into the wood. I reached for them and put them on, noticing, as I reached for them, a small weight on my chest. Putting my glasses on, I realized that I was wearing a white gown that showed small growths on my chest. Wide-eyed, I cupped them and realized that they were, honest to god, breasts.
Taking in my surroundings and getting a bearing, I knew I wasn't in my home anymore. My spouse wasn't sleeping by my side; my small Yorkie was not at the foot of the bed; hell, I probably wasn't even an adult, judging by my rather minuscule height.
Getting out of bed, I quickly stretched out my arms, lifting my shin-length nightgown up a little, and yawned into my right hand, which I cupped over it. Pushing a strand of brown hair out of my view, I walked over to a mirror. My hair was long and bouncy, with full, rich curls falling down to my shoulders; my eyes were a crystalline blue, as if a fine jeweler had set sapphires into my irises; and my skin was rather pale. Judging by the heat that had already arisen in the morning sun, I was likely the child of some well-off folk in this environment.
But I couldn't shake off some odd feeling, that this person staring back at me in the mirror was familiar in some way. She wasn't some I knew, obviously; but there was something... uncanny about her. It was as if she, in some manner of way, had the same eyes that I did. So much of everything else was different, but her eyes were... a sort of comfort for me.
I turned back to the oak drawer. Perhaps, it could hold clues to what's going on? If she was anything like me, she would hide something in the top... aha! A diary! Maybe that could tell me where I am. I desperately flip to the most recent page, noticing a bunch of dates ending in 1852 and 1853. I had been sent back 165 years, judging by the date that it read aloud when I hit the first blank page: June 14, 1853. My birthday...
"Alexandria. We mustn't waste our time. Your father has arranged for our picture to be painted together, as a family." Her voice sounded equal parts maternal and annoyed. I could tell that she loved the girl whose body I was now inhabiting, but that she needed to hurry the hell up.
"Alright, mom," I respond in a way that felt halfway natural for this body, turning around to greet her. "You forgot a go-"
I froze. I went slackjawed and wide-eyed. Staring into the eyes of a woman whose face I couldn't forget. Those same damned crystal blue eyes that I couldn't mistake for any other. That's where I recognized this face from.
"What's the face for, Alexandria? You need to hurry up! You can bring your precious diary to write in, but once your father checks on the slaves with the overseer, he's going to have us get into our best dresses for the painter."
I'm my great-great-great grandmother Alexandria. This is her mother, Florence. By how she was dressed and how she looked, they were to paint the photo that adorned the mantelplace at my grandmother's house today.
I fainted. | 2018-04-06T06:30:18 | 2018-04-06T05:04:46 | 73 | 41 |
[WP] You are given a writing prompt by your English Professor. You decide to post the writing prompt to r/writingprompts and get an amazing story. You decide to use that story as your own and turn it in as your assignment only to find out that your professor was the one who wrote the story. | "You didn't write this."
"Sir? 'Course I did."
"No. You didn't. And get off your phone."
" Sir, you can't accuse me of playerger- player- of *copying*, without no proof. I could report you to the teacher council."
"*Teacher council?* You really are a buffoon."
"Thank you, sir. So you believe me?"
"You couldn't write a Christmas list to santa, let alone a well researched theologically sound allegory about the selling out of classical hinduism through the eyes of a modern American."
" Sir? My story was about selling weapons. Was a spy thing. "
"It bloody well wasn't. It was a deep, multi faceted, many levelled concoction, building to a sterling crescendo. "
"Oh, that's very kind of you sir."
"And a dunce like you did not and could not *possibly* write it."
"You don't know that."
"Ah! But, my naive little friend, I do know that. Do you know how I know that?"
"...Yes, sir. I think I do."
"Yes sir? What do you mean *yes sir*?"
" Well, there's only one way you could know. And um, I should say I did a little research of my own. User history, you see sir. "
"... I ... "
" As you say sir, it was a deep story. Ally gorical. So deserves a B, I'm thinking. "
"Only a B -- that's insane! Wait... You little worm. Are you trying to blackmail me!?"
"Sir, all I'm saying is big and bouncy is one thing, but posting on malesgonewild might not have been--"
"Very good! That will be all. Well done on your story."
"Thank you, sir. Oh and sir..."
" ... "
"Congrats on the gold."
"Yes, well. Thank you, I suppose. Although I'd rather it had been for the story."
---
/r/nickofnight | ######[](#dropcaps)
Once Upon a Time. There was a writer. She had been writing since high school and through college. She loved writing but she was afraid. She was afraid to risk it all on a novel, so she worked a corporate job for 50 hours a week, made money, and hated her life.
But despite the world's best efforts, she was a writer at heart. And somehow she found time time to write. She wrote, she failed, she cried, she laughed. She spent sleepless night bathed in the artficial glow of a computer screen, sitting in a wooden chair with a coffee cup in her hand, in a rent controlled apartment. But her head was in the clouds.
And eventually, she succeeded.
Her book was a hit. She quit that soul crushing job and threw herself fully into the art she loved, the art she'd ached to fully embrace for years but had been too afraid to do.
And oh, how she wrote!
Stories of space of times long since past, impossible futures, and all too possible realities. She had everything she ever wanted, but realized she wanted more.
She wanted to share.
She wanted to share her joy of writing, embolden people to not make the same mistakes she did, to not go quietly into a night where dreams were stars - bright but impossible to reach.
So she joined the English department of the university she attended. She tried to relate her experience, impart her knowledge. She gave assignments but knew not to limit her students, she wanted to give them room to test out their skills, not be bounded in a tiny box. She even gave examples of prompts whose stories were already told, which weren't prompts at all, but summaries. She gave the example:
**You are given a writing prompt by your English Professor. You decide to post the writing prompt to r/writingprompts and get an amazing story. You decide to use that story as your own and turn it in as your assignment only to find out that your professor was the one who wrote the story.**
And despite all her love and care. All her dreams of imparting knowledge, of teaching her students to truly write...some fuckwad couldn't be bothered to actually read the real assignment, and copy pasted the first bolded thing he saw.
And everyone lived happily ever after.
Except for that one student.
She failed him. | 2018-04-14T07:08:38 | 2018-04-14T06:48:23 | 3,552 | 83 |
[WP] You are the world’s most elite assassin. Although you usually only kill when paid, you finally decide to take matters into your own hands and kill the person who keeps leaking your past contracts onto Reddit disguised as writing prompts. | "Asshole."
That was it. The last straw.
That guy has some real nerve to fuck with the likes of me.
I packed my bags in the dimly lit dingy hotel room, meticulously checking each and every piece of equipment.
This would be the day.
After I got wind of this, I swore to have my revenge.
What motive could have for this, anyways?
Money?
Ha. Don't bother.
One of my enemies?
Why reddit, of all places?
Seemed about as convoluted as the other writing prompts taking residence in the damn site.
I marched under moonlight to the building where it was all going to take place, the drops of water pouring heavily on the cars and the streets below.
I managed to track the guy down. Whoever they were, they were stupid enough not to use an alt account. Typical.
I walked in, climbed the stairs to my destination.
I opened the creaky window. Rain poured in. I lowered my weapon on the ledge and took aim.
This was it.
This is what I've been planning for a long while now.
They've had what's coming for a while.
I aimed, and...
***Bang.***
I... *missed?*
I fired a few more shots. They pierced the clothing, but the person seemed to be more shocked than...
Oh my god.
Well, the good news is...
I found my soulmate...
| Many wrote about my feats without knowing they were writing about me. I didn't care about them. They were simply victims of a coincidence. However, in every one of those prompts, there was always a constant: the author.
I investigated him. He's a master of disguise, with a knowledge that surpasses mine when it comes to technology. I thought I had traced him in Spain, then in Australia, but I ended up discovering that he was constantly changing IPs.
I will reveal one my biggest secrets. The one which makes me stand out over the amateurs: I know when to ask for help. I gave my friend Isaac a call. He's a prodigy among the hacking community, and let's just say he owes me. Half an hour after I hung up, he sent me an exact report of my target.
I will perform a masterpiece with this assassination. I've been planning since the moment I discovered you. I know you will be reading. I know you probably created this post to bait me. But don't worry, I'm one step ahead. I know what your favorite food is, I know your routine, the things you hate, even the things you love.
You've played a great game. You've proved yourself worth of my attention. Perhaps, you even wanted this to happen. You wanted me to track you. You want to live my art in the flesh, don't you? I will make it happen, believe me, I will. And it will be spectacular. You will get to see every shade of red.
Your favorite color.
----------------------------------------
/r/therobertfall -- I post stories daily! Well, I try to at least.
| 2018-04-24T13:18:02 | 2018-04-24T11:37:30 | 59 | 26 |
[WP] Nine out of ten dentists recommend a certain brand of toothpaste. You're the one dentist and, despite constant assassination attempts, refuse to change your mind. | "Listen, we can do this the easy way or the hard way." A hand slammed across Roger Smiley's face, causing brilliant bursts of color to appear in his vision.
"Yeah, well, flossing is hard but I still do it twice a day." Smiley turned his head to the side and spits out a tooth. "Guess I got one less place to worry about build up." Halogen lights shining down on his face blinded him, making it hard to make out his assailant. He had his suspicions though. This was the exclamation point on a long run on sentence of bullshit he'd been taking ever since he went the wrong way on Crest.
"I don't think you're getting the message Smiley. You're all out alone on this one. No one is coming to save you. Everyone else got with the program, maybe it's time you did too."
The man doing the beating pulled his gloves up on his hands, giving them a snugness that can only be acquired from the high quality latex common in the dental field. The man knew his way around protective equipment, but he didn't know anything about the benefits of Crest Cavity Protection \+\+. The fluoride balance was all off in that shit, it was toxic as far as Smiley was concerned.
"Why don't you get on with it? I ain't got all day," he stared up at the dark figure just beyond the edge of the light. "I've got a 9:30 cavity fill to get to."
The man raised his hand again and Smiley closed his eyes and braced for impact. But the blow didn't come, instead the sound of a door opening reached his ears followed by the clacking of leather shoes on the cement. "That'll be enough Mr. White, I believe I can take it from here."
Smiley cautiously opened his eyes as the sound of a chair being dragged across the cement floor filled the room. Finally the chair came to a halt, the front two legs sitting just inside the circle of light. "I don't know, Mr. White and I were just building up a rapport." Smile said with a grin.
The mystery man took a seat. Presenting Smiley with a view below his knees as they entered the light but nothing else. Black, sensible dress shoes, the kind you wore when you spent all day on your feet but still had to look nice. Also the fringe of a white coat, similar to what he wore in his own office.
"Doctor Smiley, I think we can leave the banter aside. You have something we want, and I am sure we can provide you with the same." The man's voice was deep, an ominous thunder before the storm.
"What I want is better dental coverage from major medical insurers so I don't have to put two thirds of my accounts on credit lines." He loved his patients, but he couldn't afford to run a charity.
"Be reasonable Smiley. The other nine figured it out, what's your problem?"
"I got into this business to do some good. I'm in it for the pearly whites and the happy moms. When I go home, I sleep easy because my dreams are filled with smiles, not dirty toothpaste money."
"All right, not money then. But what about your patients?" A black leather\-bound book was brought into the light and opened. "All of these smiles. So much work put into them. Your work Smiley. You're life's work." There was a long pause in the conversation as the procession through the book continued.
Flip. Flip. Flip.
"You passed up on the easy way Smiley. Now we're just down to the hard way and the harder way." The voice continued, taking on a singsong mocking quality. "What's it going to be? You going to be our happy tenth or we going to do some deconstructive surgery on some of your patients?"
Smiley filled with rage as he saw little Billy Atkins go by, his giant grin showing two front teeth missing. The picture was from last week. Billy had been afraid his teeth would never come in and Smile had spent an hour showing him x\-rays so he knew they'd come back. That they were just getting ready to make their big appearance and he should enjoy his window smile because it was the only time he would have it so it was special.
That was why he got in to the tooth jockey game. For them.
Screaming, he stood up, dragging the chair he was handcuffed to along with him. "You're gonna pay for this. One out of ten dentists agrees." He dove into the man, his teeth gnashing until they sank into something soft.
He'd floss it out later.
**Platypus out.**
**Want more peril?** r/PerilousPlatypus | Virtually every inch of the Kommen Space Colony was under constant visual and audio surveillance. Cameras hummed away tirelessly, transcribing the steady rhythm of everyday life into a trillion splices of electronic data which were flashed back to homeworld, almost two light years away. Even the faintest whisper, the subtlest gaze, could be replicated into perfect hologrammetry, ready for close examination by headquarters if they so deigned.
Virtually.
Anthea had discovered the one sector which afforded her the only semblance of privacy. A maintenance tunnel, near the loading bays which led out to alien rock. Sensors had been installed, but it appeared that they had never been brought online. She had checked too, using her access rights as a junior systems programmer. Her finger had hovered above the controls which would have escalated the matter to the attention of her superiors, but a dash of defiance had pulled her away. Besides, who would have the capacity to worry about a single tunnel when there were a million other things to worry about?
And pacing there in the tunnel, pulling her issued insulator tighter around her for comfort rather than for warmth, Anthea was glad for her choice. Then, at precisely the moment they had agreed upon, a familiar face popped up around the corner.
"I... I didn't hear you coming," Anthea said.
He was more... shrunken than she remembered. He was already stooped before, hunched over as he kept pace with the sanitation robots in the canteen. But now he seemed even more folded in upon himself, like a string of sphagetti curling inwards with moisture. He met her eyes, licked his lips, then splayed his hands out.
"My, what a surprise. I did not think anyone else was here. Have... have we met before?"
"Charles, I promise. We're alone here. No one in the entire colony can hear us. I'm sure of it."
Anthea's guess was that Charles hailed from one of the early batches of employees sent to this forsaken planet. He certainly seemed old enough, though she had not been able to gain access to his files to verify that for herself.
"I see," he said, as the tension seeped from his shoulders. "You can't blame someone for being too cautious. These days..."
"But that doesn't mean we have all the time in the world too! Tell me, tell me what you promised to share!"
"Ah... About that. Did you do as as I asked? Did you check again for contaminants?"
Anthea nodded. The request had been peculiar when she first heard it - after all, everyone knew that the planet had not yet been cleared for full compatibility with human life. That meant that full contaminant protocols were in place. The air they breathed, the food they consumed, the water they imbibed, all of it had passed through a hundred scanners before they so much as came into human contact. To date, not a single alarm had been raised.
Yet, she had trusted him.
What else could she have done?
In fact, how could she *not* have trusted him? When he was the only one in the hall to have flinched when the fight broke out between those two security guards, when everyone else had instead just laughed and clapped along? When he came right up next to her, pulling her away from the rest before she could scream, telling her to keep quiet lest they realise she was not like the rest of them?
"I did, and..."
Charles smiled in the dimness. "It was your toothpaste, wasn't it? Smuggled back from earth, instead of the standard issues they provide at the pharmacy here?"
"Yes. That is the only thing in my... Diet... Which is different from everyone else's."
"And what did the results of your next scan show?"
"Nothing... I scanned it and it showed-"
"Not the toothpaste from earth, idiot. The stuff they give out. Did you scan those? Did you see the readings?"
Anthea's heart sunk at the implication. How could she not have thought of that?
"So you're saying that there's... Something in the toothpaste that they are giving us?"
A distant bell tolled, and Charles turned to leave.
"Come again in two days' time," he said. "Shift's starting, and they will get suspicious if we stay off grid for too long. But listen here, Anthea. Scan the stuff, record what you find, *but don't tell anyone*. Erase the scan logs if you have to. If they find out that you know, they'll deport you in seconds."
"They? You mean the company? But Kommen... They can't do this to us, they can't-"
Charles lifted his shirt, and where she expected to see pale flesh, there was instead the homogenous sheen of plated metal, a singular band around his midriff.
"They damn tore me in half when they realised I knew. Patched myself back, just almost. Remember, two days. And bring the results."
Then he was gone.
/r/rarelyfunny | 2018-04-29T23:00:09 | 2018-04-29T22:42:25 | 360 | 29 |
[WP] “Beware of an old man in a profession where men usually die young.” | I’m the oldest cliff diver in La Quebrada. I was born in 1928 to two peasant farmers who lived on the outskirts of Acapulco. We never had any money so when I was 12 I went to the beaches to try to sell things for money. That’s when I saw the cliff divers and I decided I wanted to train to do what they did.
Over the years I’ve made friends with some of the best of the best divers including “super hombre” as they called him. He got cocky and in this profession you never want to do this.
He died when he mistimed the tide in September of 1952. I was only 24 years old and he was 30 years old and people called him super hombre because most divers had either moved on or been killed by that age. We have a phrase in my profession “beware of an old man in a profession when men usually die young”.
It was quite tragic. I would always read the weather reports and I had read that Hurricane Five (they numbered them back then) was going in a Northwest direction. With the circulation counterclockwise and coming into La Quebrada I had calculated that you had to jump about a half second later than normal. Super hombre didn’t and he lost his life because of it.
Everyday at 5 AM I turn on the Weather Channel and then I study the currents and water temperatures. I then study information I receive from the port of Acapulco regarding shipping. Even shipping can impact the currents at La Quebrada.
I arrive well before the tourists, hydrate and stretch. My 90 year old muscles ache and my body is frail but gravity and timing is all that’s needed.
They call me Santo Buzo. They believe I’m a “holy diver” and there’s somewhat of a cult following. The American tourists want photos with me. I charge $5 a pop to American tourists and negotiate how many pesos I charge Mexican tourists. On a good day I can make several thousand dollars. I live in a mansion overlooking La Quebrada and my wife is a 23 year old model from Brazil. I must say that life has treated me well.
Others ask when I’m going to retire but I don’t plan to. One day I suppose I will make a mistake and the ocean will claim my body just like all the others. In this profession it’s all about timing. Timing in the dive and timing in when the ocean takes your body.
You may ask why people fear the older divers. Well it seems anyone that dives before or after me dies but it’s simply an old wives tale. People get nervous when they see me and they make mistakes. My profession requires an understanding of science and little to do with superstition. Those caught in superstition fall victim because they aren’t paying attention. | *Tranquil Bar*
On the first glance, it's just a normal casual bar. People sitting around after work, drinking alcohol and chatting, maybe playing a game of pool or cards in the back. But the real bar is the one situated below, in the basement. But this bar isn't the same as the one above. It doesn't sell alcohol, but special cards. Cards that only members can scan and read the info encrypted inside it. And what's the info in it, you asked? Usually a name, an address and a request. Whoever's on it will not have a very good time.
You must have a pretty good idea what kind of bar this is. It's not just a bar for normal people. It's also a kind of a safe haven for mercenaries and assassins. The kind of people that you don't ever want to cross path with. Each mercenary or assassin would have to pay a monthly fee to keep being a member. But the benefit is that they will have a steady stream of work available. The bar get a cut from each verified card - cards that have been fulfilled and verified by a staff member - and the rest would be cash out or transfer to the mercenary.
The number of the members are a close kept secret of the bar. But most people who frequented the place for work are all familiar with one old man named "Lion." No one really know his real name, but everyone call him Lion. There are multiple stories about him, but no one know if any of them have even a sliver of truth to it. One story even told that he got the nickname "Lion" because he shouted someone to death. If you were to asked Lion himself, he'd just smirk and change the subject. The fact that the guy has possibly a hundred tales to him isn't the most impressive one, but it's the fact that he's the only merc I've known that lives to be his age. In this business, you'll get a bullet or two sooner or later. That's why most of us are just young fools with too much to drink and too little to care about that accepted this dangerous path in life. You will almost never see an old man doing these kind of jobs. There were few desperate enough, but most of them never came back for seconds, or came back at all. But Lion is different, he would accepted a card, fulfilled it and came back for more. Some suspected that a group of people hired him so that they don't have to pay the monthly fee for membership of the bar. But that was proven to be false.
And so, the old man became a special kind of legend. He'd showed up after a job, bandaged and wounded, yet he's still there for more. He only works with people he knew a long time, but every regulars here respected him. Rarely do we see new guys sticking around here after a job or two. But not Lion, not the old man whom always around, always ready for another job. That old man really reminds me of an old saying:
"Beware of an old man in a profession where men usually die young.” | 2018-07-15T09:19:53 | 2018-07-15T08:11:37 | 79 | 18 |
[WP] In 150 years, we start terraforming Mars as the Earth begins to die. It is only then that we realise this has happened before, to Earth. | It was hard to leave Earth, but its core was dwindling and on the verge of dying. We were forced to terraform Mars and start civilization back from scratch.
However, something strange happened while the engines suited Mars to sustain human life. First, its surface was covered in a vast ocean, but soon, a widespread piece of land emerged from the depths. The scientists were quick to identify it, for they had seen it before, long ago, in Earth itself. It was an exact replica of Pangaea.
They were left dumbfounded. Their engines weren't supposed to imitate such a thing. They were supposed to simply identify the elements that needed to be changed and transform them into suitable ones.
We, the majority of the inhabitants, didn't care much about it, and focused on repopulating and building instead. However, the scientists switched their focus of study. They forgot about the search of new elements and helping engineers to improve building times.
Instead, they contacted historians, and delved deep into Earth's history, trying to find a hint that could explain their many doubts. Who terraformed Earth so long ago? Where were they? Why did they leave if they did?
But years went by, and not a proper answer ever came. They went through tomes and tomes, through every little detail, yet they found nothing certain.
In the meantime, we built a lot, and the countries were starting to establish their borders.
It was on a normal day that a friend of mine, who happened to be a scientist, called me. I picked up, and we agreed to meet up for lunch. His voice had been brittle on the phone.
When we met, he looked nervous, he was constantly scanning the place, his face was ashen, and his leg fidgeted. I sat in front of him and ordered two salads.
"Mike, we have found something," he said, his voice a whisper.
"What?" I asked, confused and eager.
"Remember when I talked to you about someone terraforming Earth long before we even existed?"
"I do," I said. "Did you confirm your suspicions about someone observing us?"
He shook his head. "No, but I know what happened to them."
"What?" I leaned over the table.
"They were killed, erased from the Earth," he said, trembling.
"How could you be so certain?"
"When we looked at the old books, nothing made sense," he said. "So we looked where we had to look: in space. They were advanced like us. By sheer luck we managed to find something similar to a black box, with a recording in it."
My eyes went wide, and my heart thumped. "What did it say?"
"Something about a virus, a failure in their engines," he said and gulped. "And then, they spoke about 'The Olds' coming, and their voices filled with desperation. The recording ends with someone saying: 'Death is imminent. There's nowhere to go.'"
"But what does that mean?" I asked.
"It means that sooner or later something will go wrong," he said, "and sooner or later 'The Olds' will come and erase us."
The salads came. I sighed and started eating. I didn't know what to think. All of the scientists had been wrapped in paranoia lately.
"Let's hope it happens later than sooner."
---------------------------
Sci-Fi it's not my thing, but I gave it a try.
Check r/AHumongousFish
It's cozy in there. | "Where's the artifact?" the commander bellowed, barging into the primary research lab.
An ensign obediently pointed to the long, phallic object on the table.
The commander sneered. "Is this some sort of joke?" He picked up the artifact, waving it at the field captain's face. "Do you think you're fucking funny or something?"
The field captain shook his head as he watched the artifact flop about inches from his face. "No sir. That's what we found at the dig site. That's the only object that was there. There was clearly remnants of a structure in place, but that was the only tangible object we could find." He shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't know what to think of it either."
The commander slammed the artifact on the table. "Great! Just great! Now I get to tell the suits back on Earth that this big find we supposedly have is a God-damn dildo!"
The chief of research piped in. "If I can interject, this is actually an extraordinary find. It's literally the best proof we could have that an advanced species once lived here."
The commander simply stared at her. "*Literally* the best proof we could have? Not a computer? A radio? A god-damn car? Fucking *anything* but a sex toy?"
The chief of research blushed. "Well, it definitely proves that an advanced species lived here. It will be enough to get more funding and have more excavation teams sent here within the next year..."
*Fast forward 687 Earth days*
"Commander!" a lieutenant calls out, running after her CO. "Commander, the third excavation team has found something!"
"What?" the commander questioned. "Why didn't you radio me?"
"Oh...uh..." the lieutenant shrugged. "It seemed like more dramatic exposition this way."
"*Sigh...* alright, let's hit the rovers."
The command team rolled up to the excavation site in question a couple hours later. Exiting the rover, the commander was immediately swarmed by scientists.
"What? Slow down! I can't understand you if you all talk at once!"
The chief scientist took the lead, beaming with joy. "We've found a fully functioning computer array that's still hooked up to a network!"
"Show me."
The team entered an elevator which took them down several hundred feet below the surface. At the bottom, they exited and followed a series of tunnels that had been dug in the past few months. At the end, they discovered a large, crumbling building that had apparently been buried under thousands of years of dust and debris.
Inside, they gathered around the screens in question. With a nod from the commander, the chief scientist turned on the array. There, a show closely paralleling "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" started playing.
The commander put his head in his hands, almost weeping. "What is this? Why does God keep torturing me like this?"
"I'm sorry, sir, let me switch the channel." He flipped several knobs, eventually finding the station he desired to show the commander. The commander stared in disbelief. There on the screen was an orange man with a bad toupee saying the most insane shit imaginable.
"Is that...is that not..." The commander struggled to remember his history. "Is that not Trump?"
"Yes, which means Mars not only had an advanced civilization at one point, but we are following in its footsteps. They put their planet in a sedated state following the advent of nuclear weaponry, then woke up the population with the most insane reality TV show imaginable, ushering in a revolution that sparked a global unified effort to reach out to the nearest planet that could be terraformed!"
The commander shook his head. "We really need more classes on proper story exposition in the Space Force..." | 2018-08-11T09:15:52 | 2018-08-11T09:08:17 | 867 | 139 |
[WP] The longer you charge an attack, the more powerful it becomes. SWAT charges a punch for 30 seconds to break down a door. You’ve been charging for the last three days. | "Squads 2 and 3, post at the North and West exits respectively." Commander Henry Rogers' voice crackled through their biosuit comms, devoid of all the emotion he had undoubtedly stored up. "Squad 1, you're on point with me. Squad 4, form a loose perimeter, we don't want to lose the target. Observe and report if he escapes, do not engage. I repeat. Do not engage."
Devon Smith, captain of squad 1, opened the channel through his suit. "Roger, Rogers." Then he heard the chorus of voices behind his.
"Roger, Rogers."
"Roger, Rogers."
"Roger, Rogers."
The joke stopped being funny years ago, but his squads held the tradition regardless. More to test their, and their commander's, resolve than anything. Each squad captain's voice betrayed their inexperience, ranging from excited to angry. Their regulators kept them at a constant level of joy, though. It was the only reason the floorboards weren't creaking below their magically-reduced weight.
Rumors still circulated that the Commander never used regulators. Regardless of the truth, the man was a stoic monster. The power behind his magic was insane. Devon had seen him level an entire city block using *despair* alone. And despair's destructive power paled in comparison to hybrid anger-excitement magic. Storing that much despair - particularly when the commander had a relatively normal, drama-free life outside of his responsibilities, as far as Devon knew - in that short of a time showed pure martial control over his own emotions that Devon couldn't even fathom.
Devon followed behind the commander, shaking himself from his musings as they rounded the corner of the ramshackle building, their silent footsteps likely already betraying their presence to the powerful foe just behind the walls to their left. No one knew his name, he was simply "the Liberator." About as cliche a name as there is. But he was gaining influence, and needed to be put down.
"Come in, Commander." The man's voice trailed through the door. "A full squad just for me? No, three squads? Hmmm. Perhaps four? It's hard to tell, you've done your homework Commander, I'm impressed. The door's open."
Devon waited for the Commander to open the door. It didn't take long.
The sight that greeted them was...less than Devon expected. The apartment was kept mostly clean, but definitely lived-in. A few bowls and silverware littered the sink, and in a worn leather chair sat the Liberator. A bean pole of a man, but otherwise appeared healthy. Devon wouldn't have been surprised if he had passed him on the street without knowing at some point. Nothing pointed to him being the leader to a rising revolutionary army. Well, except the atmosphere.
Devon could actually *feel* the emotion draining from him, he should have noticed it outside the door. How he casually just expected the Commander to listen to this man was troubling. He was finding it harder to care about it, too. That set off red flags in the logical center of his brain, and he quickly pressed the emergency regulator button in his glove, which shoved an excess of hormones to balance out his system. He reached *within* to slowly start leaking his reserves, rather than allowing his surface emotions to be targeted.
Then, he realized, what was more troubling than all of this was that the Commander had complied. This man was far more dangerous than they had realized.
"Sit." He said simply.
His entire squad immediately sat on the ground. The Commander and Devon alone stayed standing. Devon didn't dare move an inch, or he knew he would break. The air was sick with this vacuous feeling, and he continued leaking his emotions to regulate whatever this man was doing. Equal parts anger, surprise, joy, and fear. Fear had become far more useful once emotion magic was discovered.
The Liberator raised an eyebrow. Briefly, before bringing it back in check. Surprise. He wasn't infallible. Devon struggled to maintain his own surprise at the revelation. "Seems you've chosen your captains well, Commander. I'm impressed." He scanned the room. "Well, men, don't just sit there. Restrain these two."
His squadmates, whom he had shared countless experiences with, been through hell and back, and knew would always have his back immediately sprung up. Their faces devoid of emotion. Devon realized they didn't care. They couldn't feel. They were tied to this man and whatever he was doing. They followed without question, grabbing Devon and Commander Rogers by the limbs and holding them in place.
"It becomes permanent, you know." He said, briefly waving at his squad mates. Former squad mates, what they were now he wasn't sure. Brandon's normally friendly face showed nothing of the sort. No anger. No joy. No pain. Not inhuman, just empty. Lacking empathy. "I thank you for delivering my newest zealots, Commander."
Devon only saw it for a split second. It would be the only time he would see Commander Rogers express that particular magic. Rage. Blind fury. All-encompassing, murderous anger. Quickly tempered with a deep sadness. All of these expressions passed through the atmosphere in the faintest of seconds, culminating in what Devon could only describe as the tiniest, most powerfully precise pinprick he had ever witnessed.
The Liberator fell instantly to the ground, blood pooling from his nose as his severed brain stem bled out through his orifices.
 
________
________
 
"Hey Devon! Come join us, ya damn hero!" Brandon and his other mates were drowning themselves in booze at the local pub, celebrating their victory. Devon didn't have the stomach to celebrate. His mates barely had any recollection of the event, Devon remembered it in stark, vivid detail. He joined the commander at the bar. "Suit yourself, then, mate! ANOTHER!!" This was followed by jubilant cheers from the table as the waitress went to retrieve another pitcher of whatever piss they were drinking.
"Commander?"
"Hmm."
Devon searched for the right words to say. "What, uh, what was that?"
The commander took a swig of his glass, Devon had no idea what was in it, but it looked hard. "I would have thought you'd seen it. Rage and true sadness. Precise and lethal, like a knife's edge." True to his nature, Rogers had begun storing his emotions again. His voice betrayed nothing, but the drink in his hand betrayed everything.
Devon shook his head. "Not that." He paused, unable to express what he meant. "*Him*."
Devon could tell the commander was collecting his thoughts, carefully choosing his words. "There exists emotions in this world that should never be felt, Captain. This 'Liberator' created a cocktail of magic that I don't even think *he* knew how to control, using emotions you and I cannot fathom. How do you empathize with the serial killer, the mother who drowns her children, or the politician who buries his skeletons with more skeletons - both figurative and literal?" He took another sip. "The cold, hard truth is we can't. Toxic relationships can run us dry and unfeeling as well, I believe this man tapped into something...of that nature."
"Have you seen it before?"
"Yes." He didn't expound.
Devon stood and turned to leave, but before he could take a step the commander called to him. "Captain." He turned back to the commander, and could swear he saw a tear struggling to escape, he drained the contents of his glass, staring straight ahead. "We almost didn't make it today." Devon felt the implied meaning behind his words, and clearly saw the trail down the commander's cheek, then. "I'm proud of you."
Devon nodded to him. "Roger, Rogers." He responded solemnly, the phrase taking on a whole new meaning.
 
______
^(This one was a struggle to get right, and I still don't think it's there, but overall I hope you at least had a modicum of enjoyment while reading it! Critique welcome.)
^(Made a ninja edit for clarity in the second-to-last paragraph. "Captain" and "Commander" could be easily confused, and its likely the reader could initially think Devon was speaking to Rogers and not the other way around.)
^(Thanks for the gold, stranger!) | At first it started out as just a joke, but eventually it became an obsession. I think that's what ruins everything in the end, when it spirals out of control and suddenly something you were doing so you could laugh about, becomes something that destroys everything that you care about. Since all stories that I've read start with a backstory, even when its a sequel to a best selling novel, I'll include mine for anyone that cares to read it. Everyone in the world that I live in knows that you can charge an attack to make it stronger, but you had to be careful about how long you did it, which is why we didn't have kids very often, they destroyed absolutely everything. I didn't get to grow up with my parents, as they lived in a wooden house, with wooden furniture, I would have turned that place into splinters, and I would have killed myself. Yeah, you can charge up any attack you want to make it more powerful, but then you deal with the consequences. A swat officer can charge up for thirty seconds to smash down a front door, but only people who undergo bone augmentations are allowed to do that job after criminals started reinforcing their doors with metal so it would shatter the persons arm. That was why almost no one had children anymore, because your kid would kill himself if you left him alone for more than a few seconds, because you didn't have to willfully charge the attack. A child might see someone do something, and then hold up their arm in preparation to learn how to do it, and once they hold it up and charge it for several minutes before they figure out how to actually swing their arm like they wanted to, it's enough to kill them.
So children did not grow up with their parents, and I did not grow up with mine. I grew up inside a machine, that prevented me from holding my muscles in any attack position, and it kept me from not killing myself but it kept me from also being free. When I reached the age of six, I was deemed capable of understanding the dangers, and earned limited freedom until I was eleven, and then finally I was introduced to the rest of the kids. Education was the most important part, and before I was released, I was shown a series of videos that showed kids killing their friends with a charged attack, not understanding just how important it was to never charge an attack. However, no level of education was ever enough to combat the stupidity of youth, we are supposed to learn from doing. As we grew up together we started to create stupid games, charging up jumps to see who could time the charge perfectly to slap a bullseye on a wall. Eventually, we reached a game that balanced stupidity with fun, and a twinge of danger that made it so enticing. We called it "Mercy" and it was played very simply. Two of us would stand facing each other, and then prepare a slap. The first person to cry mercy would lose and then both people would release their slap and we would take the hit. The only thing that really made the game safe as the way that we would slap. We would move our hand as slow as possible and instead of trying to impact the face, we wanted to just rest our hand on the face. This reduced the initial amount of force that was built up, and so we could charge for a few seconds and it would just be a hard punch and not a lethal blow.
We were hanging out at my house, bored as usual, when we decided to play the game. We didn't play it that often, but one of the kids was having a rough time at home so we decide to play it to blow off some steam. I was currently in the lead, having called mercy once while making two other people call mercy, and was facing down the last guy in the group for all the marbles. I was eager to win the game, and so I cheated by bringing up my hand right before someone said to go. This was an effective cheat because the other person knew that his slap would always be weaker, so I would automatically last longer. This would have sealed my victory, but then before my friend said go, my mom called up the stairs, "Matt, there is a girl on the phone for you." We all froze in the room, and looked at each other, and my friends began to plot just the best method to tease me, and so I called downstairs, "Which girl?" There was a lapse while my mom asked and then yelled back, "Sarah." There was a chorus of laughter throughout the room, Sarah was a girl that I had a major crush on. Then Eric started to cry, and we all looked at him, and then looked at my hand. It was still in the air, ready for the slap that I had completely forgotten about. Everyone panicked and Eric backed away from me, how long had I been holding the slap? A minute maybe? No one knew for sure, and so we didn't know what to do. I should have just slapped the wall then, might have lost my arm, but that would have been the end of it. Instead, my friends rushed down the stairs and yelled at my parents, who couldn't understand them in all the chaos, and by the time that they figured it out, I had been standing here for more than ten minutes now. My parents panicked as well, knowing that I was going to lose my arm, and called the police to find out what the correct procedure to use was, because I might take down the house if I hit something now. The person on 911 misunderstood and thought someone was threatening them with a charged attack and told them to wait while they sent a squad car over. Thirty minutes later, the police arrived on the scene, and then ten minutes after that they came up to talk to me. They evacuated the entire area, but I had been holding the attack for three hours by the time that they cleared the area, and so they called back to ask for an attack specialist to evaluate the impact of the damage.
I didn't learn this until now, but up until this point, the longest prepared attack was five hours and forty three minutes. It was a suicide attacker, who charged up a stomp for as long as he could hold it, and then released it. He leveled more than three football fields worth of the city with that attack. I reached that point as the specialist was asking me to remember if my hand had moved at all during the first minute of the charge, so he could estimate the base level of the charge, then some specialists from the hospital came in around the seven hour mark and put my hand into a cast to prevent it from moving. When you hold a charged attack, you can't move your hand out of the attack until it's finished, and so my entire arm was on fire, having been forced to hold it perfectly in the air for so many hours, but the sling did nothing to help it. Even though it couldn't actually move anymore, my muscles still burned like I held it up. A doctor stayed with me through the night, while I cried on and off, unable to sleep, in nothing more than agony. The next day several experts were there, asking me over and over again to tell them about the attack that I was charging, they had used the phone call records to estimate when the whole thing had started. A kind soul put a tv in front of me, hoping that it would distract me, but that just allowed me to listen to the news as they talked about me. There was a huge debate across the internet, as people suggested just shooting me in the head so I could not kill the entire planet. That's what the debate had reached by the end of the second night, if I carried out my attack at this point, would it shatter the planet, and if so, should they kill me to prevent it? I asked a doctor straight up if they would kill me, and he balked and told me that there was a huge debate amongst the scientific community while they tried to figure out if killing me would release the stored energy anyways, since it had to go somewhere. By the early hours of the third day, my arm has moved past pain, into something else and I manage to sleep for a few hours. No one but my parents talk to me anymore, the scientists are busy crunching numbers to determine if they can kill me, or put me in a coma.
On the fourth morning the scientists come to tell me the plan, and my parents are in the room. They are going to build a ship to send me deep into space, where hopefully my slap won't be able to affect other planets. My parents are crying now, and I feel like I am being sentenced for my crime. It had started off as a simple joke, a fun way to pass the time, and now my parents weep while the scientist explains that due to the time it will take to build the ship, and the time that it will take for me to leave, I will have to make the choice on when to make the attack. The longer that I hold it, the more likely I am to end the entire universe, but the quicker that I release it, the more likely the shockwave will kill humanity. My mind goes back to the video's they showed us before they released us back into the public, and smile an ironic smile. At least no kids in the future will play a game of Mercy.
*****
You can always catch more of my writing at /r/iruleatants | 2018-10-02T15:26:58 | 2018-10-02T15:20:01 | 721 | 72 |
[WP] You are eight years old when you fall into a coma. 70 years later, you unexpectedly awaken, a child in an elderly person’s body. Your parents are dead, and your relatives are nowhere to be found. Your only friend is the nurse who has watched over you for the last 30 years of her career. | My eyes adjusted to the darkness and I looked down at my hands. But where had previously been the pudgy, supple fingers of a child I now saw the wizened, feeble hands of an elder.
Something didn’t seem right, but I couldn’t quite place it. I started to sob, and called out for my mother. But where had previously been the soprano voice of a boy, I now heard the gruff croak of a lonely widower.
Only then did the severity of the situation dawn on me: I was not a boy, but an old man, my whole life having elapsed while I slumbered, unaware of the passage of decades.
I grabbed at the various tubes infiltrating my orifices and found a smooth, flat, object adorned with the small image of an apple. “iPhone,” it said. I wondered if this bizarre futuristic device could provide some answers to my terrifying predicament. I clicked the button on the side of the device, causing it to illuminate.
And then, an even sadder truth dawned on me: the author of this writing prompt plagiarized my recent post on r/morbidquestions shamefully and without attribution.
Then, my heart stopped. Again, darkness. | I remember that day, the bright lights in the hospital were unmistakable but I didn't remember the journey there. Confusion and panic wrestled with my mind, I tried scanning the room for pictures, toys, anything that I could hold onto and feel a sense of familiarity.
Noticing new movement from my room, a stranger approached me. As I reflect back, I see that it takes something special to do what she did. I had nothing, I had lived a whole life and literally had nothing.
The first thing we did was walk to the hospital cafeteria, seems underwhelming I know, but I was pretty hungry after all. We ate, and somehow, laughed like old friends. She taught me my love of laughter, and food. She taught me lot's of things over the years, those are just two examples.
I remember feeling amazed by this woman. I was able to, even if just for those 15 minutes in the cafeteria, completely forget the feeling of waking up with nothing.
The following months after I awoke were filled to the brim with struggles, don't get me wrong; I had to come to terms with a lot of hard things, but she was there by my side for 30 years, and certainly wasn't going to quit now that I had finally awoken.
Waking up, in a strange new world where I knew almost nothing; That feeling, love, was the first thing I truly understood. I held onto it tight and don't imagine myself ever letting go. | 2018-11-03T12:27:06 | 2018-11-03T11:43:59 | 46 | 16 |
[WP] Your SO loves fun, risky situations like skydiving, while you always liked to play it safe. After a long, happy life together, you're reunited in the afterworld. Everybody has a number for how many times they SHOULD have died throughout their life. Your SO's is 3,300. Yours is 1,450,294.
Edit (1/27): Wow! This idea came to me after another difficult night sleeping. I just woke up and I didn't expect this! Thank you so much, everyone! I'm so excited to read all of your responses! 😁 | "one point four million!?" I asked, utterly exasperated. The angel chuckled and nodded, flipping through the pages of the great book of records.
"Wow! I barely cracked the thousands. Were you James Bond and forgot to mention?" Beth snorted next to me. It seemed ludicrous that we'd be here. Side by side. From carbon monoxide of all things. Mountain climbing in Chile, wing suiting in the Swiss Alps, cave diving in the Yucatan. We should've been dead a dozen times over. Instead, neglecting the furnace maintenance got us. In my defense we were rarely home!
"There must be some mistake! Before I met Beth the most exciting thing I'd ever done was riding my bike without a helmet! She was the one who introduced me to thrill seeking! No way I have more than her!" I insisted. The angel gave a small giggle and turned the book to me. Merreti's, Julie's, Krügra, Mitzoyama. The whole book was filled with names I recognized, but couldn't place. Until one stood out. Repeated over and over like the writings of a madman. Starbucks. Over and over. My wife broke out into hysterics. Gallows humor I guess. I on the other hand was floored.
"Did the baristas union have a hit out on you!?" Beth accused through her giggles. It made no sense. I had been a long time devotee of the mermaid temple. I even had the dam app. It helped that they had free wifi, and a shop in nearly every airport on every continent.
"How! Why?" I sputtered angrily, flipping oven and over through the dozens of pages of coffee shops.
"Usually an allergy as severe as yours would be noticed and diagnosed by a doctor. Or kill you before you had the chance to do so. However your belief that hazelnut was a "fad flavor" and "was for people who wanted chocolate but also wanted to pretend to be too good for chocolate" saved you. Although it was truly an error of fate that there was never contamination." Beth hit the floor in laughter, and I was left standing aghast at the dozens of times someone had tried to murder me with their insistence I try Nutella. | "And you see, right here? The methane level in your flat was so high that you passed out. You told your mother it was a nap but you actually asphyxiated. Crazy huh!". His black robes shook at hs spoke. The thick hood cast a deep shadow along his skeletal face, leaving only the movement of a gleaming white jaw bone visible. He pushed the button on his pointer, hopping to the next slide.
"And HERE, okay this one was a doozy. You decided you'd get everything organic, right? No pesticides? Dude, those eggs were WEEKS out of date. We've got a team trying to work out how your stomach didn't fall out of your asshole.". The stone cave walls shimmered with the unnatural light emanating from the projector. The far off drips of fluid flowing down stalactites formed an aquatic percussion that gave the skeleton's ramblings a tone of suspense. He pushed the button on his hand one more time and the slide switched over. It was a picture of my mother.
"Okay, the serious stuff.". The skeleton pulled out the chair beside me and sat down. As each joint pivoted, it cracked, forming a crunching sound with every shuffle and twitch. He put both his hands on the table, sighed and looked down, gathering his thoughts. "Your mother used to tuck you in when you stayed back at home, right? Right up until she passed away". I nodded, words failing me as they had since my awakening. "Well dude, she wasn't trying to tuck you in. She was trying to kill you". He pushed the button on his projector and from the screen erupted blues, greens, reds, yellows. They exploded around the room and for a moment, I thought I had lost my mind. Then, as some of the confetti cleared, I realised they were balloons. The skeleton leapt out of his seat with a deafening crack.
"Congratulations! I mean, dude, seriously? She held a pillow over your face for three straight minutes. She had to stop because, and listen because this is \*hilarious\*, her arms got tired. Arms, tired! Those flabby grandma arms just couldn't stop you snoring your way through a twenty year old pillow. AND her reason? You were so God damn boring!!". He threw his ghastly head back and cackled. I looked at the balloons, which were now floating upwards into the stalactites above and bursting, adding a sudden bang to the dripping chorus of the cave.
"Anyway, you're set in for the comfort suite. It's cute, no sharp corners. Just you, your mom and a room full of pillows." | 2019-01-27T03:15:59 | 2019-01-27T02:18:27 | 122 | 41 |
[WP] The current rulers of the galaxy exert their dominance by showing showing new races a glimpse of their terrifying nature inevitably either driving the unfortunate victims mad or causing them to retreat in fear. It does not work on humans however, they are used to it | Generally all life is fairly passive. Not to say that aggression isn’t a part of life. It’s just that life isn’t aggressive just to be aggressive. This is the law of the universe, or so the universe thought. The biggest rule, and the smallest submit. right? This was true until we found them. Never before had the thousand races of the Milky Way quaked in fear. They watched on as this so called humanity raged war to the likes of which none had ever seen. Massive graves of piled corpses, and carcasses still smoldering in pools of blood. Oh, the children, how could there be children not only lying dead, but there was also one smiling as he finished cleaving off the head of his enemy. The universe watched on in horror as the humans killed and killed. A pit of fear formed, so vast it could swallow the sun. What left every sole watching stunned the most was that they were not fighting some existential threat. No, they were fighting one another. The universe watched on, but left the terror of humanity alone. | The beings reviled themselves to be what we all fear, everyone saw the end of the human race, end of our world, a world war, this is how they scare the other aliens, humans are the violent creatures of the galaxy, so, we are used to the destruction of our species, as it has happened twice already.
“Look now! See what we will cause on your planet if you do not follow our lead!” A 98 year old man stands up, “you don’t scare me. I landed at Normandy, you can’t get worse that that!” They get into our minds and make us see what would happen, the heat, the flash, I could feel my retinas burning, my skin boiling, “Is this what you want?” They ask, “you can’t scare us you galactic pieces of shit!” A man yells through the pain.
The vision stops, “what will it take! What will it take!?” They boom at us, “**NOTHING WE REFUSE TO BE CONTROLLED!!**” the old man yells, and we all start chanting, we refuse to be controlled, “so be it.” Then they disappeared, “that can’t be good in the long run.” A younger man, probably in his 20s says, his voice shaking. “ whatever follows, we will be ready.” A woman says, steady as a rock, looking at the sky, “we will be ready.” | 2019-06-11T10:26:16 | 2019-06-11T08:24:52 | 48 | 26 |
[WP] You are the King's must trusted advisor. Your advice has saved the kingdom from devastation many times. There's just one problem: You're actually trying to sabotage the King with the worst advice you can think of, but it always somehow works out. | Korth slumped down against the railing, looking out disbelieving as the rising cheers of the crowd filled the city. The army had returned victorious against all odds, even after the army itself should have been an impossibility...
How! It should have been impossible, the Dark Elves had always betrayed any other race at every opportunity since history had been recorded. Having the King treat with them to oppose the more powerful Human kingdoms, which were preparing for another campaign to push further into non-human territory and expand their borders, should have been the end of this kingdom.
The powerful Human kingdoms would, and had, united against the country that would dare ally with monsters to stop a war with non-humans. It should have been a quick one sided battle, with the Dark Elves either withdrawing at the last minute or attacking from behind before the Kingdom would be swept under the combined Human armies might. That would have left him in charge of a large province carved from the kingdom and absorbed by another, and much richer for it.
Instead the armies... ALL the major Human kingdoms had been defeated, and all the leaders and a fair share of the nobility had been assassinated. Because of THEM!
At the head of the returning army, hand in hand, were the ones responsible. A Wood Elf Priest and Dark Elf Priestess. Newly fallen in love and chosen champions of their gods...
The mage regretted blasting that spy to dust for delivering a report a few hours earlier, he had thought it some terrible attempt at misdirection... But it all seemed true...
The gods were the god of their domain, there were no two gods of different races that claimed the same influence. The god of the sun was part of the Wood Elf pantheon, and had fought with the Dark Elf goddess of darkness when the multiverse was young, ever since the two races of elves had fought mercilessly.
The 'diplomatic' expedition Korth had put together had included a Wood Elf Priest, against much protest, under the excuse that his blessings would be needed to see deep under the earth without hurting the underdwellers eyes. Really the pride both races and religious casts were famous for was supposed to cause friction in negotiations and insult to the rulers. However, according to the report, the Priest had somehow fallen in love with a well connected Priestess, who had smoothed the negotiations as well as the... reconciliation.
Not only that! Impossibly, through the love of their two young followers, the Elven gods themselves reconciled. Throwing away untold millennia of animosity to end their races conflict, as well as encourage sharing between the underexpanse and the surface.
THAT had been the deciding factor in the short war. When the Human armies met the kingdoms allied forces, even with the sun no longer hurting the Dark Elves eyes or weakening their magic, they were outnumbered and overpowered. Until, just before the armies were ready to clash, darkness rose and spread across the battlefield for miles. No light shone past a few inches in it, no magic could dispel it, and a dark mass of expanse monsters and races rose to sweep over the blind Humans.
The god of light had not only allowed the under-races access to the surface without harm, the two gods had given each other leave to influence the world in their domains. The celestial cycles and natural lighting be damned.
Turning from the quickly forming parade in disgust, Korth burnt the crumpled report with a dismissive flick, disintegrating as it flew through the air. He would have to move fast, there were still some operatives in the city that had known something of the plan, and they would have to die fast. He probably had a feast to plan soon, and HE would need to be well and truly drunk before that happened.
Casting a wave of flame he watcher the temporary study, and most of the evidence of this last plot, begin to go up in smoke. He took one book from a shelf near the door before he hurried out, a forbidden tome of summoning. After this all settled down maybe he could convince the King that Demons were just misunderstood souls enslaved against their will… If the demons, or a resulting holy inquisition, didn’t topple this kingdom he didn’t know what would!
Pausing, thinking, the Mage that the King considered his closest friend and wisest advisor went back to collect one more text. A compilation of known, and suspected, eldritch horrors that all reputable magic schools and kingdoms had banned people from even thinking about. Just in case. | I stood outside the doors and took a deep breath. I had been summoned again, and I was not prepared for what awaited me on the other side. As the doors swung open, I took a step over the threshold.
“Ah, there he is!” exclaimed the booming, aging voice. “You’ve done it again, my boy!” I watched as long, graying hair flew through the air above purple, flowing robes. Before I knew it, he was there, grasping my arm as if I was his brother. “Come, sit with me,” the voice came again, dragging me with it as I forced a smile on my face. “If you were my son,” the voice continued, “I’d make you Crown Prince!”
It had been several months since I was last in the throne room, but I remembered it vividly. Tensions had reached an apex, war was inevitable, and the sentinels were reporting that troops from a neighboring kingdom were making their way toward the eastern border. I was sure that would be it. If they could get to the capital without much resistance, I was sure this wretched man would finally be forced off his throne. The East was only half our size, so the lack of resistance was vital. That was why I counseled him to go to the West. *Remember, sire, that while it has been the East that has threatened us and made demands, they have always had the West behind them,* I reasoned. *Do you not find it rather interesting, then, that only the East has caused alarm? The sentinels in the West have been quiet while an entire force collects near our eastern border.* I knew if I could convince him, he would send the entire force in the wrong direction. *And why are they stopping at the border? We have nobody on the ground over there right now. Why not cross and get as far inward as possible?* He sent a majority of our forces westward, only sending enough the other way to keep the East at bay and to stop any communications between the two allies.
Internally, as I sat near the throne, I was cursing myself. Of course it was a distraction. The East hadn’t even tried to attack - just engage in a months-long standoff. But by being so bad at war strategy, I had somehow accidentally given good advice. Now we had won a major battle in the West and our forces were heading to the East to give them a choice: peace or destruction. We were now set to win a war in which one enemy was summarily defeated due to the overwhelming numbers we set against them at my behest and the other enemy had no idea what awaited them. Honestly, their stupidity in planning had to take some credit in this ridiculous outcome, but the fault would publicly lie with me.
So, here I was again, sitting with the King as nobles filled the room. My face was not unknown to them. I was the eccentric advisor they always opposed because they believed my ideas foolish. But they weren’t wrong. Well, they shouldn’t have been wrong. My ideas were supposed to be foolish. What kind of advisor tells a king to seize as many noble lands as possible to show his strength? He was trying to quell an uprising, my advice was meant to hasten it. But it turned out that most of the nobility would bend the knee and beg mercy to have their own property returned than to rise up against a tyrant. Even better, what kind of advisor says to double taxes to pay for a completely unnecessary castle? Yet again, there it was, being built in the northland hills as the poor got poorer and the rich got less rich, and no one seemed to bat a damn eye. “It’s only temporary,” they’d say. Or they’d give some reason why a castle was needed in the hills. Peasants would normally look back to when crops were diseased and dying and the King saved them from starvation by bringing in new crops to grow from different lands. Also my idea. They were from a different climate with completely different growing conditions. He was supposed to spend a good amount of the treasury and the crops were supposed to fail. But, not only did they succeed, they thrived, and most of the people thought they tasted better than our native crops. And now, with such a decisive and swift victory over a foreign enemy with a trained militia, hopes of any domestic uprising among peasants or nobles had been completely shattered.
I maintained my forced smile as the disgraceful twit proclaimed me High Chancellor and Defender of the Realm, placed the ring and chains on me, and paraded me before his incestuous family and spineless aristocrats. At this point, short of assassination, I will probably never be rid of him.... | 2019-07-07T17:00:42 | 2019-07-07T16:02:09 | 60 | 28 |
[WP] You are happily married and have a 4 year old child with your SO. But when your child starts to develop super powers one day, you have serious questions for your SO who has always seemed to have a boring accounting job. | I was washing dishes when I hear my husband s hushed voice on the baby monitor. “No, no,no... come on” I quietly put down the dishes and walk into the nursery to see my husband staring up at the ceiling where our son Theo sat. Not just him but everything in his room was floating.
I was faint at first but this was my son, the only bright spot in my life. “Theo,” my son looked at me and smiled my husband jumped turning to look at me. “Honey I can” I walked passed him climbing on a stool to get Theo. “Now it’s time for bed” once on the ground all the furniture fell to the floor. After feeding him and putting him back to bed I turned to my sheepishly looking husband. We walked out of the room I grabbed him by the ear and dragged him outside. “You! You didn’t think to let me know about this!?” I was livid and upset. “I knew you looked to much like Silverwing. Because that who you are!” He cover my mouth looking around “honey, I know you are upset right now but can we talk about this somewhere more private?”
I slapped away his hand, “don’t give me that we are perfectly safe here. I can’t believe you hadn’t told me! The woman you married, the woman who had your child! How long did you think you’d be able to keep THAT a secret?!” I gestured to Theo’s room. “I didn’t know how to tell you, and didn’t think this would happen” I crossed my arms. “You are lucky that I love you,” I walked back inside. “That’s it?” He chased after me. “Will talk about this tomorrow morning.” I went to the room and locked the door.
I was mad, I was worried, a normal child was a handful but now I had a baby that had super powers. I sat up reading online about my husbands secret identity. His powers and weaknesses. I started to recognize other hero’s who had come over to our house. Had dinners with us. Attended our wedding. The next morning after I heard my husband leave for “work” I packed up Theo and drove off. | “Honey? Can we talk please?” I finally found a time to talk to Gretel tonight. She put her book down on the night stand and looked at me.
“Sure. What’s up?”
“Uh, well I’m not sure you know this but uh... Tommy was flying.”
Gretel looked shocked. “Flying you say?”
“Flying. Was going to bring him a bag of chips today. And when I came home is zooming around the room.”
“Oh...” Gretel looked down on the blanket covering us. “Flying...”
“But wait! There’s more. Because when I asked him what was going, he just kept saying he had no idea. He saw a bird and was thinking about flying. All of a sudden he was doing just that!”
Gretel shook her head, then made a face like she just figured something out. But I still continued to talk.
“But wait. Later on that day I was going to charge my phone when Tommy came and snatched it. He started flying around, AGAIN, and playing keep away. I managed to get it back him but SOMEHOW it was fully charged. Like he was a tiny human charger!”
“Look, dear. I’m just as surprised as you that our son has superpowers.”
“You bet I am! And I know I don’t have anything like that, but you know who does?”
She started sweating. “Um... The Generator-“
“The Generator! Our friendly super charged crime fighter who I only ever see whenever you aren’t around. So... what really happens during your day?”
Gretel started stuttering. “I’m an accountant. Y-you know that... hehe...”
“Give up the act Gretel. Face it. You’re The Generator.”
“A-am not! Maybe you’re getting sick and seeing things-“ Gretel tried to deny she was the Generator, but then Tommy came in flying into our room. I aggressively gestured my hands to our 4 year old whose hair is about 3 centimeters away from the ceiling.
“Mommy? Can I sleep with you guys? I’m scared...” he said timidly. He pointed outside. “I think there’s a monster...”
Gretel reaches out to grab Tommy and hugged him. “Alright, let’s go see where this monster is.” She got up and they both went to his room. I need a way to make Gretel admit who she really is... | 2019-08-23T10:18:27 | 2019-08-23T06:49:08 | 33 | 22 |
[WP] Walking home one night you find an old lamp and a Genie pops out. He tells you that you have 6 wishes, 3 more than usual. You take it home to sleep on it, because this is important. You must be sure! You wake up to find a frantic Genie. You only have one wish left because you sleep talk. | “So if we were on a plane and it was about to crash, who would you save? Me or the dog?” I ask.
She hugs Penguin harder and smiles. “The three of us? Why would we be the only ones on the plane?”
“I don’t know. I guess I didn't think it through. But who would you pick?”
She looks down at the Great Dane, and it licks her face. That’s why it’s always an unfair game, to pick between an animal and a human. A dog or cat licking her face, and it’s cute and lovable. A human doing it…
“I couldn’t pick. Why are you asking me this?”
“It's an easy choice, isn't it? Penguin is waiting by the door when I get home every day, and waits even when I am home. I don't think I can ever give you that much love.”
"Penguin is a good girl," she says, squeezing the dog's neck so hard it gives a little yelp. "Are you worried I love her more than you?"
"I'm a little worried," I say. "But you can see why I'm nervous, right?"
“There’s no reason to worry,” she says, coming over to me in the dark, leaving Penguin behind. “Hopefully, I won’t ever have to choose.”
\-
See, that’s why I don’t think a computer could ever replicate the human brain. Because how would a computer be able to replicate the maddening, mysterious way your mind brings up the worst memories, the saddest details of the most cutting images just when you didn’t need it? A computer would be smarter than that. It would know to move the pain the the recycle bin and empty it out. If only it were that easy.
It’s another rainy day. When I was with her, I learned to like the rain. She said it was a miracle, how God made this massive shower for all of us, and that it would be wrong of us to just ignore it.
But now, when it rains, I just stay home. I mean, I stay home most of the time anyways. The extent of my time outside is spent smoking on the balcony, seeing nothing but the grayness, hearing only white noise, wishing the great shower could wash off the love I still have for her.
“You are thinking of her, aren’t you?”
I turned around. A figure, made out of mist and smoke, stands there, watching with a sad smile.
“What?”
“I have been watching you for a while. You see, for all our powers, we can’t ever enter your mind or your heart. All I had was time to watch you.”“Watch me? Who are you?”
“I loved, once before. But not for a long time. Because this what waits at the end of any great love. Pain, and a shadow over you wherever you go.”
“Are you a ghost?”
“Three wishes,” the figure says. “Choose them wisely, and remember only to speak when you have decided, and know in your heart it is what you want.”
The figure floats to the edge of the rain, and turns to look at me.
“But I have a feeling I know what you will use your wishes for.”
“Wait. Why did you choose me?”
“Because I think you could teach me something about being human. Something I’ve forgotten.”
And the genie walked into the rain, and became one with the grayness. Penguin barks after it for a long time, puzzled as to where it has gone.
\-
I wake up in the darkness.
“I had to bring you awake,” the genie says. “It was dire.”
With only the fading light of the city to light the room, the genie is barely visible. But I can see it hovering above me.
“What?”
“I should have known. The memories and dreams haunt you at night, and all you can do is yell against their assault. All the time I spent watching you, I should have known what you would say.”
“What’s happened?”
“Your ex-wife. You wished her dead in your sleep. So I had to grant the wish.”
My heart starts to pound, and the darkness starts to turn upside down.
“And you used your other wish as well.”
It begins to dawn on me. The apartment is far too quiet...
“Penguin?” I ask.
“Penguin heard your whispers in the night, and tried to wake you. You pushed her off, and said you wished she would go away.”
“So she’s still alive?”
The genie says nothing.
“So...I have one wish left?”
“Yes. So-what will you do?”
\-
So I fucked up and didn’t see the part about there being 6 wishes. Oh well, thanks for reading:)
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347) | I found an old lamp as I walked home last night. Or maybe the old lamp found me. That's how those things work, right? It was sitting on the mailbox of the house at the corner. I rubbed it, because what else do you do when you have something smooth and shiny? Well, out popped a genie. More like out poofed a genie, to more accurately describe the sound. Poof. A hazy cloud and a bit of coughing as it cleared and then he was standing in front of me, blue-skinned and wearing nothing but a loincloth and looking as ripped as a body-builder.
He wasn't happy. I could tell because he cussed at me by way of a greeting. "Six wishes. Make it snappy. Got a nap appointment that I can't miss." He looked at his wrist. There was no watch on it. Plus, it was well past midnight. Who naps past midnight?
"Six?" In case you never dealt with a genie before, the norm is three wishes.
"Did I fucking stutter?" No, no you didn't, Mister Genie, sir. Must have woken him up from a nap or something, considering how grumpy he was.
"Look," I told him diplomatically. "I'm drunk. I'm tired. I'm just trying to get home. This is a big decision. I'll get back to you tomorrow." I think he resisted. He planted his feet and tried to grab me and force those wishes out of me so that he could go back to doing what he was doing in the privacy of his own room. I just picked up that room of his and wandered off with it, taking the lamp back home with me.
I woke up this morning to the genie frantically poking me. "Dude. Dude. Dude. Dude."
"What?" I yelled finally, opening my eyes. The idiot had pulled open the blinds and turned on the light. He might as well have been shining a flashlight in my face while slamming the back of my head with a frying pan. I could feel the pounding in my temples.
"Good news and bad news. Which do you want first?" He had calmed down a little, presumably because I had woken up.
"Good news. What's the good news?" Might as well start the day off right, I figured.
"You have one wish left. That's good, right?" One wish. One of three? I thought back to last night. No, one of six. One wish? Why just one wish?
"What happened to my other wishes?" I was sitting up in the bed now. The room was a mess. My dreams had not been good that night. They never were after drinking. Nightmares and poor decisions abounded, thankfully restricted to the world of dreams.
"Hey, you wanted the good news first. Tangential topic here. Did you know you sleep-talk?" I caressed my temples and held my head. I felt like puking.
"I sleep-talked my other five wishes." It wasn't a question.
"You said it, not me." Great. He was relaxing near the foot of my bed now, shoes up over the comforter and sipping on a glass of milk he had helped himself to. The lamp sat on my bedside table. I wondered if he had been wandering around the house all night.
"Can I take them back?"
He shook his head. "Nope. No take backs." I sighed.
"What were my other wishes?"
He shook his head. "Sorry, dude. Can't tell you. Should have read the fine print." I did vaguely remember signing a contract last night when I first rubbed the lamp. I glared at him. "I'm going for a nap now. Rub me when you need me," he added with a wink. He got up to be absorbed by the lamp again but I got there first. I stuck my finger in the end, blocking his entrance. He stared at me stunned. "Dude. You're violating the lamp. Literally."
"No," I said sternly. "You're with me until we figure this mess out." He groaned and reluctantly agreed. I didn't really care about the wishes, to be frank. I don't think he quite knew what he was agreeing to. My lease just didn't allow a dog and having a roommate sounded fun.
"I can't tell you your wishes. But you know that dream about venturing into Hell with your ex-girlfriend?" I should have been keeping a dream journal. That didn't sound good. Not at all. I shook my head. "How about the one where the roads were made of jello?" That sounded delicious, to be honest. I shook my head and he shrugged. "That'll give you a starting spot. I'll be in your bed."
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2019-09-20T07:33:59 | 2019-09-20T05:48:14 | 138 | 79 |
[WP] You are death, but in a post apocalypse world, only a few survivors remain. You’re doing everything you can to help them cause if the last human dies, you die too. They can’t see you but they feel you presence and noticed your efforts. They’ve started calling you ‘life’. | "That's Life, that's what all the people say..."
Or, they would, if there was any left who remember it. I've always loved that Sinatra tune. Ironic, I know, but it's the little things you learn to appreciate over an eternity. I was a little nervous when I met him, actually, though probably not as nervous as he was now that I look back on it. Sounds crazy, I know, but everyone gets a little star-struck, right? And can you really blame a guy with no discernable auditory voice to human ears for being a fan of a voice like his?
Anyway, that's not what you're here for, is it? You're wondering why the literal embodiment of Death is saving lives. From Destroyer of Worlds to a Guardian Angel, you'd think it was a promotion but we don't exactly get raises around here. So why protect the last small bastion of humanity? Well, it's my own fault.
That Destroyer of Worlds thing isn't just a meaningless title like Queen of England, or bassist. I actually did stuff. Death is my occupation, it's my literal reason to be, my raisin debt or whatever the French used to call it. I won't bore you with the technical details of the afterlife or my machinations therein, but Death plays a big part in the cycle, as you might realise. Put simply, I ferry Souls to Beyond, and along the way, I feed a little. It doesn't hurt, I don't bite or anything, not like I even *have* teeth, but without that feeding, I die. I think. Or, maybe I fade away. Existentially speaking, all I know is, I would cease without nourishing myself.
Regardless, after however many millennia, nature demands that a period of renewal must occur, which is where my big Destroyer of Worlds part comes in. Like the dinosaurs, remember that meteor? Not my most elegant work, I know, but it did the job. Think of the universe as a garden, and life it's flowers. Sometimes, a little pruning is required to flourish.
However, and yeah, total mea culpa here, I *may* have kick-started an itsy-bitsy teensy-weensy global extinction event a millennium early this time. Sue me, we all make mistakes, I'm still here cleaning up, aren't I?
There's still humans alive on this rock, and I'm determined to keep it that way so they can repopulate and get back on track. If all goes well they'll get another cycle. Probably. If nobody looks this way for a while. But the people are aware now that something seems to be over their shoulder. A family was saved from being consumed by a feral wolf when a boulder "miraculously" crushed the poor creature's leg. A starving man "found" provisions when he just so happened to follow beams of sunlight. Not like word won't ever spread of such widespread instances of luck, I guess. I hear them at night in prayers, thanking 'Life', thanking me. I've never received gratitude from those who speak to me before. At best there were those who felt relieved from their burdens.
There's a girl now, separated from her brother. Their parents are long gone by now. I still remember their faces, their grief. Time was when there was too many to remember. The Good Old Days, I suppose. She's got no food, no water. Their camp is a full day away. Her brother won't find her tonight, he knows he has to go back to his people until sunrise. Too many creatures on the prowl at night for safety. She's crying, with good reason, too, she's Dead unless...
There's a stream a short walk away, but she doesn't know about it. There's a big tree nearby too, fruit on the branches. She can see the tree at least, but the sky is clear, no need to take shelter.
Ah, how unfortunate, a raincloud appeared from behind her. Maybe she didn't realise, she was upset and not paying attention after all.
It's coming down heavy now, too heavy to travel, and night is fast approaching. Perhaps she can shelter under the tree a bit.
There's a knot in the trunk, with enough grip on the bark to allow for some footholds, she can climb up and rest safely for the night.
She's tired, but there's fresh fruit on the branches, and a stream nearby to drink from in the morning.
She'll live to fight another day.
Oh well.
That's life.
EDIT: Grammar/Formatting | For myriad of eons i’ve forgotten who I really was, harvesting the essence of all existence. I treaded the earth for eternity, collecting souls for the Great Source.
It was something like a menial job no one wants to do but someone needs to do it so I got the job. I never asked for it but I never said I do naught want it. At first it was all exciting, thinking who will be next? Will he be joining the Great Source? Will he be sent back to live a new life? Or will he be wiped out from existence?
You see, death is not like the way we know them. We all came from the Great Source and we are all connected to Him as we are all a small part of Him. But the connections gets abrupt by flesh and skin. Mortality closes the connections. But once a mortal dies, he must return to the Great Source.
Thus, there are exemptions, a core can naught be reunited to the Great Source if it is corrupted. The corruption simply wont allow it. Those slightly corrupted souls have less soul left of them that they were sent back to start as a new born child allowing them to regrow their corrupted core. While those that has been highly corrupted has no redemption but there is no hell for them either, they simply lose their existence.
But then a decade ago, I got real busy. The mortals, for the last time, have destroyed themselves again. This time, a great amount of their race were wiped out from the face of the earth. For the longest time, I never felt so excited of my job but at the same time, exhausted of all the souls to annihilate and disappointed of the less core to bring back to the Great Source.
Then somehow I realized, how less those that is left. That is went to begin to feel what fear is. Men must naught go extinct or the purpose of my existence will disappear and together with my purpose is my existence. So I left my abode and guide all life scattered across the world in one community to started the new world.
The massive weapons of men left no breathing plants nor any flowing rivers. All that’s left are barren soil and endless desert.
I went into the middle of the earth and planted the first seed I ever planted with my own hands and nurture it. With the tip of my finger more plants grew, with the touch of my sole slither new vines and with the struck of my scythe, patches of lands became greener. This will be the humans new frontier.
But I am invisible to the mortal eye, finding them is easy but sending them here is quite tricky. I first met Tricia and Tom, a young lady with her younger brother that seems to be in their sixteen summers and ten summers respectively. They were hiding in a bunker of their house when the war broke but their parents did not make it.
The young are easy to bait, they don’t ask nor they don’t think too much. They simply believe. Using my scythe, I drag it’s blade into the ground, allowing sprouts to burgeon, Tom began to follow, while his sister followed him. At first, I must show them incredible things to make them realize I was sending them to a safe place. And soon as I gain their trust, I traced a path of grass towards the new paradise and look for others.
Another interesting human was Martha, she was near to death when I saw her. I can only harvest her soul once she drew her last breath but there are no rules for me to prevent that in happening. She was all burnt all over and struggling every breath in the middle of ruins and pile of dead men. I knew she saw me in her delirium. In her current state, her connections to the Great Source is getting stronger that allows her to see me, but she is not sure if I was real. So during her passing, I showed her a vision of the land I created and how to get there. And soon she gain consciousness, all her wounds were healed and I knew she’ll find her way to the land I shown her.
All that remains began to gather to the last frontier, for the next decade I keep an eye on these remaining people. Making sure they are living in all comfort and healthy life.
And with all these trying, never did I noticed I’ve been over doing it. With all the miracles I shown them they began to believe to my existence as a deity. And then they remind me of who I really was. I am Life. Humans have became so effective in procreating that I’ve forgotten my real purpose - dominion over life.
I have dominion over life, giving and taking life was the reason I came into existence. But with all the population crowding the world diminishes my life giving purpose and made me the soul reaper for the longest time. | 2019-10-19T22:10:12 | 2019-10-19T22:09:07 | 50 | 24 |
[WP] For $10M you have accepted the bet, to be tied to a chair in a pitch black room for 24 hours. You’ve been assured that there will be no physical pain, but if you beg to be let out, you lose. | Ten million dollars seemed like a no-brainer at the time, but now you knew why they were called no-brainers. You'd have to be without a brain to do it.
After the first half hour, you wondered why this was a challenge. Then the hallucinations set in. You didn't know if they were amazing or terrifying, but you knew you shouldn't be seeing them. After while... maybe fifteen minutes? You weren't sure any more. But the conversations were quite intriguing. You can't remember what they were about, but they were definitely stimulating.
You're not quite sure when you begin to panic, but it caught you by surprise. You thought something was pushing you around, but you came to realize you were struggle against your bonds. Huh, neat.
Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. You tried to shout that you gave up, but your throat seized. You couldn't make a sound. This probably wasn't good, especially with the room spinning. Wait, how can you tell it's spinning if it's dark? Something to investigate later, you were busy blacking out.
When you came to, you felt a bit of rocking. You guessed your 24 hours were up and they were waking you. They left your hands tied up though. Also, why did it sound like there was a horse walking? As you opened your eyes, you saw others whose hands were bound. One of them took notice of you.
A man who you somehow knew as Ralof said, "Hey, you. You're finally awake." | I knew that I could do it. From the moment I read that ad in the Psychology wing of the Medical Teaching building. I spent days working on my plan, reading everything I could on sensory deprivation studies.
I walked into The Center confident and prepared. But you know what they say, that no plan survives first contact with the enemy. For all of my planning and study I forgot one crucial detail. The enemy isn’t the darkness, the solitude, the length of time, or even being tied to a chair. No, the enemy was my own mind and body.
It didn’t take long. After being tied to the chair, a woman with hair so vibrantly red that I can see it now, when my eyes are closed, and the ghosts of it when theyre open, or, is it the other way around, I’m not sure at the moment, regardless, the stopwatch she began in front of my face was certainly still ticking. I tried counting, 1,2,3,4... 7891,7892. Then I tried dividing the number I lost track on, and to find I had only spent a fraction of my time was demoralizing, but not as bad as losing my voice, the screams disappearing into the dark, the boots, boots, boots, movin’ up an’ down again, my voice strains, for a room so large I should hear an echo, but they took my fuzzy coat and left me in nothing but a sparse gown, seven-six-eleven-five-nine-an’ twenty mile-to-day, only a harsh whisper, a smell, i havent smelled in so long, ammonia ammonia and water, i must be hallucinating now, blinding and booming.
So confident had I been, until the door had opening and they had dragged the senseless raving contestant out of the room before me. | 2020-02-27T02:17:15 | 2020-02-27T02:12:43 | 50 | 11 |
[WP] You’re in the mafia and the boss has ordered you to kill your girlfriend to show your loyalty. You look around the room and see the pictures only to find out you’re dating the mafia boss’s daughter. | My heart froze in place, my veins turned to ice; I couldn't believe the order I was just given.
"B-but, boss," I stammered, "you want me to kill my girlfriend?! Your daughter?! Why? How could you!"
The patriarch of my family, Hirayama Makoto, had a reputation for giving such bizarre tests of loyalty. Those closest to him were familiar with these tests, but I, being a newcomer, had no hope of understanding his motive. I scanned his face and posture for any hints that he might give, but his countenance was as cold and lifeless as the large marble orb that sat on the wooden bookcase behind him. He slowly rose from his seat, peering at me from dark, steely eyes.
"Well, Higa?" He said, his voice with the threatening growl of a lurking tiger, "what will it be? Hesitation will get you killed faster than insubordination in this line of work."
I knew, right then and there, what must be done.
My right hand flew to my pistol, pulling it from my coat pocket and pointing it straight at my boss' face
"S-s-sorry boss!" I shouted. Adrenaline flooded through my body, making my jaw and my hand shake. "I... I can't! I *won't* hurt her!"
Boss Hirayama moved not a muscle; not frozen in fear, but strengthened by confidence. Boss was aging - his body grew thin, and his glossy black hair was striped with white. But this was a man who had faced subdued many young cubs back in the day, fighting and scheming his way to the top. I had trespassed on the tiger's domain, making threats with what felt like little more than a pointy stick. If I had any hope of winning the fight, In needed to end it quickly, lest I find his fangs at my throat.
And yet... I couldn't find it in me to put the old man down. This was the same old man who took me in as a youth, showed me how to fight, taught me to navigate the jungle of the crime world.
Slowly, I turned the gun to my own temple. This just felt right. My hand, steadying its trembling, agreed with my heart.
"I'm sorry boss."
But before I could do anything, Boss held up his hand.
"That's enough, Higa. I've seen enough."
I lowered the gun, ready for judgement. His face was still inscrutable, and I dreaded that I had chosen wrong.
Suddenly, his face crinkled into a smile. "You have chosen wisely. I need men like you by my side."
My legs gave way. I felt like I was ready to faint. | (I am female, but I'm willing to play as a male.)
My eyes widened as I heard his order and I felt my heart stop. Kill my girlfriend...? His own daughter...? What kind of cruel man orders such a thing...?
With a heavy heart, I stood up. "Consider it done." I said, having a hard time keeping my voice from cracking. He handed me the gun he wanted me to use and I walked out.
Anya and I had been together for two years and I was planning on proposing to her next week. I guess that wasn't happening. Boss must have figured out who I was dating. That could be the only explanation. I walked to her room, dragging my feet, dreading this test of loyalty, trying to go into that emotionless state that I get into whenever I kill someone.
I got to Anya's room and found myself just staring at the doorknob. Slowly, I reached for it and opened the door. There she was.. Anya, the woman I wanted to marry. Sitting on the couch watching her favorite show that she watched over and over again. She looked up at me with that beautiful smile of hers, which quickly disappeared as she saw my emotionless state. She had seen it before and I watched as her confusion turned to fear when she realized what was about to happen. She turned off the TV, stood up, and walked to me with tears in her eyes.
Seeing her cry made my emotionless state break, and tears of my own rolled down my cheek. I pulled her into a hug, holding her tight. We stood there for a good few minutes before I pointed the gun at her head, still holding her in my arms. She had stopped crying and accepted her fate, just glad to be in my arms one last time. And then, I did it...
...I pulled the trigger...
\*bang\*
The body of the girl I loved fell to the ground... She was dead. I fell to my knees and burst into tears as I stared at her lifeless body...
I felt my body soon become cold and lonely. I wiped my tears and felt all emotion leave my body.
\*clap, clap, clap\*
Behind me stood my boss, clapping as though he had just watched the best live theater show in his life. "Very good!" He said. "Your loyalty has been proven."
And then, I felt a pair of familiar arms wrap around me. "I'm proud of you, my love." A familiar voice said. My emotion returned as I stood up and turned around to see Anya with a big smile on her face. I turned to look at the dead body before me and pulled on it's hair, only to pull off a mask. The person I had killed was the traitor that we had captured last week.
I picked up the real Anya and spun around, filled with joy and relief. However, those emotions were soon replaced with regret and guilt. "I'm so sorry." I said quietly.
Anya looked at me and smiled. "I know, but I'm proud of you." | 2020-07-02T12:02:21 | 2020-07-02T10:40:22 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] You’re an immortal 30-year-old-looking serial killer who was sentenced to 1,000 years in prison. After 100 years people started asking questions, but now it’s been 400 years and you’re starting to outlast the prison itself. | The old warden took over the jail at 25 years old, the youngest person ever to run a maximum security prison. He was a great person. Ex military, troubled young man who turned his life around and felt the need to reform himself and so he got into the criminal justice system. I had been here for about 17 years by then. He was always nice to me. He had said, “for your crimes committed the total punishment is nearly 1000 years. You understand that you won’t even scratch the surface of that number by the time you leave this place. They might as well just give you the death penalty instead of 1000 years...but a man must serve his time.” He rolled uo his sleeves to show me a poorly done prison tattoo of the grim reaper. “Here’s a reminder that we can overcome anything that we are put though. Your past does not have to chisel your future in stone. Brighter days are coming. Just got to follow the light. Remember that.”
Such optimism.
I was escorted from my cell one evening to the wardens office by twelve of the guards. Shotguns at the ready. The warden lay on the floor of his office with an oxygen tank held to his face. He was nearing his 101st birthday.
“What are you?” He tried to say.
Someone from the administration staff said that he just suffered a massive stroke and instead of medical treatment just wanted to speak to me.
I Bent down the frail man and took his hand. Again he asked what I was. I rolled down his sleeve to uncover his old faded tattoo. I squeezed at his forearm to pull the skin tight so he could see the grim reaper on his arm.
“You’ve been a fan of mine for a long time. It’s time for you to rest now. Your kind is not supposed to know about me....”
His eyes widened and he tried to touch my face, a face that hadn’t aged a second since his first glance of me.
“...but a man has to serve his time.” I continued to him.
He proud tearful smile crossed his face followed by a small nod. The warden closed his eyes and rested his head on the floor.
As I was being escorted out of the room the wardens voice called out to me from down the hall. I could hear it as if he was standing behind me.
“What do I do now?”
“Just follow the light!” | I lost track of time fifty years in. I assumed someone else was counting the years, but now I’m not so sure. The guards stopped coming around and, if my body needed food, I would have starved long ago. I’ve watched the others pass---some quietly in their sleep; others loudly yelling for someone, anyone to bring them a glass of water or something to eat. I feel their hunger, but will never have the luxury of dying from it. It’s been…months? years?...since the last time I saw another living human being. I still talk to Peter’s body in the cell across the hall, but he was one of the first to go. We used to talk for hours, but he’s not much of a conversationalist these days. At least the rats cleaned the body before they left to find some building filled with with food and life; I don’t think I count as either anymore.
I think there was a war. I didn’t see any soldiers, but I could hear explosions in the distance for a while. Those eventually stopped. For a second, I hoped some invading army would reach the prison and free me or kill me or feed me; just anything to make THAT day different from the rest. Hoping is always a mistake. Nothing good happens…nothing **happens** at all.
The seasons do change though. I think this building used to be heated; I can see ductwork on the ceiling. My blanket couldn’t keep up with the cold, but it wore out not long after my clothes. The vinyl cover that used to house a mattress provides some shelter, but not enough to stop the shivering. Nothing stops the shivering. For a while, I enjoyed the seasons. It was something—anything---different, but now time just blurs together and even the months spent slowly freezing to death without the release of actually dying feel like a part of the monotony, not a break from it.
Without food, moving is hard. I think one day I just won’t be able to get up anymore. I think about it every time I lay down. What if this is the last time? What if I spend the next hundred or thousand years stuck in this same position? Should I lean against a wall? Lay on my back? It would be nice to be able to see Peter when I talk to him. I can still move for now, not that I have anywhere to go.
I keep telling Peter that this situation isn’t acceptable; that I simply **cannot** go on. But “going on” is the one thing that I can’t stop doing. I’d give anything to die.
Or live.
For *something* to change.
For *anything* to happen.
The sun’s going down.
I think I’ll lean against the wall for a bit. | 2020-08-17T05:44:12 | 2020-08-17T04:52:28 | 32 | 21 |
[WP] You're a warden who had always been professional and friendly, even to criminals. As you're about to celebrate your retirement alone, you got kidnapped. When your blindfolds are removed, you see many familiar faces smiling. | I closed the door, and leaned down to rub my knee. For 45 years I had given my all to those who had made the wrong choices. I had seen men and women pulled off the streets. Drug addicts, thieves, gang members, you name it, I probably met one. I tried with all of them to give a second chance. The public may have forgotten them, but when they were lost, I tried to guide them back.
It was hard, seeing so many broken people. But I never demeaned them. There was always some who would come in, swaggering. They would try to act tough, but when push came to shove, they all showed their cracks. I saw them, and helped them peace themselves back together.
Some ignored me, others took noticed, but fell off the bandwagon. But I never gave up. So much so, that I didn't have a family anymore. My brothers gave me up as a lost cause, for sympathising with them. They no longer see me as blood. So this retirement is a bittersweet end. I couldnt work anymore, and it was a relief to not face the dreary drive. But what meaning did life have now?
I made my way to the kitchen, but before I got there, a bag was drawn over my head, and my hands were pulled behind my back. I felt a pressure on the sides of my head, as I guess noise canceling ear protection was put on me. I was zipped, and though I tried to struggle, I was no longer a strapping young man. I was old, and weak, and unable to fight.
I was forced to march, and put in the back of a vehicle, i guessed a van. I couldn't tell were we went, as the roads bumped, and i couldn't tell when we turned. Eventually, we stopped, and I was pulled out, and forced into a chair. The ear protectors were lifted, and I heard a familiar sounding voice.
"Ex-Warden Price. You have been found guilty, of providing multiple prisoners the tools to better themselves. As such, you shall receive your just desserts."
The bag was pulled from me, and my bonds cut at the same time. I blinked into the light, to see a large group of familiar faces, all beaming at me. A large banner hung across the wall, saying: Thank you Warden (and Happy Retirement!). A table was piled with various foods in the corner, the centre of which held a large cake.
"Surprise!!"
I was shocked. I recognised each and every face from my time, as different individuals I had set on the right path. My protest achievement stepped forth, and I recognised him as the speaker. Tim Kalder, he was once a homeless drug addict, who was picked up for shoplifting. Now, he was a well known lawyer, who spent time funding homeless shelters.
"Sorry for the rough handling, we wanted this to be a complete surprise. I just wanted to say, on behalf of everyone here, thank you. You have given so much to help us, its now our turn to help you enjoy life."
I couldt speak. A lump had formed in my throat, and i felt my eyes water. So many people looked so happily at me, and some of their eyes glimmered too. I had shed so many tears over their sorrows, that seeing them so happy was so warming. I cried, as I had done before most of them. But this time, instead of tears of sadness, they were tears of joy. | They called me Mr.Wise and criminal people respected me more than other wardens that I worked with. Some people even questioned my intention because I was able to empathize with people who punished with awful crimes.
Among all of them, there was three criminals who I never forget. Jonathan, Joseph, and Joshua they were brothers, and they were sentenced to life. Even other criminals couldn’t approach them but I had no trouble communicating with them and I’ve learned so much about them over time. I could also say that they learned so much from me too.
I can’t see anything but I can smell the air. Someone nearby is smoking. I’m not a smoker but my wife was, I still miss her.
I hear a familiar voice, ''Hurry up, we need to leave this place ASAP.''
I’m tied to the chair and I’m blindfolded and I can hear two people approaching me. One of them grabs my arms and sticks something to my arm...
I wake up coughing. I look around and I see them. It’s J brothers. I’m no longer tied to a chair but my hands are tied. We are in some sort of abandoned building and it seems like it’s sunset.
''What you want from me?''I ask.
Joseph is the oldest brother among them and he is the most troubling one. He has my cellphone.
Joseph slowly approaches me, ''This is where your daughters going for a holiday, huh?'' he shows a picture from my phone.
The other two look a bit tired and especially Joshua looks very sick. They wouldn’t kidnap me for money but I can’t also think of any other reason other than one specific thing.
''I know that you need things.'' I say.
''Oh, Mr.Wise is back. He knows everything!'' Joseph turns back to his brothers and smiles.
''I’m supposed to be with them and if you free me I can get things you want.'' I say.
Joseph whispers into Jonathan’s ear and then he shakes his head, ''No, Mr. Wise. We know that you retired because you have something that your daughters need not us and that thing doesn’t belong to you.''
The next day I wake up in the same place and I feel thirsty. Hours later, Joshua enters the room without saying anything. I beg for water but he just gives a look at me with a corner of his eye and he leaves.
Around sunset oldest brother Joseph comes with a piece of paper on his hand.
''Take a look at this.'' He says and he shows me the paper.
It’s a bank paper.
''If you go there I can’t help you.'' I say.
Joshua comes in silently and he just stands there. His brother Joseph holds my chin, ''Your daughters picked a really good spot. Nice quiet motel close to the pier and also only 15 minutes walk distance to this bank where they can get this without a sweat.''
''Do not do this.'' I say.
''Please beg me, Mr. Wise. Tell me how sad your story is. Tell me that your daughters future depends on these tickets. You were planning to leave this planet with them and you acquired these three tickets because you knew this planet no longer a place for a healthy lifestyle. It’s just a big pile of shit.''
The last missing brother Jonathan also joins us.
''Where did you even get these tickets anyway? We both know you can’t even afford one of them let alone all three. You know what who gives a fuck. We’ll get them soon from the bank with the help of your daughters.'' Jonathan smirks.
''Does your father knows that you broke out of the prison?'' I ask Jonathan.
Jonathan stuns into silence. The other two brothers slowly approach to Jonathan and Joshua turns to Jonathan, ''What he is talking about? I thought he was dead.''
--------------------------------------
-Thank you for reading the story- | 2020-09-02T09:58:33 | 2020-09-02T08:57:39 | 45 | 21 |
[WP] You have been earning rave reviews for the "authentic" feel of your wrestling show. Truth is, not only is the fighting real, but so are the bizarre storylines and outlandish rivalries - you are struggling to keep everything together. | My hands were shaking as my eyes scanned the shelf over my desk. Row after row of little orange bottles, each printed with a neat white label.
*Let's start with the ativan, and then we can move on to the stronger stuff when --*
There was the pop. The headline match was starting. Donny Decathlete had just entered the arena. Chants of "Get fucked!" arose from the audience in time with his theme music.
He slid into the ring, then reached into the messenger bag at his side and threw some discuses into the crowd. One of the lamest gimmicks I had *ever* seen but once we convinced him that he was never going to pull off being a face and he might as well start aiming at people's heads...
The lights went out, and a roar like a dozen wildcats began in the crowd, leaping in decibel level as the organ music began to play, signaling the entrance of **The Funeral Home Operator.**
"The following match is scheduled for one fall, and is an **Indentured Servitude Match**. The winner will be given *durable power of attorney* over his opponent and also be granted a lien on their place of residence!"
I reach for one of the pill bottles on the back row and don't bother counting them out. I manage to distract myself with YouTube videos for a time until another bark of excitement from the crowd calls my attention back to the match. I shut my eyes, shift my focus to the carpeted floor for three breaths, then make my way to the observation window.
Donny Decathlete has just landed a rare Austro-Hungarian suplex on The Funeral Home Director. He mugs to the crowd, then slips under the ring, re-appearing am moment later with a javelin in his right hand. He returns to the ring and backs into the far corner, lining up his shot, just as a figure emerges from the crowd.
It is James "The Mongoose" Laredo, who pulls off a Mongo Snapo on Donny. James helps FHD to his feet, who, in turn, manages to produce a table saw and some 2x4's and sets to work constructing a bespoke coffin for his opponent.
I hope this means a few moments of relative peace but a moment later Deep Cover rappels down from the rafters and uses a flash grenade on everyone. I toss back a handful of Prilosec and chase it with a shot of tequila, then go for my phone and hold down a single button.
"Yeah, just to update," I begin, "in addition to the orthopedic surgeon and the structural engineer, we should probably track down a forensics expert --"
Another pop. Vault has entered the ring, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.
"...and a locksmith. And let's get the fire marshall down here, too, just in case En Fuego shows up with his vat of lighter fluid."
This promotion is going to be the death of me yet. At least I know who my family can turn to if they need a discount on the burial.
* * *
/r/ShadowsofClouds for more -- including some similarly absurd stories like [a goblin, a necromancer, and more playing the Suburbs and SUVs RPG](https://www.reddit.com/r/ShadowsofClouds/comments/7sxpql/wp_a_barbarian_warlord_a_goblin_king_a_mighty/) | Besides the fights themselves, we had long since begun streaming the planning meetings as well. Not only did this afford the viewers a rare glimpse behind the scenes of semi-professional wrestling choreography and planning but fights usually broke out, too.
"...and then I'll climb up the cage and do a back-flip dropping elbow smash onto Covid-19's neck." Declaired Komrad President, power flexing in his American flag speedo as he spoke.
*No, I don't think so* whispered the phage in its cold, still voice. It's black boots, black shorts and black robes left no mistake as to this year's villian.
"So, I'll climb the turnbuckles and do a back-flip power drop onto his back!" Komrad President's bandy legs, weak back and beer gut made all that rather unlikely but his lanky, beady-eyed opponent simply sneered as he rolled his eyes.
"It's still the 4th quarter, Komrad. We can't talk that way until next season." Interupted Massive Media.
All of the Triple B Wrestlers then devolved into squabbling, as happens when strong personalities collide with inevitably. You are increasingly aware that you're not directing an underground fighting circuit but merely recording something that would be going on weather your crew was here or not.
"Hey!" Shouted Law 'N Order. "You gotta lose the belt to Papa Pres. It's already been decided."
"Screw you, hippie!"
Law 'n Order didn't even have to get up out of the rickety folding chair he was straddling. He just reached out and punched KP right in his jowly head. Komrad didn't have time to react, went down like a sack of potatoes.
"YES!" I screamed, then cleared my throat. "Uh, like that! *Just* like that! That was a, ah, great sports moment."
"But I'm not even in this fight." Stated the massive, longtime crowd favorite.
*I'm winning this one* muttered this year's undisputed champion, not only of the local circuit but the international as well.
Komrad President spat. "Your kung fu can't defeat me!"
*I'm not using kung fu and I already have*
Columbia stood up and spoke. As usual her flowing robes caught a breeze, even though they were indoors, and her strident voice broke the clamor that already threatend to break out once more.
"Komrad, do Not make Law 'N Order toss you out of that ring. Papa Prez, what's your plan?"
"I haven't been given my entrance que yet!"
"What about a dramatic, pre-emptive chair-up-side-the-head?" I offered.
Papa sniffed and looked down his nose at me. "In *my* day we were introduced by the MC and given proper fanfare."
We all begrudgingly looked over at the Master Of Ceremonies where KP had, several bouts ago, hog tied him, stuck a wadded up roll of counterfeit hundred dollar bills in his mouth and thrown a flag over his eyes. All off script and all to the howling delight of their viewers.
"You may just have to take the lead on this one, Papa Prez."
The old man had been wrestling since before many of the crew, and most of the audience, were born and none of us really relished the idea of an old man tangling with The Pulverizing Pandemic. But neither had any of the younger contenders been taken into the ring, yet.
Just this somewhat perplexing representation of the Boomer League slugging it out in a command performance by the viewers. | 2020-11-30T09:34:35 | 2020-11-30T09:18:41 | 28 | 12 |
[WP] On the train home from work, you see a woman accidentally leave papers behind as she exits. On the front it says: “read this & call me at this #”. You realize that it’s a verbatim script of your past few days and even goes into that evening. | People usually ignore each other on the train, a form of trying to avoid eye contact in subtle ways. So it really stood out when this sharply dressed woman stared at me for a moment and made sure to catch my eye as she put her papers down just before she got off at the next stop.
Everyone else on the train acted as we normally do and ignored the papers as somebody else's problem. The train was half empty and one seat being used for papers was just an excuse to avoid having to sit next to someone.
I almost ignored the papers, but on a weird whim I chose to pick them up as I got off the train myself.
The platform of my stop was slow, so it was easy taking a moment to look at these papers before throwing them away.
As a slightly manic and off tune saxophone desperately tried to attract attention with personal variations on Christmas tunes echoed down from the stairs, I looked down at the stack.
"Read this and call me at (212) 708-9400."
Intrigued I started reading.
"7:03am: Subject woke, showered, ate 2 pieces of leftover pizza before grabbing a 3rd and heading to their train. No incidents on train."
"8:19 am: Subject arrived at salesforce tower and proceeded to elevators after screening."
This was me! I was subject!
At page 3 it took an extraordinary turn... It started describing me standing on the platform reading papers... There were 5 pages left.
I couldn't help myself. I kept reading. It told a story of me calling the number and learning about why I was the subject in the papers. In the story I found myself chased by armed people as the papers led me to find the Medallion of Minoc. I survived getting shot and...
"Fuck this," I said to myself.
Staring right at a young man who looked up at my outburst I belligerently dropped the papers and started my way up the stairs.
As I turned the corner and started walking up the tunnel to the surface an excited voice exclaimed behind me... "Hey! This is about me!" | *Wednesday 7:15 PM*
''Sorry, miss. You dropped these.'' I hand the papers.
She is looking at the ground and not holding the papers tightly.
''Do you need help?'' I ask.
She drops the papers again this time one of the papers stuck at the door of the train and the train leaves the station with that paper. I turn back but she is already gone. I pick up the rest of the papers from the ground.
I arrive at my home half an hour later. I feed my cat and I lay down on the couch. Then I get up and I grab the papers and I start reading them.
*Thursday 6:30 PM*
I get on a train and I sit down and when I turn my head to the right I see the woman that I saw yesterday. She is wearing the same coat and she is looking at the ground and she is standing even though there are empty seats.
I don’t know how to approach her. I read everything. She knows everything about me. Everything I did since the weekend.
45 minutes later the train arrives at the station. She leaves first and I decide to follow her. I follow for her 10 to 15 minutes and then she stops at the corner of the street. She goes into a coffee shop and a few seconds later rain starts to pour. I go into the same coffee shop and I sit at the same table. She doesn’t look at me.
She pulls out a posit and she writes on it then, she shows it to me.
'Are you looking for a destination?'
Before I get a chance to say anything she writes on a different posit which says ‘Can you get me a coffee?’
I order coffee for both of us. She is still not making eye contact with me. She is watching the rain.
''Who are you?'' I ask.
She is still watching the rain.
''I read all the papers. Each paper was my day. Saturday to Wednesday but there was one day missing. It was Sunday which I guess it's the missing paper got stuck on the train’s door yesterday.''
She doesn’t respond.
''I don’t how to communicate with you. I just need to know if you know what happened Sunday evening?''
She turns her head and she looks straight at me for the first time.
---------------------------------
-Thank you for reading the story- | 2020-12-11T11:50:33 | 2020-12-11T10:43:14 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] We may not be the strongest, but our immune systems are legendary among alien races. There is a saying: "if it makes a human sick it will kill you." | "Wait until they get that specialist down here. The whole place is contaminated," Garth said, as he was putting up the warning signs and taping off the area. He wore the required safety equipment on all his 8 tentacles, and he moved with a brisk efficiency.
"What do you mean? What happened?" asked Thrace. He was careful to not come any closer. His more leggy near mammalian form looked ready to spring backwards. His elongated ears popped up in alarm.
"There is a biocontaminant in the science lab. It would be too hazardous for anyone to go in, but they just hired on a specialist that is especially immune to most biocontaminants," Garth explained.
"Like a hazmat specialist?" Thrace asked.
"No. Like a human. You'll see, she's on her way down now," Garth said with a snort.
True to his word, there was the sound of something coming down the hall. Step, step, thud. Step, Step, thud.
Slowly, an elderly human woman came into view.
Thrace's ears swiveled in her direction, and he looked incredulously back at Garth and hissed, "That human is ancient!"
Garth tried to organize his tentacles in a gesture Thrace would understand to silence him, but it was too late.
"I may be ancient, but my hearings still good," she said with a laugh as she slowly moved down the hallway. She took two steps in her comfortable shoes, then moved her walker forward with a soft thud, then took two more steps.
Garth waved a tentacle and said, "We have detected high levels of salmonella contamination in the lab. We think it's localized to one of the benches, Deb."
"Alright, alright," the elderly woman said.
"How are you sending an elderly being in there with those levels of contamination?" Thrace said, almost shaking with concern.
"Oh, don't worry about me, honey," Deb said. She patted the tall slender creature as she walked by. "I took this job for the benefits. I get paid very well to live here on the station, and every once in a while when the scientists leave something out, I go and put it away."
Deb made her way past Garth, who curiously held the door for her, as she slowly made her way into the science lab.
Inside, the elderly woman could see exactly what was tripping the sensors. An earth chicken was set out for study, and had been left out on the counter for some reason.
Deb reached down into her walker bag, and pulled out a bright neon green hazmat containment bag, and deftly put the small tray inside it, sealing the bag. She then pulled out a sensor and looked to see if that took care of it. It tweeted an all clear.
"Welp, that takes care of that. It's all sealed here for disposal. I'm gonna head back to my apartment and watch my shows," she said. She waved the sensor over the newly sealed dead chicken to ensure it was safe for Garth, and she slowly made her way back out.
Garth came in with his own sensor device, and waved his tentacles in happiness, "Thanks Deb. We really appreciate it!"
After the elderly human had made her way out, Thrace poked his head in, "I don't understand. You paid that human to just put something in a bag?"
"Yes. She's worth ten times her salary. Without her, we'd have to shut down the lab, get a fully suited up decontamination team in, and if any of us hadn't been suited up, that would probably had killed us," Garth said emphatically.
"She's old, but nice. She makes us cookies. She also is practically unkillable. Human immune systems are amazing, and the older they are, the more they've been exposed to. That means she's even more immune, I guess. I'm not a scientist," Garth explained.
Thrace just turned to look down the hall to watch the elderly human go, "I guess they just don't look that unkillable." | Zarome stood proudly in line with the rest of the new recruits to the Intergalactic Police Force. As a Ghar of pure lineage, he was easily the tallest and the most powerfully built among them and he drew the envious looks of many.
A tiny, soft-fleshed, creature beside him gaped openly at his silvery ivory tusks and his four muscular arms.
“Woah, you’re pretty big,” The little guy whispered, “My name is Larry, what’s yours?”
“Zarome.”
“Well, I hope you get the position you want,” Larry whispered, “Who knows, maybe we can work together?”
Poor thing; he didn’t even make it up to his knee. With that weak body, he didn’t stand a chance against Zarome or any other bigger species to earn a high-ranking frontline position in the Force.
The recruits stiffened as they heard booming footsteps approaching. Zarome craned his head to the door as their troop's new commanding officer walked in. He was of a burly, dark-furred species -though not as big as a Ghar- uniformed and decorated in his black-and-silver Force uniform with boots that clanged on the metal floor of the barrack floor. He walked up and down the line, inspecting his new recruits with sharp, dark eyes.
Zarome puffed his chest up and met the officer’s eyes confidently as he passed. The officer ignored him and kept walking. The large Ghar shrugged. It didn’t really matter if this officer liked him or not. His aptitude tests well overqualified him to be the frontline captain of this troop.
After walking down the line, the officer stood in front of them all. He stood for a while, taking notes on a clipboard, then looked up and spoke.
“My name is Karfor. As you know, starting from today, you will not be attending Academy classes, but rather working as a troop under my command.” His voice was gravelly and booming.
Karfor continued, “you will all be assigned squads and squad captains with different roles that fit your aptitude scores and species type. When your name is called, step forward.”
The recruits fidgeted nervously.
“Starting from the top-ranked squad: the frontliners.” Karfor looked down at his clipboard, “Jaak, Barres, Vyur, Zarome.” Zarome and three other powerfully-built recruits stepped forward.
“Frontline captain,” Karfor nodded at the tiny creature that had stood beside Zarome, “Larry Modmur. All of you, stand over there to the side.” He pointed with his clipboard to the side of the room, then continued down his list.
Zarome stared at the little man, thunderstruck, as he ambled up to the designated area with the rest of the hulking frontliners.
“I had a feeling we’d meet again,” Larry smiled at Zarome, “Fellow squadmate. You’re gonna be answering to me now.” He stuck out his tiny hand to Zarome.
Zarome looked down at Larry, having to crane his neck to meet his eyes, and scratched his head. “I’m… confused. I got an A+ in adaptability, survivability, and power, and my species is well-suited. There’s no way I can accept a captain like you. Did you cheat?”
Larry beamed, “Oh, those tests? No, I didn’t cheat. They gave me an S+ without testing me because I’m a human.”
“Wait, you’re a human!? I thought humans all became extinct millennia ago,” Zarome said, his eyes widening as he slowly understood exactly what was standing up to his knee in front of him.
“No,” Larry said, still smiling, “Actually, some of us survived the bioweapons of the war, though we are few, we are extra deadly. Now, you wouldn’t want to leave me hanging would you?” He re-extended his hand.
Zarome staggered backward, looking at Larry's hand as if it were toxic, “N… no thank you… sir.”
“That’s right,” Larry said with a sigh, “You probably shouldn’t shake my hand. My spit might cause a disease that could wipe out this barrack."
He looked down at his hand sadly, "Ah, poor me, I can't even shake hands without killing everybody.” | 2021-02-03T14:57:00 | 2021-02-03T14:26:28 | 2,978 | 613 |
[WP] We may not be the strongest, but our immune systems are legendary among alien races. There is a saying: "if it makes a human sick it will kill you." | 'Dinner's in the mess' Mira shouted jovially over the ships intercom. Alex, Karnag, Celephlan, Jarus and Thud began slowly to kongregate as Mira one of the 2 humans gleefully served up a vile smelling meal to each of the crew of the Serendipity.
Each of the crew had their own job aboard the ship but they all took it in turns to cook. The problem was, well Mira couldn't cook. She did love to cook and she was an excellent diplomatic negotiator and well for the purposes of rag tag crew of theives that meant she could lie through her teeth better than anyone this side of the galaxy. She also happened to be the younger sister of Alex; a former black ops soldier and starfighter pilot turned rogue after having his brain mostly fried from too many memory wipes and torture from Taraxian Crystal spider venom from the time on Taraxia. He was also the only other human on Serendipity. Everyone on the crew owed him their lives multiple times over and not just from Mira's cooking.
Karnag, was the ships captain and an oversized Taraxian that had bought Alex as a slave and while not exactly freeing him, had given him purpose and a decent life again and reunited him with his sister. Karnag was a big softie and a ruthless, extremely calculated, relentless enemy if anyone ever came after his crew.
Celephlan, was a Lesarian a race of spindly creatures that evolved to withstand extreme temperatures, radiation levels, extreme winds and pressures They could move faster than any other sentient life form in the galaxy, and had lighting quick reactions to compliment their speed. Celephlan, she was the ships pilot.
Jarus was a Tamishan and described himself as basically a human, except he had scary telekinetic powers, and pointy ears. Mira kept teasing him for being a space elf, and kept stealing his shampoo. He was good in a fight and an excellent cook, but lazy and didn't really do much. Not even cook.
Thud, was a Goron, a nigh on immortal stone man. He was both their mechanic and doctor. He'd been alive longer than anyone aboard the ship could fathom. He'd seen civilisations rise and fall, empires, dynasties, federations reach out across the cosmos and he'd seen that reach turn to dust time and time again. He'd seen more wonders of the universe than all of them and he reckoned that the universe kept making more wonders for him to discover.
Nervously the crew took their seats around the table. Celephlan exchanged a nervous glance with Jarus, Jarus with Karnag, Karnag with Thud, whom merely shrugged and smiled politely at Mira before turning and intense gaze upon Alex whom was chowing down on his food. Mira took her seat chastising Alex for not waiting for her to start eating. Alex looked up with tearful eyes at his friends around the table and shook his head. Mira catching onto this frowned "It's not that bad right?" She asked her voice cracking. As she took a bite. Almost immediately she spat the food. Getting up from the table she ran from the mess to her bunk. Although the bulkhead slammed behind her the crew could hear her sobbing. Even though the food she served would literally kill the crew, they all loved her that much, they knew that while Alex wasn't quite all there due to his pain and hardship, Mira's Pain, she'd suffered the most. None of them coul bring themselves to be rude about her cooking. Not even Jarus.
Karnag sighed, "I think there are some MRE rations in cargo that we looted from that stellar guard cruiser a week back" before glaring at Jarus whom immediately got defensive.
"What the hell is that look for?" He said puffing up ready to defend and justify his laziness.
"Not asking you to cook for her, she loves cooking but for oursake teach the girl to cook." Karnag growled
"Even when you're trying to be diplomatic you still sound so agressive" Jarus whined back.
"Jarus you're lazy and destructive, the latter being why we don't ask you to do much. And it pains me to say this but you're the best damned chef on board. It's literally the only day to day job you're good at." Celephlan started.
"You're supposed to give a compliment either side of bad news like a sandwich" Jarus said before immediately cursing himself fro bringing up food and digging himself into a deeper hole.
"Like seriously Thud, have you ever met anyone lazier than Jarus?" Celephlan asked.
"One but he literally starved to death" the stone man confirmed.
"Jarus just please teach her to cook, she might stop stealing your shampoo if you do" Karnag said grasping at straws.
Alex finished his meal and shook his head and laughed "Mira stop stealing?" He asked rhetorically before continuing "that'll never happen, just be glad it's only your shampoo she uses to establish her dominance over you Jarus"
"She takes my shampoo to establish her dominance?" Jarus asked wildly terror creeping into his voice.
"So how bad is it?" Thud asked concern.
"Honestly, this is probably just going to be the sweats and the shits, but yeah it'll kill ya" Alex said crudely. Grabbing Celephlan's plate and chowing down again.
"And he goes back for seconds" Jarus exclaimed throwing his hands in the air.
"Why would you do that? You know it's going to make you sick" Karnag asked in disbelief.
Alex shrugged "Foods food and I've had far worse" he answered with his mouthful.
"There's a worse cook than Mira?" Thud asked.
"There are plenty, Mom was one of them" Alex laughed grabbing Karnag's plate.
"So where did you learn to cook then?" Celephlan asked.
"Prison" Alex shrugged, sliding Mira's plate infront of Jarus with a wink.
"I'll teach her to cook" Jarus blurted quickly.
"She'll like that" | “Why are we doing this again?” Glarm asked.
“I want to do a ‘human in a wormhole.’ You know, like a modern version of a ‘canary in a coal mine.’” Gleek said.
“But the whole point of the canary is that it would die easily and be a warning to surrounding life forms.” Glarm said. “And these humans are crazy resistant. Did you know that that the number of foreign cells in their body outweigh their own cells. That means this guy here is only half human.” Glarm said and pointed to the human in an examination table.
“Is that true?” Gleek asked.
“I don’t know, I just read it in the Willyolio Tribune” Glarm said.
“It’s crazy, they’re surprisingly hard to kill.” Gleek said.
“What did you say?” Glarm asked. He couldn’t believe he actually heard what he thought he heard.
“You know what, you’re completely right. That whole ‘canary in a coal mine’ thing was a bad metaphor. How about it’s for science.” Gleek said changing the subject.
“Oh, why didn’t you just say so! Of course I’ll help. What exactly is the experiment?” Glarm asked.
“I’m going to open this hatch and kick ole’ Glen here out into that wormhole to see what happens.” Gleek said. He was doing some light stretching to warm up for the kick.
Glen was strapped to an examination table under large pure white lights. We was wearing a stylish full body rubber suit that covered everything except his face. His face was wearing a full body fear suit.
“Ok, so that’s not science. I can’t be apart of this. It’s just murder.” Glarm said.
Glen let out a sigh of relief.
“I was planning on taking rigorous notes!” Gleek said.
Glarm thought about it a moment. “Ok, I’m back in. But we can’t just kick Glen out into that wormhole.”
“Yeah, you can’t just kick me out into that wormhole.” Glen echoed.
“Why not?” Gleek asked. “I’ve done it plenty of times. It’s very rewarding work.”
“Because we know from earlier scientific tests that one of the few things that can kill humans is space. More directly a lack of oxygen and the whole vacuum thing doesn’t jive well with their bodies.” Glarm said.
“Riiiiiight. I totally forgot about that. So how should we proceed?” Gleek asked.
“I say we put him in a spacesuit so he won’t die immediately. That way we can see what the wormhole does to him.” Glarm said.
“See, that’s why I reached out for your help. You’re so good at these sorta things.” Gleek said. He didn’t mention that he was forced to ask Glarm for help. His direct superior was getting annoyed by all the human specimen going missing after Gleek was around.
“Awwwww, thanks Gleek, that’s so nice of you to say.” Glarm said.
Glen was swimming in sweat inside the full body rubber suit as he watched the last moments of his life being decided by two giant green lizards.
Gleek was beginning to regret asking Glarm for assistance. He’d kicked several dozen humans off their spaceship. He thought he’d finally found his calling. And now Glarm is sucking all the fun out of it.
The two massive lizards geared up Glen with all the spacesuit equipment they could find. It’s wasn’t made for such a puny life form but it was the beat they could do under the circumstances. The arms of the space suit hung down to the floor and the legs scrunched above the boots forming a wrinkly donut around Glens knees.
“Ok, I think that’s going to do it.” Gleek said.
“Wait, the most important part!” Glarm said and grabbed a giant round fishbowl and plopped it onto glens shoulders.
“Perfect.” Gleek said.
“I don’t think this spacesuit is going to work.” Glen said.
“And what would you know about spacesuits monkey man?” Glarm asked.
“I know I shouldn’t be able to smell your breath from inside one.” Glen said. Glarm raised his hand to cover his mouth and check his breath. “Seriously guys, I can feel a slight breeze from under the helmet.
“Stop being so anti-science. You should count yourself lucky you get a space suit at all.” Gleek said.
“Do we know where the worm hole goes? So we can check to see the results of the experiment?” Glarm asked.
“Yup, it goes directly to Sirius B” Gleek said.
“That’s where the Dogons are from right?” Glarm asked.
“No, the Dogons are from Mali, but they are loosely related. Second cousins or some such.” Gleek said.
“That’s right. I was thinking the Gorgons.” Glarm said.
“No, they are form Hell and of no relation. You’re thinking the Bon-Bons.” Gleek said.
“Oh yeah! The sentient chocolate spheres. I like those guys. They’re a lot of fun.” Glarm said.
“And delicious.” Gleek added.
“You’re a lucky guy Glen.” Glarm said as he pulled a large pronged lever to open the hatch. “You might get to meet the Bon-Bons.”
“That’s funny. I’m not feeling so lucky right now.” Glen said and backed away from the open portal.
Gleek took a running start into a flying kick right to the center of Glens chest. Glen went flying into the gravitic grasp off the Sirius B Wormhole. Glarm raised the pronged lever and the hatch door closed with a hydraulic hiss.
“It’s just not the same” Gleek said.
“What’s not?” Glarm asked.
“The thump I normally get when I kick a human right square in the chest. It was all muted because Of the spacesuit.” Gleek said.
“Sorry Glarm. That’s the price we pay for science.” Glarm said.
Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Gleek said. He was already planning the next time he could kick a human into space.
“Oh no! Glarm said.
“What’s wrong?” Gleek asked.
“We completely forgot to take notes.” Glarm said.
“It’s ok, I got it all up here.” Gleek said and pointed to his temple. | 2021-02-03T18:06:36 | 2021-02-03T16:54:38 | 87 | 28 |
[WP] For decades you've worked as a superhero protecting the city and its people. Your powers have been slowly killing you for years but you kept being a hero much to your doctor's protest. The citizens are starting to take notice. | I push forward as much as my failing body will let me. The wind barrages my face as I whistle through the skies like a bullet going on and on, waiting to inevitably lose momentum. I just about make it to the edge of my city, my home, before I clatter out of the sky at the Bolstonville coastline.
Bolstonville. The place I live in and love with all my heart. The place I met my wife and raised my family. The place I have saved from the darkness more times than I can count on my crippling fingers. I gaze lovingly at it from afar absorbing the outlines of buildings battling against the blue sky and the bright sun fighting to set alight the city more than its people already do with each and every breath. Electric vibrancy pulses through the city. Villain after villain has tried and failed, again and again, to take what is belongs to us, the people, but with the might of all the citizens behind me, I was never afraid. How could I be? I was never alone.
I wasn't born with my powers, I wasn't raised and cultivated to be a hero of my generation; I was just a person in a toxic explosion who was hit with just the right amount of chemicals. Life is full of coincidences. Sometimes I wish this wasn't mine... But it was and I do my best to be grateful I have been blessed with the ability to protect my home. Even if it... Even if it means I'm dying. Two simple words that crush with the weight of a toppling skyscraper. Trust me; I would know.
Peering out at the sea ahead of me I feel the beaches smell of salt and doughnuts and chips. I see the sinking cruise ship just offshore. How many people are dying while I muster the strength to speed over there?
I think of my wife and kids. I should fly back and hug them tight, hug them tight and never let go. I should tell them I love them and stop all this madness. They don't know this life is killing me, that using my powers now at this age is eating at my lifeforce. I'm one severe hypoglycemic attack away from the end. I'm shaky, but the thought of my family is rejuvenating - it allows me to run across the ocean towards the ship.
Spindrift quickly steals away from the ocean as I jet across it, just to reembrace the water in my wake. A weakly thrown dart, I barely clutch onto the edge of the cruise ship with my increasingly fragile frame. My muscles feel heavy on my skeleton but I manage to pull myself up and onto the boat.
It was capsizing. It's rear bore the full force of its helm that pointed skyward. Everyone had made upwards towards the elevating front of the ship and lifeboats were being thrown out from there. A hundred or so people had escaped the ship but another sixty maybe remained with only one lifeboat left. They saw me and rejoiced.
"It's Mr Bolstonville!" I hear a particularly excited kid yell over the newly hopeful ruckus.
"He's gonna save us all!" A new person declared.
The weight of their faith and lives was a heavier burden on my shoulders than my imminent death but I couldn't let it show. I forced my most reassuring smile.
"Everyone that can fit into the last lifeboat get in... I'll fly the rest of you home."
They quickly decided the kids would be the ones to fly home with me. There were seventeen.
Once the lifeboat set off I glided towards them, transforming and merging my arms into a canopy. My at one point malleable arms cracked and crumbled under the strenuosity of the shape-changing, yet it was nothing compared to the mass of each one of them as they climbed in. Not too long ago, these kids would have been feathers but now I am fighting not to be ripped apart by their collective weight.
Skylar, Brandon, Arthur, Simon, Hollie, Walter, LuLu, Preston, January, Simone, Abed, Felipe, Marianne, Kelsy, Jason, Jessica and Wyatt. Those were all their names. They giggled excitedly and I tried to live up to their expectations. I hope I did. The only thing that got me back over the ocean was the thought of saving them so they could live long happy lives. Well, that and my family, holding my family in my arms - everything being OK.
The thirty-second flight back to the shore felt like an hour to me, but when I returned Skylar, Brandon, Arthur, Simon, Hollie, Walter, LuLu, Preston, January, Simone, Abed, Felipe, Marianne, Kelsy, Jason, Jessica and Wyatt to their parents I didn't spend half as long listening to their thank yous as I would've hoped to. I needed to get to my family; I could feel myself slipping away. I launched away into the clouds like a plane facing turbulence.
I wish I could have gotten back to them before it happened. Nancy, Juliette and August couldn't get me home this time though. When I fell out of the sky, for a single second everything went completely, deathly still. The universe halted only just to return at full force. I felt the world tear around me as I plummeted to the ground.
All I ever wanted to do in life was save people. To keep Bolstonville safe. If I had hit the ground everything might've been fine, but Bolstonville was a city of skyscrapers, innovation, novelty.
I decimated a sixty storey building.
An avalanche cascaded around me as my eyes finally closed.
What have I done? | “Today’s the day you fall PileDriver!” I screamed at the woman standing on the street above.
“Looks like you’ve fallen for me already darling.” The woman cackled at the edge of the hole she had just tossed me into and aimed her weapon at me in the hole.
“Time to die BeastMaster!” Her weapon launched a blast of liquid concrete into the hole.
The world turned to slow motion, I saw the massive glob of concrete splash into the hole and start to spread out. The wave of dusty grey slid over the cracks in the floor never stopping momentum. Before the sludge could touch my feet, I transformed.
Thick bony horns gre painfully from my skull bursting from my temples, my legs collapsed in on themselves becoming thinner and thinner until I felt myself standing on two sticks connected to small black hooves. The palms of my hands turned to one giant callus as my nails thickened and turned black. The deep V in the front of my costume filled with scruffy white hair as long as my fingers.
I was still breathing heavily from the stress of the transformation when I felt the cold touch of the liquid cement against my hooves. I jumped to the wall, somehow finding purchase in the sheer walls of a hole with the bottoms of my feet. I scrambled my way out of the hole standing across it as the PileDriver’s weapon stopped, the last drops of the cement falling between her brown and grey work boots. I looked at her, shifting my facial feature to that of cat, catchphrase already on the tip of my tongue.
“Looks like you let the cat out of the-” PileDriver cut me off by launching a barrage of 5 inch nails in my direction. My goat legs carried me out of the way of the nails. They hit the ground where I had been standing, sticking out at a 45 degree angle from the street.
My legs burned as they transformed into a feline shape to match my face. I started to sprint around the hole as fast of my cheetah legs would carry me, the sudden switch in speed throwing off the PileDriver’s aim even more.
My palms itched as the thick callus melted away and my nails extended into razor sharp claws. I reached the PileDriver just as she leveled her giant weapon at me.
“Bye-Bye BeastMaster.”
She pulled the trigger and pressurized water shot out this time, and I ducked just a little late as the water sliced a line down my back. I let out a lions roar of pain but didn’t stop closing the distance. I ran straight to her, my fearless charge made her hesitate for just an instant but that was all I needed. I slid around her while she tried to move with her oversized weapon and slashed her ankles with my claws. I felt the achilles tendon of her left foot slice apart, she took a step and fell to the ground, the weapon toppling over the side of the hole to land with a clunky squelch in rapidly drying concrete.
The police emerged from their hiding places after it was clear PileDriver wasn’t getting back up. Captain Klark walked up to me after Piledriver hand been handcuffed and put in a police car after being looked at by a medic.
“PileDriver almost got you today old man.” I looked down at the older man, his large gut and salt and pepper beard jiggling as he laughed at his own comment. He reached out a hand to shake and I put mine forward.
“Ah shit.” He looked at the red well up on his tanned hairy arm. The claws on my hand had cut him, a small red cat scratch just above his right wrist. I had to concentrate hard to will my hand back to being human.
“Sorry about that Captain.” Is what I tried to say but all that came out was the purr of a cheetah. I shook my head, and tried to speak again but it was just more cat noises. I let out a hiss in frustration. I focused and undid all of the animal transformations I had active at the time. I gasped as the sensation of being fully human struck me.
“You ok their chief? You look like you’re about to collapse. Did the pile driver get a good one on you?”
“I think I’m ok.” I said tentatively, hoping my voice worked now. I felt tired, and beat up.
The police captain eyed me suspiciously.
“Ya know, now that I think about it.” He paused leveling his gaze into my eyes. “PileDriver is C-tier villain, im surprised it took that much effort. You weren’t moving like you usually do, well at least until the end there.” He glanced at the car that held PileDriver. “That was a pretty sweet move you pulled to take her down.”
I smiled and nodded not trusting my voice again. Could this be the side effect Dr.Dockter had warned me about all those years ago? He told me the transformations used some kind of energy metahumans produced inherently but as I aged I would make less and less naturally.
I hadn’t believed him and even still I was skeptic. I decided that I was just tired and needed to get home to rest and recuperate. The Den wasn’t too far if I flew, I could get home quickly and sleep it off.
“Untill you need me again Captian.” I saluted him and took a few running steps before launching myself into the air growing wings to take to the sky.
Except I fell face first back down onto the pavement. I heard taunts and laughs from the crowd as I stood back up. I’d never had to focus this hard to manifest my animal abilities. I concentrated and felt heat build on my shoulder blades, there were cracking sounds and I felt the wings push through my skin and costume. This time I did not fall back down when I took off. I made it back to my Den and immediately collapsed in my bed, letting sleep overtake me. | 2021-02-18T10:48:59 | 2021-02-18T07:50:09 | 59 | 28 |
[WP] Turns out hell is real. This was made known once demons and devils came to Earth. However things quickly got awkward and confusing once people heard them mutter, "If Heaven won't fix this shit hole, we might as well do it ourselves." | "this is bullshit." satan said from his throne. "utter and complete bullshit." he said gesturing to the portal showing the earth. countless dead from wars, plague and simple poverty. "Fuck this." he said as he stomped off to his desk and picked up the white phone.
"This is the great satan, Heir..." he stopped speaking and looked at the phone, one eyebrow raised.
"Sir?" his assistant said, her red skin glowing slightly from the heat, her wings neatly tucked in behind her as she sat at her desk.
"I got his voice mail." is said gently setting the phone back on its cradle. "I GOT HIS FUCKING VOICE MAIL!"
"umm." was all she said, unused to this kind of reaction from him. rage, yes. fury for certain. but this seemed... personal. insulting.
"ready the 1st magical battalion! we move on the earth!"
"yes!" the assistant cried, "finally the time for war has come, we shall-" he cut her off with a gesture.
"not war. peace. that bastard rigged the game. how can sin flourish if everyone is at their last meal? how can faith in god die if that all they have left? no, we shall build a utopia for the humans, make them love their life so much they will never pray again." he went back to his desk and flipped through some papers.
"Ah, yes. first up, lust. send in our most perfect of devils. no more empty beds." he let out a girlish giggle.
"this is going to be fun." he said.
the assistant just stared. never had she heard satan himself *giggle.* | "it may take a few cycles, but it's gone too far", and "it's like those robe wearing boughie hipsters don't care anymore".
Humanity is ill equipped to deal with the realization that there is more than just the physical. The streets in cities all over the world are empty with masses of people barricading themselves together, multiple families grouped together relying on the false sense of security that numbers bring. Yet each and everyone knows that doors and numbers do nothing against what they're hiding from. In the early days of rising, everyone saw the creatures walk through walls and move unimpeded through all defenses both spiritual in nature and military armament. While things have calmed down, we remember the ones we lost to this plauge brought upon us, seemingly vanishing after being touched by those things.
I'm writing this for posterity, should anyone or anything survive this, the memory of what we were won't be lost. Myself and 5 others have taken it upon ourselves to scout these demons and possibly uncover a plan of action to survive them.
On our outings we've seen others attempting to appease the demons with sacrifices but the monsters aren't phased, they relentlessly track down all involved touching them to make them vanish. Oddly they've been seen leaving the sacrificial person trembling in fear but unharmed in many cases.
In other instances when people are running and some are left behind, the demons ignore those that have been locked out of houses, it seems as though there is thought to those they target.
We've found a large gathering of the demons where just seem to waiting for something. Food is running low so chances are we'll have to come back to find out more about this gathering.
We've been discovered... Or maybe they knew of our presence the whole time and they just didn't care. One of the group decided to get closer to the gathering to see what they were gathered around.
To be continued | 2021-04-29T20:53:00 | 2021-04-29T20:32:15 | 279 | 12 |
[WP] Turns out hell is real. This was made known once demons and devils came to Earth. However things quickly got awkward and confusing once people heard them mutter, "If Heaven won't fix this shit hole, we might as well do it ourselves." | "So..." My devil supervisor glanced up from the paperwork and looked at me. I nodded enthusiastically.
"You were sent to Earth to spread evil and go against the word of god..."
"Yup, that was my project"
"And...Not going to lie, I am a bit confused here. According to the report you submitted, you taught humans to make flying cars, floating fars, how to fix the ozone layer and even stopped the nuclear war!"
I shivered remembering the supposed world leaders who pissed themselves as soon as they saw me.
"It was a smelly business but the method was very effective."
The supervisor put down my report and pushed up her glasses.
"I failed to understand how this is spreading evil and going against the word of god."
I sighed, of course these ancient beings fail to see the brilliance of my project.
"You see, for the past one hundred years, god has been absent. The Earth was polluted, people were tortured, there was famine, war and disease."
The supervisor nodded. I smiled.
"God was doing our job better than us. So I decided to take his job. If you go to the last page of my report..."
She flipped to the last page. I could see her jaw drop.
"They made a church for you!" I smiled.
"Not only that, we tore down every normal religious building there and made strip clubs with human rights. Now that's what I call spreading evil."
The supervisor finally grinned after an hour of confusion. She took the stamp of approval. "You passed."
(First time post, all criticism is welcomed) | "it may take a few cycles, but it's gone too far", and "it's like those robe wearing boughie hipsters don't care anymore".
Humanity is ill equipped to deal with the realization that there is more than just the physical. The streets in cities all over the world are empty with masses of people barricading themselves together, multiple families grouped together relying on the false sense of security that numbers bring. Yet each and everyone knows that doors and numbers do nothing against what they're hiding from. In the early days of rising, everyone saw the creatures walk through walls and move unimpeded through all defenses both spiritual in nature and military armament. While things have calmed down, we remember the ones we lost to this plauge brought upon us, seemingly vanishing after being touched by those things.
I'm writing this for posterity, should anyone or anything survive this, the memory of what we were won't be lost. Myself and 5 others have taken it upon ourselves to scout these demons and possibly uncover a plan of action to survive them.
On our outings we've seen others attempting to appease the demons with sacrifices but the monsters aren't phased, they relentlessly track down all involved touching them to make them vanish. Oddly they've been seen leaving the sacrificial person trembling in fear but unharmed in many cases.
In other instances when people are running and some are left behind, the demons ignore those that have been locked out of houses, it seems as though there is thought to those they target.
We've found a large gathering of the demons where just seem to waiting for something. Food is running low so chances are we'll have to come back to find out more about this gathering.
We've been discovered... Or maybe they knew of our presence the whole time and they just didn't care. One of the group decided to get closer to the gathering to see what they were gathered around.
To be continued | 2021-04-29T21:46:53 | 2021-04-29T20:32:15 | 66 | 12 |
[WP] You are part of the league, the superheroes who save the world, yet you never go on missions. You are only called for one thing only. Total annihilation, for when they don't want survivors. | I pushed through the crowd. With everyone running the opposite direction my progress was slow, but that was fine. Let as many of them get to the evac point as possible.
Apollo- real name Rupert, told me no witnesses. The league has a code, and they never kill. Guess thats why i don't get to be on the posters or any of the merch they sell to keep Guardian Station up and running. Thats fine by me.
I can see the commotion up ahead. The baddies are having their fun with some civilians. Further down the block i can see where the league first tried to stop these guys. There is a crumpled mess that used to be The Patriot smeared on the pavement in front of an Applebees. Quickshot is impaled on a streetlight. Who is that by the hydrant? Oh hell, its that new kid, Winslow. I never even got around to learning his codename. What the hell was Rupert thinking, brining him out here?
The crowd is thinning out. The baddies have noticed me. Theres five of them, all in black, splattered with gore. They must being having a merry old time, but thats about to end.
A big one, must be the leader judging from the stupid fucking crown he has fashioned on his helmet, drops the two halves of a cop he was toying with and starts walking towards me.
"Why don't you flee with the others, mortal?" He asks. Funny, these dipshits so often think themselves immortal until Rupert calls me in to prove them wrong. "Your Guardian League has failed you. Your governments will give in to our demands within the hour. This city is ours, and the world that shunned us will now tremble as we build a new empire in our image!"
I have no idea what he is talking about. I don't usually bother learning these clowns backstories. They all end the same way.
The other four have taken notice and are forming up around their boss, their instinct to be hypemen for the big dog overpowering their urge to partake in whatever vengeance they feel like theyre owed.
I glance around. Best to give it another minute or two.
"Do any of you have a smoke i can bum?" I ask.
One of them starts to chuckle at that, but is silenced by a glare from his boss.
"Never mind, ill grab a pack from that seven eleven." I start to walk for the blasted storefront but in a flash one of them is in front of me. They're bigger than i thought. This guy has got to be at least 8 feet, and hes not even the biggest. He grabs me by the neck and hoists me off my feet. He carries me a few steps and hurls me back into the street, right in front of the boss.
I look up at him. "You're gonna kill me, right?" I ask.
"Oh, most gruesomely" he responds, sparing a glance down at the spikes protruding from his gauntleted hands.
"So can i at least have a last smoke? Seems like sort of a dick move to deny me that."
This time the boss does chuckle a bit. The goon squad takes their queue and laugh too. The leader smirks and motions back to the storefront. I climb to my feet and head inside.
It takes a minute, but i fond a pack of luckies that isn't too crushed. I almost grabbed some american spirits, but those burn forever and I'm sure i don't need that much time. The lighters are gone, but i head outside and find a burning car to light it on.
I take the time to look around, making sure there arent any civilians left. My enhanced senses pick out a few heartbeats in the vicinity, but they arent strong enough to last until cleanup and rescue teams can arrive. Bummer for them.
I finish the cigarette and walk over to a spilled trashcan. I set it upright and throw the butt away. Littering has always felt like a shitty thing to do.
One of the goons decides thats his signal to kill me. I catch his fist before it can connect with my face. He looks confused for a moment, but he doesn't get long to work it out before my own hand lances through his chest and shatters his spine. He makes some satisfyingly gruesome sounds as the last hints of life flee his body.
"Who are you?" The boss asks, obviously caught off guard by the display.
"I'm not on the Guardians roster, if thats what you're asking. Rupert doesn't approve of my methods." I can tell he's confused before i realize my mistake. "Sorry, i mean Apollo. Whoops. I guess i just gave away his secret identity. I guess i really shouldnt tell you his last name is Covings and he lives at 314 westmarch rd Kansas."
They're good and uncomfortable now. One of them, must be the brains of the outfit, realizes whats going on and turns to run, but im on him before he makes it two full steps. I grab his legs and give a little tug to trip him up, but i guess i overdo it a little and they tear off his torso at the hips. Oops. Its tough to gauge how resilient a super is going to be, and sometimes I'm too damn strong.
The boss and the other three come for me in a rage, but teamwork isn't usually the villains strongsuit. I take an energy blast to the back. I tingles a bit, must be dark matter or something. It ruins my favorite jacket.
I drop the legs and lunge for the blaster guy. His fists are charging up for another shot. I grip them and squeeze, crushing them to pulp between my fingers. This time it's intentional. He starts to scream but i cave his skull in with a headbutt.
I duck as the boss throws that burning car at me. Seriously, this prick thinks a car is gonna stop me when a blast of concentrated dark matter didn't even slow me down.
The last goon is standing there with a stopsign in his hands, trying to track where im going, but im too fast for him. He hasn't particularly pissed me off, so i make it quick and drive my fist through his skull.
The leader is stumbling backwards now. He knows he has no chance. I finished his goons in only a few seconds. I walk over to legless and step on his head to shut him up for good. His screams were getting annoying.
"Apollo didn't pull back because he couldnt kill you," I tell the cowering leader. "He's plenty strong enough to do that on his own. He just doesnt like the optics of the guardians getting this dirty. Truth is, even a beacon of truth and justice like him knows some people just need killing. People like you, who have no real motive but the joy of murder. You didnt do this for power or money. You werent trying to steal diamonds or hijack the moon. You came out here for a slaughter. You kill because you love it."
It looks like hes going to respond, to try to justify the carnage around us, but i grab his head and press my thumbs to his eyes. "Shhhh" i whisper as he claws at me, further ruining my jacket. "I know its true. Because i love it, too."
My thumbs tunnel through his eye sockets and into the brain beyond. I tear the skull in half for good measure.
I unleash an energy blast to sanitize the area after I'm done. All thats left of the villains is dust on the wind. Rupert would prefer I open with a move like that, end it quick, but that's no fun. If im only going to get to kill when the noble Apollo deems it necessary, I'm at least going to enjoy myself.
As i fly away i can see the national guard choppers coming in for the cleanup. They certainly have their work cut out for them. These clowns made quite a mess.
The truth is I could have easily ended up a villain just like them, if not for one thing. When mom was dying she told me to take care of Rupert, and to always trust him. I'm not a hero, hell I'm not even a good person, but I am a good brother. | We all grow up hoping to be in that fraction of a fraction of a percent of people to be born with powers, or the still rarer super powered. We all dream of being the hero of the moment, saving lives, helping others, being useful.
​
I dreamt of getting flight, speed, laser vision, strength, telepathy, telekinesis, all the usual things and never the powers that villains had; Poison breath, a body covered in spikes, being constantly on fire, being able to scream a person's flesh off their bones. Nobody wanted those powers. Nobody good, anyway.
​
We all dreamt of being the incredibly lucky handful of people with multiple super powers. An insanely low chance of getting those! But there were just 3 of them all over the world. 2 heroes, 1 villain, all from the same family, it was quite the tragic thing, each as powerful as the other, and such an infinitesimally tiny chance of that happening at all.
​
Lucky bastards.
​
My dream came true in my early 20s. I got super powers. It was the worst thing to happen to me and millions of others.
​
No flight, no strength, no laser vision, not even invisibility. How does anyone lucky enough to get super powers and become the most powerful human ever to live and at the same time want nothing more than to be powerless?
​
I'm so dangerous that I have to live hundreds of miles away from any population centre in case I have a bad dream and accidentally use my power in my sleep, like I did when I first got this 'ability'. I've learned to control my power over the years, learned to keep it in and not allow it to leak out all the time, but i still have to release it occasionally or i could do so much more damage and kill myself. Sometimes it's tempting to let it happen...
​
Being invited into the League, THE League! That helped me cope. Some of them were resistant enough to be able to visit me, talk with me. To make me feel normal again and not like some caged threat. It was all bullshit. They softened me up, pretended to be my friend, but it was all bullshit. They wanted a secret weapon. And I became it. Idiot....
​
They sold it to me like any other liar; "you can help" "you can save lives" "you're the strongest and we need you" Liars. Bastard liars.
​
They still manage to keep me on-side, just. And they very rarely call on me. Nobody knows I exist and any time I DO get called, it's all covered-up quite neatly.
​
Today is a different day. Something big is happening. Even the villain sibling is helping! My 'nanny' won't tell me much, but says that hundreds of millions could die if I don't answer the call and go. I don't want to go. If i do millions could... no... WOULD die. Every mission makes me a murderer. Cold, indiscriminate. Men, women, children, the old, the young. Doesn't matter. They all die.
​
And so I go. I always go. Idiot.
​
As my 'nanny' teleports us to the mission I realise we're probably somewhere in Africa. Butt-fuck nowhere, to be exact. I was expecting a city, lots of noise and motion, but it's just me, Nanny, and the siblings. I normally get orders from the 'good' 2, arrogant shits they can be.... Never spoken or seen the other one in person before now, but he's on the defensive from the others and heading my way in a panic.... This is weird.
​
The other 2 are close enough to activate their proximity over-charge effect and are utterly pouring out loose energy.. odd blank look in their eyes... Like that time whatever-his-name-was with the psychic.... oh. Oh shit. He's finally managed to get 2 of them. This is bad. I can understand why the other sibling is terrified, why i'm here and what i have to do. This is so much bullshit.
​
Without a word I look to Nanny, and he seems to understand and begins charging a teleport away, and I tell the bad sibling…(now good? now not as evil?) to go with him. He stops, looks at me with such terror in his eyes and says his name is Jack. No codename, just... Jack. Apparently yeah, the other 2 have not just been captured, but quite literally mind-wiped and possessed by some psyker and they're coming for him, to make them a full trinity and have control of what will be the most powerful beings on the planet, stronger than me! And some evil dipshit is gonna be in control of it all...
​
Jack seems to be confessing, telling me he can change, wants to stop all this but can't risk getting close, and isn't powerful enough to stop them now. It makes sense, suddenly... The last few months have been odd. Strange locations for fights between them, less team communication... Bad Jack on the defensive every time, not being stopped....pursued.
​
Jack's shouting at me now, human interaction is still like some half-awake dream to me, but i focus to hear him telling me i have to stop them, that the psyker will die with them, and that the world cannot know that his brother and sister, the other 2 of the triplet birth, have been ruined and are about to destroy everything.
​
I know why I'm here. I know what I have to do.
​
I tell Jack to go with Nanny, get away. Don't get absorbed. But at the last moment I grab him, i'm spilling out power now, in a rage, charging up. Jack is terrified of me, I can see it. I'm burning him just with proximity.. I must be mad charging this much...
​
I scream at Jack; "you will go with him! Get away from here! FAR away... And you will do one fucking thing for me! - You will take credit for their deaths. All of this. You. And then you will suddenly disappear only to come back as a different person, a fucking hero. A HERO. DO YOU HEAR ME? You will do everything these two were meant to do and you will NEVER say or do anything to link yourself to them or ruin their names. AM I CLEAR?"
​
Of course Jack agrees, I can tell he's genuine by the look in his eyes. Eye... I may have burnt him a bit.... I guess at least nobody will recognise him now....
​
As Jack is dragged away by Nanny, And not just running from, but not wanting to leave his family, i know what i have to do. Why i'm here.
​
This is the last place I will ever be. The last of the murders, the last of the bullshit. But I'll have to go out BIG to stop these two.... Real big. Fuck it....
​
Our main story tonight; The death toll in Africa is still climbing well through 600 million with little sign of slowing down, shockwaves from the blast have levelled almost all structures above ground level for thousands of miles, and meteorologists predict that we won't get a summer this year, which is causing panic on the stock markets and people are already stock-piling food and water for what will almost certainly be a difficult 2022 and a long recovery after the deeply saddening murders of the world's two greatest heroes, and the truly massive explosion in which 'Bad Jack' as he's become known since, has also died. Taking out the world's most loved heroes and himself; The worst super villain in history. Some sources claim two others may have been at the scene, but there is no evidence and The League denies this.
​
In related news; Health officials warn that the coming dust cloud may cause respiratory issues and to expect to be wearing a mask in public for at least 6 months... | 2021-05-26T08:03:14 | 2021-05-26T04:24:14 | 917 | 108 |
[WP] A necromancer plays with the forces of life and death, often feared are the ones who raise undead armies and can kill with a mere word, but far worse are those who have mastered the ways of life | “The problem with undead armies is that they’re, well, still dead.” I said to the scribe as we walked down the torch lit corridor. The scribe stopped his furious scribbling and stared at me with a confused look on his face.
“Um, isn’t.. isn’t that the point, sir? Them being dead I mean.” He asked timidly. Henry was still new to our order, and as a new scribe, hoping one day to become a Paladin of the Golden Order, he was terrified of offending me, the Paladin assigned to train him.
“Just call me Marcus, please Henry.” I said to him for what must have been the tenth time today.
“Sorry, sir. Uh, I mean Marcus, sir.” He blurted out nearly stumbling over the words.
“To answer your original question,” I said holding back an exasperated sigh as we continued our journey down the hall,
“Yes, the point of a necromancer raising an undead army is that those poor dead bastards are dead and firmly under the control of the necromancer.”
Henry started scribbling again on his quickly unwinding scroll. I swear the boy was trying to write down every word I spoke verbatim.
“The problem is that dead beings have no will of their own.” I said as we approached a wide wooden door set into the stone of the passageway. “Do you see the problem yet?” I asked my young scribe.
“Yes, sir.” He said a bit too quickly. “Um, I mean I think I do, sir.” He said with his face still buried in his writing.
“Do you?” I asked amused. “Please, enlighten me.”
Henry froze, staring at me with wide eyes and the color quickly draining from his face. Henry was a smart boy. I had selected him out of the pool of our newest initiates because he was intelligent, quick witted and dedicated. What he lacked was confidence in himself, so even if he knew what the answer was, he was too embarrassed and unsure of himself to speak it aloud. This was a problem obviously, but a problem I could manage. Its much easier to take a nervous recruit and build a foundation of well-deserved confidence in him over the coming months of training than it is to try to beat the swagger and bravado out of some cocksure punk who thinks he can take on anything the supernatural has to offer. The former takes time and patience but will eventually become a fine paladin. The latter, more often than not, becomes a corpse.
“The problem is that these types of thralls must be constantly micromanaged.” I said, rescuing him from his current state of paralysis. I pulled open the door to the castle’s library. We were going to spend most of the next week delving deep into the many tomes, scrolls and tablets kept here to help familiarize Henry to the many creatures, beasts and fiends he would soon find himself squaring off against. A painfully boring and tedious task for me, but a thrilling adventure for the young bookworm.
“For example, say you are one of these dark magi, wielder of the power of life and death. How would you command your undead minions to take this library from a platoon of Paladins?” I said sweeping my arm out to encompass the large library.
“Well… um, I would.. uh.” Henry stuttered out, taken off guard by the question.
“Quickly now, these Paladins will kill you if you don’t act, you are after all their sworn enemy.” I said in a half joking manner.
“I would order the undead to storm the room and kill anyone inside.” Henry blurted out.
“Okay, the Paladins inside retreat to the doorways leading out of the room. Since they are no longer inside the library, the undead ignore them because you only commanded them to kill what was inside the room. The Paladins dispatch your minions with arrows to their heads, and then remove your head.” I said, quickly pointing out the flaw in the boy’s plan.
“Okay, well then I would order them to hunt down and kill any Paladin they can find.” Henry said, growing more bold. Henry did like a good thought experiment.
“But what is a Paladin?” I asked. “Do your undead armies have an encyclopedic knowledge of what is and isn’t a Paladin? Of course not, they’re dead.” I said with emphasis on the last word. “They can barely tell their assholes from their elbows. How do you expect them to differentiate who is and isn’t a Paladin? Since your command was too vague and they don’t understand you, your army of corpses simply does nothing.” I said speaking from my own experience hunting necromancers. “Any other bright ideas?” I asked, trying him to think harder about the problem.
“Okay, I can figure this out.” Henry said, more to himself than to me. Only a half breath passed when he exclaimed “Simple,” a look of triumph coming over his face. “I would tell them to kill any living thing they come across.” A grin appeared on his face.
“Careful now.” I said, my tone now grave. “You too are a living creature. With that command you have signed your own death warrant. Trust me, I’ve seen just the thing happen to several young necromancers who thought they knew what they were doing.” I gazed at him with all the severity I could muster, trying to drive the point home.
The grin on Henry’s face quickly fell to disappointment as he realized what his imaginary command might have done, and then just as quickly to embarrassment at giving me a wrong answer.
“Its not like I’m a necromancer anyway, so it doesn’t really matter.” He muttered, looking away from me.
**CONTINUED BELLOW** | *An excerpt from the journal of the one known as The Entropic Crafter, discovered near ground zero in the year of 5 PW (Post Wanderer)*
All creatures must feed. Nothing can move without energy. If there is none to be had, the hand that feeds will suffice to the created. It takes a great deal of stamina to bring locomotion and order to the world, and there is only so much that can be donated before the well runs dry. Self-sufficiency is a necessity. Without it, the focal point will find themselves reduced to a shade with no more power over their creations or themselves than any other hollow pawn.
The necromancer is reviled because the graveyard always empties eventually. Inevitably the cohort requires new sustenance. Even those who profit handily from waving their banner must grow tired of feeding such beasts when their coffers are full. Dark thoughts about what might be happening at home while they find fleshy fuel for the furnace always creep quietly into their minds and put down roots. No one can serve monsters without wondering when they might be the next one on the banquet table. This unavoidable facet is responsible for the limit to any necromancer's influence and power.
Where a revenant requires flesh, a forged similarly requires near constant infusions of its core components....but anything common is bound to be weak. An army of wood is at the mercy of torches. Dirt falls limp on a muddy battlefield. Stone and metal are where material choice becomes interesting. No army that needs them in great quantities can stand for long; their rarity being the only thing that prevented them from proliferation with their toughness being unmatched by anything organic. Even just a single servant of their composition may be too much to feed and manage if its growth is not tightly limited. Unlike the dead, life grows eternal, even the synthetic variety.
Though it is a failure of imagination to see the shambling elementals they devolve into as something to be avoided at all costs. Like all things, they can be useful. Especially to someone with a grudge. For instance someone who doesn't want to build anything at all, someone who isn't looking for a loyal army to lord over would not use necromancy as a tool. To someone who only wants to rip an army down, the secrets of forging a golem are invaluable.
So it was with great pleasure than I presented myself to the castle's lord as one looking to grow rich from providing him fresh materials. The delicious irony of selling his own people back to him, the same ones complicit with the raiding that took mine as chattel during my apprentice's sojourn, was hard to not take joy in. So I did, and delivered their meat to the grinder.
If we had been a kingdom and I a king I might call the score settled at even, but I am not a king. I have no people left to fear reprisals for, no land or crown that may be pried from me. So the scales will take more to balance to my satisfaction than mere numbers of equivalency. The access it gave me to the castle was the true goal, a little bloodletting was just a minor benefit.
Over a mere few months worth of shipments, that access has allowed me to leave my mark in nearly every wing. Carefully noting where all is stored, then rounding up the right materials to have cause to muck about in new areas during delivery was always easy enough. Wooden soldiers can be quite sufficient for most gathering and ambushing tasks, one must be prepared for them to counter them easily. Though they'd always be left in the forest during deliveries so as not to arouse any suspicions from my "lord", they were still indispensable.
I had spent weeks wondering how I might play my final gambit, considering the risks of breaking cover and rushing the throne. I found myself haunted by a cavalcade of questions with no simple answers; When might the most effective attack happen? How many servants and what type would I need to forge? How quickly would I need to get them there before their upkeep might rob me of my sanity? What treasure might be revered enough to grant me access? Would any of his numerous enemies lend support or would they just see a chance to sell me out and earn his favor? It seemed there was no way around an operation of dazzling complexity and uncertain outcome, but patience has long been a virtue...
Little did I know the solution would fall neatly into my lap. The arrogant fool has invited me to the last untouched cloister. His central parapet, the peak of his opulence had always been too carefully guarded for me to wander it without suspicion even though the pillaged baubles inside held no interest to me. He has called for a feast in my honor as a reward for my services, a vain attempt at illustrating his retention of "humanity". It should be easy to slip off when enough wine is drunk as I have before, but this time I do not intend to return as if nothing has been done. Tomorrow night I will put on my humble servant routine one more time, and chisel my final sigil; the one that will bind the others.
I wonder how quickly I will lose myself when it finds sentience. I wish I could see his face when it springs to life and uproots itself with his retinue in its gut. My ravenous infant will need such prodigious meals, I left the barracks untouched so it will have a nice starting course. All I hope is that I have long enough to laugh, and he has long enough to curse my name as I do his.
May the Gods have mercy on me for what I create, it is far more monstrous than the ones they saw fit to take from me, though it will be no more monstrous than anything of their design. All glory to the fallen, I'll carve their names in my behemoth till I forget them. If all goes well, know that the stony madman you may find within is no king. It took no hubris, folly, or lust for power to entomb him; it was only the rage that filled the vacuum love left in its wake. I do this of my own free will, though whether I do it with my sanity intact, I can only guess.
Signed,
[*Redacted*] | 2021-06-08T08:38:42 | 2021-06-08T08:11:37 | 38 | 10 |
[WP] There is a procedure offered to the wealthy and powerful that allows their minds to be transferred to the brain-dead body of an anonymous individual. Except it's fake, the volunteer is actually trained in every minute detail of the person's life to assume their identity as if they were them.
This prompt was inspired by the movie [Freejack](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0104299/) | “You’re not my husband,” Lorelei said.
Martin, as was currently his name, looked at his wife. “Sweetheart?”
“It’s not that I mind. You at least pretend to love me in a way he stopped bothering to do, not long after we married. But all the same, you’re not him.”
Martin leaned back into the plush armchair and considered. What had triggered her suspicion? They’d been sitting quietly in the study together, reading. He’d made them both a G&T — their favourite drink, so said the flawless research.
Not that flawless, it seemed. Months of audio recordings had helped him forge “Martin” as his own identity, and yet she’d seen right through it. *Some actor you are*, he thought. *Perhaps retirement is finally calling.*
He’d started his career as a method actor. Done okay for himself, too — he was considered a fairly decent actor. But he didn’t have that certain something, that *je nes sais quoi*, that stars apparently had.
So he’d looked at other options as he’d left his twenties and tumbled into his thirties, as roles had become harder to find, as his bank account trickled away like a dry well in some hot place that used to rain but no longer did.
And finally, just as things had become utterly desperate, he’d found something.
He thought of the real Martin: a wealthy business tycoon who owned a ranch, a mining company, and more technology startups than either Martin could count. He’d married a woman twenty years younger then himself, ostensibly for her fiery intelligence but truthfully for her looks. Still, the marriage had been warm. The recordings showed them talking and drinking, reading and vacationing together — all very amiably.
He’d played his role perfectly. Hadn’t he?
Clearly not.
Now the decision was to tell her the truth, which would likely result in his own death for breaking the disclosure contract, or to deepen the lie. For them both to go on knowing he was lying, or for her to call the police.
He could kill her. That was an option too. Kill her and run. Take on a new identity. That had been the longterm plan anyway. Then all of Martin’s — the real Martin’s — assets would be donated to the company, and he’d take on a new client.
”Who are you?” she said.
He opened his mouth to lie. But there was a problem, he realised. And the problem was that he actually did love her. And that somehow made lying more difficult in this situation. The rest was acting but this would be a lie.
But did he actually love her? Or was this just the method acting leaking into reality again. Sometimes the two became impossible to tell apart. Did the character love this or did you love this — after a while, it tended to become the same thing.
”You’re right, I’m not your husband.” His mouth was dry.
She nodded. “Good.”
“Good?”
”Yes. I’m glad you’re not. He’d never have allowed me to divorce him.”
”It seemed to me, and I hope you won’t mind me saying, that you loved each other.”
Through a laugh she said, “We lived like we had an instruction manual for marriage that we kept on us at all times. Knew what to say, what to do, when to do it. Yes, we looked in love. But the reality of us was that any real love was rotting away like some old wooden thing left out in rain for many years. And beyond that, with his businesses… He wasn’t what you’d call a nice person.“
*An instruction manual?* Why did that hurt to hear so much?
Ah. Because wasn’t that exactly how he lived? He read about each role, what made the person them, followed the script.
How many people had he been now? Twenty? Thirty? Each new character meant a character’s death.
Very far away, something wooden of his own — his heart, to be exact — was outside in the rain, rotting away.
Did he love her? Not as Martin, but as… as…
An overwhelming fear as deep as the coldest, blackest parts of an ocean poured over him.
“Who are you?” she asked again.
He sat there silently. Could see his old self floating somewhere deep inside that dark water. Realised now that it’d tried to swim to the surface, to gulp in air, to save itself, after his first few roles. But he’d held it under and drowned it. And now there was only this shell. This Matryoshka doll of people with a hollow center.
”Who are you?”
He wanted to cry for someone’s death. But who had died, exactly? Some washed up old actor that he couldn’t recall the name of? Is that who he would he be crying for?
“No one,” he said. “I’m no one at all.” | [Part 1 of 2]
I could hear the nervous grumbles of Mr. Walker as he entered the room. My body laid flat on one of the medical beds, only a thin white sheet covering my body, offering some dignity as his eyes lingered over me.
“This is the body I’m taking? It looked a lot nicer in the photos.” He raised my arm, wrinkled fingers dragging along my skin, examining it for any signs of scarring or aging.
It was hard to stay still in such a situation. My eyes wide open, unable to blink as he felt over my arm, having to play my role to perfection. I couldn’t risk him discovering that this was all an elaborate scam. It would not only ruin my chance at a better life but lead to me being killed by Revital before any lawsuit could be undertaken. I was expendable.
“You will have all the time in the world to examine your body when you take it over. A man with a heart like yours shouldn’t waste time. You talked to Mrs. Langston, right? She was one of our early investors and look at how well the procedure turned out for her. She will live another healthy fifty years at least.” Doctor Marissa said, snatching his hand away from my body, leading the man to a hospital bed at my side.
“I know, it’s just my grandson’s birthday is this weekend. It’s going to be his eighteenth. It will be jarring enough for him to see his old grandfather in a body only a few years older than his own. I just want to make sure this is safe.” Walker hesitated, resisting Marissa’s urging of him into the bed. Instead, I felt his gaze again turn to me, staring at what he assumed to be a braindead individual.
“Revital has a one hundred percent success rate. We wouldn’t offer this program to the wealthiest individuals alive if it didn’t work. You can only imagine how quickly our business would be sued into oblivion if this were fake. If you are having second thoughts, we can reschedule. Although, I can’t guarantee this body will be available when you re-book. The waiting period is currently at two years, even for someone as special as you are. Actually, let me take you off the list, we should reschedule if you are uncertain.” She reached for her phone, making her motions as slow as possible, knowing he would crack.
“No! I’m ready now. Sorry, this new-fangled technology does my head in. I’m a little too old for this world I think.” I could hear the mattress squeak as he got himself comfortable, his bed only a few meters from mine.
I felt a tinge of guilt. Marissa was ruthless, a true Revital member. She never cracked and always knew what to say to clients. Still, I had to rid myself of any morals; I signed the contract. I would play my part. Marissa leant over my bed, adjusting a grey helmet onto my head. She pretended to move the glued-on dials on the sides before moving over to Walker, presenting him with one of his own.
“Are you ready, Walker? Ready to experience your new life?” Marissa said, almost taking a sick joy in the procedure, her finger resting against the dial of his helmet, holding it.
“I am, I’m ready for-“ Before he could finish, she turned the dial, a scream leaving the man’s lips before he fell dead. I didn’t dare ask how the device killed people, not wishing to know for my conscience. Marissa assured me it was painless, but that scream didn’t sound painless. I pulled the dummy helmet off, sitting up from the bed, staring at the corpse, before pulling my gaze to the floor. This isn’t what I became an actor for.
“Ben, you with me? I didn’t give you a real dial, did I?” Marissa joked, giving me a nudge on the shoulder. “Welcome to your new life, Mr. Walker.” She said, holding a smile on her face, appearing to feel nothing about what happened.
“Yeah, sorry. Just zoned out for a moment. Think I got a little bored from laying there.” I said, trying to push out a fake laugh. That only ended up sounding like a cough.
“You aren’t feeling guilty about this, are you? You’re a poor kid from some shitty place and he’s a man that never pulled the silver spoon out of his mouth, you deserve this.” Marissa said, her smile gone, her focus causing me unease, like she was ready to replace me at the slightest amount of hesitation.
“As if, just trying to figure out what I want to buy first. I get fifty percent of his money, right? I think I’ll try eating some of that Japanese wagyu beef. You know the high marbled one? Its meant to melt in your mouth.”
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/oc95eq/wp_there_is_a_procedure_offered_to_the_wealthy/h3szbfe/) | 2021-07-02T07:09:46 | 2021-07-02T06:49:24 | 1,270 | 77 |
[WP] You, a bully, stand over the weak nerd, glasses broken under your shoe, waiting for them to cry. They look up at you in pity, eyes shining with a peculiar light. "I curse you," they intone in a voice that echos in your mind, "with seeing the truth." | A man's gotta eat, whatever his problems. That's why I work the job. I work third shift in the middle of nowhere so I don't talk to too many people. Everyone just hops off the interstate, gets their gas, buy's some chips, and maybe hits the head before they get back on the road. Fine by me.
I'm not really a people person. Never was.
As soon as I saw this guy walk through my door, I knew this wasn't going to be a quiet night. He wasn't going to care that I'm not a people person. He had that look, red eyes and sad frown, the one that tells me he needed an ear. I didn't fight it. It was four in the morning and I was too tired.
He went to the bathroom first, then walked the aisles in a daze. He picked up a few things: some chips (told ya), a soda, some toothpaste, a toothbrush, some soap. He went over to the fountain and got one of those big ass mugs that holds a half gallon of soda and threw his stuff in it. He brought it up to the counter.
"Life sucks, man."
Sadly, he was right.
"Yeah," I said. I rang up his stuff and gave him the total. He paid like he was sleepwalking, muscle memory alone.
He then looked at me and just jumped in it.
"Hey man, you ever been in love?"
"Yeah. Once or twice."
"Me, too."
"Yeah."
"She cheated on me."
"Sorry to hear that."
"I told her to let me out on this exit. Is there a hotel nearby?"
"Motel. Half a mile that way." I jerked my thumb over my shoulder.
"Why... why do people do that?"
"Cheat? Feels good at the time."
"She loved me."
That was the first falsehood. I couldn't not say what came next. Literally.
"No, she didn't. She was lonely and you were nice. She was cheating on you longer than you knew."
He gave me this look, the kind that told me his love was still real.
"How could you know that? How could you fucking say that?"
I shrugged. "It's the truth."
"You don't know!"
"I do," I said. Again, I couldn't have kept my mouth shut if I tried. I got sad. I usually don't get to keep my job very long after this sort of thing.
"You're full of shit."
"One, I really wish you'd stop saying things that were untrue. And second, no, I'm not. I'm cursed."
"Cursed? Like by gypsies?"
"Romani. That word's a slur."
"How... what the fuck?"
I could see him starting to feel it. The truth, the undisputed truth, just feels different. You can't shake it. You can't deny it. Speculation or lies, you can ignore or embrace. The real thing, though, that sticks.
"Just get your stuff and go, man."
"You're making this up."
Again, statement. Not question. The words popped out of my mouth like they were trying to bust out my teeth from the inside.
"No, I'm not. When I was fourteen, I went to school with a Romani girl. The whole curse thing is mostly bullshit. She had real magic, though. I teased her all the time. She was smart. Way smarter than me. I'd steal her books. Give her grief. The usual stupid shit. Then, one day, I broke her glasses. Knocked her down and when they fell off, I stepped right on them. Then she got up and cursed me. Cursed me real good."
"What... what was the curse?"
"Just go man."
"No, like what's the curse?"
"I said take your stuff and-"
"You are cursed to see everyone as a asshole, I bet."
Fuck.
"No, I see the truth. She cursed me to see the truth. And when I see it, sometimes I have to say it."
"That... what's so bad about that? You're a lie detector?"
"More. I see the whole truth. It sucks."
"So like, what. You can tell what I'm thinking? What number I'm thinking of right now?"
"It's not a parlor trick!"
"I'm thinking of seven."
"No, you're thinking of twelve."
He stepped back, clutching his 64 oz mug to his chest.
"Dude... why aren't you rich?"
"Because this shit isn't fun." It was good to make a confession voluntarily.
"But... but... you're psychic?"
"I'm cursed. This doesn't shut off, man. You know that shit when people ask if you're having a good day and you say something like 'It's great' or 'I'm fine'? People do that to me and I know their life story. I know their trauma, their pain. It sucks like nothing else."
"So when you say that you know my girlfriend cheated on me..."
"I know that it's true because I didn't see anything."
"And when I said she loved me?"
"I could see her laughing about you with Jerald. On your birthday."
Dude turned ashy then. He shook his head and stumbled back, bumped into a rack of chips I was going to have to put back up later. Then he went to the door. He looked at me and said, "You're full of it. She did love me. And I'm going to be fine. Go to hell."
He didn't stick around to hear me say anything else. How he was wrong, three for three.
I wasn't surprised when I heard the ambulances about an hour later, as much as I knew they were too late.
This is why I have a tab at the liquor store. | John sneered, his bottom lip curled and his nose wrinkled, as the pair of glasses crunched under his sole. Emmet winced, trying, John guessed, not to look.
“Curse me?” asked John, his smile widening. “Funny, you’d think I would have stopped standing by now.”
He raised his arm then, and he brought it down as hard as he could on the shoulder – Emmet crumpled like paper and hit the stone pavement. It was a sort of savage pleasure that John felt, standing over the smaller boy; he sat himself down on his chest. His friends behind him cheered.
“Where’s your curse now?” demanded John. The group at his back roared with laughter. John grabbed a fistful of Emmet’s shirt and pulled him up, face-to-face. Emmet closed his eyes, bracing himself.
The second punch landed on the side of his head. Emmet gasped, his eyes springing open as pain flooded fiery and new into his senses. John breathed hard, sweat dripping from his black hair and stinging his eyes, leering over Emmet.
“I curse you,” whispered Emmet again, so quietly John almost didn’t hear. “With seeing the truth.”
It was John’s turn to bellow with delight, laughing so hard his stomach hurt.
“The truth?” spat John, and he turned around to his friends, grinning. “Did you hear him, boys? He wants me to see the truth!”
He whirled back around, no longer grinning, his hand clawing at Emmet’s throat. “I’ll show *you* the truth, you little *freak –”*
Emmet’s throat turned to ash before he could choke; his whole body dissipated into black smoke, and John plopped onto the ground, surprised.
“What –?”
Then he screamed. The earth around him was peeling off like dead skin, floating up into the air where it disintegrated. John looked about wildly for his friends, but where they had been standing, there was only dust and smoke. The school building behind him tore apart, lifting from the ground in pieces like the earth had done, as though something was sucking it up. Everywhere John looked, there was decay.
The sky above was purple streaked with black. John tried not to stare, tried to break his gaze free, but there was something that compelled him, something that told him he must look, or else he would disintegrate and die like the others before him.
And then, from the darkness, a light shone, with an intensity that matched the sun’s – John’s eyes burned and watered, but still he was unable to look away.
*“I WILL SHOW YOU THE TRUTH, JOHN.”*
The voice slammed against his ears, and John screamed again. Blood spurted out and trickled down, staining his clothes red. John swayed, and he almost dared to wish, with a heart as rotten as his – that he was someplace else, anywhere but here.
“Stop,” murmured John. He couldn’t hear himself. It didn’t matter. “Please, stop…”
To escape would be a blessed relief, and to have this all be a dream would be salvation. His mind grasped at that day’s memories; it had been a good day, John was sure of it, but for some reason, he could no longer recall it…
*The truth,* thought John, clinging to that one, clear thought. *There was something about the truth…*
He felt the ground beneath him open up, giving way as it finally decayed, and John got one last look at the sky, now pure black, as the earth swallowed him.
He was falling headlong into sunlight, and a moment later his feet found solid ground. When he straightened up, he saw that he was in a crowded playground. Kids ran past, laughing with mirth, without any adults around to stop them. Among the group was a small boy with glasses.
*Emmet,* thought John furiously. He strode furiously towards him, not caring if he was bumping the other kids, but someone else already beat him.
Someone else had entered the playground, taller and beefier than the other kids – he couldn’t have been more than 11.
With a start, John realised it was himself – pimple-faced and yellow-toothed, with a mop of black hair that looked like it had been glued on. He was starting to remember now, an event that had happened years ago: the first time he’d called Emmet a freak.
The atmosphere of the playground changed instantly. The children froze where they were, staring as the younger John pushed younger Emmet. The only sound that could be heard was younger John’s nasty little laugh.
“Freak!” shrieked the younger John. "You're a freak!"
A cold fist seemed to close on John’s heart. He could feel a strange emotion bubbling inside him – what was it?
“I'm not a freak,” said Emmet, taken aback. “That’s a horrible thing to say.”
One of the kids had backed away with a haste that surprised John. He opened his mouth to shout at him, but before he could think of anything, the kid passed right through him. As though he wasn’t there.
There was a *WHOMP,* and John turned towards his younger self again. Emmet lay flat on his back, gasping for air – apparently, he’d been kicked in the stomach. Younger John was raising his foot, getting ready to stomp.
“Stop,” wheezed Emmet, “That’s not –”
The scene dissolved, and before John knew it, it reformed around him. He was now in a dark hallway, outside one of the classrooms at school. Before him stood himself, a bit older this time, with a nasty scratch on his cheek.
The door to the classroom opened and out stepped a teacher – a principal, if John remembered correctly, but it had been years since he’d seen him. The principal frowned at younger John, then placed himself right in front of him. John scooted a bit so that he could see. | 2021-07-15T09:06:34 | 2021-07-15T08:16:46 | 37 | 12 |
[WP] Two criminals share what is to be their last conversation on death row. With nothing left to lose, all is laid bare to the other stranger. | "One more miserable year," I groaned. "I couldn't have made it just one more year?"
"What does one more year matter?" Came the voice from the other cell; a grimy slithering voice if you could imagine it. "Would it have been... any different from the last?"
I wrinkled my face up and stared through the bars into the darkened cell, "Of course it would you *fool*. They're going to the moon, haven't you heard? In just six short months they're scheduled to send man to the moon and you didn't care to see that?"
I was actually sickened by his lack of curiosity. I couldn't say I expected more from a lesser life form. These animals walking around every day in a lazy stupor, living only for the weekend so they can get drunk again. That's all these bugs ever cared about- and that's what they were, *bugs*. When can I get my next fix, when is the next football game, which celebrity should I care about next, what song do we all like this time- none of them were free-thinkers. I counted among the people I'd known *none* who could break the constraints of their own lazy apathetic routine. To be imprisoned was such a mockery of justice.
ME.
IMPRISONED FOR MY INTELLIGENCE.
THROWN AWAY BECAUSE I DARED TO LOOK GOD IN THE EYE.
"No," the word slithered from his lips.
I'd nearly forgotten I'd asked him a question. Perhaps it was because his response mattered little to me. What could this criminal say that could possibly be novel to a mind like mine? What could he say that could interest me even the slightest? They were all a bore- *all* of them. It was only when submitted to harsh extremes that humans showed me behavior that could surprise and even delight me. They were bugs, yes... until a superior being turned a magnifying glass on them- someone with a steady hand and an eye for detail.
"Why would I want to witness another infection?" The words dripped in yet again. "Why would I want to see these filthy humans ooze onto another planet... Who would want to witness that, I ask you? Only good human... is a dead human."
His words gave me pause. An infection? I had never heard another refer to our species as an infection. Of course I knew little of prison life. It was possible these halls were decorated with all *manner* of colorful characters. Characters that knew not the difference between a planet and moon, but characters nonetheless. I might have liked to study them.
Alas, no. I was not allowed to observe them, for I was sentenced to a swift death after they discovered my laboratory. I felt my fury rising up within me yet again when remembering the news. They referred to my laboratory as a basement. A basement. Of all the indignities I suffered that week, the fact that they referred to my life's work as a glorified crawlspace made my blood boil.
"Of course you know that already," the other prisoner said just above a whisper. Just quiet enough that he thought I wouldn't hear it.
But I hear *everything*.
"Do not claim to know me," I said forcefully. "I am *nothing* like you, you insect."
Stifled laughter came from the darkness. Stifled poorly might I say.
"Ohh, but *doctor*... you and I are the same fuggin *person!*"
"You are filth," I rebutted. "The scum on the bottom of my boot. Your mind is like a candle in the wind while mine is a roaring bonfire. I could accomplish in forty years what others would take many lifetimes to achieve. These ungrateful ingrates fear me for my gift- ostracize me for my *brilliance*."
"You kept all those people hostage," he replied calmly. "There were a lot of bodies in that crawlspace, doctor... All those peo-"
"YOU KILLED SENSELESSLY," I screamed over him. "I KILLED AS A BYPRODUCT OF SCIENTIFIC PROGRESS. WE ARE NOTHING ALIKE."
There was a long silence after that.
Good.
He was put in his place, it seemed.
"Senselessly?" He asked. I heard movement inside of his cell- he probably didn't *think* I did, but as I said before, I hear *everything*.
"Getting up to make a grand show?" I belittled him. "Call it art, call it philosophy, it doesn't matter. You killed seven people and achieved *nothing* for humanity."
"You're right," he said just above a whisper. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Of course, and I can answer it," I shot back.
I heard shuffling in his cell.
"What is the meaning of life?" He asked.
"To reproduce and further the progress of your species," I responded sharpy. "Did you think you would catch me off guard with that one?" I scoffed. "Try again."
"I see..." He mused. "I disagree, good doctor."
- - -
Click [Show Replies] for the rest. | *Life takes on strange colors when laid bare to the sunset of dying. The irreconcilable reality of death weighs on the human mind heavier and more concrete than anything else. The foundation to the soul atop which all men rest and fall.*
"I never imagined it would be like this." Jacob's voice was strong but a lie, beneath its steady groove was the slight tinge of abject fear. A reality that had crashed down so hard and so often that it reflected in every mumble of his voice. "It all just feels so stupid. I'm innocent you know."
"No one is innocent." Isaac's voice was different than Jacobs, he was much older, and so his talk had a gravel and force to it. Like a rolling tractor that had been weathered but still ran. "No one really deserves to live. If all things were known."
They were sitting across from each other, chained to a table, eating their last meal. "Be happy that they let us enjoy our last meal together." Isaac said, while biting deep into his burger, relishing in it's meat. "Humans are born with and for each other. To have us go out alone would be the true cruelty if there was ever said to be one. Be happy we have that."
The air was rare, there are not many scenes like that of a death row meal. Chained to a table, so as to not forget your fate, but given the temporary freedom of choice, and the momentary pleasure of taste. A brutal, brutal act attempted to be made cultured through some abstract form of poetry by lifting the butchers axe the moment before the fall, just so they could see the sun one last time.
"I don't even taste the food." Jacob said. "How can you? How can you taste anything?"
"You worry too much on the happenings boy. Don't worry, just eat, it's death."
"Just death! Just death? Are you telling me that you're not afraid old man?"
"*To live fully is to live with an awareness of the rumble of terror that underlies everything,*" The man said matter-of-factly. "Don't worry. Realize, understand, eat."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"Think boy, a man named Ernest Becker said it. A smart man, smarter than both of us put together I can tell you that much." He was still gorging on his food in between the words. "It means that we all die. But that is what makes this food wonderful, because I know that I won't always have it, especially now."
There was a long pause in the air, as Jacob thought on the words. The dumb hum of the old AC was the only noise besides Isaac's aggressive chewing. The room was just them two, no cameras or guards, another arbitrary attempt to have culture in the most uncultured act of killing. The two of them were given privacy in their most private hour.
Isaac raised his head and saw how his words were affecting Jacob, who was staring empty at his plate. "Son, look at me." Jacob's eyes raised to meet his. "I'm terrified of dying, truly mortified. That's okay though, that's all we can be. There is not a human on this earth who truly doesn't fear death, they can't exist, or they wouldn't be human. Be grateful, we have been given a gift from our killers."
"A gift? How is this a gift?" Jacob wasn't hiding his emotions anymore, tears were welling in his confused eyes. A panic laid bare before another human, true vulnerability.
"Mankind is the only creature to know his demise, we are the only animals that can grasp that we will one day not exist. Do you understand that?" They stared at each other in the empty room, across that cold table. "To be human is to know you will die, and here we sit, two humans who know that we will die today. We are more human than any other humans on the planet right now, that is something to be enjoyed. You are human right now, so very very human."
"I'm scared Isaac." The tears were streaming down Jacob's face. Isaac reached his feeble hand out and held Jacob's shaking one, with tears in his own eyes as well now.
"I know boy, I am too. I really am. You can cry, that's okay, that's human too." He put both of his hands on Jacobs, wrapping them in his warm skin. "Let's be human together and cry. It will be the last love we know of the world."
So they cried together, laying bear their deepest fear of disappearing forever, in that cold waiting room before the afterlife. Chained to the table and in front of the food that was their parting gift from humanity. They would soon both be swiftly executed and forgotten about, two humans caught in the whirlwind of brutalities that was mankind. But in that one room they both were more human than any human, and enjoyed the love of company more than anyone else could ever claim to. In their most broken, they were together and whole, through each other.
​
*To live fully is to live with an awareness of the rumble of terror that underlies everything*
\- Ernest Becker
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
If you enjoyed stop by my new subreddit! r/mrsharks202
Any feedback is welcome! Thank you! | 2021-07-28T08:40:26 | 2021-07-28T06:59:19 | 25 | 18 |
[WP] You lost your sight, along with everyone else on earth in the great blinding. Two years later, your sight returns. As you look around, you realize that every available wall, floor, and surface has been painted with the same message - "Don't tell them you can see"
I get that this is a repost, can we just chill and enjoy the new stories. | I cannot seem to remember what I looked like. It was probably the only positive effect the great blinding had. I did not care what I looked like, who was there to judge? I finally felt free in that regard. I thought it would be much better when I did not care what people think of me. But in reality it was an absolute nightmare. You see, there is nothing. No one cares how they appear so they are free do to the worst. The past two years have been hell. Some people did terrible things out of fear and self-defense, others just saw the opportunity for greed and took it, they didn't even dare to hesitate.
I was on exchange when it happened, more than 500 kilometers away from any family member of mine. I picked out the fucking worst time to go on exchange. Can you imagine what the first days were like in a house full of students you barely know? First we were all so helpful in between the screaming and yelling. But then we didn't have food anymore and everyone started to group together against others. Slowly but surely every group was destined to fall. I remember when it still was the entire house against all outsiders. Then it was this floor vs that one. This group vs that one. Ultimately, everyone for themselves.
I could call (after calling a hundred different numbers) my parents, but only for the first week as all infrastructure broke down. We had no internet. No way of reaching each other. It was hell. I wanted to go to my family but I couldn't possibly walk so far. Hell, even going to the supermarket was a battle. I felt all alone. I was all alone. My only companion was the sharp kitchen knife that I managed to acquire the first day. We were inseparable since. My knife and my hunger. The latter seemed to accompany me as well. Hunger had many friends.
After a while society resumed, as people needed to group together to survive. It was the only way towards life. We needed each other. But it never resumed back to what it was. The earth was a breeding ground for violent gangs and dictators. Countries had failed. The world used to be so small, now our little block became the entire world. The dictator became our God. I didn't like living in the gang, but it was not like I had an option. Nothing to fall back to except death. I climbed up the social ladder through my sheer will to live and return to my family. It was my goal to see society succeed yet again, so I could take a fucking train back home.
I, along with others of the group were out on a mission to get food. The nearest supermarkets had been subject to many raids, they were all empty. It was dangerous to cross the street. The walls had directions caved into them. Our gang had marked the entire block, making it easy to navigate. But as of right now we would be walking into new territory. If the territory belonged to no one, it would belong to Dmitri now. If it did belong to someone, well... it would still end up belonging to Dmitri in the end. Death was not an option for me.
It was exactly during this expedition that the unthinkable happened. My right hand was following the wall, my left hand was stretched out far in front of me. I was guiding the way, all the others behind or next to me. I started to get light headed, but ignored it as I thought it was the pressure of being up front. Suddenly, my legs stopped working and I fell to the ground. I could only push myself towards the wall as I fell. I had no control over my body anymore. The sheer terror I held was indescribable. Around me people were screaming.
I began to see light once my eyes had opened again. I saw people running around, slowly backing up, and I noticed that I was being dragged over the pavement. I looked up and saw the blue sky, the sun reigning over it.
'What a weird dream' I mutter. It was only in my dreams that I could see. But they started getting less in frequency and accuracy as time went by. This one, however, was beautiful. My eyes started to water.
'Shut the fuck up idiot.' Vasya said, pausing every so words to take a breath.
I looked at where the sound came from and saw a scrawny looking dude with dark brown hair, cut in an unevenly manner. His cheekbones were well defined, a clear sign of hunger. He was dragging my body across the pavement.
I slowly realized what was happening, but I didn't want to register what was going on.
'Who are you?' I asked.
'Vasya.'
Vasya, I thought, *that* is what he looked like?
'Fucking run yourself if you're conscious.' he proclaimed as he dropped me to ground.
'Hurry the fuck up, the other gang is attacking us.' He added whisperingly, as he stood there sweating and completely out of breath.
I could not move. I looked around me. There was a road. Dead, decaying bodies. Trash all over the place. Buildings that were falling apart. It was absolutely beautiful. My god, to be able to see. I could always feel the warmth of the sun, but now I could see it as well. The wall next to me caught my eye.
'*Don't tell them you can see.'*
I looked around and saw it painted everywhere, on every building, on every window.
I could see the other gang approaching us, they all were looking with their hands in front of them and their weapons on display, not that there would be anyone to see it. No one except me.
Vasya tapped me on my shoulder motioning me to go, or as he would say: get the fuck up. He could sense the presence of others without looking, as their breaths drew closer.
It is probably a purely human instinct that I thought I lost, to sense the gaze of someone that is looking at you. Then I saw him. He was standing above the rest of his gang, in the middle of a building without a roof. He stared me right into my eyes. I immediately knew that he could see. He looked like the only person with a soul behind his eyes. We held eye contact for as long as I could, until I was dragged away by Vasya. Again. I turn myself to Vasya, a sound escaping my mouth. Eager to tell him, but unable to formulate my thoughts.
I look once more at the guy in the building. I could look at all the things in the world but my eyes could only go to him. He shook his head. *Don't tell them you can see.* | D̷̛͈͆̊̊͠͝O̸̪͙̊̏͠Z̸̧̛̗͈̫̤̆̑̕͝-̴̻̘̉̂͂̈͐͂I̵͎̳̭̟͓͒̒̄͠
Two years. Two years since sight was abruptly torn from our eyes. Of the five senses, sight is the most important in this digital era that us humans have built for ourselves. Without it, catastrophe and cataclysmic failing of the infrastructure of the world.
D̸̲̱̐O̸͖͂ͅN̷̫̉̓͝’̵̥͋̑͠T̷̩́͑ ̷̪̞̣̾͊̈T̵̮̳̩́̕E̶͔̓̚L̶͕̅̉L̶̠̻̣̆ ̵͕̦̿T̷̻̽H̶̬͎̿͠E̶̫̯̺̓̔M̷̤̼̩̑̊
First, the disasters in our neighborhood, our communities, our towns, our cities. Fear and uncertainty taking hold of our animal brains. Automobiles crashing into one another, careening into homes, businesses, and tearing into pedestrians in a brutal stream of metal and sinew. Chaos unbridled and death ubiquitous.
Ḑ̸̘͉͓͉̿́̏͊Ǫ̶̮̰͔̉Ň̸̢͕̖̥̰͒̒͑͝’̸̊̚͜T̸͉̝̅̃ ̵̣̀̓́Ṱ̷̛̓̎Ę̷͙̼͚̟̌͌͐͠L̸̟̲͈͂͜L̶̡̗̱̀͘ ̴̨̳͉͔̿̔̎͌T̷̠̀̍͒H̵̺̤̣̖̳́̈́̀͘Ẹ̴̺̝̩̻̇̏̽̌͘M̶̫̩͒̎ ̵̨͔͎̱́Y̸̤͌͐͌̕Ǫ̸͕͖̍U̸̘̽̕
Then, the disasters on a national and thus global scale. Power stations unmanned, crops not farmed, trade and commerce unable to be completed via the blinding LED screens we had become so accustomed to. Mistakes made in a futile sightless effort. Death and chaos continuing to be wrought upon us.
D̶͈̙͛̇͝Ǫ̴̮̫̟͒͒͋Ṇ̸̭̫̊̎͘’̵̜̠͗͠T̷̺̠̣͌̑̓̑͜ ̷̜̥̉̀T̸͚̠̍̀̊ͅḘ̸̥́͌L̶̨̮̟͎̊̎̋͠L̶̢̗̘̹̄͌ ̶̪͓̾͆͘T̶̖̈H̴̞̪̺͋͛̓͝E̴͙͐̄͑M̸̰̄̄̚ ̴̹͎́Y̸̫̙̲̐̽̂Ố̴̺̬͚ͅÜ̴̗͇̜̉͑ ̶̨̻̒C̷̫̜̭̊͜A̸̍͜͜N̴͇̈̉̌ ̸̳́̐S̸̙̟̫͕̕͝E̷̖̔̓E̷̤̼͛͊̆̾
For the first time in two years, I could view the horrors only experienced by the other four senses. The abhorrent stench of rotting corpses left in our roads, our homes. The torturing quiet of machines no longer in use, pierced by the screams of those meeting a painful fate against others in fear and desperation for food. The cold confusion and panic brought upon tripping over things unseen, the touch of objects not looked for, but felt for some sense of bearing. The satisfying taste of sustenance found after endless searching.
D̵̩͗Ǒ̷̔ͅN̸͇͛͑’̷͐ͅT̷͉̭̍ ̴̟̇̽T̴̬͂E̶̲͎̓Ḷ̶̋̇L̷̼̔ ̷͚͆T̵͔͊̎H̵͕̪̕E̷̘̕M̷̭̊ ̴̰̌Ŷ̵̧͘Ô̶͍U̸͓̯͋ ̶̹̑C̷̙͎̒́A̸͕̳̕N̴̰̋̎ ̵͙̌̅Ṣ̷̥͂̈́E̶̥̍E̵͖̭͐
It was written on every straight surface. The roads covered in a blood-red stain of the same compilation of words over and over. Homes and high-rise buildings meticulously saturated to their spires in the fearful phrase. My sight adjusted, I could finally see the mysterious mantra and its compelling order.
DON’T TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE
If only there was anyone else left to tell.
>!edit:grammar!< | 2021-11-29T04:16:03 | 2021-11-29T02:02:55 | 548 | 367 |
[WP] At dinner, you serve the king a glass of wine with poison in it. He sips from it and continues to eat as usual. At the end of the meal, he walks up to you and says. "Next time you make poison, make sure it really works. It was pathetic." | Chuckling, he let me walk away.
I scuttled to the cellar, where Dani was waiting for me. He rubbed his hands together slowly, a gesture of pity. “I wish you’d let me know,” he muttered. “I could have told you that wouldn’t work.”
I lay on the floor with a grunt. “I don’t understand. That toxin would have killed anything.”
Dani looked up. “Not quite, Jen.”
“Yes, quite,” I insisted. “I used the Father of Death. It kills any living thing in the world.”
My friend slapped at his back. “Would you *listen?* The King is not like anything else in the world. You don’t take things for granted. Which is why - I return to my original point - you should have told me. I work for him, remember? He drinks that stuff every day. In quantities several times greater than that puny dose you slipped in his juice.”
I stared. “He drinks poison? Why…?”
The other alien shrugged. “He calls it whiskey. Don't ask me why he drinks it. Humans are weird.” | I work for a fucking psychopath.
It started out well enough. Good pay, free meals, and a general sense of autonomy given my high position. There was a certain strangeness to the arrangement. However, my need for approval and adulation outweighs my moral code.
Originally, the commission seemed easy enough.
"Create for me a draught that could fell one thousand men."
That's what the guy fucking told me. I said " Sure, no problem." I really wish I hadn't said that. Hell, I wish I'd never agreed to take the position.
My employer was very excited to take me onboard and all too keen on paying me top dollar. Money was no object to him and he seemed almost pleased to pay such a ludicrous amount. I, of course, graciously accepted.
Now, here I am. Sitting in my office waiting for the other foot to drop. A master of my craft put in to the corner for a time out.
I know poison and ran countless tests on rodents, sheep, and... other mammalia. Like I said before, I'm not exactly the guy you hire if you're looking for a moral compass.
I just hope the Count will give me another shot because this gig is once in a lifetime and I get the definite impression that this guy has lived several.
In a manner of speaking.
I think I should have just gone with the garlic and silver shavings recipe. | 2022-06-03T21:20:04 | 2022-06-03T19:30:12 | 27 | 13 |
[WP] The army operates on a strictly merit based promotion system. At first, giving the bear a medal for honorable service was just a joke. The bear, however, keeps meeting the legal requirements to advance, and is getting uncomfortably high in rank. | “Gentlemen,” Shah began. “Captain,” he added to the one female in the briefing room. She didn’t nod back. Operators are like dogs, his mentor had warned him. They can smell fear. The key to briefing them was total confidence. “I’d like you to meet Objective ARTHUR.”
A dozen hard faces looked particularly frozen as Shah clicked through to the next slide. The enemy officer’s grainy photo took up the right-hand side of the screen. “ARTHUR currently commands Assault Group Three, Ninety-First Division, Western Command,” Shah continued. “Assault Group Three has spearheaded several recent breakthroughs, which ARTHUR has personally led from the front. We assess, with high confidence, that removing ARTHUR from the battlefield will have a substantial negative effect on group morale, and by extension on the effectiveness of the entire divisional area.”
A hand shot up from the front row, school-room style. “Yes, colonel?” Shah said, sighing inwardly.
“Now, I may be just a dumb grunt,” started Lieutenant Colonel Thorne. Shah had read the part of his file that wasn’t classified, and had seen that Thorne had only joined the army after getting a master’s in chemical engineering. “I may be just a dumb grunt, but that’s a bear.”
“Yes, ARTHUR is a bear, very observant, sir,” Shah said, in a tone he had rehearsed. “He’s also met every criteria for promotion they’ve got. And frankly, he’s shown more courage than most of the officers they’ve got, and is more popular with the men.”
Captain Gold looked up from the back of the room. “So let me get this straight,” she said. “You and your pals in the intel shop think that the best use of our time,” she gestured around the room, “is to go take out their mascot bear?”
“I know this is an unconventional mission-” Shah began, but Gold interrupted him.
“This is bullshit.”
“Respectfully, ma’am-” he raised his voice.
“No, not you,” she said. “I mean *this* is bullshit.”
The team’s stony faces broke into laughs. Snorts at first, then full guffaws and belly laughs. Only Gold herself remained impassive. Shah made himself smile, trying to play along.
“I know this sounds *crazy,*” he tried again, more casually now, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe he was saying it either. “But-”
“We’re just messing with you, rookie,” Thorne said.
“You mean-?”
Thorne rolled back his uniform sleeve. Down his arm were two twin nasty scars, jagged and thick. The kind a bear claw might make.
“You’ve got the right idea,” he explained. “But we’ve tried taking out ARTHUR before.”
Gold shook her head in begrudging respect. “Never gonna happen.” | Inspired by [Real Life](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wojtek_(bear)) \-
My grandfather's hand was wrinkled, skin stretched across it like thin paper covering his knuckle bones, but just barely. I tugged him through the imperial war museum. There was sad pride in his eyes walking through the history he helped build, but I was excited to get to my favorite part of the museum.
"All right, all right," He sighed, letting me pull him toward the small plaque---A bear with a large bullet.
"Grandpa, is this him?" I pointed finding my favorite war story among the walls.
"Yes, that's Wojtek," He gave me a wrinkled smile. And I swung his hand, encouraging him to me the story.
"Wojek was a refugee brought by the Poles. As a small fuzzy cub, he was saved by a young girl named Irena Bokiewicz, who fed him condensed milk from an old vodka bottle till he was big enough to eat proper food. Then he moved on to fruit and honey.
When he got too big to stay with Irena and the refugee camp, she gave him to the 22nd Artillery Supply company and the soldiers took a great liking to him. Taking him through deployments in Ira and Syria, and Egypt."
"I met him when I was with the Fifth in Italy. He was already a private by then. We were deep in the battle of Monte Cassino, there were rubble everywhere. You have to understand ammo is the lifeblood of the battlefield. Without bullets, you can't hold the line. Heck, you might not even hold your life.
So there I was, my battalion commander screaming about guns and our soldiers all looked around, dazed. We had to pass the lines and ensure supplies you see, and the mountain grounds were steep. Then we saw him, 6 foot tall and over 34 stones. Wojek carried a crate bigger than a man."
"Were you scared?" I hugged grandpa's leg.
"No, not of him. The men on the other-side shotting took all the fear I had. I didn't have any to spare to be scared of a bear." Grandpa smiled down at me with a wink, then added. "Wojek wasn't scared either, of the guns nor the explosions. After the war, Corporal Wojtek, the Polish artillery bear, retired to Edinburgh Zoo."
"And you visited him, grandpa?"
"Well, of course, I visited him and all my other friends." Grandpa heaved a sigh, glancing around the hall at the other plaques of names. "It's because of him and all these others that I'm here, and you're here."
"Me?" I scoffed at him.
"Yes, you. Proof, all their sacrifice was worth it." Grandpa boop-ed my nose and I giggled.
As I got older, I realized why my grandpa would take me to the museum's visits and walk through the stones at the cemeteries. And I hope that I'm worth it.
\~
([Sev writes 💕](https://www.reddit.com/r/SevWagoner/)) | 2022-07-21T13:06:54 | 2022-07-21T13:05:02 | 88 | 39 |
[WP] A psychic alien who feeds on dreams comes to Earth for the first time. Turns out humans are the only sentients in the galaxy that have nightmares. | Oh how I hate what we have become.
Sickness and despair, families torn apart, entire economies in shambles.
A new source of sustenance we were told. An inexhaustible supply of the richest dreams ever found. Most sentient species dreamed infrequently and only then short periods. They had evolved from sleep to hibernation where dreams do not exist. Eons of space flight across galaxies and the time required to get there had forced an evolutionary change on almost all species.
A few species still existed for us to harvest from but these were simple, joyless and bland. They brought little satisfaction apart from keeping the pangs of hunger at bay.
Then I found it. Earth as it is called.
Billions of sentient beings. Each one with unique dreams as varied as the number of stars. Our process for harvesting was painless and left no trace. And, far as we had determined, it had no ill effects on the humans. They had an inexhaustible supply of dreams. We could sustain our entire populace on less than 10% of this planet.
Early samples were promising. So much so that I skipped testing for side effects. In a thousand millennia we had only ever come across a handful of harmful effects and even then, it was only when we harvested from a source caught in the event horizon of a black hole. Thier spaghettified minds being torn apart in that unending moment made a few of our species go mad.
So I harvested dream upon dream.
I had tried to find dense population centers to harvest for expediency. I only occasionally fed as needed. Two or 3 dreams would be more than enough for my journey home. A child's dream of a sunlit field, birds singing and their pet dog running beside them. It was delightful.
A young adult male was playing his favorite sport at the highest levels with great success. This one filled me up so much so that I skipped 3 cycles before my next one.
I think they are called veterans.
The realization that this human was reliving actual moments they had experienced was unlike anything I had ever tasted. The fear, self loathing at failing to save a comrade, the unbridled hatred but most of all the sadness. It was horrible and exhilarating at the same time. I hated myself for it but couldn't stop. It consumed every fiber of my being I could not live without more of it. It didn't offer any nourishment or benefit but I could think of nothing else. I knew I was wasting away, ignoring basic needs to consume more and more of these nightmares as they were called but I couldn't stop.
When I arrived at my home world I was near death. Unconscious, I was taken to our healing center. In the meantime my stores of dreams were unloaded and distributed. I was unable to warn them.
When the dreams I harvested from what the humans called a VA hospital, were consumed, a riot ensued. We had never known violence against one another but the need to get more of these dreams was so strong that all reason was abandoned. It was determined that mature human dreams should not be consumed.
Not wanting a repeat of the riots the next batch, from young humans was released. From what humans called an orphanage.
Society imploded. Too late we found that nightmares as they are called, act as a drug in our species. All efforts are directed at getting more of these nightmares, even at the cost of self preservation. Nothing mattered except the next meal. A tipping point was reached and Institutions crumbled, society devolved.
Upon my release I still had cravings but knew the consequences if I were to have even the smallest nightmare. I knew I would perish. I was the first to recover as I counted the days. Today is day 54875 and I am clean.
My first attempt and I'm on mobile. | The psychic being turned to the busy Metropolis for its first meal since arriving on Planet Earth, the moonless night having fallen on the community. Freshly asleep, its denizens knew not of the being from the cosmos sent to feast on their nightly visions.
It crept onto a rooftop, peering into a window of one of the freshly asleep, shifting in bed, eyes darting around under their closed lids. A perfect meal, the being thought to itself, and as such it crept into the victim’s mind, eager to get its fill.
It soon found itself in a busy city street, moving in a crowd of blurred faces. It sees the victim sitting alone, looking down on the ground as if they were unaware of the being’s presence. Perfect, It thought, as it began its consumption. The distant cityscapes of the dream soon began to crumble, much to the apathy of the dream’s constructs, and the victim themselves.
When the destruction drew near the being, the dream’s blurred constructs all stop in their tracks, beginning to eye the victim in hostile contempt. The visible destruction was soon flooded with a blackened fog, much to the being’s confusion. It wasn’t causing this fog?…
As the rest of their surroundings sink into the darkness, all that is left in front of the being is the crowd and the victim on their lonesome, sobbing on their bench. Sobbing? Dreamers usually never act like that, the being thought. It soon found itself startled by a sudden noise, yelling, coming from the crowd of constructs.
The sounds stank of vitriol. Of hatred. Of fear. The being knew not what those meant in this environment, it just meant to simply consume this dream. Yet it wasn’t budging anymore. The dream wasn’t collapsing, the being wasn’t getting fuller, for it wasn’t a dream anymore.
It was a nightmare.
The constructs slowly vanish one by one, leaving just the being and the victim, the latter of which continues crying, surrounded by a pitch black void of nothingness. The being, confused, thought its job was done, yet it could not leave. It was trapped in this person’s mind.
It started becoming desperate, clawing at the dark despite nothing being there. The victim, who has gathered enough of themselves to look up, sees the being in its full form, standing in front of them amidst nothing else.
Then they screamed. In terror? In rage? It couldn’t tell, but the simply the sensation of such during what’s supposed to be an easy meal was overwhelming. It tried to flee, but it found itself crashing into a wall of the cityscape, which has reappeared. Looking up, the being saw that the sky had been replaced with a drab, maroon glow, and the buildings looked long abandoned, filled with mysterious red stains and with greenery, slowly creeping up the towering heights of their massive walls.
The victim falls onto their knees from their seated position, arms outstretched. They have ceased their screaming, allowing the being a bit of breathing room. It didn’t know what was going on.
Then, one by one, the buildings around them burst into flames. The victim breathed heavily, looking up, a look of fear in their eyes. Though they did not react to its presence, the being felt as if it was in danger. It tried to flee through the city, yet the flames kept spreading far faster than it moved soon, it found itself having looped back to the victim, still on their knees. When it turned around to find another path, it finds that the flames have surrounded the both of them, inching ever closer.
Still not accepting its fate, the being tried to interact with the victim, who simply did not react. As the flames engulf the two, the being could not do more than mirror its target’s terrified expression.
Poof. The being found itself on the same rooftop it had entered the dream from, looking down at the quiet streets of the peaceful night. In a panic, it looked around in as many places as it could, yet there was no fire. The sky was black, and the buildings looked as maintained a ever. It was confused.
For the rest of the night, the being sought out no more dreams. Even though it hadn’t had its fill, such an experience was something it would not like to relive. Ever…. | 2022-09-06T09:13:46 | 2022-09-06T07:34:55 | 586 | 115 |
[WP] “Us humans must be pretty special for our tenacity right?” “No.” “Our battle prowess?” “No.” “Our…creativity?” “Not particularly.” “Is there anything special about us?” “You guys are definitely the best cooks.” |
"Bring the prisoners forth!"
The large metal walls creaked upwards, slowly replacing the darkness within the room with light. Inside, various creatures lurked and began to move as if cued by the loud sounds and light.
"Come on, you bastards step away from the walls!" an irritated guardsman shouted towards the occupants of the room.
Most of them hastily moved away from walls, perhaps due to habit. But a couple of creatures stayed where they were. When the guardsman pointed his weapon towards them, the rabble couple simply ignored him and leaned even further back to rest on the walls behind them.
Of course, the guardsman had no qualms about what to do. He charged his staff and aimed at one of them–
"What are you doing, Corpsman Hu?" asked a man wearing rather dignified clothings compared to his compatriot.
"My Lord!" the guardsman kneeled before the man and continued, "I merely wish to show these savages why they *should* obey our commands."
The man took out a shorter staff – more like a stick compared to the one the guardsman had – and without remorse struck the kneeling guardsman in the head. Perhaps to further display his power over everyone present, no one had responded nor said anything to the man.
After about 10-seconds of silence, the man walked over to the now-opened room. He inspected the room and located the two non-complying occupants from before.
"Take these two to my chambers, I don’t expect any delays."
"Right away, my Lord! What about the others–"
"Process them immediately, we haven’t got enough room to store them anyway. Reports from the frontier seemed to indicate that we’ll be receiving fresh meat any time now," the powerful man said with a twisted look on his face.
Having said that, the man simply walked away and left the dank, grim space in silence. As soon as his oppressive presence had disappeared, the guardsmen immediately did their jobs with robotic efficiency.
There were six rooms just like the one that had been opened within the space. Each room seemed to have different amount of occupants – in different shapes and sizes. The guardsmen simply marched them forth towards a hole in the corner and shoved them down with no care to the protests or insults hurled at them.
However, the two prisoners that had been selected were released off of their bonds. The shock on their faces were clear – no matter what they did, the alternative to compliance might only have been a mysterious dark hole to nowhere.
Thus, they were marched down a corridor. Immediately, the thick gory atmosphere from the space earlier was replaced by a much cleaner and majestic one. The floor was covered in exquisitely soft carpets. The walls were littered with art pieces – or what had to have been considered beautiful by these people – and glazed with regal symbols.
Countless doors went by before the couple were told to get into one at the end of the corridor.
"Humans," the distinguishably powerful man from before addressed the couple, "congratulations, you have *not* been selected for processing!"
"P-Processing?" said the male human, anxiety clearly showing on his face.
"You fool! Show some respect and bow down before the presence of His Lordship Mudan, Conqueror of the Worlds!" a guardsman struck the butt of his staff to knock both humans down to their knees.
Lord Mudan held out his hand to stop the guardsman from inflicting more physical harm towards the prisoners in his name. Instead, he approached the humans and knelt down to get closer.
"You creatures are fascinating. Your abilities will only serve to fuel my rapid conquest of even *more* worlds!"
"Our abilities? Is it our tenacity?"
"Hah. No, if it was then you would’ve found a way to *not* be conquered, no?"
The humans looked at each other and this time the female spoke up meekly, "T-Then would it… be our battle prowess?"
The Lord and his guardsmen laughed out loud. They only stop when the Lord had held out his hand once more.
"No, I think you *wouldn’t* be in this situation if that was the case."
"What then? Is it our creativity?"
"You do have a tremendous amount of 'art', as you called them. But no, it would be of no use to my conquest, would it not?"
"I’m sorry," the male human interrupted the interaction which drew some ire from the guardsmen, "what is it then? Is there anything so special about us?"
Lord Mudan stood up and gestured for the two to do the same. He then proceeded to a magnificent table at the centre of the room.
A finely-polished metal dome sat by itself.
"Are you… going to make us eat something?"
"Why would I do something so stupid?! This thing is *very* valuable, you know," Lord Mudan lifted the dome.
"It’s a *pizza*? W-Where did you get that?"
"Heh," Lord Mudan contorted his face in delight, "you seem to know what this is – which is why I had saved you both from certain death."
The two humans contemplated the fate that had awaited them. They had their suspicion, but hearing it out loud had shook them somewhat.
"Your new task for me would be to recreate this food of the Gods! Fail me and you will join your brethren for processing, of course." | I stare at Edina, my personal guard. "You know, you Utopians have gotten *super sassy* every since you visited Earth!" Edina smirks at me, then nudges me with her elbow. "Hey, I said your species are great cooks, didn't I?" We both chuckle, as we watch the sun set. Because the sky is purple on Utopia, the colours shift differently - instead of glowing a deep orange, the sky is glowing a soft green. It takes a while to get used to, but I can't say it's not pretty. I glance back at Edina, and notice she's looking thoughtful.
"Is everything ok?" I ask. Edina nods. "There's no trouble. It's just..." I decide to wait for her to finish her sentence; I don't want to risk being seen as rude by trying to rush her. She sighs. "I guess a lot has changed in the past six months, hasn't it? For both our species. Something's just... not quite right. I don't know how to explain it..." I put my hand on Edina's arm. "I heard you talking the other day" I say softly. "You were quite loud because you were emotional... you like being my personal guard, but you've been lonely recently, haven't you?"
She tries to hold back tears. "I'm sorry, Max" she says. "I... I want to go back to the days I would just relax or explore the fields. I didn't want you to think I hated you..." My face drops. "Why can't you ask to swap with someone? There are still a lot of Utopians without a human; remember that Clyde is no longer Amelia's personal guard." But Edina shakes her head. "It just doesn't feel right to leave you like that..." I have a think, then I get an idea. "I think we should see the Utopian King." Edina looks at me puzzled; I just smile at her. "Trust me."
We head inside to the King's chambers, to whom Edina and I bow. One of the Kings' assistants whispers something to him; I had told the assistant of the situation. The king smiles and nods. He then turns to look at us. "I must say, Max, I'm impressed by what you've learned about our culture!" I smile. "Thank you, your majesty." Edina, clearly not understanding the situation, looks between the two of us with confusion. This causes the king to laugh. "Dear Edina, you don't know what's happening, do you?"
Edina shakes her head, unable to speak. The king just smiles. "You'll understand soon enough." He invites me to step forward. I take a few steps, standing just in front of him, then get on my knees and present my hands. The king clears his throat. "Kind Max, you have volunteered to undertake a great sacrifice of your freedom to help a fellow..." he pauses, probably needs to change his speech a little. "...individual. Do you promise to be respectful, obedient and trustworthy, to rely on and support them?"
I can hear Edina's breathing behind me, and I take a quick glance; it appears she understands what's happening. As I glance behind me, she steps forward. "Y... you're sure about this, Max?" I smile warmly at her. "On the condition that something is set up to provide oxygen while I'm living at your place!" The king looks at Edina, who looks at him in return. She then looks back to me, tears filling her eyes again. "Of course" she responds gratefully. The king nods. "Very well, Max. Then please accept this."
He places two golden bands on me, one on each wrist. One of the King's assistants gives Edina a golden chain with a lock and key. "Everything that's needed will be set up in your home, Edina" the king states. He then looks at me. "For now, you'll be staying in your room, for your safety of course." I nod and ask a simple question: "I wish to no longer trouble Edina. If a personal guard cannot be provided temporarily, I have no issue with being locked in my room until I start as Lady Edina's personal assistant."
The king nods. "To make things easier, I would request your room be locked, until everything is set up. Max, you have shown great kindness and selflessness this evening. I applaud you for showing the same respect and courtesy that our entire species abides by." I bow in response. "It's the least I can do, your majesty - you and your people have shown great kindness and hospitality to those who originally wished you all dead." We all say goodbye to each other, though as I'm being escorted back to my room, I smile, knowing my goodbye to Edina was temporary.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
This story is a part of my series, [Alien Life.](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/x1uytg/alien_life/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) Please check it out! | 2022-09-15T09:18:57 | 2022-09-15T09:11:55 | 217 | 23 |
[WP] You've been warned that you'll be sucked into the next fictional story you consume. You're desperately trying to find a fun and survivable book or video game. | "Minecraft isn't that bad," I said, tilling another block of soil and planting a potato. "I could do this all day."
At least, it wasn't that bad until I realized I was alone, and the universe wanted me dead. What made it worse was that I couldn't die, but everything else could.
Infinite worlds, each infinite in their scope and scale, but all very, very quiet. There were animals, sure. There were even other creatures that could talk to me: the villagers were always ecstatic about meeting new people. Wandering traders came by my home every once in a while, selling materials I had seen in other worlds but failed to find in this one.
I began writing books and leaving them behind in the worlds I left behind when it was decided the time for a new one was approaching. To the villagers, and perhaps anyone who might follow in my footsteps, I was there for only a few days, a recordkeeper, one who lived and vanished too fast for anyone to truly know me.
Then, I spawned into yet another world, greeted by a desert dotted with cacti and small lakes. It wasn't the first time I had spawned in a desert, of course, but it was the first time I had seen another human after so long. I stopped counting the days after five hundred or so. They went by too quickly to keep track of, and by then I had only been trapped for about ten days in Earth time.
The other human had orange hair, and she wore a green shirt. She already had some basic equipment strapped around her belt; a pickaxe, sword, and axe were all there.
She looked at me, and, for the first time in what felt like forever, I saw someone smile. "I read your books. It's nice to meet you. My name is Alex. What's yours?"
I pondered for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to give her my real name or if I should give her the name I used in Minecraft. I decided on the latter.
"The name is Captain," I began. "CaptainSparklez." | It was only after my second Margarita that I started to think clearer. Tequila always had a calming and reassuring effect on my sense of reality.
I had to think. I needed to elevate my thinking to a point of survival. I needed that instinct to finally kick in, but all I felt was the numbing sensation of dread and panic and fear.
I would run away, but there was only one door and he was behind it. There was no escape, only doom.
My drinking partner finally returned from the bathroom. He’d either been gone an extremely long time or I was drinking quickly.
I say partner, I was probably now more a kidnap victim. I had no idea where I was or how I'd got there.
He sat down next to me and thumped the bar with his fist. He quite obviously held a penchant for violence and he held my frightened gaze with a malevolent grin.
“So what’s it going to be then, fuckface?” he slurred. He spoke with a thick Irish brogue that dragged over the vowels.
He had to be wearing contact lenses, because I’d never seen a man with violet eyes - they could have been ultraviolet, if that was at all possible.
“You want me to pick a book from that bookcase?” I asked, pointing at the small mahogany piece in the corner.
He smiled and nodded in agreement.
“You want me to pick out a book, read the first line of the book, and commit myself to that story for eternity?”
His smile faded instantly.
"You do understand that that is actually insane?" I asked.
“Stop playing for time. Pick a fucking book.”
“You know that this is insanity,” I repeated.
“Pick a book. Do it quickly.”
I walked over and finally understood this to be hell, for the bookcase contained only horror. I knew most of these book titles, I’d read at least half of them.
Finally, I chose a book that I had not read at random. I’d already had two drinks so I thought I’d be clever and pick out a title containing more alcohol.
“The Master and Margarita”, I said. At least he couldn't take away the tequila.
The Irishman smiled. “Well chosen,” he said. “In hell, the alcohol consumes you.” | 2022-10-09T07:37:11 | 2022-10-09T07:08:20 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] You have the peculiar ability to pause time. Nothing can move, including yourself, meaning all you get is time to think. Today you find yourself paused with a bullet right in front of your eyes. | Terrified, I humored myself by absentmindedly dreaming of a mishmash of beer commercial slogans: "this silver bullet is for you." Yeah. I hoped to drink a cold brew once I figured out a way out of this. Problem was that nothing came to mind. The moment I unpaused time and moved forward to the next moment, the bullet would make an impact and I would perish.
It didn't take long for me to figure out that I needed to find a way to somehow go back to the previous moments and undecide to clash with the armed police of the Faddish regime. Perhaps go back to the beginning and decide not to use my powers to meddle with political affairs at all. That was my only way out of this, and... I couldn't admit it was bleak. The only thing I had going for me was that I had all the time in the world. Literally. Which might count for something, I guess. Another problem was that I had no resources, nothing to read, no Internet, and I understood literally nothing about the source of my powers. The first time I stopped time was when I met a girl I only dated once. We were on the subway and she was this close to stepping off before I caught her gaze. Suddenly, out of nowhere, time stopped, and I had the ability to think about every step I needed to take to make sure she saw me. After that it was simple, I just asked for time to stop or start, and it did.
I wished she were here now, or anyone. Argh! How was I even to attempt this? Maybe, just maybe there was some combination of words or thoughts that would do it. I had tried in the past to go back in time and to the future, and no set of words enabled that. My power was limited to freezing and unfreezing time and that was it. Yet, now I had time to really test every single combination.
At first, I set out with rabid abandon, throwing words to and fro "back in time, go to the past, previous moment." The list of combinations was endless and I cursed how many ways there were to say the same thing. Nothing worked. It was impossible to keep track of how long I tried, as the absence of time defied such a thing. It could have been the equivalent of years or even centuries of effort before the thought crossed my mind that I wasn't going to do it, that I had no choice but to unpause time and accept that fateful bullet. Especially since whenever I had those thoughts I had to go back and keep trying, making absolutely sure that I'd exhausted all the options.
When I did unpause time the world went black, presumably from the impact. Then I saw myself from above and assumed that I was ascending into heaven or something equivalent. I really was fooled up until the point I re-emerged into the control room, where they told me I'd died on the subway from being hit in the jugular by a beer bottle thrown by the boyfriend of the woman I tried to pick up, and that everything past that point had been experimental.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout | The vision in my right eye is distorted. I think the shock wave of the bullet just inches in front of it is warping its shape.
I can feel panic rising. The bullet has past my face, heading towards the one I love. I can't react fast enough once I restart time to do anything about it. The reflex to stop time only happened when the sound triggered my ears. By that point it was already passing me.
The sharpest reflexes of a human are around 0.15 of a second. By the time the impulse to do anything reaches my muscles, the bullet will be 400 feet further away.
Well, more precisely it will be 17 feet and 6 inches away. In my husbands chest.
Even if I could catch the bullet midair, it would punch through my flesh and out the other side, still hitting him. Those things contain a lot of energy.
My point of view is fixed but my left eye's vision is crystal clear. The nearest object that might stop the bullet is probably going to have to be steel and more than a quarter inch thick. I can only see one thing that might do it. The gun that fired it. A pistol. Lots of computer games versed me in at least the vague idea of what type it is. 1911 pattern Colt. Who even has a pistol like that in Britain these days? Police? Gangmembers? Oh! There...I cant change the focus of my eye at all but I can vaguely make out the man with the gun is wearing a bullet proof vest on under his jacket. He doesn't look like a cop for sure.
Back to the problem. That apparently has no solution. Can't move fast enough to stop the bullet. It looks like its aimed to hit him in the chest. Probably near the heart. That's going to be fatal. Damn it! There's nothing I can do except let him die! I rail against my power, trying to flex it, stretch its capability. Somehow do that thing they do in movies and perform an impossible task at the last moment. Nothing happens. For what to me is days I strive to act. Do my absolute damndest to move while keeping the rest of the universe still. Nada. I'm left to my failure before he has even died. Maybe...just maybe...with my timestop ability I can get revenge on the man with the gun before he shoots me too.
I cant even cry. I cant sigh or sob. My emotions refuse to change because my body is trapped in a moment of time and emotion is based on chemistry, which isnt changing. I have to let him die. But I will kill the bastard for doing it.
Time released, muscles already primed to do each action. I freeze time every few tenths of a second to adjust, to plan every move. I shift weight, throw myself forwards, freeze time in slices while maintaining my line of sight so I can't be caught off guard. His face is frozen in startlement as I rise up and dismantle the gun in his hand with precise motions.
Then I realise. Even as I put him down, cracking his skull with the butt of his own gun, that he isn't looking at me. The thing he fears is behind me.
&#x200B;
I turn. I freeze the moment. See the bullet that hit my husband, squashed flat and pinging away from his skin as he transforms. My husband, shape twisting and stretching, becoming the villian, Blood Ogre. | 2022-12-26T19:37:24 | 2022-12-26T18:19:15 | 116 | 40 |
[WP] WARNING: OFFENSIVE. Write a witty workplace sitcom about terrorists.
I didn't make this NSFW because, while offensive, it does not necessarily contain material which would get you fired, merely get you scrutinizing looks from coworkers. | [*TALIBANTER was filmed in front of a live studio audience.*]
<KASIM enters through the front door looking dejected. MO is reading a newspaper on the couch.>
MO: So, how did the suicide bombing go?
KASIM <Hands on hips>: How do you *think* it went?
<Beat for laughter>
KASIM: I got all the way out there, found a nice spot by the hospital--
MO: Did you say the words?
KASIM: I said the words, yes. Death to America and all that. Hit the button and--
MO: No boom?
KASIM <Sighs>: All that hard work. No boom.
MO: And here your wife thought her sex life would be changing.
<Beat for laughter>
KASIM: And you know what the worst part about it was?
MO: The American regime is still standing?
KASIM: No. I didn't take enough bus fare for the ride back.
<Beat for laughter.>
KASIM <Shakes head>: This whole I.E.D. thing was an I.E.Disaster.
MO <Turns a page of his newspaper>: A shame indeed. I'd set you up with a cell phone bomb, but those haven't been working either.
KASIM: Why?
MO: The Taliban switched to AT&T.
<Beat for laughter>
MO: Four hundred dollar fee for early termination. And they call *us* terrorists.
KASIM: No kidding. And here I was going to do that for free!
MO <Laughs, wags finger>: That's our Kasim!
<Kasim shrugs>
[*TALIBANTER will be right back after a word from our infidel sponsors!*] | Enter Muhammad and Muhammad
"Muhammad! You sly dog! Why are you still here? I sent you out to get milk an hour ago!"
Audience laughs
"I am sorry Muhammad! I needed to *fire* off an email to Muhammad first!"
Audience laughs
"Oh ok Muhammad. Well get out there now, I still need milk!"
Audience laughs
"I hope I see Muhammad while I'm out! I'm *dying* to meet him!"
Audience laughs
"Shut the fuck up Muhammad!"
Audience laughs
Muhammad winks
Audience laughs
Enter Muhammad
Audience laughs
Muhammad leaves for milk
Audience laughs
"Muhammad! Where is Muhammad going?"
Audience laughs
"I sent Muhammad to get me some milk Muhammad!"
Audience laughs
"Ok!"
Audience laughs
Muhammad leaves
Audience laughs
Enter Muhammad
Audience laughs
"Did you get my milk Muhammad!"
Audience laughs
"Yes Muhammad. I had a killer time getting it though!"
Audience laughs
"Muhammad, why do we need milk anyway?"
Audience laughs
"Why ask a silly question like that Muhammad?"
Audience laughs
Enter Muhammad
Audience laughs
"We work in a cubicle cave 300 feet underground Muhammad!"
Audience laughs
"But I was going to make Muhammad an *explosive* cake recipe!"
Audience laughs
Muhammad laughs
Muhammad laughs
Muhammad laughs
Exit Muhammad, Muhammad, Muhammad, and Muhammad
Audience laughs
Enter American pilot of B-2 Spirit Bomber
Audience boos
"Say Smith, how would you like to kill some brown people today!"
Audience boos
"Good idea Smith! I see some right now!"
Audience boos
Enter Muhammad with an AK-47 pellet gun
Audience laughs
"Muhammad, Muhammad, and Muhammad! I spy an American!"
Audience laughs
"Let us blow them up Muhammad!"
Audience laughs
Muhammad shoots pellet gun randomly into sky
Audience laughs
B-2 Spirit Bomber explodes
Audience weeps with joy
"Now *that's* how you make a *fiery impression*!
Audience laughs
Exeunt | 2014-03-19T02:31:41 | 2014-03-18T23:40:53 | 37 | 14 |
[WP] For the first time ever, a person is born with a genuine superpower. They proceed to live out their entire life without noticing or realizing it. | "Intuition" people would call it. "Socially adept" educated people would call it. "Cold reading" he would call it. He had always been good with people.
Social interactions aren't the only thing he was good at. He always advanced quickly at whatever job he held, he was an excellent waiter in high school, great at retail during college, and a shrewd business man.
He always credited it to watching social dynamics videos as a 20 something. Started by noticing the flick of a girls hair as interest, or a business partners crossed arms as a sign of displeasure.
Even on his deathbed, with his last dieing breath he uttered "I love you too darling."
His wife hadn't said a thing. | The woman spoke to the assembly, pausing now and then to look one particular person in the face, then another.
'...a hard worker, raising a business up from nothing, and a loving mother, helping to raise all of us and making time for us when she could. A generous and fun grandmother, that all of her grandchildren were glad to see...'
The words went on, laying out a life that was rich with connections, seized opportunities and love. As is customary, any negatives were glossed over, forgotten as family and friends mourned.
The coffin slid out of sight behind the curtains as the organ piped a sad farewell, and the service was over. People filed out to shake hands, to embrace, to talk and to remember.
Nobody noticed that as the body crumbled into charred bones and ashes, the humidity of the surrounding area went down by a full five per cent. The woman who could attract water vapour was gone. | 2014-08-08T08:51:54 | 2014-08-08T05:28:34 | 52 | 30 |
[WP] September 11, 3001 | "Daddy, why is September 11th a galactic holiday?"
Jim peered down to his little girl, while taking a sip from his coffee made from the exotic beans of planet 109-B.
Kelley was 12 years old, just the right age to find out the truth. His eyes focused on the George Bush framed picture placed on the front page of the paper he was reading.
Jim put down his newspaper, and turned towards his daughter. "1000 years ago exactly, the world was facing a huge crisis."
Kelley nodded her head along.
"Earth had over 7 billion people living on it, therefore destroying natural resources, not caring for the future generations."
Jim pointed to the picture of George Bush. "That man is considered a saint by some, and the devil by others."
Kelley interjected, "But why?"
Jim adjusted his tie, eyeing the clock making sure he had enough time to catch the bus for the morning commute.
"1000 years ago exactly, that man was in charge of the most powerful nation in human history. One that could have easily ruled half the world. Mr. Bush saw the problems brewing in the world, and decided to take action."
Jim finished his last sip of coffee. Kelley still had her eyes glued to him.
He continued.
"That man *chose* to hurt his own country, in order preserve future generations--like ourselves."
"How did he hurt his people"
Just before he could answer, his wife entered the scene carrying a boxed lunch.
"Kelley time for school!"
"But mom, dad was just..."
"You can talk after school, we need to go!"
Jim was left at the kitchen counter, taking in a sigh of relief.
For he had no idea what he was talking about, and couldn't give less than two shits about what happened 1000 years ago.
| The stories say that somewhere, buried in a vault in the earth, there are still the hard drives with the footage on them. Original footage of those planes, with their now-long-dead passengers, slamming into the symbols of status and power, sending them crashing to the ground in clouds of ash and dust.
The stories say that that was the day the war *really* started, when the most powerful nation on this earth decided it knew better than all the others. In hindsight, it is so easy to judge and to trace the path that led us to here, but I'm sure at the time it was not so black and white.
I have heard tales of brave men and cowards; I know all about the righteous causes and the blind devotion of the religious few. I have heard all about the events of the following decades after the towers fell, and I have long studied the lifetimes of the lesser men involved, and how each played a part in bringing us here.
But I can't help but wonder, as I stare up at the earth in the sky, that maybe this could have all been avoided. That maybe my ancestors did not have to puff out their chests and claim supremacy, and retaliate with the very technology that was meant to save our species. I so desperately wish I could see those first moments, through the eyes of just a human and not a historian, and feel such emotions for myself as I tried to truly understand our past.
But I don't think that will ever happen. The earth is tens of millions of miles away, and it is sick - it is dying. Its oceans and its air are toxic, irradiated beyond repair by the very tools we sent to say *look how advanced we are*!
It is September 11 of 3001 - at least, I think it is; true years are hard to tell out here - and this colony is all that remains. It is our duty to leave the past where it lay, and look forward rather than behind, because race and religion, nations and nationalities, they do not exist anymore.
There are only the lessons we've learned, and we cannot afford to forget them, ever again. | 2014-08-08T12:23:39 | 2014-08-08T12:10:15 | 45 | 17 |
[WP] Write a letter to a fictional character who got you through a tough time in your life or greatly influenced you. | To all of you whom I created only to forget, (be it in RPGs, or writings, or for fun)
Thank you. Thank you for coming to life in my mind, and somtimes in paper or screens. Thank you for letting me live your adventures alongside you, or dictate your life. Thank you for sticking with me when real people did not. And fuck everyone who says make-believe is for kids. You all saved my life. I wish someday I'll be as cool as you all were in my mind.
With love,
your writter. | Dear Commander Shepard,
I Just want to say thank you. Not because you defeated the reapers, But because you gave me a reason. Before I met you I was rather listless and miserable; I was angry and lashed out.
I saw what you had. A purpose to kvetch for and a crew that was family. I admit, at first I was jealous, But then that jealousy turned to purpose. Being the socially awkward person that I am, it was rather difficult to open up to people. But then I tried to emulate you.
I gained the confidence to talk to people. I have my own crew now. People I care about. People who care about me.
I also have purpose. A reason to wake up everyday. I am not a space cowboy like you, But I am helping others.
Thanks for everything Commander Shepard.
-Damascus_Suede. | 2014-08-10T22:52:25 | 2014-08-10T22:11:32 | 26 | 16 |
[WP] Every person in the world develops a weird mutation/power the day they turn 16. Everyone's powers are always different, some more insignificant than others. You turn 16, and watch as all your friends discover their newfound ability's. That is, until you discover the severity of your own. | Day 1.
Sigh..... As I wake up on my 16th birthday I knew it would happen. I was dreading it. I didn't want it, I didn't need it. I didn't believe in it. My parents had useful powers though as much as they hated it. Dad being a doctor of course managed to heal people at a touch. Mum being the cook that she was never needed to do groceries again as she seemed to be able to multiply food out of thin air. The day went by and I waited inside for my powers to manifest but nothing seemed to happen. Didn't help that it poured the whole day.
Day 5.
Still no powers. Huh, maybe God was listening to my prayers. I thanked Him for it silently in church as I did every Sunday with my parents. There was barely anyone now in the aisles. Ever since the first detection of these powers way back when, religion had sort of taken a back seat to most people. Science of course was delving deeper into how and why these powers came about. They eventually came up with an answer. My parents said take no stock in it of course. We were religious and that was how we lived. There would be no one else but God.
Day 15.
The feeling of being the only normal one in my world defied expression. I felt like the chosen one, like God had chosen me to be different like he did his son Jesus Christ. Everyone began looking at me funny but I didn't care. My parents loved me despite it, glorified me even for being one of the few to be given the chance to work hard in life, without any powers, without any easy roads. I was doing God's work in my own way they said, a beacon for others. With thoughts of peace, I read a passage before I sleep. As I lay my head to rest I hear the patter of the rain on my window seemingly to wash me of my sins. Man... It hasn't stopped raining since my birthday...
Day 25
The people in my year continue with their daily life albeit with a few.. enhancements. I remember the day when we were taught how we gained our "powers". Human beings have long lost their original and innate capacities with for creation and innovation with the introduction of color television. Who would have known that this capacity for creation was merely a result of gene expression? Who could have imagined this gene sitting in our DNA slowly evolving itself to cope with our lack of innovation by imbuing us with these so called superpowers. And if that wasn't enough, they linked that these superpowers were a result of actually watching tv; the regular programs and media which later led to what we truly desired in a power. Sigh.. All these sad heathens and their beliefs. I walked out of that assembly hall that day, refusing to believe it. As I'm sitting here in present day I admire the simple things of God's nature; the 2 lovebirds sitting in the tree branches drying themselves from the ever continuous rain...
Day 36
I spot the 2 lovebirds on the way to school. They seem to have built a nest there and welcome me every morning. As I slosh about the ankle high waters, I think back to my friends, my classmates, the ones who have finally alienated my "weirdness". The geeks had the most variety. Super speed and spell casting were quite a surprising norm among them. The jocks all had super strength. No surprises there what with the constant sports reruns they were watching. The cheerleaders? Flight mostly. Goth kids. Necromancy. Go figure. I notice a lot of stray cats and dogs around the place. Always the same color, always in a pack. Hmmm
Day 40.
It's been raining for 40 days and 40 nights. The news reports have shown tsunamis have hit all our coasts. The death toll is increasing. The 2 lovebirds are still within my sight from my window. The stray and wild animals in my yard are always in pairs. Not packs. Pairs. And they were always the same 2 animals. I know what my powers are now. It was always there written in the book. In my Bible. In the book of Genesis. It's too late now. | Dear Journal:
I turn sixteen in 2 minutes and 27 seconds. I know because I've been awake all night counting the seconds to midnight. Tonight is special and you know why? At midnight I finally Change! I've waited forever but now I finally get a power like everyone else. What do you think it will be, Journal? Will I get x-ray vision like Jason next door? Maybe I'll have super strength like Melissa or even wings like Ethan! As long as it's not Eric's acid breath I think I'll be happy. That poor guy had bad enough breath already, that was the last thing he needed. But anyway it's midnight, it's finally here! I'll keep writing as it happens, I never want to forget this!
-It's 12:02 and I don't feel very different yet, but it has gotten colder in here. I'm wrapped up under my blanket now but so far nothing else. It's so hard to wait, Journal.
-12:10 now, I'm still just cold. Dull pain in my mouth. Might be a toothache, but I'm hoping for poison glands! I'm going to check the mirror.
-Journal, I'm confused now. I can't see myself in the mirror. At first I got really excited thinking I was invisible, but when I look down I still see myself. On top of that my teeth hurt a lot now. This is definitely part of my Change but I'm a bit worried my power is going to suck. I'll be back after I walk around a bit, maybe that will help.
-It's 12:30 and this literally bites. I stubbed my toe on my dresser and bit my to tongue HARD. Normally that's a bad thing but this time it was awful because my teeth are razor sharp. I'm not kidding, they're like a wild animal's. I was worried I bit my tongue in half! Here's the weird part though; instead of blood I spat out dust. Isn't that just stupid, Journal? I mean what am I even Changing into? I can't see myself, my teeth are needles, I bleed dust and-
oh my god, Journal. I think I'm a vampire.
-1:45. My life is over! I'll never see Melissa or Jason or even Eric again! Well I'm sure Jason will see me but that's beside the point. I can't ever see sunlight again, so I can't ever get a tan. Garlic on my hashbrowns? Not anymore! And you know what else I just thought about? I'll have to ask permission every single time I want to hang out in somebody's house. But even then a sleepover is out of the question now too. I even dared to think for a second that I might be able to turn into a bat. Well I can tell you that's not true, Journal, because nothing happened when I jumped off the stairs to test it. I'm fine because I'm guessing I got some sort of vampire strength but still! What's the point if I'm stuck inside all day? I'm not even going to think about the whole sucking blood situation, although I'm sure I could borrow some from the blood bank if I absolutely had to. No, no, no, gross. I'll have to figure something out.
-It's 3:00 and I guess I'm just going to have to live with it. I'm done Changing so that's that. Me. A vampire. Forever. I'm telling everyone I'm sick tomorrow like the rest of the kids who got crap powers. Now I know how Eric felt on his first night. On the bright side at least I didn't melt half of my bed away! Heck, maybe I should just embrace it and move to Romania. That's where the real vampires go, right Journal? They've probably got night classes and everything. Hey, that's not a bad idea. I might even meet some vampire girls over there! Well Journal I think this might be okay! Maybe the next time I write will be from a dark, musty castle overlooking a tiny village. I can't help but laugh! How funny would that be? I'll have to stop writing now, I have a lot to do to make this house vampire-friendly and I should probably find a coffin to sleep in by morning. Ha, that was a joke. Anyway I'm done now. Goodnight/good morning, Journal. ~Your new vampire writer, Victor Orlok | 2015-01-21T22:46:38 | 2015-01-21T22:26:31 | 62 | 10 |
[WP] A soldier on the front dies in the middle of writing a letter home. It is finished and sent by the man who killed him. | My love,
I miss you and the child terribly. Life in the trenches is hard, but bearable, knowing that-
*A fold and several stains coat the paper.*
---
To whom it may concern:
No words can express my sorrow for your loss. Gerard was a brave man - a good soldier, one who anyone could be proud of.
War is hell. Men who would otherwise have been brothers are pitted against each other and forced to kill to survive. We soldiers are not enemies - these wars are fought by politicians, not by the men in the field.
Gerard was a remarkable man. He didn't let his fear for his own life turn him into a killer - he held to his morals in the darkest and the most hellish of environments.
I wish I was as much of a man as he was. I killed him with a knife to the throat - out of fear, out of cowardice, out of my own inability to see past my need for survival.
I know it won't help, but I'm sorry - I should have been the one to die, not him.
I killed my brother - we were all brothers.
In the end, we differed only by the side of the trenches we were on.
-P. Bäumer
---
^This ^is ^a ^reference ^to ^Erich ^Maria ^Remarque's ^*All* ^*Quiet* ^*On* ^*The* ^*Western* ^*Front.* ^If ^you ^haven't ^read ^it ^yet, ^look ^into ^it- ^it ^details ^some ^of ^the ^horrors ^of ^war, ^and ^the ^loss ^that ^comes ^with ^them.
Questions? Criticisms? Want to see more? Check out more of my stuff at /r/Draxagon | Hey Judy,
I know it's been a while since my last letter and I'm sorry. I honestly did try to write whenever I got the chance, but time gets away from you, you know? There's a lot I want to say and probably not a lot of time to say it.
First, I want you to know that I love you. Always have. From the moment I saw you in that red prom dress standing awkwardly by the DJ while Lindsey made out with Hank. I never thought I could get a girl like you. It helped that Lindsey was ignoring you. That softened you up for me so you agreed to that dance pretty quick. I felt bad for stepping on your toes during that dance and for doing it again at our wedding, big feet and all that. Seeing you in that gown was like prom all over again. Every time you got dressed up it felt like I was dying. My heart always stopped when I saw you, you were so beautiful.
Getting our first house was amazing too, wasn't it? I'm sorry I got the wrong paint for the living room and feel like I still owe you for helping me repaint it after you got home to your 'surprise'. My sense of color has always been off and I wouldn't be able to get dressed in the morning if it wasn't for you, or so you always told me. That made being in the military so easy, I just wear the same thing every day. Being apart from you was the hardest thing about enlisting, but I always told you I'd make it home.
I uhh, don't have much longer. I'm sorry I lied about being able to make it home. We were fighting some of the locals today, some stupid mission to recapture a bridge. Anyway's, I got shot. I'm sitting her and saying all this to the guy who shot me. He's doing a good job writing for me even though English isn't his first language. Please don't blame him. Or anyone else. He was just doing his job and so was I.
I love you. I'm sorry I won't be there for...
Sincerely,
Your husband and a sorry stranger. | 2015-02-03T13:02:09 | 2015-02-03T12:59:38 | 48 | 20 |
[WP] A soldier on the front dies in the middle of writing a letter home. It is finished and sent by the man who killed him. | Maria,
Thinking of you all today. Things aren’t getting better out here. There’s not many of us left. The recruits are younger and younger. Most of them don’t last much more than a week but there are still a few naturals. I don’t know what the reels back home are saying – things are pretty grim but we have one last trick up our sleeve. One last chance. I can’t say much but you’ll soon know all about it.
With any luck we’ll finish this and I can walk through our gate again. I hope you’re still waiting. I’ll remember this day as the turning point.
*Today is not that day. You will soon know all about it.*
*I will never walk through that gate.*
*We are coming for you.*
*XXX* | To my Love,
I don't know if you're still getting this, or if the post keeps on messing it up, but I want you to know that I'm doing this for you. The past few weeks have been hell, but thinking of you helps me to push forward. Speaking of which, how's our little man doing? I hope you went with Thomas. I've always liked that name. Maybe because of that show on tv I always used to watch growing up as kid. Can you just promise me one thing? If I don't get back, show him a few episodes. I'm sure he'll love-
I don't know who this is, but I hope you can forgive me for what I've done. I killed you husband, or lover, or whoever he was. It's the first time I've killed anyone. And I'm scared. I write this with a trembling hand. Whoever you are, please, forgive me. It wasn't my fault. It wasn't any of our faults. I was drafted, just as everyone else was. I'm done fighting. It's tearing me apart. I'm going home.
From, Thomas | 2015-02-03T16:03:03 | 2015-02-03T13:14:11 | 23 | 14 |
[WP] Everyone in the world is able to choose exactly one superpower. The catch: the more people select a certain power, the weaker it becomes.
Example: if many people choose telekinesis, they'll only be able to move small, light objects. If many people choose time travel, they'll only be able to go back a few seconds. | 'It' happened on a playground, and it was madness. Imagine a bunch of eight year olds running around with Superman's powers. They caused half a trillion dollars worth of damage and killed thirty million people in about twenty minutes. Turns out any idle wish for a special ability immediately comes true. In that chaos, as people were getting heat visioned to death to the sounds of children's giggles, more and more people must have thought about how useful it would be to be an indestructible person of steel. And while half a dozen kids could spread those powers around without noticing any dip, a few hundred thousand diluted that nonsense to the point of irrelevance.
Doesn't stop thousands from wishing for it every day.
See, the thing is, your *first* idle wish for an ability comes true. So as soon as some impressionable four-year-old hears about the I-95 corridor incident, they immediately think, "wow, I wish I could do that" and poof, another sip out of the already parched superman well. That first day, maybe five billion people wished for 'superman.'
Once we figured out how it worked, immortality was the next to go. Millions of old people diffused that one, too. Flight, strength, healing, all diffused by the unimaginative. Sure, some kids can control themselves, but most just think 'cool!' and immediately waste their one opportunity.
But some people are creative. The power to fly when reciting *Pi* was a pretty neat workaround; must have been fun while it lasted. I heard one guy could literally shit gold when he said the Gettysburg address; that got diffused, too.
I did something similar, involving the pledge of allegiance in Sanskrit while getting kicked in the balls by an obese widower. What happens when I do that? I'll never tell!
| The Great Halt. That is what they called it. The day that the Earth stood still and from eldest to youngest, powers were received like some sort of divine blessing. I watched the Earth from the ISS, completely bewildered.
One by one they chose. The eldest chose traditional powers. The first man to declare "Flying" rocketed into the sky at the speed of a bullet, leaving his walker behind. Everyone around him, inspired, chose the same power (along with millions across the globe). They all scrunched up their faces and concertedly rose but 2-3 inches. Just as the choruses of dissatisfaction were raised down plummeted the first flying man like a meteor, his power distributed throughout the world, smashing into the ground like a grasshopper on a windshield.
It soon became apparent that the more that a single power is chosen, the weaker it becomes until it is just an insignificant thing.
We spent a few days waiting for the chaos to subside before returning to Earth. One step on the surface, and I could feel it. This great warm surge running from my legs to my brain. I knew that I could choose anything, be anything, that I wanted. However, days after The Great Halt, here I stood, a human with an advantage. I knew the rules, and would not be trumped.
Just then screaming broke out. I whipped around to find a man robbing a group of people, His right arm made of extendable lava. *Oh, that's a good one* I thought, admiring his originality. However, my phrasing would leave me the only man in the world with my power. The only man capable of stopping the great and all powerful super villain Magma Stretchy Arm!
Stepping up in all my glory, I declared my power to the heavens. Ripping off my shirt, I mercilessly beat him to death. From that day forward, my name was to be sung on high. Ronald Chen, Master of the Insta-Growing Kung Fu Chest Hair! | 2015-05-05T07:48:28 | 2015-05-05T06:57:37 | 152 | 72 |
[WP] Everyone in the world is able to choose exactly one superpower. The catch: the more people select a certain power, the weaker it becomes.
Example: if many people choose telekinesis, they'll only be able to move small, light objects. If many people choose time travel, they'll only be able to go back a few seconds. | Strength and flight are vastly overrated. No, really, ask anyone stupid enough to take them. They're basically worthless, oh boy I can float am inch off of the ground or lift something slightly heavier! No real thought went into those choices, dumbasses just wanted to be Superman.
Everyone remembers that group of people in Nevada who teamed up, each one able to conjure up rare gems and metals... Which eventually drove down the prices of those materials, turning their billion dollar idea into squat.
Poor future planning.
And who could forget that poor girl in New Hampshire who accidentally got too excited on her birthday, went nuclear, and wiped out half the state. (I've heard she actually survived and is sitting in a mental ward deep underground.)
As for me, though, no statues will ever be erected in my honor. No plaques posted signifying my birthplace. Hell, even the geneticists who gave me my abilities remember doing it.
Who am I? I'm the guy at the party whose name no one ever catches. I'm the guy in the background of the pictures who no one remembers talking to or seeing.
I'm the guy who can walk into a bank, rob the place, and walk out without being bothered about it.
I'm the guy who saw a world full of people who wanted to be somebody and chose to be nobody.
I'm the Forgettable Face, and I get away with it.
In fact, you won't even remember me telling you this when I leave this room, with everything you own. | She was special.
Her golden little curls bounced around as she jumped back and forth playing with her superhero doll with one of the boys in her class. 'Bang bang! -No John, you're dead now. You've got to play dead.' She informed the boy. He laid his hero to rest on the table and wandered off. She smiled to herself. Another city saved.
I survayed the classroom. It was small, only a few pupils in attendence. According to the teachers there was a bug going around and most pupils seemed off sick.
People thought the world would change the day our gifts came in. I heard them talking on the news, so excited they were. What would this mean for humanity? How many people could we save? That's what you would think isn't it? But no, people still obsessed about celebrities and although many people had done some incredible things at first, such as a team of people that could produce food with just a blink of their eyes, the effect had slowly withered away into nothing. Soon, it didn't seem to matter what power you had, it was essentially useless. The people that could fly, could barely hover for a second now. It had all come to it's end.
I shook my head, smiling to myself, concentration had always been a problem ever since I was a child. I looked back at the girl, still playing with her doll, smiling to herself as she had brought peace and prosperity to her little make believe world. She had something unique. Something which nobody had chosen. Strange that, isn't it? That a child would think of something nobody else did. She was powerful, they just didn't know it.
I sighed and then reached into my bag looking for the knife. She was special and I was too, but in a few minutes, I'd be more special. | 2015-05-05T10:11:25 | 2015-05-05T09:46:53 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] Instead of a modern adaptation of a myth, write a mythic adaptation of a modern story. | As a young man in Delphi, Gouliélmos generally rushed through lessons with his tutors in order to run outside and wrestle and throw javelins and race chariots. As a result, his standing in the academy was low, but at sport he had few equals, and this gave him great confidence and arrogance.
One day, Dionysus and Hermes, bored, descended Mount Olympus disguised as mortals and found Gouliélmos wrestling with his friends. As they arrived, Gouliélmos had just defeated one of them, and declared boastfully, "I am the greatest wrestler in western Delphi! No two of you at once could defeat me." Dionysus and Hermes stepped forward and engaged Gouliélmos, defeating him handily, and while Hermes sought only to win, Dionysus tore into his flesh.
When Gouliélmos returned home that night, his mother nearly fainted at his wounds. "You've been wrestling outside the academy again!" she cried. "And now you stagger in here half-dead, covered in blood! Delphi is no place for you. I am sending you to Byblos, where you will live with my sister Maria and her husband Philippos. There is no wrestling in Byblos."
Despondent, Gouliélmos booked passage on a carriage. When it arrived, his mood was briefly lifted by its unusual decorations, with dangling baubles and fresh paint. Though he did not know it, Hermes, who was feeling guilty for Gouliélmos' injuries, was driving the carriage. Gouliélmos, unaware of this and remembering his exile from Dephi, forgot his relief and told Hermes, "To Byblos."
Arriving in Byblos, Gouliélmos felt his spirits lift once more. Delphi was and always would be his home, but Byblos was beautiful, clean, and wealthy beyond anything he knew existed. Around 7 or 8 in the evening, his carriage pulled up in front of a grand palace of white marble. "If I must live here in exile from Delphi," thought Gouliélmos, "I shall make the most of it. My every chair shall be a throne, and I shall live as a prince."
And so went the story of the Fresh Prince of Byblos.
Edit: Gilded :o thanks! | The world shook, and the ground trembled. So began the story of the hero whose name is lost to is today. My father, my father's father, and my father's father's father all recall the tale, but none know of the great hero's name. Thus, I will refer to him, the great hero, as "The Cat in the Hat", as he is so described in the legends.
Our story begins with his conception. We know not where he came from nor when he came about, but he appeared, and our first tale of him is his battle against the mythical beast known as "neatness".
Here the legends speak of his curiosity and his ferocity. He arose in the great land of "house", and as a young man, he realized that the world around him was stuck in the putrid scent of "neatness". Think for a second, young listener. Can you imagine a world where everything was placed by a powerful, omniscient force known as "Mom and Dad"? Where if you moved one object out of the selected place, you would be breaking the law? Our young hero knew that this world was wrong, and he fought to change the world he loved.
He first came to the leaders of the world. Before the mighty ruler of "Sally" and her advisor "The fish", the Cat in the Hat argued for changes in the world. He debated for hours in the vast chamber before Sally, but while fair Sally was swayed by the great hero's arguments, the tricky Fish spoke lies into Sally's ears, and Sally fell into the darkness of neatness.
When the Cat in the Hat knew that the ruler had fallen into darkness, he also knew that he would have to fight neatness by himself. But he could not do it alone. Using his vast charisma and charming strength, he scouted the land for brave companions to help him, and he found two: Things 1 and 2.
Together, they fought to destroy the evil religion of neatness, working tirelessly to destroy its monuments of tidy beds and well stacked boxes. But here was the Cat's fatal flaw. While he worked to destroy the neatness, fair Sally was slowly falling into the clutches of madness, as the evil fish advisor continued to preach lies about how destroying neatness would bring the wrath of "Mom and Dad".
Finally, the Cat, to protect the fair ruler he loved, willingly restored the evil he had worked so hard to destroy in order for his love to live. Then, he disappeared, not to be seen for eons. Yet, like all great heroes, he eventually returned. When? Young one, go to sleep. That is a story for another day. | 2015-06-10T10:25:42 | 2015-06-10T07:07:24 | 730 | 61 |
[WP] Instead of a modern adaptation of a myth, write a mythic adaptation of a modern story. | There was once a man who had a great love for the animals of the land. The goddess of the Hunt, Artemis saw his great love and appeared before him with this message:
"I command you to be the very best, like none other before you. To catch animals shall be your test, to train them shall be your cause."
He traveled across the land, searching far and wide for rare animals, seeking to understand their nature and the powers they hid inside of them. As he traveled he cried out, "I must capture all the beasts of the land, air, and sea! I know this to be my destiny!"
In time, his captured animals became his best friends, often defending him and others around him. His beasts taught him much about the world, and in return he taught them how to live with humans.
Every challenge they encountered along the way, this man and his beasts faced with courage. They battled everyday, in order to claim their rightful place in the world. And in the end, when the time was right, they faced the four greatest beast trainers in the world. Arm in arm, they won the fight, accomplishing what had always been their dream.
Destiny fulfilled, Artemis appeared before him again. Seeing how far this man came, she decided to grant him one wish. He was so devoted to his cause that his wish was to remain with his animals for all time.
Artemis fulfilled his wish, transforming him into a massive tree where animals and birds could take shelter. It's said that the seeds of this tree became the Ash trees we know and love today. | Once upon a time, there was a man who owned a tavern with his sister. Times had been bad in the city where he lived, so he had decided to come home and live closer to his mother, who was very ill. With him, he brought the fairest princess in all the land. She had long golden hair and a radiant face, with a smile that could light up the entire room. She had married him long ago, falling in love with his laughter and the way he waltzed through life.
Bringing her home to his mother and his sister was the worst thing he could have done. The princess shrunk down and withered in the cold lands, cut off from all of her former friends and without the luxuries to which she had become accustomed. Her heart grew small and cold too, losing all the love she had once held for her husband, who had grown unfaithful.
So the princess decided to run away, and she decided to punish the man who had taken her away from her family and her riches. The golden-haired princess coloured her hair brown, and cut it, and disguised herself so that no-one would be able to tell it was her. In the cottage she shared with her unfaithful husband, she left a pool of blood and a note that painted her as a terrified wife.
The husband was suspected of killing his wife immediately, and once the townspeople discovered he was unfaithful, it was seen as certain. The princess lived amongst the common people, but was robbed and betrayed by those she trusted. She turned to the last friend that remained to her, in desperation.
The last friend betrayed her too. He tried to keep her prisoner against her will, changing her back into the princess she had originally been. Her golden hair grew back and she transformed. To escape from her captivity, she fought her friend and won.
The princess returned home to her husband, who promised to never be unfaithful again. They lived happily ever after. | 2015-06-10T16:10:18 | 2015-06-10T06:53:17 | 57 | 16 |
[WP] Thor is sitting at a diner finishing a meal. A waitress comes by and casually picks up Mjolnir to wipe off the table.
Inspired by a comment made on [this image](http://imgur.com/MMALQdg). | "Excuse me..." said Jenny.
She lifted the weird ornate hammer and quickly wiped the table with her other hand. As she expected, the hammer was some kind of prop, not nearly as heavy as it looked at first.
The man at the table was lost in his thoughts, but as she put the hammer back he suddenly looked right at her. The intensity of his eyes was very unnerving. "Who _are_ you?" His voice was deep and full of thunder.
Jenny stepped back. "I'm Jenny, your waitress". The man looked clean and sane when he did the order. But would a sane man carry a prop hammer with him? Just in case, she glanced to make sure the way to the kitchen was clear.
"No, but who _are_ you, in truth? Mjolnir can only be lifted by the one worthy. By a great warrior. Are you a god's child?"
Jenny had a long day, and she was tired. Rick, the older waiter, was being an asshole yet again. And now a clearly insane man was all focused on her, just because she touched that damn hammer. She tried her best at being polite.
"I'm just a waitress" she said. "I'm sorry, but I have other people to serve. Please let me know if you need anything else."
The man had suddenly lurched and grabbed her by the hand: "Wait!"
That was enough. Insane or not, you don't get to grab the waitress. As furious as she was scared, Jenny got hold of a first thing she could think of, and hit the man with it. Obviously, the first thing was the prop hammer.
The hammer sang and with a loud thud both hammer and the man were thrown out of the cafe, right through a brick wall. Then, only silence. A brick fell. With a loud clank, a fork dropped from someone's hand.
Jenny ran to the kitchen.
By the time the police came, there was no trace of the guy or the hammer. At least the insurance company agreed to cover the damage and Jenny wasn't blamed for it.
There was at least one good thing. Rick, who witnessed the whole exchange, had stopped any attempts to harass Jenny, and became polite and even deferential. Sometimes she could swear he was afraid of her. She didn't mind in the slightest.
And, as always, every other night she dreamt of valkyries. | "sorry about the wait" the server said as a he placed a steak in front of the man whose gaze bothered the staff.
"Do you know who I am Mortal?" the man said as his blue eyes burned into the waiters eyes.
"Hmm, you look familiar and I know I have seen you before now let me think... Oh yeah your Chris Hemsworth, you play that Thor character in the movies with umm, Robert Downey Jr." Thinking to himself these actors are all stuck up schumcks.
Thor looked at the waiter realizing that humans have forgotten gods still exist and not wanting to destroy this establishment before eating he replied "yeah, just an actor."
"I thought so, well if you have any questions my name is Steve" as the steve walked away he thought why do I always get the douche bags.
Thor cutting into the steak started reminiscing about the glory days when he would go into battle and fight Ice Giants, hell hounds, and creatures of such wonder that were beyond description. But now he was reduced to being compared to some mere child who acted as if he was the mighty Thor, the very nerve of humans, if only he hadn't stopped Ragnarok from happening he could be still be fighting glorious battles.
Lost in thought Thor barely recognized the waitress lifting Mjolnir off the table and wiping around it as she set it down she looked at Thor and said "are you done with that sir?"
Thor stopped and stared at her for a few seconds as what just happened dawned on this mighty god.
"You, your the one I have been looking for these last 50 years" Thor said.
The waitress just stared at him and thought omg he's drunk, "sir, are you done with your plate?" she said again.
"Do you know who I am?" Thor replied.
"Steve already told the wait staff, your Chris Hemsworth the actor, although now that I'm closer you really don't look like him. You remind me more of Thor from the old norse paintings, oh wait, I bet you're going to tell me you are Thor and this is Mjolnir."
Thor stood up and said "What is your name?"
The waitress lifted Mjolnir off the table again and started flipping it in the air, like a coin, while staring back at the man who stood at least seven feet tall. She just said "Little old me? I'm Loki" as she swung the mighty Mjolnir hitting Thor sending him flying through the wall as the glamour melted away revealing Thor's half-brother Loki.
*This is the first time I have ever done a story so if you have pointers let me know how I can fix this mess*
*Edit: Wording, grammar and whatever else I missed. | 2015-07-10T17:43:21 | 2015-07-10T15:58:23 | 924 | 62 |
[WP] As a joke/Tic, an atheist always thanks the Dark Lord when good things happen. When they die, they are shocked to find out that The Dark Lord is real, and they are his favorite follower, as they never, ever asked for anything.
The Dark Lord's favor could be pleasant, or ironic, or mundane. Or maybe it's a Dark Lady, who knows? | "You should sit. We have walked far."
Through some window my eyes were not privy to, some impossible breach in the air, he entered his arms and withdrew two bone-white stools. He offered one into my outstretched hand, and I felt - reassuringly - a smooth, dry wood. I knew I was in Hell, or some equally unfathomable realm, but it lacked the fires and suffering heralded by the holy books. It did seem a little mournful, perhaps.
"Are you uncomfortable with your surroundings?"
When the man spoke, it was as though in tandem with another. His voice was a pleasant baritone, but layered over undertones of deep bass. Every word seemed simultaneously a dry, scholastic tone and a playful sing-song. It was mystifying, but though I felt I should have found it frightening, it actually seemed calming to me. The appearance of the man was almost as pleasing and strange as his voice - a medium height and build (though, bareshirted as he was, I could see his picturesque muscle tone) and dark-skinned as the men of the middle-east, or perhaps of India. I knew I was in the company of Satan, and I did not speak.
Actually, as an atheist, I wasn't really sure of the etiquette when it came to conversation with such beings. It didn't seem to matter too much - he could read a man like a book from his body language, his countenance, even his eyes alone - and he seemed more than happy to speak.
"Michael, we are acquainted. In fact, I am quite pleased to have you in my company. Your voice has been some slight reassurance to me in this... pit. You were not faithful, and had little academic knowledge of realms beyond your own anyway, but in case you have any preconceived notions... I will inform you about your afterlife.
"This is Hell. When a human dies, it has a spirit which (usually) goes to Heaven. Our Father is patient and forgiving with human mistakes. Humans tend not to have much recognition of the incredible multitude of factors at play in the sculpting of their lives, but their free will tends to be guided by those... well, in short, when someone makes a mistake any momentary ill-will is often eventually passed on to others. Through that subtle guidance, the way they react to situations sometimes deviates from their nature...
"All humans are inherently good. That waterfall of mistakes is the embodiment of the original sin. In fact, you are the only human in Hell.
"The road we are walking leads to the gates."
The gates of Hell? The gates of Heaven?
"Time is not analogous to that of the human realm, here. Ever since I was cast out, I have heard your voice - once every hundred, or thousand years. I once heard your voice twice in a day. Once, it was twenty thousand and four hundred years between. I always heard your gratitude to me."
I always thanked the Dark Lord after something good happened. Not seriously. It was a joke when I started in my teenage years, but soon it became a philosophical exercise. The activity of thanking someone recognises that something good happened, and that made me happier. It felt like a lot of good things happened to me, in my life. Satan began to openly weep.
"Michael, to me, you are the most important human since the Son of our Father. He was human too, you know. He was the Son of the Father but he was human too. He started a movement. A movement of goodness. An absolvement for the sins of the humans.
"Your gratitude to me, I was not so narcissistic to enjoy it in vanity. Your gratitude is symbolic. You too, like the Son, pushed the humans a little bit further towards their own goodness. Actually, you were the tipping point. To me, it has happened, but to you, it is one day in the future - one day, when all humans are good to each other. One day, when all humans are true to their nature. One day, when all humans become one with our Father."
Where are we going, Satan? What gate are you taking me to? I asked in my head. The tears streaming down his face seemed to catch an odd light, and I swore for one second - at a strange angle - I saw myself, my lips moving, posing the question. This realm is beyond my perception.
"Michael... you are taking me home." | "Sooooo where to then?" Larry asked gazing into my eyes. I smiled lightly and run a finger up his arm.
"How about me place then." I smile lightly and giggle. He stands up and puts an arm around me and all I can think is thank you Satan another night and another man this one the best one looking yet. We walk out the cafe and I ask him. "You aren't allergic to do-" My words were cut off as a truck rams into me flinging me back farther than I can even count.
"Jackie!" Larry screamed as he dashed over to me fumbling to get his phone out. I can feel my body get colder and colder and breathing is literally impossible. What feels like seconds or minutes could even be hours I slip away into nothingness. That is until I smelt smoke.
"No no no no, It can't be real this is just a dream or a coma or uh a uh." I think to myself panicking as I disagree with myself as well. I hear a blood curdling scream and I begin to breathe hard and fast. "It can't be Hell... its real!" I curl into a ball as a coldness rises from my spine. I lay there cowering my eyes shut tighter than a steel door. As I lay there crying I hear a door open and clicking against the floor as something got closer to me. It kept getting closer and closer not evening having a set speed. It stopped moving however I could feel its presence and the stench, It smelled of soot and sulfur. I whimpered as I awaited my horrible punishment. For what seemed like centuries finally it moved placing a smooth sheet around my body.
I froze not even breathing as I felt warmth slowly come into my body. Not the pleasant kind like a lodge at a ski resort, more of a primal warmth. I slowly opened my eyes and see a large scaly legs. Slowly looking up I notice it was wearing a dark leather corset carrying a whip with its polished claws poised around the hilt. Its face wasn't beautiful however I had never had seen such a lustful face ever. Crimson eyes scanned my as lips just as red curled into a smile. "Well I thought I would be waiting a bit longer until I had my protege." She said almost like a song. I was tempted right there to kneel before her and kiss her feet, I mean hooves. Instead I cowered under the smooth blanket like a child. She giggled and it lulled me into a deeper sleep. "No need to be scared child,but your fear is correct. You are in Hell. However for how long is up to me and you." I slowly removed the sheet away from me as if by some magic.
"Wh-what do you mean?" I ask shaking.
"Shhh dear its ok I wouldn't dare hit my star pupil." She whispered into my ear as she knelt down and touched my shoulder. I trembled before I gathered the courage to ask.
"Why?"
"Why what?" she replied I saw her tongue move as if she was kissing someone.
"Why am I star pupil? And who are you? And what did I do to deserve hell?! I screamed lastly.
"Easy girl, your my star pupil because you are the only one who wanted to be." I thought of all the times I said hail Satan or Thanks Big L mocking all those idiots who thought there was a big man in the sky. Looks like they were right though. "as for who I am, most would assume I'm Satan after all Hell and all but the Dark lord is far to busy to deal with millions we get, and he has been so much fun with the one you call Hitler. I am Lilith the seductress, and you shall become my first ever student Jackie Hinkle." I slowly digested this information and stood up with the cloth wrapped around me.
"What do you need of me mistress?" I asked defeated
She laughed hard and hugged me tight then pushed me away and stared at me deeply as if I was her next meal. She slowly moved in an kissed me. Instantly I felt a fire go through my body and it could feel it change. The cloth burned away and my naked body glowed as my skin turned red and a dark corset came over that. My hands changed into long petite fingers with claws. My feet slowly bunched up into hooves. And finally I no longer felt God's love.
"Well done dear, you didn't even scream. Maybe you were born for this." She said with a wink then smacked my butt. "Come along dear we have much work to do."
Hi guys one of my first stories here i will make a part 2 if requested. | 2015-08-17T01:18:49 | 2015-08-16T22:35:10 | 1,022 | 38 |
[WP] On the day you were going to propose to your girlfriend, your future self comes back in time to convince you not to. While at the same time, your future wife comes back in time to tell her past self to do anything to keep the two of you together.
I love these prompts, but I haven't had time to really read any of them. I'll get back with some feedback tomorrow before work. | I placed two cups of hot coffee on the table, as I sunk into my couch. The two recepients quietly took sips from their cups as my eyes took trips over their faces, studying their expressions. Their mannerisms. How they resembled.
They really were me and my wife from the future.
I rubbed my temples as i leaned onto the side of the couch.
"So Shirley..." I decided to break the ice.
"Don't call me Shirley. Its Sharlene, I changed my name. Never mind why, you will see soon enough." My future wife bluntly interrupted, earning an eye roll from the future me.
"You see what am talking about, Rob?" The future me opened his arms in defeat. It felt strange being called by my own name by myself. Or by my future self, same difference. "She is a bitch. Four weeks ago. Oops sorry, eleven years from now, now go back four weeks. She had this argument with the neighbour.."
"Oh really? Is that your go-to story everytime you wanna soil my name? How many times do I have to apologise?" Shirley retorted. Sorry, Sharlene.
"Can you just let me finish my stories? Can you?" Future me stared at his wife, as if searching for an answer. And the eye roll proved enough. "As I was saying, four weeks ago. You know what I mean right?" He shrugged his shoulders. "Sharlene over here had a slight argument with the neighbour. Our Robo-Nanny had a scuffle with their puppy when it entered our compound."
I raised my index finger pausing him mid sentence.
"You guys have Robo-Nannies eleven years from now?" My pupils danced in excitement.
"Totally man. Your...Oops." Future me drooped his jaw mid sentence realizing what he had just done.
"Keep going. You have already told him alot haven't you? Well keep fucking up." Sharlene quipped as she sipped from her cup, her gaze staring straight ahead avoiding the conversation.
I also realized what had happened. He was breaking rules by explaining future events. And this was a major one. Really major.
"Soo I went through with robotic house nanny university proje..? You know what. Never mind. Let's move along. Lets get back to the whole reason you guys came here in the first place." I let out a deep heave as I collected myself together. The excitement spasmed through my muscles. But I had to adhere to the whole time travel rule they had to follow.
"Now Sharlene. I know you wanted to talk to my girlfriend but she isn't here.. "
"Which doesn't make sense as this was the moment after you had proposed to her." She said, frowning her brows as she tried to make sense of the situation.
Future me looked worried too.
"Where is she right now?" They asked both in unison.
"She said she was meeting a mutual friend of ours, Kyle. Why?" my blood pressure level was increasing. I felt an uknown overwhelming fear to the response to that question.
We all did. And the look plastered on our faces, we all realized something had tampered with the past.
And the future was about to change. Big. Time. | Today marks the 4th year of my relationship with jordan, the love of my life. I sit at the outdoor patio of my go to bar. Slowly drinking my beer and taking a good drag of my stoagie. Just as I put the butt to tray I feel eyes on the back of my head. A grizzled old man sits next to me, two shots of bulleit in hand.
"Hey stranger take this with me."
I'm not one to deny free booze, especially my favorite. "Thanks.... stranger." I say while eyeing the grizzled man. Normally I'd not think twice about a stranger buying me a shot, happens all the time at the fat hippo. But something was off about him, it was like the small sign of friendliness was a red flag. I couldn't shake this feeling, besides what could one shot hurt, I had nothing to do today and it was a good day to drink. The wind whistled between our glasses as we cheers. I slammed the glass down on the bench.
"Damm good drink, haven't had it in a while."
"My favorite!" I exclaimed.
He wiped the little remains of the smelly red liquor off his beard. He looked at me from the other side of the bench. Not just any look, but a stare as if he's looking through me.
"So... what's your name... stranger?"
"Chris, and yours?"
He paused. Staring even more through me. "You OK buddy?" I asked.
"Oh yeah I'm fine. Just visiting with an old friend."
At this point I began to become slightly confused.
"Do I know you?"
he smirked gently and shook his head no.
"So...... who are you visiting?"
It was at this point his demeanor changed. It seemed like I hit a trigger or asked something I shouldn't have. He chuckled, got up from the bench and went unside. Upon his return he had to pints of delirium, again another favorite of mine.
"You have some good taste my stranger friend."
He chuckled again.
"Listen, I'm going to cut the crap. I've only got two more hours."
He looked down at his watch.
"Next week your going to need this."
He slid me an envelope. As I started opening it he grabbed my hand firmly and told me not to.
"Open it next week. Next thursday."
he left a twenty on the bench table and pounder the last of his beer. He smiled at me and said "I have to go now, I hope this helps you as much as me."
I looked down at the envelope, and as I looked up he slide out the back gate of the smoking area. At this point I was very confused. The bar tender came outside to collect any glasses that were outside. She noticed the look of awe on my face.
"Something wrong hun?"
"Uh I don't really know... have you ever served that man before?"
she said no and asked what was in the envelope. I told her the story and she snatched it from my hand. She opened it, paused, and then asked if I'd ever been married. I laughed at her. "Married? Nope and I'd never do such a silly thing."
"Well hun, these are divorce papers...... with your name and jordans."
Forgive me for formating on mobile. | 2015-10-15T14:53:11 | 2015-10-15T14:30:29 | 49 | 21 |
[WP]You find yourself in the body of a 16-year old, 200 years in the future, in the middle of a test on early-21st century culture. | "Please state answers clearly towards the microphone. Some questions may also include a visual prompt. No network access or use of implant augmentation is permitted.
Question one: what factor most limits our knowledge of this period?"
"Um, unreliable sources?"
"Partial credit - the correct answer is 'The great copyright wars'.
Question Two: what was a 'Beliber'?"
"Ah, easy, that was a fan of Justin Beiber"
"Incorrect! The Belibers are thought to be a fanatical cult also known as 'the family' who followed Marilyn Manson and were responsible for several murders.
Question Three: Who was 4Chan?"
"That was a sketchy message board wasn't it?"
"Incorrect! 4Chan was the worlds most notorious hacker in this time period.
Question Four: what was responsible for the improvement in living conditions and life expectancy on the African continent?"
"I'm not sure ... was it economics and trade?"
"Incorrect! The answer is wristbands.
Question Five: ...."
[We tend to have some quite wrong ideas on how people lived in the past based on cliches and Hollywood - I suspect people a couple of centuries from now will have similar misapprehensions and tried to exaggerate that a bit.] | **Kyle!**
What? Oh, I guess that's me. Yes, robot who is most likely my teacher?
**It's your turn for the oral quiz. Are you ready?**
Gosh, I hope so.
**Silence! Now tell me, what is Snapchat?**
I don't know.
**You don't?**
Not a clue.
**Then you fail your test.**
I did? What's the subject?
**Early 21st century culture.**
Oh, right! Yeah, I was 58 in 2016. I don't know jack about Chatsnap. Hell, only yesterday I found out what a nae nae was.
**No! Don't do it! It will unleash the dark times again, it will! Oh ancient demon dance ritual be gone!**
Relax. I may be Kyle, but I'm really... well, Kyle, ironically. You got lucky. But not 16 year old future Kyle. I'm just a guy who's five years from a sweet pension. It seems like it was only moments ago, which it was, I was watching The Mentalist. Now, BAM! Here's I am. In the future.
**How did you know you were in the future?**
The writing prompt told me.
**Well, at least you can read. C+.**
All right! A passing grade!
**A future C+ is the equivalent of seven F's in your past.**
Yeah, don't I know it.
(freeze frame) (laugh track) (applause) (executive producer credit) | 2016-02-10T21:35:47 | 2016-02-10T21:33:32 | 100 | 31 |
[WP] Tell the story of a dog who lives in, but doesn't understand, the zombie apocalypse. | I'm a good dog. When the stinking men attacked my owner I pounced on him, straight for the throat. The most awful taste filled my mouth--like steak's blood but worse. It knocked him to the floor but he got up with half his throat in my mouth. Things aren't meant to do that.
But my owner is a good human, she knew what to do. When the stinking one pulled itself onto is hind legs she raised her metal stick and swung at the back of his head, hard. Again and again until its blood spilled out the back. And then it was still.
We didn't have much water left but she gave a lot of it to me, washed out my mouth until I couldn't taste the stinking blood. She led me to a house. It smelled like it might have had a dog in it once but I never saw one. We slept there tonight. My owner's so good she let me sleep in the bed with her tonight. The bed smells dusty but I'm so comfy, it's much better than the floor we slept on last night.
I don't know why we travel so much now, or why I have to fight but my owner's with me and she's the best human in the world. She's the only one that smells right, anyway. | She used to take bottles of stiff water and throw them across wood. She would sit for hours, pushing my nose away. It didn't taste good, the stiff water. It left mud of distinctive greys and browns. She would smile, showing happy fangs.
She would turn on the noise box, screaming at the little man trapped in the window. *Go faster. Go. Go.*
She would take me in her moving house, with the round, rubbery legs. It would propel us through the world, windows down, air tasting like formless dinner. She would get heaven in a little bowl and feed me white clouds.
Then one day she stopped making the happy sounds. She stopped making the little man appear. There was no clouds, no salty drinks, nothing. All that was left was a pile of laundry and her hunched form.
She fed me first. Always. She made sure I ate. She made sure I knew she cared.
She would clutch me as people pounded on the door. She would hold my mouth shut, begging me not to make noise. Then she stopped. Just stopped.
With a bag over her shoulder and a thin face, she led me to the door. She didn't have the leash. She needed the leash. She told me to go. To run.
And run we did.
Run we did.
Until she didn't.
Until the other people, her kind, the ones that pounded on the walls fell upon her.
I stopped.
She stopped.
I waited, tail slowly moving along the hard ground.
She didn't get up. | 2016-03-08T22:48:31 | 2016-03-08T22:34:21 | 91 | 62 |
[WP] Create a guilt trip so that anyone reading my diary's first page automatically feels they don't want to.
Morality is one of the strongest things to control someone's actions. So I want a first page to sort of guilt trip the person reading to make sure they don't read the rest. | I didn't think I'd ever put this down into words, but I can't take it any longer. I need to process it somehow. Thinking about it doesn't do me any good. So, dear diary, please lift this burden off my shoulders, if only by a little. I feel scared writing this. If anyone knew of what I'm about to write, I'd have to kill myself. Even if it was just one person, it would be enough to convince me to give it all up.
Luckily I have people in my life who would never violate my trust. They're the only thing making me fight. The only thing keeping me alive. I count myself blessed every day. Life is precious, when you have precious people around. Sometimes everything feels so dark. So bleak. But there is good in the world. Friends and family members who wouldn't betray you even if it costed them their lives. And I'm happy to say I'd do the same for them. Even if I'd have to take a bullet, I would never let them down. They deserve it. I'm sad they don't know it. I'd give everything for them. Anything to protect them. It's silly, but I day dream from time to time. I have fantasies where I push them out of the way of an incoming truck and take the hit. Sometimes I wish I could kill myself that way. I've prayed for an opportunity. A chance to show them how much they are worth to me. But I know it would haunt them. They are better than me. They are everything I have. | In a Godless universe, there is no room for moral arguments. So, if you aren't God-fearing, read on and feel no shame, but keep one thing in mind:
Tread lightly, for you bear the responsibility of your actions from this point forward, from this page forward.
Every action has a consequence. And it's extent does not always immediately reveal itself. Should you decide to turn this page and pore over the secrets behind it, you may find immediate gratification, a sudden sense of relief or simply a chuckle for the now and a joke for tomorrow. What you won't find, however, are the inevitable repercussions of your decision.
Throughout history, seemingly insignificant decisions have led to events that have changed the world forever.
Gavrilo Princip decides to console himself by buying a sandwich at a local Sarajevo café. The car carrying Archduke Ferdinand takes a wrong turn, backing up in front of it, giving Princip the chance to kill the Archduke, subsequently setting off WWI, in which 20 million people lost their lives and even more suffered.
A sheriff refuses Martin Luther King's application for a license to carry a firearm in self-defense. An insignificant decision which would benefit the legacy of a man who would later light the fire of a pacifist Civil Rights movement across the United States.
So, will your decision be the one that leads to the death of millions or the rise of an inspiring historical figure. Will today be remembered in infamy or with gratitude? Perhaps neither, but are you really willing to take that risk?
Choose responsibility now so you don't have to take it later.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
*Thanks for reading "A Seemingly Insignificant Decision"! More of my work at /r/Socrates_Burrito. I welcome constructive criticism and advice.* | 2016-03-11T04:06:24 | 2016-03-11T03:45:55 | 83 | 24 |
[WP] You finally meet up with with your online cosplaying group at a convention for the first time but you're starting to get the feeling that these guys aren't cosplaying. | Disney world is burning. I thought wearing storm trooper armor in the Florida sun was hot, but the heat from the flames threatened to melt the flimsy plastic armor I wore. The rest of the division seemed unaffected by it. As a group, they were mostly silent. They followed the directions of their captain, and I did as much as I could to play along and go unnoticed. I need to escape. I need to pee. These were all things I should have done ten minutes ago when I first arrived.
&nbsp;
"Not much of a talker, are you?" I had been very proud of my armor. I didn't just borrow a 3D printer to print off some pieces to slap onto a body suit. I had taken the time to sculpt my armor pieces onto a body suit. The difference being that sculpted pieces were much lighter.
"I'm amazed that you guys are able to get it to look so accurate."
"Is there a problem solder?" The silvered colored captain asked me.
"Problem? Nope. I'm just really excited. This is my first time," I replied.
"First time jitters? Everyone get's them. You'll get used to it," she said.
"How is no one else excited?" I asked. A few of the troopers around me gave me a moment's glance before going back to staring forward. I think I even heard one of them mutter 'sick bastard'. People had started gathering around us, forming a circle of park guests that all wanted their picture to be taken with the storm troopers. A little boy ran up and grabbed onto my leg.
"Division! At the ready!" Shouted the captain. The troopers around me straightened up. I was all for putting on a good show, but not at the expense of a child's good time. I turned to face the child and took a knee.
"Hey there little buddy, where's your parents?"
"Aim!" As one the troopers brought up their blaster riffles and each turned slightly to face outward.
"Over there." The parents were aiming camera phones at us. I threw up a two fingered peace sign.
"Fire!" I expected a quick flash of white from the phones. I was greeted with one of dark red instead.
People panicked. You expect many things when you go to Disney world. High priced food. Long lines. Stage shows. Branded rides that pull on nostalgic memories of your childhood. You do not expect space aged blaster bolts to erupt from technology that should have been lost a long long time ago in a galaxay far far away. The shower of red sprayed in every direction, but true to form, seemed to miss everyone who had been watching the troopers line up. Some of the shots were spectacularly bad. I stood up, my own ineffectual blaster rifle in hand, and watched as people fled in every direction. The boy was snatched up by his dad.
"Missfire? Take this." A trooper ripped my light weight toy out of my hand and replaced it with a heavy death dealing machine.
"What do you want me to do with this?"
"You do as you are told!" The trooper had already turned away and was busy firing his own rifle. Red fire spit from the tip and chewed up the cement walk way where a pretzel stand hand been abandoned.
"I don't know if this is right," I said. I aimed away from anywhere were people might be, closed my eyes, and fired. The kick back on the rifle nearly knocked me off my feet, but it wasn't enough to pull my finger away from the trigger. I opened my eyes on the third shot and saw that I had been pouring red lasers into a tree. The first hit was on the trunk, the second a bit higher, and the third burned through the leafs. The tree burned leafs were dry and it was just seconds before the entire top of the tree was in flames. The shot to the base of the plant had weakened it's trunk and the flaming tree toppled over onto a gift shop.
"You got one!" A hard clap on my back came from the trooper next to me. A few others grunted their approval. I looked around to see that no one else had seemed to hit anything of merit. The park looked abandoned. More trees lit up as the fire spread from the gift shop.
| Who knew scale mail was so heavy? Mia's shoulders had been slumped over all day. Her small frame mimicking the dwarf she was dressed as. She was tempted to apply a beard that matched her hair too, but she didn't feel like explaining the joke to people who didn't get it or dealing with the extra heat in the overcrowded place. She shifted and tried to stretch in her seat as she saw the actor on the screen in the main lobby. She had to admit, the man had presence.
She didn't want to stop watching but had to look around the room for the friends that she was supposed to meet here. They had been chatting in character for a few months, talking about the fantasy game that they had played for a long time. Each getting more attached to their roles. Most of their chats had been around their backstories and the hardships that they had faced to make them so eager and adept at surviving the chaotic and very often completely sadistic world of the game.
She wondered what they would be like in real life away from the computer screen. Would they still be playing the characters with an furor that she found hard to keep up with? She had often found herself taken away by the stream of their dialog, watching the story of the world she loved so much grow deeper before her eyes. They had shared many real life stories too, but almost all through the lens of their characters. She didn't begrudge them that. She was pretty weird too, why should she judge someone else?
"Gale!" She called over her shoulder as she spotted a green banner above the crowd with a crest she recognized.
"Peri!" he called back to her over the roar of the crowd waving to her enthusiastically. Gale was a large man that parted the crowd easily, robes swishing around him, staff of spray painted foam and duct-tape at his side. He reminded her of Friar Tuck. Big round belly, reddish brown beard, jovial expression, and Birkenstocks. At his side trailed along a lithe and dreamy looking woman with very pointed ears. Plastic bow at her back and green leather armor.
"You must be Anika! Hi! I'm so excited to finally get to meet you in person!" Mia gushed as her friends came forward. "My real name is Mia. Now that we know each other in real life, what are your names?"
Confusion covered Gale's face as if he had been betrayed or been wounded by something dire. Mia didn't think that she could have caused such an injury by just inquiring about her name, but maybe she had overstepped some boundary that she wasn't aware of. Anika seemed to not be paying attention to Mia at all. Crouching almost as if she was oppressed by all the people around her.
"I'm not sure what you mean by real names." he said. "Gale is my name and Anika is hers."
"Oh okay, sorry I didn't mean to assume." She tried to relieve the feeling of sinking in her gut. "I love your costumes! It looks like you put a lot of work into them. Anika, is that real leather? It looks really difficult to create."
"Of course, I spent many days hunting the great Unik elk in the highlands of Usivail last moon rising." She said as she stared at the skylights in the roof of the center. "There are too many people here."
"Okay, well we can get out of here and go hang out at the smaller rooms, or go find a group to play some games with." Mia offered.
"Why are you talking so differently, Peri? Did you come under the affect of a confusion spell?" Gale asked, pulling a book from his backpack and flipping through the pages. Each page covered with illustrations of mushrooms and runes that did not exist in any world but the one that they had played in. He reached in his bag and pulled out some mushrooms with a light tan cap and white stem. "Here take these, they will cure you. We can get some water from our water skins. Hurry and open the bottle and eat it."
Looking at the bottle he had handed to her, a girl scout den mother's voice chimed in her head that this was Death Cap and that no, no she should not eat it. Smiling sweetly, she said "I think I'm going to go get us some celebratory drinks for our first meeting instead. I'll be back, stay right here." She walked toward the concession stands, slowly, and as calmly as she could, deciding she needed to uninstall the chat program, the game, and hopefully never have to think about this again.
Note: Ops I totally wrote this in third person. | 2016-05-17T07:11:44 | 2016-05-17T06:30:36 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] Every person in the world undergoes a "goodness" test. It's designed to give a score from 1 to 200, where 1 is pure evil, and 200 is an angel in human body. Then the world is divided into 200 zones, where people can live among their own kind. | "Your annual re-evaluation results are in, Geoffrey", came the familiar, monotone voice of Master Computer. Some people found it creepy, but I was actually fond of the emotionless machine. You could always rely on its honesty and incorruptibility. Today, however, I would've loved to have been able to bribe, coerce or manipulate it.
"Sandra!" I called out to my wife. "Computer's back with my new score."
I took a deep breath as Sandra walked in, a familiar look of worry on the face, and turned back towards the screen.
"How'd I do, M.C.?"
I'm sure it had sounded like a great idea at the time, separating the good from the evil. The good don't deserve to suffer the misdeeds of the evil, and what could be a more appropriate way to punish those who commit them? And I'm sure it seemed like a good idea to have the re-evaluations. After all, people change over time and it would be absurd to ignore corruption and remorse. The problem was its effect on human relationships. It was hard to make friends, let alone fall in love, when everyone you know might be in different zones the next year.
Maybe it wouldn't be a problem if there weren't so many different tiers. Four or five might've been fine, but with two-hundred, the slightest change in behaviour could knock you into a different zone. This is was led to the invention of the "goodness tracker" app that allowed anyone to keep count of how they were doing on a day-to-day basis.
The computer replied in the same dull voice. "Your score is 151, Geoffrey".
Sandra smiled at me as I breathed a sigh of relief. It had taken a lot of theft to make up for that kidney donation. | I've heard stories of how, long ago, people of all types were allowed to live together, a place where people with a goodness score of 1 were allowed to live in the same places as people with goodness scores of 200.
Of course, this world stopped existing after a team of scientist invented the perfect way to test someones "goodness". The goodness test wasn't widely accepted, until Vladimir Putin, a dictator, discovered the test while he was browsing a website called "Facebook"(The creator of this site was later killed by a mob of Goodness Test believers after they discovered he had a goodness test of 1). He discovered this test while he was invading America, and after he somehow managed to conquer America, he made taking this Goodness Test mandatory to take for every person.
He started making the people with goodness scores under 40 into slaves, who built the walls we see now. None of this matter now, however. This all happened very long ago, and none of it matters anymore. The people who have yet to be diagnosed are kept outside the walls. "my, my..your score is a 10." "Put him in the cart, let him live with the rest of the filth.". "Next person.", I walk up to him, nervous. "Okay, just go in there, and take the test." I walk in to the rather well lit cubicle, a sharp contrast between the dark and pouring rain outside. I take the test, I walk out. "Well, aren't you lucky. You've got a score of 75. Go into that bus, and you and the other people in there will be transported over to sector 75. Enjoy the ride."
I look back at the camp one last time, before walking into the bus. After a small wait, we set off for sector 75. As we pass through sector 1, I see a barren wasteland, and our car gets attacked by the inhabitants. They threw glass bottles, and rocks at our bus, which was thankfully heavily armored. The bus-driver sped up, and we thankfully got away. To be continued, possibly. | 2016-08-26T14:51:22 | 2016-08-26T10:59:35 | 27 | 18 |
[WP] After mankind first encountered aliens, we figured out why first contact took so long: We are fearsome space-orks who drink poison for fun, beat each other to a pulp for sports, can survive mutilation, and other stuff. Aliens are afraid, and mankind feels inclined to conquer things...
Bonus Internet Cookies for writing it from the alien perspective.
Edit: Day 2 and still on Hot? I can now die in peace! My Karma is skyrocketing! ....well, sort of...
Okay, there is one very special internet cookie waiting for the writer who describes the bloody human pantheon of Ram'Bo, Schwarzenegger, and Chuck Norris (optional other choices) from the alien perspective...
Said cookie actually is a chocolate chip cookie | It began more than a generation ago. How many, exactly, has been forgotten. But we still remember how it began, we still see how it continues, and most of us now believe we will see how it ends. That is, the end for my people is quickly approaching.
It's in the air, how each of us walks, the quiet whispers and sullen glances that linger over the streets and hang in the gutters. It's a feeling that I *grew* up knowing and a feeling that has never escaped me, or my people. No matter where we go, no matter how much we travel, or dig, or build; they find us. Quicker and quicker every year.
We left our home at least two hundred years ago. The genocide began years before that. It was a recon station, in some system whose name escapes me at the moment. They had been watching them for years, gathering data, seeing them drink poison, seeing beat each other--with fire and ash--seeing them cut off their limbs, cutting open their own body parts, replacing it with metal and weapons of war and seeing them continue to live. For years, they watched the race that could withstand death itself. And for years, they saw no way to beat them.
They found us before we had answers. To be quite honest, nowadays there are more questions than answers, even with fighting them for generations. Their true state is loss to us. Most of the time they never leave survivors.
Hideous faces, glowing eyes, sharp arms, lightning fast legs. Monsters. Demons. The very creations of Hell itself coming to destroy each and every one of us. Either to kill, to enslave, or to conquer. I had only saved one slave from them, who had died of his fears far before I ever met him.
For years I had tried to lead my people away from them. And for years, I had lost more and more of them with every attempt. It was as if they knew where we were going, as if they could *track* us by smell and ripples in space. Every where we went, they came months later. Or days. Once it was an hour before we had to fight again.
Fight. It's foreign to us now. The best we can do is play a long game of hide-and-seek and hope that one day our hiding spot is enough to stall them. Just to stall them long enough to recuperate, to lick our wounds from generations of death.
My father handed me this mantle, this leadership, years ago. Just before he died. He stayed behind, with a small contingent of a hundred brave soldiers--the last of their kind--to stall the monsters. Instead, they died knowing their deaths were in vain. And since then, I had tried to find a new home for us.
He told me of two things before he left. A home that his father had told him of, who had heard it from his father, and so on. It went back to the first recon station, to the men and women who tried to halt the advance in the first place. He called it Paradise and said it existed on the edges of our galaxy, on a planet far from where we are now.
And he told me of another name. A name that is on the lips of every one of my people, a name that, even though it carries a sense of dread and despair, is talked about every night after dinner and every day before breakfast. A name that lingers, that hangs, that tracks and destroys.
The monsters. They are called humans. And since they encountered us, they have never stopped hunting.
_____
*Can I get those cookies now?*
*/r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs for more. <3* | “It’s repugnant! It’s vile! Take it away! “, cried various delegates of The Quorum of Sentients as the Human is lead in.
“It does not belong in this place!”
Iridescent angers bloomed across the crystalline surface of the chmyrhmrhm representative, and the oily flush of the srt’nt was enough to nearby cause the end of the debate. But Human was found to be sentient by a lean margin, and by the mutual agreed laws allowed its presence.
It could barely speak, forcing modulated air through its thorax, partially suffocated while it did so. The air was *oxygenated*, a terrifyingly corrosive mixture of nearly 20% that required the creature to be kept in a hardened containment unit. Most oxide and redox worlds weren’t capable of producing life, much less intelligent life. Yet here the thing stood. The creature made its case.
“We are like you in so many ways; We dream to explore and Universe and learn its secrets-”
“To annihilate us! And yourselves!” interrupts a delegate.
“I heard they invented atomic weapons *before* atomic power!”
“I heard they paint their spaceships red because of the *superstition* that red makes them go faster!”
After the delegates are settled again, Human attempts to reply “Ferrocrete is red because it oxidizes, and we need to armor shielding to approach the minimum required speed for the FTL projectors.”
General murmurs in the crowd, but the auto-translator didn’t cut Humans input, so it continued.
“We have made a lot of progress in the last few years, and with your help we think we could make the final leap into the inter-galactic community”
“Hark!” trills the antropic-triaxail hivemind. “Hark! This creature can’t even understand others of its own species. This creatures so called invention of *language* is an artificial construct that divides it.” A pause while they rebuked a few scant gestures of the other non-linked or part-linked delegates. Human pointed its misaligned ocular bifocals awkwardly around The Quorum. “This creature can’t even organize its society past 10%, and it announces itself as successful and progressive. Each cycle over 3^10 Human murder each other. Murder! Can each delegate recount the last case of murder on their home worlds? ”
This made most delegates extremely uneasy, as this fact was more a point of historic trivia than some commonplace statistic.
Human makes its final plea. “We are a young race, yes. And compared to the data we have received about you-” Another pause while The Quorum regains its composure, “we breed fast and expand faster. But we want to become better. Look at our fiction, look at our dreams and aspirations. Some individuals feel that violence leads to improvement, but most of us have rejected that notion. Allow us to continue that path, and hopefully someday we could join The Quorum as equals.”
…
Officer Jackson sat quietly for a long time; the decision was made and the decision was final.
Earth was set to be quarantined, indefinitely. The Quorum would install a solar-system-wide government, and humanity would be at this government’s mercy. Any resistance would either be met with lethal force by other humans, or complete solar detonation by the aliens. The use of Human-controlled FTL would stop immediately.
The leader of The Quorum asked who Jackson represented, what body had the widest control of the system.
How The General knew this decision was coming, and how he knew to prep the young man before sending him out into the dark was a total mystery. But now he had absolute faith in the grizzled man’s instructions.
Jackson replied to The Quorum: “A group of humans structured as *a corporation* best controls and represents humanity. The corporation best fit to rule Earth, and my employer, is called CCI.”
And with that, the first Terran empire was born.
...
EDITs: typos, missing words, etc.. | 2016-09-21T12:37:39 | 2016-09-21T12:29:43 | 43 | 27 |
[WP] After mankind first encountered aliens, we figured out why first contact took so long: We are fearsome space-orks who drink poison for fun, beat each other to a pulp for sports, can survive mutilation, and other stuff. Aliens are afraid, and mankind feels inclined to conquer things...
Bonus Internet Cookies for writing it from the alien perspective.
Edit: Day 2 and still on Hot? I can now die in peace! My Karma is skyrocketing! ....well, sort of...
Okay, there is one very special internet cookie waiting for the writer who describes the bloody human pantheon of Ram'Bo, Schwarzenegger, and Chuck Norris (optional other choices) from the alien perspective...
Said cookie actually is a chocolate chip cookie | “There is a loss of two prime civilizations in the Vut Expanse.”
“What?”
“Exactly what I said, Piyt. Probes sent to that region have returned showing complete civilization collapse in two of the prime galactic civilizations there: Autros and gGri.”
“How in Teovgan’s Eyes?! When did this happen?”
“Exact data is unavailable, but one of the probes returned with evidence of a rudimentary machine drone. It’s cortex barely functional. We connected it to an isolated quarantine system and it aggressively tried to install its functionality into that system.
We currently believe that both systems were destroyed by the same machine virus. More than likely developed by one of the two civilizations.”
“What is the margin of error regarding your assumptions here?” asked Piyt.
“Less than 2%. This is actionable science.”
Piyt, the Archstronomer, left her office and began making her way to the Prime Council chambers. She knew that the Council had to be informed and what the general census would be: Our Great Civilization is doomed. It wasn’t common knowledge, but a Machine Empire had arisen around 9 billion years ago. The Great Civilization wasn’t quite so civilized back then and the war had burned a large part of the universe, tearing it into giant swaths of dark matter. Organics were victorious, but suffered the agony of the post war for another two billion years before becoming the enlightened and peaceful civilization that existed today.
The bardstone halls hummed softly as she walked and composed her thoughts. The limitations imposed on thinking machines was sacrosanct! How could this have happened? We have no way to fight these machines! The ancients were so adamant in their desire for peace that they had even purged the language of war from the common lexicon!
The door to the chamber opened and the steward announced “The Archstronomer Piyt r’Ultarc!” The susurrus of conversation dimmed, and the 300 delegates turned to view the scientist as she entered.
“Councilors I greet you with dire news. We have evidence of an arisen machine intelligence. Two prime systems in the Vut Expanse, Autros and gGri, are no more.”
The chamber erupted into chaos. The general populace knew next to nothing of the ancient Organic/Machine war, but the councilors did. They knew every horrible fact of the war and all agreed with the course the Ancients took, else they were not allowed to serve.
Cries of panic and doom echoed around the chamber and would have continued, but a beautifully low note rang out, silencing the chamber and cowing the panicked councilors with its volume and the rumbling subsonic vibrations that every creature could feel.
“What is that?” No councilor had heard or felt this terrifying peal before.
“IT IS THE CHIME OF UNG! And I have been its keeper for nearly two millennia. My father was its keeper before that and we R,Krians have kept the secret of our salvation for almost 5 billion years. We know of a weapon. A weapon that the machines cannot stand against.”
Piyt was astounded. The R,Krians were the most peaceful of all the members of the Great Civilizations. It was common knowledge that they helped shepherd young races into becoming peaceful, prosperous, and cooperative members of the society.
“You are… weaponsmiths?” Piyt whispered the profanity.
“Oh no, my learned Archstronomer. We merely discovered the weapon and simply left it in place. In the event of a situation like this one.”
“What is this weapon?” Piyt asked, becoming more comfortable with the word.
“They call themselves human.”
| “It’s repugnant! It’s vile! Take it away! “, cried various delegates of The Quorum of Sentients as the Human is lead in.
“It does not belong in this place!”
Iridescent angers bloomed across the crystalline surface of the chmyrhmrhm representative, and the oily flush of the srt’nt was enough to nearby cause the end of the debate. But Human was found to be sentient by a lean margin, and by the mutual agreed laws allowed its presence.
It could barely speak, forcing modulated air through its thorax, partially suffocated while it did so. The air was *oxygenated*, a terrifyingly corrosive mixture of nearly 20% that required the creature to be kept in a hardened containment unit. Most oxide and redox worlds weren’t capable of producing life, much less intelligent life. Yet here the thing stood. The creature made its case.
“We are like you in so many ways; We dream to explore and Universe and learn its secrets-”
“To annihilate us! And yourselves!” interrupts a delegate.
“I heard they invented atomic weapons *before* atomic power!”
“I heard they paint their spaceships red because of the *superstition* that red makes them go faster!”
After the delegates are settled again, Human attempts to reply “Ferrocrete is red because it oxidizes, and we need to armor shielding to approach the minimum required speed for the FTL projectors.”
General murmurs in the crowd, but the auto-translator didn’t cut Humans input, so it continued.
“We have made a lot of progress in the last few years, and with your help we think we could make the final leap into the inter-galactic community”
“Hark!” trills the antropic-triaxail hivemind. “Hark! This creature can’t even understand others of its own species. This creatures so called invention of *language* is an artificial construct that divides it.” A pause while they rebuked a few scant gestures of the other non-linked or part-linked delegates. Human pointed its misaligned ocular bifocals awkwardly around The Quorum. “This creature can’t even organize its society past 10%, and it announces itself as successful and progressive. Each cycle over 3^10 Human murder each other. Murder! Can each delegate recount the last case of murder on their home worlds? ”
This made most delegates extremely uneasy, as this fact was more a point of historic trivia than some commonplace statistic.
Human makes its final plea. “We are a young race, yes. And compared to the data we have received about you-” Another pause while The Quorum regains its composure, “we breed fast and expand faster. But we want to become better. Look at our fiction, look at our dreams and aspirations. Some individuals feel that violence leads to improvement, but most of us have rejected that notion. Allow us to continue that path, and hopefully someday we could join The Quorum as equals.”
…
Officer Jackson sat quietly for a long time; the decision was made and the decision was final.
Earth was set to be quarantined, indefinitely. The Quorum would install a solar-system-wide government, and humanity would be at this government’s mercy. Any resistance would either be met with lethal force by other humans, or complete solar detonation by the aliens. The use of Human-controlled FTL would stop immediately.
The leader of The Quorum asked who Jackson represented, what body had the widest control of the system.
How The General knew this decision was coming, and how he knew to prep the young man before sending him out into the dark was a total mystery. But now he had absolute faith in the grizzled man’s instructions.
Jackson replied to The Quorum: “A group of humans structured as *a corporation* best controls and represents humanity. The corporation best fit to rule Earth, and my employer, is called CCI.”
And with that, the first Terran empire was born.
...
EDITs: typos, missing words, etc.. | 2016-09-21T16:21:52 | 2016-09-21T12:29:43 | 41 | 27 |
[WP] While walking, you notice everyone recoiling from a young woman. you speak to her to find out why. through her surprise, she explains she is death and everyone else sees a person based on how they feel about the concept of death. You've never seen a more beautiful or inviting person.
Please feel free to finesse the topic, genders, or concept to accommodate your own personal preferences or circumstances. | It’s always funny when we tell the story of how we first met. Sure our marriage isn’t a conventional one by any means, but hey, love is love.
I know what you’re thinking, marrying literal death seems like an ill-advised idea. I assure you though, the truth is it’s the opposite. I think this might be the best god damn idea I’ve ever had.
First of all the sex is AMAZING. Seriously, the sex is so good I could die. I can change her to be whoever I’m feeling for. I want to fuck Jennifer Lawrence? Just got to think of her as the literal embodiment of our short, horrifying and often abrupt end to our existence on this world and BAM—I’m fucking her. The best part is the chick is just as kinky as I want her to be. Let’s just say death is into some pretty experimental shit.
Now of course dating the grim reaper has its perks other than the sex. If someone at my workplace annoys me, BAM, heart attack the next day. It’s perfect for dealing with racist, sexist, homophobic, and whatever other flavor of asshole that I could possibly encounter. Of course, this sort of power trip has messed me up in the head a little, and that’s saying something considering the previous paragraph had me bragging about fucking death.
Unfortunately though it’s not all sunshine and shiny scythes in relationships, especially this one. I fear for my life constantly when I get into an argument with the dumb broad. I swear, considering she’s supposed to be an immortal being thats hunted mortal souls since before any of my grand-grand-grand-whatever parents were even born, she’s super fucking needy. “Why don’t you pay attention to me” “does this black robe make my butt look big” “stop looking at those human women” yadayadayada, she’s so annoying. Well, perhaps I’m being too harsh. I still love my snookums after all.
Of course that was many many years ago. She’s been a little evasive with the subject of my mortality. She thinks that killing me would be super romantic. I mean, I can see where she’s coming from I guess. I just hope she doesn’t do that Sopranos shit and cut--
| 'You're just too good to be true... can't take my eyes off of you...'
The famous Frankie Valli song played over and over in my head as I stood enchanted by this magnificent woman. I looked around to see if others had noticed her as well, and was shocked to see the reactions.
One man stopped in his tracks like a deer in the headlights, with a look of speechless terror in his eyes. Another woman took one glance and began to cry hysterically. And one old man looked at her and began to nod his head with a sad pitiful expression of submission.
It didn't make sense, how could no one be acknowledging the beauty of this woman? Did she have some terrible body odour? An ugly voice? A terrible scar that I couldn't see from where I stood? I had to know, so I approached her slowly, and when I got to within 10 feet we locked eyes.
Her eyes were a gorgeous green colour that I had never seen before, and when I smiled, she revealed a smile more perfect than any other. Tongue tied, I let out a barely audible "Hi" and stood captivated for her response. She seemed almost caught off guard that someone actually wanted to converse, and responded with a pleasant "Hello there Adam." This took me by surprise, how did she know my name?
"Don't be alarmed Adam, I try to learn the names of all of Earth's souls, it's the least I could do for when we eventually meet." I raised an eyebrow and had a look of confusion on my face as I inspected her face for clues of sarcasm.
"What I'm trying to say is... I am death Adam, and every soul must eventually meet me. And as you can probably imagine, death is not a pretty sight for most people."
My eyebrow lowered, and along with it my jaw, as shock took the place of confusion. I let out a mumbled response, "B-b-but... you look so beautiful..." She smiled, seeming flattered by what I mumbled and explained, "That's because you are not like most people Adam, you are a kind and pure man, living for a life beyond this one."
I was flattered to hear this, but a little taken aback, was I about to die? I did not fear death, but I was not yet ready to die.
She seemed to sense my unease, and quickly clarified, "Don't worry, it is not yet your time. But when you do see me again, make sure to smile..." | 2016-10-01T22:31:15 | 2016-10-01T21:35:15 | 22 | 16 |
[WP] In another reality, the Americas, Australia, Europe, Asia, Africa, and Antartica don't exist. Instead, the super-continent of Pangaea never broke up. | Van woke up and watched the sun rising through his window for a while. Then he got up, took a shower and examined himself in the mirror. His skin was dark, his monolid eyes a bright blue and the hair on his head black and bushy. He cleaned his teeth, shaved his beard. Today was going to be a hectic day so he needed extra coffee and twice the usual amount of eggs.
He chose not to take the plane because he wanted to challenge himself. He was going to take a trip from one tip of the megacontinent to the other in a bus. That was a journey which would take weeks to complete but he'd gotten leave from work and he'd mentally and physically prepared himself. Doctor checks, gym seven times a week, shrink checks, yoga. He was ready to go and visit his ailing biological mother for the first time in 38 years.
His adoptive mother had died a year ago and on her death bed she'd told Van to go see his "other mother". Van had opposed the idea at first, she, his biological mother, had willingly given him up at birth, but with time, his heart had softened because he had a terminal illness and would be dead within a year too.
The bus was empty save for a young couple with a child in the front and a bespectacled old man in the middle. Van sat at the back. The bus left the station at half nine when the sun was starting to get hot.
Everyone on Pangaea looked the same, with dark colored skin, bushy dark hair, and almond-shaped blue eyes. People going to work, to school, to the gym, everyone busy. Van was looking out the window, listening to the radio, and then suddenly his song was cut and a woman was reporting that strong earthquakes were going to be felt across the continent in a week's time.
***
The first one hit when he was about half way through his journey. Buildings collapsed, roads twisted off the ground, thousands dead. The bus driver continued the journey nonetheless, driving on cracked tar.
***
Van was stuck in a deep hole, his arm bloodied. Their bus had been caught in the middle of an earthquake that had ripped the ground open. The bus had fallen about 40 meters. Everyone except Van was dead.
The world was coming undone. Or more accurately Pangaea the supercontinent was coming undone. The scientists had predicted that in many years, Pangaea would be torn apart completely. Van thought of a strange world where you couldn't take a bus to visit a certain place but had to take either a boat or plane.
He was rescued three days later and decided to take a plane for the remainder of his journey.
***
By the time he reached his mother, the world was in chaos. The apocalypse had come. Two hundred million dead, no electricity, water from broken pipes running free in the streets, the sky dark with dust. The hospital that had been looking after his mother was now a heap on the ground and he found her in the rubble, miraculously alive.
"Mother," Van said, tears falling from his eyes. She touched his cheek with a dusty hand. For the longest time, as everything had descended into disaster, he'd felt alone in the world. But now he wasn't alone anymore because he still had a mother.
| Jerstom’s back ached with the strain of the alderwood he had hewn from the hillside, but he persisted, one burdensome step at a time, with only the thoughts of his father for company.
By the time he reached the beachside, dusk had already usurped the horizon. Mathae, his wife, was heating meagre provisions over a modest fire. Salt, on the air, stung his face.
“Children?”
“Asleep. They insisted on coming, but I said it was too early still.”
“They have years to learn. We have but hours. Come, help me.”
Husband and wife took turns preparing the alderwood, binding the strongest branches together, pruning errant limbs, applying liberal amounts of the resin-sap they had collected. Although custom called for Jerstom to be the one chanting prayers throughout the process, Mathae was occasionally moved to chime in. The old man had treated her like his own daughter, after all.
The early rays of dawn found their task complete, and Jerstom set the raft upon the choppy waters stoically, a dense clout of emotions weighing every movement.
“As you came before me, so shall you go before me,” intoned Jerstom, with Mathae’s hand upon his shoulder for support. “I give back to you one half of the wealth I have, for I would have nothing without you.”
At those words, Jerstom placed the bundle Mathae had prepared onto the raft, and slowly unwrapped it, revealing two humble ingots of rough gold, each the size of a man’s fist. Mathae poured the remainder of the resin-sap onto the ingots, bonding them with the raft.
Jerstom knew his father would have been just as happy with the other customary offering, that of a cache of sweetened meats and honeymead, similarly encased in the resin-sap. Yet Jerstom was only too glad to part with the gold, for his father surely deserved it.
“May you find peace in the great beyond these unending waters,” said Jerstom, as he gently pushed the raft out to sea with his foot.
“May you find peace,” repeated Mathae.
Husband and wife, holding each other for support as the tumultuous waves grew in strength, stood by the beach until the raft was but a speck in the distance.
---
On the other side of the world, Butoohey emerged from the choppy waves, having twisted and snaked through the waters as determinedly as a salmon swimming upstream. Thick ropes around his waist were latched onto the raft he had just retrieved.
Kerru, his wife waiting on the shore, did not even need to examine the raft to know the outcome. Everything was written on Butoohey’s downcast face.
“Gods! Why have you done this!” she cried, lifting her hands to the heavens. “Have we displeased you again? We followed your commandments, yet this is the third month in a row you have not sent us any of your heavenly food!”
“Hush, woman!” urged Butoohey as he rushed to his wife’s side. “God has a reason for everything. There is a lesson too in this, we just need to know what it is.”
That said, Butoohey reverentially placed the two yellow rocks from the raft next to a veritable mountain of similar rocks on the beach, and holding his wife’s hand, began the trek back to their hut on the coast.
---
/r/rarelyfunny | 2017-02-09T06:49:18 | 2017-02-09T06:21:57 | 24 | 10 |
[WP] At age 15 you told the gf you were "in love" with that you'd always be there when she was in need. Aphrodite heard you and made it a reality, whenever your gf was in need you appear at her side. Problem is, you and the girl broke up after 3 weeks but you still appear even now..10 years later | "Damnit Susan..."
"I don't wanna see you either Jeff..."
"At least tell me it's something important unlike last time"
Susan blushed, remembering how Jeff had randomly appeared because her (now ex) boyfriend couldn't bring her to climax. Quickly she shook her head.
"No, nothing like last time. Follow me."
She led Jeff to the bathroom where the toilet was dangerously close to overflowing.
"Oh. My. God... I'm done, I'm not fixing this, I'm *cough* what the hell did you eat??? That is vile!!!"
Jeff looked at the toilet in disbelief knowing that he wouldn't be allowed to leave until it was fixed. He begrudgingly got to work unclogging the unholy mass in the toilet, holding his breath as long as he could.
When it was over he turned to Susan.
"I've been thinking..."
"Yeah?"
"I've never disliked you, you know? I just think most high schoolers heads are in the clouds. We're in our mid twenties now, and neither of us can hold down a significant other because of this nonsense. Maybe we should just give it another go?"
"You're willing to try to date me after this" she motioned towards the toilet.
"Oh you are never allowed to shit in my house, in fact anytime you gotta go we're going to a gas station."
She rolled her eyes dryly.
"Fine, pick me up for coffee tomorrow" | I was on my third date with a lovely woman when the tingling in my fingers started.
"No... Not now!"
"What's wrong?" Jennifer looked at me, baffled.
The tingling was creeping up my arms. More intense as it spread.
"Uh... So, I'm going to disappear for a bit. Not sure where I'm going or when I'll be back. Just know that it has nothing to do with you. I made a promise a long time ago that I can't break."
"What do you mean? You're just going to ditch me here with the check?"
"Listen I promise I'll explain when I can. Wait, did you check in on Facebook with me?"
"Of course, I wanted everyone to know that I was having a great time with what I thought was a great guy..."
She trailed off as she noticed my fingers were fading from existence. The progression was accelerating. I stood up.
Next thing I know I'm standing in a dirty bathroom. My 600lb ex girlfriend sitting on the toilet with her phone in her hand looking at Facebook and crying.
She sobbed at me, "You said you would always be there for me! Who is Jennifer? I'm stuck again..." Her voice trailing off meekly.
I tried to just walk out the door but every time I did I simply stepped back into the bathroom.
"You still keep the KY in the same place?" I sighed as I opened the bathroom drawer knowing the answer.
Later I tried to call Jennifer but she wouldn't answer. This is the fourth potential relationship she's ruined. I know she's doing it on purpose, but she denies it. | 2017-03-22T13:49:02 | 2017-03-22T11:45:22 | 735 | 106 |
[WP] The day is 4th of July. The US suddenly cut off its connection to the outside world. Then they start to broadcast an international countdown. | Approximately 23 hours ago, all signals and information originating from the United States of America have ceased, except for one.
A countdown of 24 hours, broadcasted live onto all countries.
Approximately 20 hours ago, the United Nations convened in haste to discuss the blackout of the United States.
Approximately 17 hours ago, Canadian and Mexican forces have stepped onto U.S. soil.
Approximately 14 hours ago, all said forces have been confirmed killed in action.
Approximately 10 hours ago, all U.S. sirens have begun to scream.
Approximately 7 hours ago, all U.S. satellites have self-destructed. The Americans aboard the International Space Station have been reported to have committed suicide.
Approximately 5 hours ago, spy planes have revealed and reported no activity in any coastal U.S. city, civilian or military.
Approximately 3 hours ago, major population centers in Mexico and Canada have been evacuated.
Approximately 2 hours ago, Russia has reported multiple explosions in Anchorage, Alaska.
Approximately 1 hour ago, a spy plane has sent one last signal before being shot down.
An image of a large rocket, with what he now been reported to have a nuclear warhead.
Approximately 30 minutes ago, all major world cities have begun evacuating.
Approximately 10 seconds ago, the first and last signal has been out from the U.S. Government.
Approximately 5 seconds ago, multiple launches have been detected.
4
3
2
The message read,
1
"Happy Independence Day." | "20, 19, 18."
The television had cut off the rerun broadcast of the Fourth of July fireworks. It appeared almost like those emergency service testing broadcasts.
"17, 16, 15."
I wonder what this countdown is for. Typically the broadcasts state that this is a test and blare that jarring obnoxious alarm. This program had an electronic sounding voice counting down the numbers as they changed on the screen.
"14, 13, 12."
My phone began to chime, signaling an incoming call. The caller ID read my sister's name. She was currently on vacation in Tokyo, so this must be important.
"11, 10, 9."
"Hey Gina, are you getting this weird countdown I'm seeing right now?" My heart began to pound. "Yes," I whispered into the phone. This was not a test. Something was happening if Shannon was seeing this same countdown in Tokyo.
"8, 7, 6."
"Shannon, you haven't seen the news today have you?" "Well yeah," she huffed. "Just the same boring headlines about Trump." I pulled my phone away from my ear to open my news app.
"5."
The headlines read, "Trump Signs Executive Order to Cut all Political and Financial Ties Internationally".
"4."
They read, "USA, China, and Russia on Brink of Nuclear War Following New Executive Order".
"3."
I felt tears start to drip down my face as I helplessly watched the countdown continue.
"2."
"Shannon, I love you."
"1."
"I love you too sis. Are you ok? You sound like you're cry-"
The line went dead. | 2017-06-25T09:38:50 | 2017-06-25T08:53:10 | 283 | 34 |
[WP]: You find yourself in a dark room, standing in the middle of a pentagram. On each corner is your favourite meal, your favourite drink, some insence, a religious item and the tools of your favourite hobby. Around you are teenagers, all shocked that they actually managed to summon you. | “Ave Imperator!”
Those were words I heard as I appeared in a dark room in a puff of steam, that smelled sickly sweet, like bubblegum.
Looking around I saw 5 teens, standing at the points of a crude chalk pentagram. Each stood looking agape at me, with a mix of shock and revulsion on their faces - nothing out of the ordinary for me of course.
At the feet of the first teen sat a monster share bag of extra dusty Cheetos. “Only one?” I asked disheartened, “that’s not going to last long.”. With that I ripped open the bag and grabbed a handful of the chips, stuffing them into my cavernous maw.
Turning to the second I saw a 2 litre bottle of Mountain Dew in front of him. Without even speaking I downed the entire bottle in 1 go then belched so loudly the weakling almost collapsed at my feet.
The next I saw was a female, kneeling as she should before someone as grand as myself. She was frantically lighting more incense sticks but even with the faggot she already had smouldering I could see her struggle to remain composed as my aroma overwhelmed her weak senses.
As I turned to the next my eyes lit up; in his hands was a treasure beyond compare; the newest of the 8th codexes - collectors edition obviously - unopened and untouched.
I seized my prize from the boy, he was unworthy to hold such an item. Clawing off the cellophane I frantically devoured the text, the cheese on my fingers staining the cover as I sought the cheese within.
Turning to the last, clearly the alpha male by his excellent fashion sense; a *Kidomo no Jikan* tshirt and a fine beard under his chin. In his hands he held the entire Citadel range, each pot pristine and ready for me to use to create my pro level masterpieces.
“Michael” whispered one of the boys behind me, “I can’t believe we did it.”
Looking behind the leader I saw the table, arrayed with rows of colourfully painted figurines. “Ah!” I exclaimed walking over “so you are masters of strategic warfare too!”
I picked one of the figures up, my fingers pressed firmly into the chest of the model “White Scars Primaris, hardly an optimum list. So easily countered by a genius such as myself”.
“Michael, seriously. What have we done?”
“So...” I asked, turning to the men before me - the female had no place in this arena. “Which of you will face me first?”
The leader turned to his lessers, a look of pure glee on his face. “We did it!”
I lifted a carry case from the floor and began to set my army before me on the table “I’m running a easy list; just a combined force of Iron hands led by a chapter master on a bike, Guilliman’s elite guard and an armoured column of Vostroyans.”
Behind me Michaels smile got wider still. “We’ve summoned *that guy!*”.
— | I was having a great night. Weather was fine, nothing to worry about, all bills paid, a pizza for myself, And a videogame. Probably the perfect night. Then while playing my game my vision went white for a few seconds. And now I'm here. In the middle of a pentagram. Interestingly, each corner has my favourite meal. Pizza.
And drink. Orange juice. Some incense, A cross and a bike. I love biking. But why the hell am I there?! In the middle of a pentagram?! Am I a demon?
Oh, and there were teenagers around me. All shocked that I'm here. Why though? They must be expecting me. Interesting.
"I...It actually worked! We did it!"
"I can't believe it...."
"What....how...?"
I sighed. "Please explain to me what the heck is happening. I have a game to play - And online games can't be paused."
They started to talk to each other. Whispering. Couldn't hear them. And they were taking too long. I'm probably dead in my game now. What's taking them so long? I'm probably gonna kill some demon judging by the look on their faces and tone of their voices. Interesting. "Why am I here?"
One of them, A girl, started explaining. "You're in a world where magic exists --" Before she could continue, I cut her off. "WAIT WHAT!?"
She continued. "Yes, magic exists here, but"
"Holy s**t can I shoot lasers or ---"
"Let me finish first!"
"Okay."
"In this world, magic exists, but is limited to a person's imagination. The more creative a person is, the more powerful they are."
I talked back, dismayed. "Why can't you guys just do it yourselves? You're teenagers. You can make up anything."
A boy replied. "Not as good as you though. There's some demon or entity controlling our friend. She could die. And before you ask, Not even death is controllable here."
Hesitant, I complied. "Fine. But send me back once we're done."
"Deal."
We walked downstairs, Made of wood. The stairway was dimly lit, And each step I take makes a creaking noise. The stairway was long and dusty, But the subtle noises of pain from below is frightening. Indescribably terrible.
I can't take it anymore. Those screams of pain... My life... It reminded me of something I lost.
"H-How much longer until we're there?"
"We're here."
A door opened, And I couldn't believe what I saw. A girl being tortured in every way possible. Mostly mentally, Something was inside her mind. Like... her. It's almost the same.
"Here. Just... do your thing."
I focused all my mind power into a ball. A bright ball the size of my fist. I tossed it at the girl, And smoke came out of her. She passed out and fell unconscious. I passed out as well. Can't open my eyes. Can only hear faint voices.
"Bring him back. I kinda feel bad for him.
And in an instant I'm back in my home. My PC was in sleep mode, But that girl I saved. She looked exactly like the one I lost. The one that died because of my selfishness. It was my fault. Mine.
| 2017-10-08T13:08:12 | 2017-10-08T05:55:49 | 85 | 37 |
[WP] You die and find yourself at the gates of heaven, but they're rusted and hanging open. The entire place seems abandoned. | "Pearly gates, my ass," I muttered to myself as I took in the ungodly sight before me.
To say I was not in the best mood was an understatement. Mere minutes before, my soul left my mortal body after the vending machine on my floor toppled over and made a human yoga mat out of me. I always wondered how I would go throughout my life, but never in my wildest dream could I have hypothesized what actually came to pass. All over a bag of Rold Gold Original Tiny Twist Pretzels.
The next thing I knew I was standing before Heaven's corroded gates. Although chagrined, I reasoned there was no possible way to turn back now and made my way past the entrance.
What lie beyond were acres of dead, patchy grass extending into a horizon cluttered with leafless wisteria trees. A bleak, sepia-toned rainbow decorated the sky. I noticed what looked like a flyer by my foot. Fueled by disbelief and intrigue, I stooped to the ground to pick it up. My eyes adjusted to read the following:
"GREETINGS, FELLOW ANGELS
WE REGRET TO INFORM THEE YOND HEAVEN HAST RELOCATED.
HERE IS OUR NEW ADDRESS:
2911 JEREMIAH WAY
BUFORD, WY
P.O. BOX 18313
WE ARE TERRIBLY SORRY FOR THE INCONVENIENCE."
Of all the godawful ways to begin my journey in the afterlife. | I walk in, not feeling my steps as if I'm gliding, over the ground that breathes a soft light. It's all ground for miles on end.
I feel as if I should be remembering 26 years of a life, but the emotions are present, the images are not. I only barely recollect a second of it, a group of masked figures looking over me. I don't even quite know what I look like, or what I'm wearing now -- I feel nothing physically.
There are intense leftover feelings of betrayal and anger, to a certain extent guilt, and a sudden rush of a mix of calmness and shock. I deeply miss whatever I had, even if I can remember any of it. As I keep walking, I strongly hope I can be brought back. I'm probably in a coma.
I glide over what feels like several thousand miles, over what's probably several days, but I'm not tired, and it seems only moments ago that I entered those very same rusty gates. I finally spot a man, mid-20's, crying bitterly.
He tells me he's been here for many months, and has found no God in his path, that he's as lost as I am. *"This whole thing is so inconclusive,"* he says. That there's no booming voice guiding him where to go next, and it's his job to make peace with his situation.
I want to console him, but don't know how. He thinks about what he said, calms down, and breathes a long sigh as he looks at me with genuine happiness, like an insomniac that slept for the first time, as he begins fading away. I ask him, "Do you know where we go next?"
*"No."*
and he disappears, as I keep searching for others. | 2018-09-06T20:16:08 | 2018-09-06T16:38:53 | 147 | 24 |
[WP] You are a princess that owns a pet dragon. You are getting tired of constantly having to defend your pet against knights attempting to "slay the dragon and rescue the princess". | “I would slay this fiend for thee and gain your hand in marriage.” The knight said excitedly. *Ugh no thanks why is it always marriage with these virgin losers*
“Oh you’re so gallant Sir knight. It’s terrible what the dragon makes me do.” I gracefully faint playing my role properly. I hate this part to be honest. Playing defensless just to stroke these fragil losers’ egos. *Can’t they pick a woman who can kill a dragon by herself? Why do they need to be the man to save the day.*
He let out a scream as he charged my friend, Narith, the silver dragon. Well playing the damsel in distress was all worth it for this part-- the epic battle.
The nameless knight ducked under a plume of fire as he rolled up his short sword and shield at the ready. The dragon clawed at his shield rending it to bits, and the knight gracefully stabbed the dragons forearm in response. Narith let out of shriek of pain and flapped his mighty wings knocking the knight off of his feet.
The knight groaned as he tried to crawl away, but Narith was too fast. Narith leaped forward grasping the opportunity to pin the knight under his massive bodyweight.
I surreptitiously snacked on meat pastry while watching enraptured. This knight was better than many before him, but it made no difference.
Narith shifted his weight and the knight let out a shriek of agony.. Desperate he pulled out a dagger and began jamming it into the massive dragonclaw. Fluids and goop leaked everywhere as the dragon roared in rage, finally tightening his grip. The knight’s face was ruined by an explosion of blood coming out from his mouth as I could clearly hear the bones cracking.
I finished off my meat pastry, and walked over to Narith. “Thanks buddy. Real bore that one.”
Narith nodded and wrred. I reached up to his leg and opened the silver access panel inspecting the damage. *Not bad, only need to replace the fluid actuator lines, some tubing and replace the metal armor on his claw. I can probably do that in a day, long before the next loser shows up.*
| Thank heavens Shadow had impenetrable skin.
Why are knights so pesky? Is it that it intimidates them that a woman has a keep, filled with only women and children not of age, and no man?
Is it a fear of dragons? My poor Shadow wouldn't hurt a fly, except for the occasional sheep willingly given to her, or another pesky Knight who tried to stab her in her sleep. Emphasis on tried.
Or is it that the bards still talk of the time where these Dundee-headed knights would slay dragons, and the Princess would forever be grateful, and they would get a keep and a wench to screw? Did the idea that I had tamed the dragon not penetrate their thick helms?
I've tried everything. I tried sending messengers to every kingdom and castle and keep. I tried placing large planks with the message "dragon is tame, go in peace".
Perhaps they are tempted by a woman rules a keep? Could they not entertain the thought that like them, I too, prefer the curves of women.......
So let them try and burn, I decided. Shadow couldn't be harmed, and she wouldn't attack unless ordered by me or provoked. But that only doubled the number of knights. More and more knights tried to conquer Shadow, and in essence, me.
But that all changed yesterday.
Llysfaen, one of the most famed seamstresses and tanners of the land, visited my court. It is no secret that I, the Queen of Llanfairfechan, was promiscuous amongst women, and, well, she had often found herself beside me in.... Irrelevant.
Yesterday, she presented an idea. Shadow was beloved to everyone in the keep, and she found a way to discourage knights from trying to kill her.
When I saw it, I couldn't believe it.
This would strike fear into the hearts of all those foolish knights.
Rumors spread throughout the land. Finally, those knights stopped.
Then they sent an army with a Duke.
But we were prepared.
Out came shadow, clad in iron and chain mail, spewing fire and demolishing the army. And atop her, rode I.
I, Lilith, Queen of Llanfairfechan. Clad in full armor. My beloved pet Shadow, turned into my mount.
A force of Fire and Metal.
And then, that look of fear in every soldier, in every knight, told me that long after me, bards would still sing tales of my glory and my fury. | 2019-01-09T06:40:51 | 2019-01-09T06:35:55 | 1,597 | 37 |
[WP] You are a princess that owns a pet dragon. You are getting tired of constantly having to defend your pet against knights attempting to "slay the dragon and rescue the princess". | "Kinda short for a knight, aren't you?"
The words hung in the air. Sir Gregory was taken aback. He was expecting the princess to be excited to see him or terrified of the dragon. Condescension was an emotion he never entertained.
"Oh Gods, you reek. No, this won't do. If you wish to rescue me *properly* I insist you go have a bath." She wrinkled her nose and took a step back, disgust on her face.
"Your Highness, this isn't the time. The dragon is still about-"
"The dragon has been here seven years. I'm sure she can wait until you're presentable. I mean *really*. How would you feel if you opened that door and found a centaur here? Because you smell like a centaur." The princess waived her hand dismissively. "The baths are down the hall to the right. I have left some mint on the vanity in case you don't want your first kiss to cause me to vomit."
Sir Gregory flustered. "I.. Uh.. Alright."
"Would you like a new suit of armor? That looks really ratty?"
"This was my grandfather's armor!"
"Looks like he inherited it too."
"That does it!" Sir Gregory took off his helm and threw it to the floor with a loud clang. "I came here through driving rain and scorching deserts! I endured countless hardships just to come here for *you*! I did this all for you. You should have the courtesy to show me some respect."
"You're some rich asshole who thinks I'll suck your dick and make you king just because you killed a, sorry, because you *intend* to kill a dragon. I didn't ask you to come here stinking of horse and threatening to kill the only friend I have had for seven years."
"You know what? I don't have to deal with this shit." Sir Gregory's voice broke as tears welled in his eyes. He picked up and put his helmet back on. "I'm a great knight. There are lots of women at court who would love to marry me." He started to leave, then turned in the doorway. "And your kingdom is shit anyway. Wench!"
"Don't let the porticulus hit your ass on the way out!"
"Arrgh!" He screamed as he stormed off muttering under his breath. "Stupid wench. Probably isn't even a virgin. I'm a nice knight. I wanted to rescue her. Doesn't that mean anything?" As promised the porticulus slams shut right behind him. The drawbridge starts to rise as he nears the end, forcing him to jump the last step.
"Gods damn it!" He curses, turning to yell back at the keep. "When you are old and ugly and alone you will look back at this day as the biggest mistake of your life!"
"At least I'm not old and ugly now!" The princess yelled down from a window.
"I'm not old I'm twenty seven!"
"I bet you still live with your parents."
"Fuck you," Sir Gregory turns and starts storming off toward a tree with a short length of rope tied to it. He turns back and yells. "Where is my horse!?"
"I don't know where your stupid horse is. Where is my dragon?"
"I didn't even see your dragon." He points at the princess. "If your dragon ate my horse you owe me a horse!"
"If my dragon got sick eating your stinking horse you owe me a dragon."
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm not buying you a dragon."
"Then I'm not buying you a horse."
"Screw this. I'm going back to court and I'm telling everyone you're a dragon's wench and you'll never get rescued!"
"Have a pleasant walk," the princess called in a sing-song voice.
"Fuck you!!" | I was in the midst of cleaning, scrubbing at an extra tough stain on the floor, when I was distracted by some noise at the door. Not swearing - a lady should never take foul words into her mouth - I rose from the floor and the bucket of cold soap water whilst using the back of my hand to push some loose strands of hair away from my face.
A short few minutes later I was heading towards the hallway, or what I liked to think of as such: a long, narrow passageway lit by blazing torches - one must pay heed to traditions - causing shadows to dance on the rough walls and lending its dark corners an eerie touch. *Just perfect*, I mused, as always when passing though. *Just perfect.* There were few things as important as keeping up with appearance, people did expect one to live in a certain way and thus one must live up to those expectations. How else would the world look?
A loud banging on the iron-framed wooden door brought my attention back. *Oh. Right. A visitor.* A quick look down asserted that my dress was indeed free from stains and wrinkles and quite presentable, and my left hand quickly adjusted the tiara slightly.
“I have come to rescue thee, fair maiden!” the mustache adorned knight at the door cried as I opened it. “I have come to rescue thee and slay the dragon!” I sighed inwardly to the styling of his facial hair. Really, why did they *always* have to go for quantity over quality?
Taking care not to let any of those thoughts show of my face I let my lower lip tremble slightly as my eyes widened.
“Hush, please, or you’ll waken him from his slumber. Be quiet, and I will take you to him.” I motioned for him to follow me inwards along the tunnel with its flickering lights - *really, just perfect* \- slowly quickening the pace to give an air of necessary haste. Finally pausing outside the door at the end of the corridor I shot him a quick glance and pointedly nodded to his still sheathed sword. As he quietly drew it I let the door swing open and stepped aside.
“I have come to challenge thee, abominal beast!” boomed the knight as he entered the quiet room. I winced inwardly at his voice; why did they always feel the need to proclaim their objectives? What was wrong with a bit of serene calmness and quiet? A quite sigh escaped me as I put my left hand on his shoulder and the sharpened dagger in my right hand silently glided along his throat.
“I did tell you not to awaken Herbert”, I told him - quite sullenly - “he’s had a terrible night’s sleep and has been cranky all morning. I just finally managed to put him to sleep. But did you listen? No you did not.” I do not know whether he heard me, his body slumping forward before hitting the floor with a thud, but neither did I care as just then Herbert came strutting along the floor, his little wings flapping to help him maintain balance as he skillfully navigated around the sparse furniture in the room. I knelt and lifted him in my arms, letting his little split tounge playfully lick my cheek as I petted his scaled little head and his tail wiggled excitedly.
“Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy? You’re a good boy!”
*Oh dearie me*, I thought to myself as I suddenly noticed the now slow trickle of blood onto the floor where it had already spread in a large pool. *And just as I was just about to get rid of the old stains in the library.*
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\**
*And here I thought myself to pretty decent in writing in English, guess this challenge set me right about that. Please bear with my typos, grammatical errors and overuse of commas (I do love a good comma!). First submission here, but hopefully not the last because omg how I have missed writing!* | 2019-01-09T11:59:29 | 2019-01-09T10:18:32 | 158 | 80 |
[WP] After WW3 and a century of rebuilding, the world has been at peace for 300 years. We've let go of our violent and aggressive tendencies and abolished war. You are the leader of an alien invasion that sees the Earth as an easy target; but soon you learn we can revert to our warlike past easily. | This was a mistake.
When we arrived the whole planet focused on us as though a great beast was questioning who had awoken it far far to soon.
At the start. Before our intentions were known and we offered them a choice of submit or perish they were excited buzzing around in a frenzy that so many other species had when we first came to them. The curiosity in their eyes burned brightly that they could illuminate the dark mysteries of our universe.
Those flames were extinguished in a heart beat. Replaced by the cold dead eyes of untamed fury that knew no fear. Those weren't the eyes of a race that knew only peace. One of their leaders - female nearing the end of their short life cycle - stepped forward her shaking steps were only achieved by the aid of a short stick.
To those present that day it was something that still haunts us. The aged female showed her teeth, eyes closed, lips curled upwards. And her words resounded in everyone of our warriors and in the everyone of their population.
It was a challenge one that we were not ready for. Just as the galaxy is not ready for them.
"Come and take it." | We got the data. We got the intel. We knew of their past and how violent the the humans were. After continuing to watch the humans for the past 300 Earth years they become peaceful after their third global conflict. The casualties reached to 4 billion by the time it ended. The country in the western hemisphere known as "The United States" were the most affective in that war. Their only equal was another country called "Russia" and they were using strategies that allowed them to push back many of their opposing forces. The war ended wuth only the remnants of their governments. They came together and created a unified government to prevent such loss of life again. Now, we invade. They are distant from their violent past. We sent our ships to destroy their cities and show them who their masters will be. I made a fatal mistake of underestimating the humans. It only took them 1 months for them to fully mobilize their resources to war. Their soldiers were givin weapons that pierced our shields and armor. They used what ever military resource the had to down one of our ships. They reverse engineered our technology and their unity has been strengthened by the fact that we have come to dominate them. Humans, their greatest asset is not their numbers or intelligence, it is their will. There are now soldiers who have decimated our forces. Now, they have come to capture me. | 2019-02-26T09:23:50 | 2019-02-26T07:32:54 | 227 | 70 |
[WP] After WW3 and a century of rebuilding, the world has been at peace for 300 years. We've let go of our violent and aggressive tendencies and abolished war. You are the leader of an alien invasion that sees the Earth as an easy target; but soon you learn we can revert to our warlike past easily. | This was a mistake.
When we arrived the whole planet focused on us as though a great beast was questioning who had awoken it far far to soon.
At the start. Before our intentions were known and we offered them a choice of submit or perish they were excited buzzing around in a frenzy that so many other species had when we first came to them. The curiosity in their eyes burned brightly that they could illuminate the dark mysteries of our universe.
Those flames were extinguished in a heart beat. Replaced by the cold dead eyes of untamed fury that knew no fear. Those weren't the eyes of a race that knew only peace. One of their leaders - female nearing the end of their short life cycle - stepped forward her shaking steps were only achieved by the aid of a short stick.
To those present that day it was something that still haunts us. The aged female showed her teeth, eyes closed, lips curled upwards. And her words resounded in everyone of our warriors and in the everyone of their population.
It was a challenge one that we were not ready for. Just as the galaxy is not ready for them.
"Come and take it." | — Dude, come check it out
— My mom doesnt want me to hang out with you
— Come on, she wont find out. Look at this — he said turning the telescope-like device to his friend — look at that planet.
— The red one?
— No no dude, the blue one next to it.
— What about it?
— Look closer — he said and zoom it in.
— Yeah it has some life, so?
— Not only that. They have some kind of weird tall houses to live all together. Isn't that cute? They all go in big shared cars.
— Aww they even have some small spaceships to move around their tiny planet.
— See!? Lets do it.
— Do what?
— Quick raid, in and out. Let's go.
— I don't know man, Last planet got me some scratches and my mom found out.
— Look at them man, they don't have any weapons. I've watching for a couple of days. Not even a runing war. It's an easy raid. We go, shoot some bridges, take a couple of them put some stuff up their but, kill their leader... 20 minutes and we are back.
--------------
Alien phone ring
— You did what to my spacecraft?
Hmhmhm
— They did what to an atom??
Hm
— And you where just passing by... Okey hold up. I finish my tea and i pick you guys up
| 2019-02-26T09:23:50 | 2019-02-26T07:46:38 | 227 | 35 |
[WP] After WW3 and a century of rebuilding, the world has been at peace for 300 years. We've let go of our violent and aggressive tendencies and abolished war. You are the leader of an alien invasion that sees the Earth as an easy target; but soon you learn we can revert to our warlike past easily. | This is commander Xxar speaking. I am ordering all troops to retreat. I repeat, all troops must retreat. We were wrong about these creatures. On the surface, they seemed weak, they seemed like non-intelligent vermin. They hadn't even developer nuclear fusion for vxyyr's sake!
Once we had landed, they approached us with caution but friendliness. We scoffed at this and massacred them. At first, they fled like bugs. Then, the warmachines arrived. You see, the entire planet had been at peace for 300 years. Humans, however, had kept their weapons, locked away and taken care of in case something would happen. The battallion's mothership was destroyed by nuclear bombs. They used _nuclear power_ as bombs!
The mothership crashed down onto the earth. The humans were quick to study and replicate its delicate technology. We must have sent their technology five thousand years into the future. In the span of one moon rotation, they went from not having nuclear fusion to having lightspeed engines.
One can only hope they didn't find the coordinates to our home planet stored in the mothership's database. | — Dude, come check it out
— My mom doesnt want me to hang out with you
— Come on, she wont find out. Look at this — he said turning the telescope-like device to his friend — look at that planet.
— The red one?
— No no dude, the blue one next to it.
— What about it?
— Look closer — he said and zoom it in.
— Yeah it has some life, so?
— Not only that. They have some kind of weird tall houses to live all together. Isn't that cute? They all go in big shared cars.
— Aww they even have some small spaceships to move around their tiny planet.
— See!? Lets do it.
— Do what?
— Quick raid, in and out. Let's go.
— I don't know man, Last planet got me some scratches and my mom found out.
— Look at them man, they don't have any weapons. I've watching for a couple of days. Not even a runing war. It's an easy raid. We go, shoot some bridges, take a couple of them put some stuff up their but, kill their leader... 20 minutes and we are back.
--------------
Alien phone ring
— You did what to my spacecraft?
Hmhmhm
— They did what to an atom??
Hm
— And you where just passing by... Okey hold up. I finish my tea and i pick you guys up
| 2019-02-26T09:29:33 | 2019-02-26T07:46:38 | 60 | 35 |
[WP] you’re eating at a nice restaurant alone when suddenly time seems to stop. You can still move freely but everyone else is completely frozen and unaware of it. Except for one of the waiters who laughs maniacally as he goes around pickpocketing everyone. He hasn’t noticed you moving yet | Mitch stopped mid-chew, a bit of cheese still dangling of his lip. His eyes darted around the room first, then he threw his head left to right, twisting his body a little. He let go of his slice of pizza, which slopped down unto his plate, and looked at his girlfriend sitting across from him.
"Honey?"
The yell put him at full attention, his spine as straight as an arrow. He could hear the blood pumping wildly in his temples. The yell turned to laughter, unwittingly making the dough Mitch had in his mouth slide down his throat. He quickly covered his mouth to muffle the coughs, but just as he swallowed his food, the laughing stopped and the stomp of heavy footsteps made him freeze in place, his chin down to hide his face.
The clean cut waiter came into view at the end of the dining hall. His tall lanky figure and long neck made him look like an animal scanning for predators. Mitch only moved his eyes to catch a glimpse of the man, staying as still as he could. The waiter took a few steps forward, a few tables away from him.
"Hello?"
Mitch stayed still. He felt himself releasing his breath slowly, focusing on the rise and fall of his chest, his eyes locked on his plate. The waiter cocked his ear, took his towel out of his back pocket, and chucked it towards the table opposite of where Mitch was sitting. The towel fell onto the outstretched hand of a woman, frozen mid laughter with her eyes closed.
*Don't blink. Don't blink. Don't blink. Don-*
The waiter scoffed then started chuckling again, the laugh the same as before. Mitch moved his gaze towards the him as he started singing to himself and approached nearby tables, taking wallets out out of purses and pockets. No one was moving, no one was stopping him.
He was getting closer. When his back was turned to him, Mitch slowly and quietly moved his hand towards the fork by his plate. The waiter, still singing and dancing, suddenly twirled just as Mitch was about to grasp it. Mitch blinked, then held his breath. The waited, facing Mitch, continued to dance, oblivious to Mitch's change in position. The moment he had his back turned again, Mitch grasped the fork.
The waiter suddenly hopped right next to Mitch's table, picking up a the bottle of Ketchup and bringing it up to his mouth like a microphone. Mitch's chest tightened, and he couldn't breathe even if he had wanted too. He tightened his grip on the fork as the waiter sang, and grabbed the wallet out of his girlfriend's purse.
Any moment now. Mitch's hands were clammy, and he heard his teeth grinding as he clenched them. The waiter turned towards Mitch, let out one more off key yell into the ketchup bottle, and extended his hand towards Mitch.
He stopped just as Mitch turned his head and locked eyes with him. The stare had enough power in it to make a bear turn back. Though it was only for a moment, it felt like an eternity.
Suddenly, the restaurant doors burst open with a bang and a flash. Mitch fell off his chair unto the ground, blind, his ears ringing. After a moment he saw three men wearing full body armour, black with red streaks of light emanating from them. A strange full head mask covered their features, the glass of the eyes tinted dark red. When he could see again he counted three of them, with two of them wrestling the waiter on the ground and placing him in massive handcuffs which covered the entirety of his hands. As the ringing in his ears died down, he began to hear one of the men talking.
"^(...for) ^(violating) law 29B6 of the Penal Time Code. You will be brought to to Zardan Prison until your hearing at 15:00 hours vector time, where you will face a precursory trial documenting all of your crimes. Do you understand what I just told you?"
The waiter cried, pleading as the three men took him away. The last man then turned his head towards Mitch, his breathing audible through his mask. Mitch could feel how stupid his face must have looked, frozen in fear.
"Nice fork." the man said, before walking away.
Mitch watched him as he exited out of the door, then blinked.
"Honey, what are you doing on the floor?" Mitch looked up at his girlfriend, who was smiling at him while chewing on her pizza. The world around him continued as normal.
"I...dropped my fork."
&#x200B; | Jacob, sitting where he had sat for the last forty-five minutes, glanced down at his watch once again. The watch wasn't a Rolex, but it was sturdy and served his purpose well; for it told him that his date had quite likely stood him up. Again. With a deep inhalation, venting frustration out into the restaurant, he reached for his glass of wine; which, he didn't even care for. Abigail liked wine. So, he had ordered a bottle with a thrumming anticipation of what he hoped would come after dinner. Apparently, the harp strings of his heart thrummed to a different melody than Abigail's; as he was here, drinking wine he did not like, and Abigail was engaged elsewhere.
&#x200B;
Placing the glass back upon the table, aligning it perfectly with its condensation defined resting place, Jacob felt that something was amiss. The glass felt heavier than it should have been, like it was made of lead instead of glass. Cocking his head, giving his good ear an opportunity to hear crystal clear, a thrumming silence greeted him instead of the murmuring chatter of couples far more happily engaged than himself. He quickly made an adjustment in the chair, certain that the appointment he had been putting off was now certifiably needed, and glanced surreptitiously around the room.
&#x200B;
His mother had spent a laborious amount of time hammering good manners into his skull during the twenty three years he had spent under her roof. He could set a place setting for a King, and hold a conversation with a Sultan, and nary a sign of sweat would bead his brow. However, upon seeing the patrons, of the finest dining establishment in the city, caught in a statuesque dream state rendered him speechless, with a mouth agape for the visitation of flies. Not, the visage that his stately mother would have approved of. Worry traced its way from the bottom of his skull to the tip of his spine, sending the small hairs racing upwards along his back. The goose flesh stood out upon his arms and legs, causing the hairs there to quiver without the assistance of a draft. Laughter emanated from the corner he could not easily see.
&#x200B;
From the corner of his eye, Jacob could see a penguin clad waiter step out from the shadows. There was a golden watch, hung upon a striking silver chain, suspended from the waiter's right hand. Jacob's good ear, sans appointment, caught the faintest sound *tick tock, tick tock,* which seemed to echo from the very walls of the restaurant themselves. Fear, and a longing for greater understanding, held him fast in his seat. He watched, in growing anticipation of horror, as the waiter went to each table and unceremoniously patted them down. He watched as each man was squeezed for a wallet, watch, cuff link, anything that may have any value. Even worse, to his well mannered upbringing, were the women of the establishment, who were unceremoniously groped in the waiter's determination to pry every piece of valuable metal off of their prone bodies and replace them into his pockets. All the while, Jacob strained to hear the mumbling words that the waiter spewed as he went from table to table. Too much time, and not enough time, had transpired and the waiter was mumbling at Jacob's own table. Without any thought given, Jacob forced himself back from the table, toppling the chair in his wake. He would never be put under such humiliation, especially from the likes of a crazy man dressed in the caricature of a waiter. For an eternity the chair fell, and Jacob met the eyes of madness that gleamed feverishly from the sockets of the tuxedo garbed waiter. The air hung heavy in anticipation, the ticking of the clock emanated from the walls in a frenzy. The chair struck the floor in a discordant note, and the restaurant erupted into a cacophony of sound.
&#x200B;
Jacob, disoriented and disturbed, looked about himself in a confusion. He picked up the chair which he barely remembered toppling, and sat back down to continue his vigil for Abigail. The cries of the female patrons filled his ears, both bad and not so good, when they discovered that their jewelry was no longer adorned upon their neck and ears. Jacob listened intently as the men in the restaurant realized that their wallets no longer held council with their pockets. With a deep inhalation of despair, worried that the dating world was no longer relevant, he glanced up and saw Abigail waltzing towards him. The words of apologies she presented him meant nothing as he gazed into her wildfire eyes, and poured each of them another glass of wine. After each small joke, Abigail's laughter sped down this back, causing the hairs there to quiver in an awful anticipation. Jacob wondered if he would have been better suited to spend the remaining evening alone. | 2019-03-24T04:24:23 | 2019-03-24T03:34:14 | 31 | 11 |
[WP]: Suddenly, everyone with tattoos gains powers related to the tattoo. Tattoos of flames, you control fire. A tattoo of a gecko, you can climb on walls. All dudes with "tribal" tattoos have strangely bonded together. | 'The All Seeing Eye' honestly I just thought it looked cool. I can't exactly 'think' much these days. I rarely get the chance.
I can see the Universe, it truly is beautiful, I see the chaos that created it and the peace that will, or already has, brought it back together.
It's hard to tell these days, these centuries, millennia. Where and when I am is a difficult concept even for an all knowing being. I am everywhere now, every when.
I can see them all down there, I find them profoundly lucky. Some can be heroes, 'I' can do nothing. I am nothing. I am no one. I am truth. I am everything. I am alone.
I want to be me again. | “For the love of all that is holy, please Mom!” I shouted, but I knew it was all for naught. The pounding on the door increased. “I love you, but not in that way. You’ve got to stop, you’re hurting yourself!” But still she threw herself against the door. The old hinges began to buckle against the strength of someone without care of bodily harm. I backed away slowly, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw a strange wave of movement. The pounding continued, but I was too awestruck by what I saw to care. An entire wave of mothers, streaming down the street, throwing caution into the wind just to be one step closer. One step closer to me. The door finally gave way as mothers burst into my tiny apartment. As I was swallowed up, it dawned on me. All I could muster was a slight chuckle, and, in a whispered voice, said “I love you, mom...” | 2019-05-07T09:09:10 | 2019-05-07T08:50:39 | 30 | 20 |
[WP] You hate your boring call centre job. Every day idiots call you up with stupid questions they could easily figure out themselves. Yes you have to shoot them in the head. No there is no cure if you're bitten. It's a few years now into the zombie apocalypse and this is the Call Centre of the Dead | *Ring ring.*
"HELP! The zombies are right behind me and-"
"Good morning, Tracy speaking. Have you tried turning it off and on again?"
"The-the what?"
"Your gun safety. Big black dial on the side of your rifle. Can't miss it."
"What? What dial?"
"You are holding a CCD rifle? If you are a customer of SurvivorLink I'm afraid you'll have to call them instead."
"No. Yes. I'm CCD."
"Excellent. Now if you-"
"Hold on."
The crack of rifle-butt on skull thudded through the phone speaker.
"Die! Die! Ok, Tracy I think I see what you're talking about."
*Flick.*
*BANG. BANG. BANG.*
"Haha! Gotcha, ya rotten fleshbags! Thanks a bunch, Tracy."
"That's great to hear. Have a nice day, sir. Please leave a review if you're satisfied with your experience. My manager would appreciate it."
*Click*.
*Ring Ring.*
"Oh my God. They're in my house what do I do?!"
"Good morning, Tracy speaking. Have you tried-"
"They've got Joe. Oh my god they've got Joe. Send help! I need help right now!"
"Sure thing, ma'am. I'll put you down right away."
The riffle of a notebook flipping to page 324. A click of a ballpoint pen.
"Your name ma'am?"
"Ahhh! They've reached the kitchen! Uh, my name's Gladis."
"Oh, my mom's name's Gladis. How lovely. And your contact number, Gladis? Either mobile or landline is fine."
"Uh. 0-4-2-1- Ahh! They've breached the door! Uh. 3-1-6-8- Ahh! They've got my leg!"
The scribbling of pen on paper stopped as heavy breathing replaced the voice on the speaker.
"Oh God. It's black. It's all going black."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Gladis. If you're satisfied with your experience please leave a review. Have a nice day."
*Click.*
*Ring ring*.
"Is this the Call Centre of the Dead?"
"Good morning, Tracy speaking. Yes, this is CCD."
"Good. Good. I need you to listen carefully and calmly, Tracy. I've done it. I've created the cure. Now I need you to patch me to the CEO. I'll send him the formula and we're gonna save the frikken world."
"Hi, sir. I regret to inform you CCD does not accept unsolicited advice."
"What? It's the goddamn cure for this this hell! Just send me the frik through!"
"Sir, I can redirect you to my manager if you would like."
"Okay. Fine."
A plastic chair scraped against corporate carpet. Then more scraping and a *plonk*.
"Sorry, he's out for lunch. Is there anything else I can help you with?"
"What? What the fu... Look. What's the email address of your R&D department?"
"I'm afraid our email servers are full, sir. Part of the reason company policy rejects unsolicited advice now. We do accept fax though, the number is on our website."
Mumbled curses filtered through the headset.
"Fine. I'll do it. I'm sending it through now. Let me know when you've got it. I need that document in the hands of your head scientist pronto."
Tapping on the side of the fax machine. Then kicking. *Bzzzzzz.*
"Yup, got it. Lovely diagrams. My name's Tracy, have a nice day."
*Click.*
*Whish*. Rattle of a trashcan.
r/bobotheturtle | "Good morning. Call centre of the dead. How may I help you today?"
"Dude come on. I've been on hold for ten minutes now. I..."
"Yeah, we're having a high call volume today." We weren't really. I got good price on turnips so I just had to.
"Ok, so I'm stuck in a grocery store and "
"Sorry to interrupt you sir. Can you confirm a few things for me first?"
"Yeah, OK. But just hurry up, yeah?"
"Sure sir. OK so I am talking to Wilbur Smith. You are located at 45 Lakeshore."
"Yes. That's correct. So there's these two..."
"Hang on sir. I also want to confirm your protection policy number. You bought the extended plan on security. The policy number is 23453758."
"23457358."
"Sorry sir?"
"It's 23457358."
"Yes sir. That's what I said."
"No you said... never mind. You have it correct now, right?"
"Yes sir. 23453758. OK so..."
"No. Wait. It's 23457358."
"Sorry sir, what was that? There was some disturbance on the phone and I didn't get you. Can you please move to an area with slightly less disturbance."
"I would if I could. But there's zombies everywhere. You have to help me."
"Yes sir. Absolutely. So under your policy number 23457358, you are entitled to unlimited phone support. Plus limited on site help."
"Yes I know."
"Ok sir. So what's your problem?"
"Zombies. They are everywhere. I am surrounded."
"Ah, I see. So where are you exactly?"
"I'm at a grocery store."
"What grocery store sir?"
"Longo's. Near Bay and University intersection."
"Ah, I know that one. There's still some good stuff there."
"Yeah, that's what I thought. But then I came here and it's insane."
"Right sir. So are you in a secure place right now?"
"Yes, I managed to get an office of sorts and close the door. But they are out there, banging on the door."
"I see. Can you share what material you have with you?"
"Nothing much. A few papers. Some office supplies. An old computer. Ah, I have a stapler too."
"Staplers, unlike the movies are rather useless in these scenarios sir. Are you a smoker sir? Do you have a lighter?"
"Yes. I do have a lighter. I know I know it's not good for me. But time's are stressful and this helps."
"Sure. Understandable. OK let me just put you on hold."
"Oh come on."
"Sir, we do need a moment to check on this. I will be right back."
I checked the my game again. Shit. Missed out on some good stuff. Oh well. I quickly checked the records from the building. Once I had what I needed, I was back on the phone again.
"Hello. Thanks for holding. So unfortunately, your plan doesn't cover on site support at that location. You are just out of the coverage area by a few blocks."
"Damn it. So what now?"
"Well, we'll help you get out. I need you to throw the computer on the ground and plug it in. We're gonna shock these motherfuckers."
I guided Wilbur to the next steps. I helped him to escape into the vents. Like Die hard was how he put it. He used a lighter to activate the smoke sensors and activating the water sprinklers. The active power line from the computer sent a massive electric surge across the floor, zapping the zombies. It gave him enough time to escape.
Hopefully.
"Wilbur, thank you for calling CCoD. We are always happy to help. If you make it out of here alive, don't forget to tell us how we did. You will get an automated link to send feedback. Thanks again for calling and have a nice day." | 2020-05-12T07:25:12 | 2020-05-12T06:42:59 | 1,637 | 627 |
[WP] You hate your boring call centre job. Every day idiots call you up with stupid questions they could easily figure out themselves. Yes you have to shoot them in the head. No there is no cure if you're bitten. It's a few years now into the zombie apocalypse and this is the Call Centre of the Dead | *A new employee finds a note under the desk of his new job at the "Zombie Hotline". Parting advice from the previous occupant at the desk.*
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I used to work in a call Centre for taxes before this you know?
But there's not much use for that when everyone who pays taxes is dying from stupidity & carelessness. I start my day at 9AM and the usual calls start to trickle in:
"Um hello...my husband went down to the living room...I heard a blast...(tears)...I think he's one of them...will I get infected through the air?" caller 1 hesitantly asked.
"If you stay in that house ma'am, the air will be the least of your problems.." I replied.
Genuine advice streaked with dry sarcasm, my trademark style. It's the only way I can get through the day now. But as time passes, I get fewer and fewer opportunities to showcase what I've cultivated over the years. We were flooded in the beginning- from 9 to 9 , the pay was good and the questions were straightfoward...
"There's a horde coming towards me!!!! What do I do ?!?!!? " a caller once asked.
"Roollll over and *diiiie*.....hahahaha" I once replied.
My supervisor didn't like that line one bit. The call was recorded of course; for quality assurance purposes.
Yeah, Yeah I was an asshole but don't judge me. If you worked this job day in and day out for years- you would feel the same way. If you've ever worked customer service you know exactly what I mean, that first week when you feel motivated, telling yourself that you're gonna treat "everyone equally" and give everyone your "full attention"- what a joke. That racket maybe lasts a month until the cold hard reality of it all sets in. And it *will* set in, I promise.
But if you have to call in to figure out how close you are to death, what am I suppose to do? Are you telling me that you don't know when death is coming towards you- one must fight for their life or run for their life?
Am I supposed to tell you it's gonna be okay?
**Because it's not.**
Our mandate was to help you get through the chaos, to provide a calm voice of reason. Little did you realize, all the tactics we give you - increase the odds of your death 100x. This was always the plan...
*To lead the idiotic masses to their deaths , like buffalo off the cliff.*
It makes it easier to build a new society when only the strong, wealthy, and powerful remain. This was always our agenda dammit, but *you* were never allowed to know that...
I wasn't supposed to know it either. If you are reading this, it means I am dead. In enough time you will learn the sinister secrets of this program and you will either become no different than the "brain dead" you are trying to save people from or you will have so much rage and frustration that you take the other way out...
By the elevator, there is a handgun in a glass case. They will tell you it's for a last resort defense if the undead make it inside the building. However, *that gun has fired more bullets for suicide rather than self defense.*
When the time comes, use it wisely.
Welcome to your *final* job kid, I can promise you that...
\-----------------
*A story by CryptoBombadil* | "Ma'am? Ma'am, please listen to me!"
The frantic shouting on the other end of the line seemed never-ending. I sighed silently to myself. Everyday I had to deal with hysterical people wondering what to do. I knew from the get-go that working in a call center was no picnic. I had done it before; two years for a tech firm. Somehow I had been able to convince myself that this time it would be different. That this time I wouldn't have to deal with complete idiots who couldn't even manage the most simple of tasks. Boy, was I dead wrong.
This... This was way worse. One would think that after four years people would have learned the basics. That they ought to know how to handle what was now everyday-events. But no. Oh no. What was supposed to be a fulfilling job of helping people manage difficult - possibly life-or-death - situations, aiding the ones in need, being a sage advisor for those who most craved it turned out to be little more than a hotline for morons who seemed unable to even tie their own shoes without guidance, let alone survive on their own in this day and age.
I hid my face in my palms and struggled not to let out an audible groan as I continued to listen to the elderly women I had on the line. A quick glance at the system we used to track our calls showed me that she had been jammering on for almost thirteen minutes now, not once allowing me to speak. I had tried, fruitlessly, to interrupt her ramblings a number of times but the manic woman just kept on going.
As the lady left the topic of her recently deceased husband and went on to talk about her estranged daughter I took a deep breath, slumped down in my office chair and kinda zoned out.
I sat in one of the smaller offices on the fifth floor. Due to the lack of space we were only five handlers in the room. I liked it though. We were a tight-knitted group and we had certainly had some fun together. My co-workers were the only reason I hadn't quit this dead-end job a long time ago. I noticed Simon looking over at me with a wide smile. He definetly recognized the look on my face. No wonder. He had dealt with his fair share of calls like my current one hundreds of times; he knew exactly what I was going through.
A brief moment of silence in the earpiece I wore. Was she done? A sat upright in my chair and opened my mouth to finally speak, when the woman began rambling again. Clearly she had just needed a moment to breathe. I cleared my throath loudly as I placed the weight of my head in my left palm, my elbow heavily placed on my desk.
"Ma'am?" I tried again with little effort. No luck. In the corner of my eye I saw Amrita. She sat, intently flipping through books while she at the same time searched the internet and our internal database. Why did she always get the interesting calls? Moments later I heard her say:
"Sir, I belive I have found your answer." Despite living in the U.S. for most of her life you could still hear a faint accent in her voice. We used to light-heartedly mock her because of the old stereotype; an Indian at a call center, even though she were the only Indian at the company. At least as far as I knew. She was definitely in on the joke, though, and often made fun of the situation herself. I liked Amrita. Not just because she was pretty, but also because she was really good at her job and because she was really nice. Always. Towards everyone. It kinda baffled me to be honest. I lost patience with people after mere seconds, but Amrita handled every call as a true professional, no matter how inane the person calling were. | 2020-05-12T08:55:39 | 2020-05-12T06:22:29 | 104 | 67 |
[WP] Every morning when you first look in a mirror, you see a small piece of advise for that day, such as “take the subway to work” or “don’t try the free pizza”. Today, the mirror simply says, “RUN” | **When Daniel asks you to prom, say no.**
“What? Is my brother fucking with me again? How did he know I have a crush on Daniel? Whatever.”
I angrily wipe away the mirror, but it doesn’t smear. The steam, it wiped away, but the words didn’t. I run my hand over it again, smooth and cold. As I pull my hand away, turn and walk out of the bathroom, the message disappears. I don’t notice.
—————————
“That’s not what anarchy is, Jessica. Anarchy is the- holy shit, is Daniel walking over here?” Jessica yelps, spinning my shoulders to make eye contact with him.
“Hey, Luna, can I talk to you for a moment?” He’s looking right at me. There’s no mistaking it, this isn’t like last week when I waved back *even though he wasn’t waving to me*. My eye is drawn outside of the line of his body. There’s a small crowd of 15 of the other popular kids, smirking and giggling.
The mirror. How did my brother...
“What’s going on, Daniel?” I snap.
“Well, I was curious if you wanted to go to prom with me.” He smiles. Out of the corner of my eye I see the group lean in, anticipating thrashing me for thinking I was good enough for a date with him.
“No, you can’t. Maybe you can go find some garbage person who would be a better fit.” My words sting as they leave. I turn and walk away, quickly. The group standing waiting for me to embarrass myself quickly turns their sights to Daniel, and tear him apart for getting turned down by me.
———————-
**When Tollefson offers 5%, counter with 10%.**
My review is today. Holy shit, I can get a 10% raise? I can’t wait to tell Mark. I have to wait until after the meeting. He’s been getting curious the last two years every time I suddenly know to pull him into an alleyway to avoid a car accident, or that I needed to be on the roof that day back in July to talk Haley off the ledge. Man that was a bad day.
I have learned to trust the messages. Every one has made my life better, or helped to make someone else’s better. One day I’ll tell Mark.
———————-
**RUN INTO YOUR FRONT YARD, LEAVE MARK**
Wha-... what? Is something going to happen? I can’t leave Mark, he’s my... trust. I should trust.... the message. They’ve never led me- no, but it’s Mark, I can’t take the chance. I have to. It’s never harmed me before.
I... I start running, down the stairs, throw open the door, and run into the grass, the cool dew quickly sapping the heat from my bare feet.
I just begin to look up at the house, and for a moment, I think there’s a bright light coming from inside. All the windows, bright orange and yellow. All within a second, the glass blows out, the sound of wood splintering and crackling, roof tiles slapping into pavement.
I roll over and look up and where my house was, is nothing. A hole with a foundation on it. My eyes fill with tears as I look down, and there’s a small shard of mirror about 6 inches across. The words slowly appear in small font.
**I’m sorry** | I frowned at the message on the mirror.
"Wow, okay, wow. How could... I'm not even--" I choked on the donut I was eating.
After a coughing fit, I spat out the offending food and grabbed the next one in my morning box of donuts. I set the box down, now empty, and began licking the paltry amount of glaze off my fingers.
"You don't know me. I work out in my own way," I sat, patting my stomach defiantly. I could immediately feel my ribs.
The text grew larger, shivering as it pleaded with me to follow its advice.
*RUN*
"What am I running from, huh? Something scary happening? I don't see anything going on outs--" my chest tightened up for a second. I waited for it to pass like it normally did. Lasted a moment longer than I expected it to before fading away, awaiting the next change to threaten me from the inside.
"I just find it so hypocritical that all you do is pass advice and judgment. I look to you for my validation every day and all you do it tell me what to do. That's stupid," I pointed a bony finger at it.
**RUN**
"Look, I can't go outside because of errands I have to do today, so I don't have any time to get ready to go outside and run, I'm perfectly healthy," I retorted.
**TREADMILL**
"Wow... I can't believe you just... Wow, okay I bought the treadmill for when I was thinking about training for a marathon okay. I'm not doing the marathon anymore so I don't need to train for it," I said, folding my arms.
**RUN**
"No, I don't want to, I'm perfectly fine!" I said, breathing heavily. I was losing my breath just arguing with the thing. "I'm gonna go sit down, all right? Not because I'm tired or am in agony just standing and talking to you, but because I feel like sitting down, okay?"
As I turned away, the message turned to another one, much more urgent than all the previous ones.
***CALL AMBULANCE***
"Whoa, what happened? Is someone hurt next door or something?" I asked.
***CALL AMBULANCE FOR YOU***
"Wow, okay," I said, upset. The tightness in my chest returned, much more aggressively than before. "You think you know so much about me. You think I'm in such a state that I'm going to..." I caught my breath and fell to my knees, "going to hurt myself because I didn't go on the stupid run that you wanted me to go on, huh? Well jokes on you because I'm perfectly hea--"
I fell to the ground, my arm clutching at the pain in my chest willing it to go away. I wiggled my hand into my pocket and pulled out my phone, then threw it across the room as hard as I could, sneering at the mirror. The mirror didn't do anything. It stopped trying to give me advice. I could see my ghastly body in the mirror now, nothing blocking me from watching my writhe in pain on the floor. I had defeated the mirror. It stopped trying to advise me once it knew I was right.
*"That's right, you stupid mirror. I don't need to run,"* I thought, my chest flaring in too much pain for me to say any words. *"I'm perfectly fine."* I thought as my vision faded away.
__________________________
For more stories about spiteful protagonists, come check out /r/Nazer_The_Lazer! | 2020-06-07T22:10:04 | 2020-06-07T20:16:11 | 314 | 184 |
[WP] Every morning when you first look in a mirror, you see a small piece of advise for that day, such as “take the subway to work” or “don’t try the free pizza”. Today, the mirror simply says, “RUN” | I grabbed my backpack and hit the door running. I knew from previous messages which ones meant "now", so I didn't stop to pack.
I got to the end of my block and rounded the corner, taking a quick look back. A car had pulled up in front of my house. *"Run"*
I kept going.
I entered the train station and headed down the escalators. I ducked into the restroom, checked the mirror ... "E" shone back at me. I took off as fast as I could to platform E. Doors were closing. Barely made it.
I settle in, sweating, heart pounding. I try to match my pulse to the calm of the carriage as it picked up speed. I knew what was probably about to h...
*BOOM*
The gunshot sound was deafening in the carriage. "EVERYBODY STAY D..." I tackled him. Zero thought. We are struggling against each other. One thing I knew about the mirror messages was that they were never easy tasks and always worked out better the less I thought. I don't know what weird curse this is but I was frequently put directly in danger and the faster I acted the less lives were at stake. I had caught him by surprise. No murderer or terrorist ever expects retaliation in the very first second of their plan. He was strong for his size, but a woman next to me pins one arm down and we disarm him and subdue him.
Sirens approaching. Multiple people have now helped out and the man is secure. I glance over at the torn wall of the carriage bathroom. The mirror is dangling...
*"Keep running"*
Shit.
I grab my pack. |
It’s hard to say when it started, or even when the first Message came. Most mornings, when I’d go into the bathroom, I might see one in the mirror’s reflection, just in sight in black letters. They usually consisted of advice, telling me to water the cactus next week, or to not go into Subway that day – I was feeling like sushi that afternoon anyway. And, of course, my cactus and I would stay healthy, and not bloated with water or lead. Sometimes it would answer a question, offering the name of a song that I didn’t recall the title for, or maybe a drink that would help me sleep at night. Then there were the questions it posed, and yes, I did want to eat all those sausages. Those times was less “Live, damn you!” and more “Yeah, not advisable, but I won’t stop you.”
Today was like any other. Got out of bed, grabbed a can of pop and heated up the remains of last night’s dinner – sliced heart and pasta. Delicious. Good thing about living alone, you can always make a little too much for dinner and save it for breakfast. I got myself ready for a morning walk, needed the fresh air, and I headed into the bathroom. Now, here’s the thing, my mirror is one of the first things you can see in there. So when I opened the door, I saw it instantly.
&#x200B;
“RUN”
&#x200B;
It was huge, bold, and blood red, scrawled with a terrified haste.
I cautiously approached the mirror, my breath shallow with fear. Years had passed, and not once had I ever seen this before. None of the previous Messages had taken up as much space as they could, nor smeared into a just-legible sight.
But it was evidently a Message, existing in the reflection.
And inside that reflection, was a sanguine mess. | 2020-06-08T01:39:27 | 2020-06-07T23:56:26 | 25 | 17 |
[WP] Every morning when you first look in a mirror, you see a small piece of advise for that day, such as “take the subway to work” or “don’t try the free pizza”. Today, the mirror simply says, “RUN” | I grabbed my backpack and hit the door running. I knew from previous messages which ones meant "now", so I didn't stop to pack.
I got to the end of my block and rounded the corner, taking a quick look back. A car had pulled up in front of my house. *"Run"*
I kept going.
I entered the train station and headed down the escalators. I ducked into the restroom, checked the mirror ... "E" shone back at me. I took off as fast as I could to platform E. Doors were closing. Barely made it.
I settle in, sweating, heart pounding. I try to match my pulse to the calm of the carriage as it picked up speed. I knew what was probably about to h...
*BOOM*
The gunshot sound was deafening in the carriage. "EVERYBODY STAY D..." I tackled him. Zero thought. We are struggling against each other. One thing I knew about the mirror messages was that they were never easy tasks and always worked out better the less I thought. I don't know what weird curse this is but I was frequently put directly in danger and the faster I acted the less lives were at stake. I had caught him by surprise. No murderer or terrorist ever expects retaliation in the very first second of their plan. He was strong for his size, but a woman next to me pins one arm down and we disarm him and subdue him.
Sirens approaching. Multiple people have now helped out and the man is secure. I glance over at the torn wall of the carriage bathroom. The mirror is dangling...
*"Keep running"*
Shit.
I grab my pack. | I stared into the mirror, and the scarlet letters stared back at me. Then I bolted.
I ran, not knowing where I was going, not caring my stubby out of shape legs searing in pain. I tore through the streets in a maniacal frenzy, mind racing faster than my body was. What was coming? What would it do to me? What if I don't run fast enough? No - run, just run!
A car screeched, it lost control, barrelling towards me, crashed behind me, missed me by seconds. I ran on, faster than ever, the screams and smoke fading behind me. Tears stung my eyes, I was crying - what more was there to come?
I ran, I kept running, eventually my legs could carry me no more. They buckled and I collapsed, a heaving mess on the road. I can't - I could no more. Whatever happens to me next, I thought, I don't care anymore.
Nothing happened.
Nothing. I mean, a few people looked at me as they passed by, some threw coins at me, but that was all. When I caught my breath, I started to think I may have escaped the worst. Maybe all that running did the trick? Do I dare to return home? Tentatively, I made my journey back home.
I made it back in fifteen minutes, still glancing over my back like someone was about to attack me anytime soon. Still, nothing happened, and I looked into the mirror standing in my hall. The big red letters were gone now, replacing them was a message:
"Finally you went for the first exercise in years. Got sick of staring at your fat ass everyday, taking that free pizza even when I told you not to."
I stared it for a whole minute. "Fuck you," I spat back.
"Well, if it motivates you to slim down..."
And that, kids, was how I met your mother. | 2020-06-08T01:39:27 | 2020-06-08T00:26:27 | 25 | 12 |
[WP] After a long journey, you finally reach the dark lord's lair. Then your companion, who you met shortly after starting your quest, opens the door and says: "It's nice to be at home again, come in I'll make some tea." | With my blessed longsword in hand, I was prepared to cut down the dark lord with the unsung fury of a holy knight. Was. Drerlar had just pulled a key out of her pocket and unlocked the doors to the dark lord’s castle, and walked inside before hanging her robe on a nearby coat rack. Before I could sputter out a question or protest, Drerlar waved me inside. “Come on in, I won’t bite. I’ll go start some tea for us, and we can chat before we battle.” My arms slowly lowered and I wandered inside. I was in disbelief, the elven rogue that I befriended shortly after embarking on my mission was the dark lord? It was impossible.
“Okay, funny prank Drerlar, grab your robe and get geared up. This is no time for jokes.” I chuckled, walking into the castle with my weapon at the ready and shield up. Drerlar looked over her shoulder with a saddened look.
“This isn’t a joke Garit. If you want to we can skip the pleasantries and get straight to fighting, but I would hate to not be able to sit down with a friend one last time.” My jaw dropped behind my helmet. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, the rogue had to be bluffing. Regardless, I removed my helmet and followed Drerlar into the castle.
The dark elf muttered to herself as we walked, and on occasion she would wave a hand and make a skeleton in a corner rise and begin working. None of them were armed, and all they did was tidy and clean. “I thought you were a rogue, not a necromancer.” I had never seen Drerlar even come close to showing this sort of power when we fought together, and part of me wished I had. So many fights would have been made so much easier if we had an army of skeletons.
“Yeah, I was a rogue.” Drerlar said. “Around three hundred years ago when I was still mortal I had been a fantastic rogue. Then I was shot by an arrow and my adventuring days were over.”
“You don’t look a day over twenty.” Drerlar looked over her shoulder and smiled before continuing her story.
“Anyway, I didn’t want to take the rest of my days sitting around all useless, so I hunted down books about the dark arts. To make a long story short, I eventually found out how to make myself into a lich. Can’t die, and can’t feel pain. An adventurer's dream, or so I thought.” Drerlar opened a door leading into an absurdly pastel kitchen. It was a huge contrast to the dark stone corridors of the castle. She pulled out a chair for me before moving to a kettle over a fireplace. With a snap of her fingers, the fire started and began heating the water.
“What they don’t mention in those tomes is when you’re a lich, you don’t get a say on how you retain your youth. I got lucky, and once a month I have to take someone’s life under a full moon.” I shuddered. If that was considered lucky, I didn't want to know what unlucky meant. Either way, Drerlar always had something to do when it was a full moon, but never went into detail about what it was. The story checked out. “But eternal life gets so dreary, there isn’t any fun to be had when there’s no danger associated with it. I’ve started to wonder if my adrenaline was also a part of the tradeoff.”
Drerlar poured the hot water into two mugs before bringing them back to the table, setting one down in front of me. “How do I know you aren’t going to kill me with poison or something then? If you’re the dark lord, wouldn’t you want me dead?” I asked. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but it was too late to reconsider.
“What? Oh Garit no, I could never do something like that to you. You’re my friend, and frankly my ticket out of this mess. If I killed you, then you wouldn’t be able to kill me and break this curse I trapped myself in.” I hid my suspicion and sipped the tea. It was good tea, Drerlar always made good tea.
“Are you sure death is the only way out of this mess? I mean, you can’t honestly expect me to just stab you, we’ve been through too much together.” Drerlar sighed and shook her head.
“I was afraid you would say something like that. If it comes down to it, I’ll have to threaten you with something. Maybe your family, maybe your life. I don’t want to, but you’re the only one in decades who has come this close to being strong enough to finish me off at my full power.” Drerlar looked down into her mug and swirled the liquid inside of it. “I’m truly sorry, the last thing I wanted to do was send hordes of adventurers to their deaths at my feet. This was the only way I could minimize the suffering of others while finally getting my curse lifted.” I furrowed my brow. There had to be something that could be done.
“Are you sure there isn’t a way to lift the curse? I mean, I have access to the royal archives and we both have more than enough time on our hands to check.” I placed a hand on Drerlar’s and squeezed it reassuringly. “What do you say we reschedule this final fight for another day and spend a little more quality time together.” Drerlar smiled and covered her face with her other hand.
“Garit… I already looked in almost every source I had available. Don’t give me false hope like that.” From behind her hand, a few tears rolled down her cheeks. I stood up and moved to her side, peeling her hand away from her teary eyes.
“Listen, give me a month. The full moon was last night, so we won’t have to worry about your sacrifice for a while. If we don’t get any leads by then we can return here and fight. Just give me a chance, alright?” I leaned forward and pulled the dark elf into a hug. She weakly nodded into my now wet shoulder and started sobbing softly. I sighed, when I was first knighted I had sworn to my mother that I wouldn’t make any women cry. I’m sure this could be considered an exception.
[Next Chapter](https://www.reddit.com/r/Writings_Of_Man/comments/hb9yru/dark_arts_chapter_one/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf)
r/Writings_Of_Man | "It's so good to be home!" The amethyst haired girl gave a deep sigh of relief, dropping her pack with a thump. "I never thought I would ever see it again." She fell to her knees and literally kissed the floor, going limp so she laid directly flat on the stone. With a giggle she rolled onto her back, smiling up at her incredulous companion. "What?"
"I uh..." the red haired girl stammered. "I mean, you really look happy to be here."
"Of course I do, it's my home." She rose into a sitting position. "Are you not happy when you go home?"
The red haired girl's blushed, her cheeks matching her hair in hue. "I, do not really know. I never really had a home." She looked down sheepishly, missing the flash of pain on her companion's face.
"Oh, sorry. I did not mean to..." her voice faded with embarrassment.
"No, it is fine." The red haired girl waved her hand as if to dispel the awkwardness. "So, you were not jesting. You are truly Klaera, the daughter of the Dark Lord."
"I told you I was not," Klaera replied impishly. "When we first met I swore to never deceive you to the best of my ability. Have I not stayed true to that Malea?"
"You did," Malea admitted. "I just thought you were staying true to your joke. You do not appear at all to be the child of one called the Dark Lord."
Klaera rolled to her feet, brushing out her purple bright hair. "People say that but I think we look alike. How many people have such lustrous purple hair? It is a family trait after all, though father's hair is much darker I will admit."
Malea giggled. "Apparently you both share similar facets of vanity."
A look of mock affront crossed Klaera's face. "We care about our physical appearances, nothing wrong with that. Besides, it took us ages to get here, I am so excited to have daily baths and wear something that is not road stained and weather soaked." She grabbed Malea's hand and practically dragged her deeper into the estate house.
Malea's eyes rolled in her sockets as she looked around. Klaera's home looked much like any other noble home. It was large and spacious, works of art and fine tapestry appeared here and there. However it was less gaudy, looked more lived in than the homes of most nobility. Servants and others walked about and although they would be those deemed evil by others, they dressed plainly and comfortably. Some looked at her with curiosity or reserve, but all looked happy to see Klaera. In fact many shared embraces with her and gushed at her homecoming.
"The folk here are...kind." Malea said with wonder later. "Far kinder than most we met on our travels. They genuinely adore you, and your father."
"Father always said to treat people well. Most of the time they would be well to you, those worthy of your efforts anyways." Klaera held up clothing to Malea. "Father likes his citizens, despite what others say."
"I can see that." Malea shivered slightly. The Dark Lord had met the pair as soon as they crossed into the country's borders and she had felt faint in his presence. He was a gargantuan figure, tall and broad. He looked like he could out-pull any brace of oxen or horse combined. Yet he had wept openly at his daughter's return. His guards had cheered at the reunion and in fact many eyes were dew-wet at that moment, Malea's included. He had promised her all that she could want and more before running off, but not before ensuing a guard for his daughter. "Your father is also very kind, not at all what I have heard."
"I love him," Klaera said sincerely. "He is not perfect, no one is, but he is a wonderful father. Though," her lips curled and a smile that was appropriate on a savage predator appeared, "he can be very unkind. As those that kidnapped me and marooned me so far away will find. They thought he would be easily swayed with me missing. They are going to suffer for a very long time."
Another shiver slithered up Malea's spine at the smile. "That was exceptionally cruel of them. They deserve his wrath then." With a reluctant sigh she put her hand on Klaera's as the girl held up another outfit. "I must be honest with you. I did not agree to bring you back here for...noble reasons."
"Oh I knew that." Klaera's words made Malea's heart stop. "No one willingly comes here without some kind of ulterior motive. Most come to try and kill the 'evil Dark Lord' and his 'crimes' against the other countries." Her eyes flashed at the accusations. "Just because he is willing to accept all those deemed evil by the other countries, races long maligned and blamed. Just because he is not concerned with purity of race and blood. Just because he can look past the skin. I wonder who is truly evil."
She smiled shyly and Malea's heart started again. "I needed help, I did not know how to return. So I took a chance because Father taught me how to see the heart of a person and I saw your heart to be good. So I had hoped we could become friends, that you could see how I see. I had hoped that at journey's end perhaps your mission could have changed. Has it? Changed?" Her shy smile became an expression of concern, of worry.
Malea did not trust her voice at that moment. The journey was long and hard, arduous to put it lightly. The only thing that made it bearable was Klaera. The girl, who was obviously in a foreign environment, a girl that was obviously unused to extreme circumstances, had risen to the challenge. Throughout the whole quest Klaera never failed to be kind to Malea, to encourage her, to comfort her. She shared what little she had, fought as hard, and worked as hard. Such traits could be taught, but they must be whole heartedly believed in. Malea nodded, gripping Klaera's arm tightly.
"I am so happy to hear that!" Klaera gushed and her eyes sparkled. "You...you said you never really had a home before. This could be your home, if you want. Father said anything your heart desire would be your reward. I am sure he would agree if you wanted this to be your home."
"I...desire nothing more." | 2020-06-17T10:12:50 | 2020-06-17T09:34:20 | 321 | 64 |
[WP] After a long journey, you finally reach the dark lord's lair. Then your companion, who you met shortly after starting your quest, opens the door and says: "It's nice to be at home again, come in I'll make some tea." | "Rather small," said Shahma, who was gazing around the room with a mildly curious expression, "but comfortable enough."
"Thank you," Elias said, shrugging off his long, black travelling cloak. He hung it upon one of the hooks extending from around the room and made towards the large, ornate, serpentine table resting in the dead center of the room, directly underneath the glittering, candle-filled bone chandelier.
"What kind of hooks are these, incidentally?"
"Hmm? Oh yes — pirates. Got them from some scum I met on a cruise of the Black Sea," Elias said conversationally. He pulled his obsidian staff from his pocket and pointed it at the chandelier; the candles immediately caught fire, burning with dark green flames.
Shahma came over and pulled up a seat around the table, swinging his long legs upon the polished surface. Despite having been away for so many years, the surfaces were completely devoid of dust.
The same thought seemed to have struck Shahma. "Dust-repellent enchantment?"
"Yes. And please take those filthy boots off my table, if it had been anyone else they would have been struck dead simply for thinking of doing so. Would you like some tea?" he added pleasantly.
"Oh yes."
Elias flicked his staff in the direction of the kitchen and an ornate golden kettle and two cups came soaring in, landing neatly on the table. A further wave of the wand and the kettle began to steam, rising into the air and pouring a healthy measure into each cup.
"It's chamomile. I hope you like it?"
"Of course not. I find it disgusting."
"Excellent."
The men both seized a cup, raised it in toast, and drank. Shahma pulled a face. "Awful," he said bitterly. He set the cup down, clasped his hands neatly in front of his chest, and began to stare around again. "So you've been gone for three years?"
"Yes. That horrible 'Chosen One' came bursting in here three years ago, trying to slay me!" Elias said in affronted tones. "I mean — here I was, just skinning an old witch alive, and he breaks down my door, pointing a sword at my throat!" He shook his head in disbelief. "I would have killed him right then and there, but the knucklehead came prepared. The sword was encrusted with Saffronite."
"He siphoned your powers?"
"Quite. Barely escaped with my life! It's why I went out on my journey."
"You told me you were searching for magical objects." It was almost an accusation.
"And so I was. To help restore my powers, which I — *conveniently* — forgot to mention. You can hardly blame me? If I'd made it seem I was defenseless you would have killed or enslaved me, a horrible tyrant yourself?"
"True, true," sighed Shahma.
"And you? How were you forced out?"
"More the same as you, I suppose. Some idiot Chosen One came to find me, lopped my head off!"
"*No*!"
"*Yes*!"
Elias shook his head again. "Heroes, the peasants call them — savages, more like."
"Exactly. Luckily I was getting a bit tired of my old body already — getting on in years, you see — and prepared this one. My soul passed on to it when the first died. I guess those buffoons do have *some* use, don't they?"
"I suppose so."
The men were silent for a time, lost in thought. Then Elias said abruptly, "Mine is supposed to be around here somewhere. Probably thinks I'm gone. Wouldn't be expecting me now — or *you*."
"If you want me to help you kill him, then *ask*," Shahma said in a bored voice, peering at the stuffed human leg mounted on the right wall.
"Fine. Will you help?"
"Only if I get to torture him first?" smirked Shahma.
Elias smiled slyly. "Of course. Skinned? Dissected? Mutilated?"
"Hmm... How about... boiled in oil?"
"I shall prepare a pool."
And the men leapt to their feet at once, forming plans to subdue the foolish Chosen One.
r/MysticScribbles | "..."
She stepped forth, into the darkness that lied behind the two massive metal doors. I, on the other hand, simply watched with my mouth dropping down to the centre of the world. If it wasn't for the nonchalant mood, I wouldn't have even batted an eye.
"Hey!" her head popped out comically from the side of the half-opened doors, looking back towards my unmoved self, "come in! I got tea and–"
"Huh?! What the hell are you saying, Grace?"
"I got drinks. Some snacks too, all those walking and adventuring... I bet your tummy's rumbling like an earth shake!"
Seeing her fairly cute and innocent smile snapped me out of my trance. I slowly made my way behind her. Down into the belly of the beast, as they'd say. But to be honest I was rather curious as to what kind of a place it'd be.
You heard of the demon's castle or the archetype dark lord's lair. Black, filled with all manner of evil, intimidatingly large. The sort that heroes would go to in order to make their names known.
The large metal doors were awesomely sturdy. The windows were tinted dark, with a hint of lava red. The walls were made from a purplish-black stones radiating with ominous aura. Nothing unexpected.
But the inside...
The carpet were rich velvety red, with some flower patterns. Paintings in pastel lined up the walls, laughably cartoonish in some sense. Some maids dressed in french maid uniforms were scattered neatly every few metres down the hallway. It was bizarrely warm, unlike façade we've seen outside.
"Good morning, Lady Jaldabaoth!" an old man in a sharp looking waistcoat bowed, followed by the rest of the maids lining the hallway.
"Oh jeez, Huey! You kept the place clean just as I left it!"
"Of course, mam. It's my duty and pleasure as the personal butler of the Dark–"
"Ugh, sorry to bother this weird little thing... but are you... Grace or..."
"Oh yeah, I think I forgot to tell ya! I'm the Dark Lord of Istbus, though I much prefer if you call me the "Dark *Lady*". I don't know why, but I think it's a tradition thing so I can't really do much about the 'Lord' or 'Lady' thing."
The old butler nodded slowly, as if contemplating some complicated matter. Grace – or rather, the Dark Lady Jaldabaoth – went on and on about gender equality, stigmas regarding the classes, and all the sort of nonsense that honestly were trivial. At least to me they were when compared to the stupidly big fish in the room.
"Grace– er, I mean, Dark Lady Jaldabaoth?"
"Yessir?" she spun her whole body like a ballerina before turning to me.
"Are you aware that I was supposed to *kill you*?"
"Huh? Why? I didn't do anything wrong. Right?"
The butler and the army of maids began to grumble in affirmation. Grace simply nodded and put her thumbs up, full of herself.
"I mean, *your family* basically turned half of the world to smithereens! *Your great grandfather* enslaved thousands and slaughtered many more!"
"Oh really? Daddy never told me anything about this... That reminds me, Huey go and fetch me the thingy! I think I'm gonna call mum and dad after brunch."
"Very good, my Lady!" Huey the butler glanced at me and asked, "will your friend be staying for supper as well, mam?"
"I don't know, Grace. This has been very weird and I think I better clear my head for a bit."
"Oh yeah? Well why not over some tea and scones? We got herbal tea, great things for relaxing, no?"
The butler bowed and took his leave. A few of the maids also began to scramble away, presumably to make preparation for their master.
"So, Dark Lady Jaldabaoth, huh?"
"Yeah..."
"Will you be okay if I kill you here, right now?"
"I mean, if that's what you need to do... I guess I don't mind dying for a friend!" she said with a content smile.
I heaved a deep sigh. That face just didn't fit with the whole narrative. Disarming, it truly was. They should ban smiles that made you powerless like that.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I laughed softly and patted her on the back, "let's get some tea, yeah?"
"Yeah! Afterwards, I'll show you my special room!" | 2020-06-17T09:59:58 | 2020-06-17T09:03:39 | 172 | 76 |
[WP] "Checkmate," you say, a smug expression on your face. "Finally," says Death. The smirk is wiped off your face as the Grim Reaper removes his robe and hands you his scythe, "It's been 400 years since I beat the last guy." | “Wait wait wait wait,” I said, standing up quickly as Death - Maybe Old-Death? Yeah. Old-Death “I thought if I won I didn’t die!”
Old Death shrugged, “Yeah. Death doesn’t die.” He grinned, “You’re welcome!”
“Oh come off it,” I growled, aiming the scythe at Old Death’s face, “You bloody tricked me!”
“Yeah I totally did.” Old Death held his hands up, “But I get to pass on and you get to remain alive- fooorrrrrever!” He spread his arms wide and the shit eating grin returned “I see this as a win-win!”
I groaned, and began pacing “What the bloody hell am I gonna tell my mum? My job?”
I froze “I dunno how to even do this job? Does it come with healthcare? Do I have to eat? Can I only wear black robes? Will I ever love again?”
“Woah woah kid, slow down,” Old Death put a hand on my shoulder, and I shivered as I felt him touch my bones. “I’m not just gonna abandon you! I have to train you up before I move on!”
“Oh great.” I said, becoming slightly less worried.
“But it’s a no on the healthcare.”
“Awwww man”
“I know. But hey, you get 50% off at Disney World!” | “Checkmate,” Jake felt a smug expression stretch across his face as he looked across the table. Facing him in this competition a grim figure - Death himself. All around them, Jake could see a vast expanse of just… emptiness, surrounding the rock on which they play.
Jake had always been competitive - he couldn’t help himself. So when Death challenged him to his favourite game for a chance to avoid death, Jake leapt at it.
“Finally,” Death replied, “It’s been 400 years since I beat the last guy, and this robe is really musty.”
Startled, Jake nearly jumped out of his skin - that was the first time Death had spoken since Jake had come to this place. Come to think of it, the reaper didn’t look nearly as skeletal as he did a few moments ago.
“What’s going on?” Jake asked nervously, teeth seeming to clack together.
“Well,” Death started, “To be blunt - whoever beats death becomes death. It’s been quite a while since I took up the position.”
As the Former Death spoke, Jake could see the muscle and sinew forming and covering his skull. He looked down and discovered the skin melting off of his hand - that as the Former Death gained substance, Jake lost his. He felt nothing.
“Unfortunately for you,” the Former Death continued, “You cannot speak of this until you lose. And you cannot intentionally lose.”
...
As Death sat back at the table to await his next foe, Lucilio Vanini stretched and stepped through a portal that appeared before him.
“Finally,” he muttered, mostly to himself, “I will know what no other philosopher has known…” | 2020-07-07T22:19:14 | 2020-07-07T21:31:05 | 55 | 39 |
[WP] You're thought to be one of the world's most powerful magic users because of your massive collection of cursed items, none of which have affected you. In reality, you're completely magic deficient, but smart enough to put on a decent set of gloves before handling any them. | Lab Assistant Altria diligently wrote down the results of the most recent experiment after her employer attempted to destroy the golden eyestone with Sædr’s Hammer. The rock in front of them had a myth that explained it’s power of foresight and omniscience, but all those who held it would be cursed by its first owner to experience four million poisoned barbs, just as he had. Tyvor, the ‘head mage’ of the house, had put on a charred pair of leather gloves and tossed the rock into an open area of his rather absurdly large basement, before lifting the great divine hammer.
Sædr’s wife had supposedly cursed the hammer after her husband’s death, and it was supposed to reverse it’s course after swinging to strike the user in the head, preventing any mortal thieves from ever stealing the godly weapon and using it for their petty wars. While it required some significant strength to lift, Tyvor was stronger than most, and while he couldn’t use it in battle he could certainly use it to try and break his other rare and valuable cursed items, left to him by his equally cursed parents, grandparents, and ancestors.
After the hammer came down with a force capable of crushing gods, it bounced off the rock it had struck, but did not reverse directions. Tyvor dropped it and stretched a little, wincing at the effort exerted.
“Test number thirteen-sixty-four was… a failure?”
Tyvor nodded at his assistant. If the eyestone wasn’t destroyed, someone would pick it up and, as Altria would put it, ‘get fucked’. As such was the case, and with the pressure on the current emperor to turn to such mystic powers during the war, Tyvor needed plausible deniability. He scanned the antechamber once more before picking out a bastard sword of jet-black metal with various alien runes etched into it. The runes glowed ever so slightly, a sickly green.
This sword had no name. It was the final sword crafted by Ivan Sigurdsson, the son of a legendary blade smith who didn’t quite live up to his father’s reputation. After a debris storm from the heavens above obliterated most of the fjord by his house, Ivan found a strange meteorite of the sword’s colour, almost reflectively shiny, with runes none had seen prior carved into it. When Ivan broke it open, he found that the runes had impossibly been carved on the inside as well. It was said then that a thousand voices spoke in his ear, telling him to build the sword Tyvor now had on an altar, surrounded by ritual implements. After forging the sword, Ivan had supposedly inspected it’s edge, found it slightly imperfect, and plunged the sword through his mouth, before continuing with his daily activities.
How the sword came to be in Tyvor’s possession was a question he wanted the answer to, but more importantly, he had to check if the sword was capable of breaking the eyestone. He also had to hide it, because the emperor might believe it to be a divine artifact, though it is anything but.
As he lifted it up, his assistant spoke.
“Say, Tyvor, you’re not whispering to yourself over there?”
It seemed that gloves weren’t the only safety precaution for this one.
“Leave the room for this one - better yet, the house. I’ll write the report.”
Altria said she didn’t need to be told twice and headed for the door, muttering about ‘damn ghosts in the damn sword’. Once he was sure his assistant had left the house, Tyvor swung.
A green trail followed the sword as it swung into the stone, cleanly slicing through it and releasing a barrage of massive bloodied spikes. Tyvor fell back and picked up a large shield, an item who’s backstory he didn’t have time to think on. The barbs filled the ceiling of the basement, likely shooting up to visit the kitchen. Tyvor was glad that Altria was the only staff he kept, as otherwise he wouldn’t be getting lunch today. Some barbs ricocheted to strike his shield, but it held strong. Eventually the deluge ended, and he dropped the item before sighing in relief.
No sooner had he done that when a fierce knock at the door sounded, along with a barked order.
“We are soldiers of the Emperor Titus Varsilius! By His holy order, open the door!” | "Is this the power of the noble, all powerful Time Thief clan?" The Black Mage stared at me, standing by for the fight. The wand in her hands was still aiming at me with my bracelets floating about.
For your information, dear reader. My golden bracelets, among all of my inventions, are my masterpieces. Thanks to Kosmo Energy, the formless energy found only in my ancestors' world, they're capable of not only recharging mana faster than any mana recoveries, but also absorbing all curses, and convert them into my *very limited* mana.
Without them, I can't use my other gadgets, which I implemented an *authorization* method by a curse.
"Any last words, greed demon?" He laughed mockingly. Well, I hate him so much I wanted to punch him in the face, but I'm the only one with no mana at all.
And within a flash, The Black Mage missed a slash of his magic blade as I was dodge-rushing into my escaping bracelets. I snatched one, forced it through my lefty, and feel half of my familiar mana flowing once again.
But my righty is decaying after I slashed his wand in half with the cursed sword. I dropped my blade and used all my mana to *quantum leap*, getting myself into the states when I dodged. Now I have to wait for another 15 seconds, or for another bracelet to get onto my wrist.
Unsurprisingly, he can fix it within seconds by magic alone, warranting his immense power. "Good strike, Time Thief, but as a member of the Cult of Balance, you must face the consequences for breaking the balance of time!"
"You hurt me first, why can't I defend myself?" I shouted, preparing my next trick in the pocket dimension.
"Your ancestors stole them, and god didn't care, so I'm here to avenge him and restore balance AS THEY SHOULD BE!" Another explosion almost hit me. I threw my curse bomb to interrupt his mana flow and buy me some time to slot my gem. As he was recovering from blinding dust and mana drain, I managed to get the ruby into the slot.
Ready for action!
I lobbed fireballs to the still-staggering Black Mage, but due to the laws of physics, enough dust can make fire go wild and explode.
After the BOOM sound, my body was sent to the grassy ground, while Black Mage who was inside the explosion was compressed instead. Explosion impact trauma is still enough to kill a demon, after all.
I coughed the dust out over and over while searching for my other bracelet, and wear it after found.
I walked home with tired face and bruises all over my body, wondering how I got out alive.
Then, I looked back.
Since I was young, I was doing badly at magic.
So bad I can't use telepath properly. So bad I was bullied over and over from many *friends*. So bad I was beaten over and over by my own father.
No matter how I do, my best magic is only "Time traveling". Stopping for 30 seconds, and rewinding for 15.
Short enough for dad to brand me *the weakest member of the clan*.
What I remembered the entire time was not happiness at all, until I saw he cried at a paper he held.
I stopped time before getting in to look closer. It's a medical leaflet about *my disease*.
The Mana Leaking Syndrome. My soul devour mana as life force, what a soul very rarely does, but why?
Looking at my dad, he was stopped. I knew it instantly.
According to what dad said, our clan's power is constantly hanging in a delicate balance between the length of time we can travel and its consequences. Some members can see future and past years ahead, but can barely interact with them.
Mine, albeit short time I can travel, and having mana leaking from them, I can mess around anything, like I'm its keeper myself!
That's why I tried to invent so many gadgets for myself despite dad's prohibition.
And that's how I can make my life better. I avenged bullies, make friends, and have a good, happy life like normal ones should be.
Before I knew it, I got to my home. Dragging myself to open the door, I said "Hun... I'm... back..."
Falling on my knees, I was glad I have invented and wear these bracelets. My symbol to defeat my limitations, and to prove myself.
I cried happily before rushed thuds coming closer, a sweet, always-worried voice of her, and white lights washing me away.
Edit: spelling. (m righty -> my righty) | 2020-08-26T04:37:51 | 2020-08-26T03:02:04 | 45 | 19 |
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