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[WP] The year is 2055, and mankind has invented the technology to communicate with "Mans best friend". The horror we felt at discovering what they were staring at, when looking at "nothing", is humanities greatest regret...
Looking for horror/scary, but by all means, have fun with it. :) | Teaching Mr. Waggles to communicate was the easy part. Getting him to *want* to communicate was harder. Just training in the end—rewards and gentle chastisement. Dogs are really suggestible when treats are involved. Learning the vocabulary was the hardest. He didn’t have the concepts to understand a lot of it. Smart enough, just limited life experience. How do you explain a bank to a dog?
Later on, he started reading the physics on his own. Seemed really curious. Newton fascinated him. Lots of stuff about balls. Then he got into optics and field theory. I could always tell when he was reading about CERN because his tail would start thumping. It wasn’t hard to imagine something in his life experience that pointed him in that direction, but I had no idea what it might be.
Then one day he asked me whether I thought the Higgs stuff was very reliable. By that point, he knew more about it than me, but I told him what I thought. Which is that the data is pretty good. He took it quietly.
One day I saw him do that staring thing that he sometimes does. No barking or snarling now, not like he used to before we put in the extensions, just a deep focus. But he didn’t look happy about it.
Of course I asked him what was going on. He said he was pretty sure had just figured it out.
Turns out he was watching something that, for some reason we humans can’t see, but dogs perceive just fine. He said always knew it was something like refraction, although he hadn’t had the words for that, but he could see a place where there was a discontinuity. Where things just didn’t line up right. In reality.
What he had just figured out was that it was a random confluence of areas of lower background energy. A place where, just through random chance, the ground state of the universe was a little lower than its surroundings. Lower energy meant lower permittivity and permeability of free space, meaning a temporarily faster speed of light. Apparently dogs can pick up the change in refractive index when one of these pops up.
They don’t last very long.
I asked him, “Hey Mr. Dubya, is that why you used to snarl and bark? Were you worried that one of these might become self-sustaining and propagate?”
“Not really. No. They always seem to go away. And we’re pretty optimistic by nature. Naturally, one of them *could* propagate. I guess that, sooner or later, one of them *will* propagate, and then it would be no more walkies for anyone, but what are the chances that it would start right here? That this would happen to be the very place that a metastable universe would start to collapse down the energy well to a new lower ground state? Right in the corner of our den by the fireplace?”
“Yeah, you’re right. Not very likely. And we’ve come this far.” He still seemed pensive. “But, if you know that, why do you always seem so afraid of them, even now?” I asked.
Mr. Waggles looked at me and cocked his head slightly. “It’s not that I fear the consequences exactly… it’s just that it's so damned far down." | Lucas walked into the intensive care unit of the hospital. It was late and the lights were dimmed, giving the entire wing a air of dread. Gurneys with men and women were strewn about everywhere. The rooms were filled long ago by the sudden influx of patients. Not a single person moved, the room was absolutely still and the only sound to be heard was the rythmic beat of heart monitors.
This was the first Lucas had seen of the afflicted. He walked down the hall dodging the mannequin-like bodies. He stopped to look at one man and quickly recoiled in disgust. The man's face was frozen in what seemed to be a state of utmost panic. His mouth and dark black eyes were wide open, blood began to ooze out of the man's nose.
Lucas regained his composure and looked around him. He noticed the same thing in every patient. Their black, soulless eyes stared at him with mouth agape at some unseen horror. Lucas, suddenly overwhelmed again, rushed through the doors at the end of the hall.
Hospital employees moved about the hall like zombies. No one spoke while they moved about their work. Two orderlies wheeled a little girl past Lucas. Black eyes. Lucas almost puked.
Lucas rushed down the hall and into the waiting room. Hordes of sleeping family members were laying everywhere. On chairs, desks, some had even made makeshift tents. The air was ripe with unclean human stench.
In the opposite corner of the room Lucas spotted his co-workers. "Lucas" Susan whispered, "What did you find out?" Lucas pulled them into the closest room. He whispered, "I don't know, I haven't seen anything like it before. The only thing I know is that every singly person in their had used the communicator." Susan looked disapointed, "We already knew that Luke, we need more. Millions of people are afflicted we need to figure this out."
Lucas was not surprised by Susan's urgency her husband had used the communicator. Lucas' other co-worker Rashid spoke up, "Lucas, I think it would help if we both could see it as well. Can you take us." Lucas nodded, "I have to warn you though. It isn't easy to take in."
When the three reached the ICU the situation had not changed at all. Dim lights. Black eyes. But now, Lucas noticed everyone had blood dripping down their noses. Under some gurney's blood had begun to pool.
Drip.Drip.Drip. The only sound was the blood hitting the floor. Wait, Lucas realized the hear monitors had stopped beeping. They were all off. "Susan, I think that they might be dead, the heart mon-" Suddenly a creak. Cccrreeeeaakkkk. The metal of an unknown gurney squealed.
Suddenly the man Lucas had first seen earlier was standing back turned to Lucas. The three stumbled back not daring to make a noise. Lucas ran to the door. Locked. The man slowly, painstakingly slowly turned around. His face was still frozen. Black eyes, mouth agape. Blood now pouring from his nose like a faucet.
A voice came from the man though his mouth did not move. The voice struck fear into Lucas' heart that he had never imagined. It was dark, loud and silent at the same time. "You have made a grave mistake." is all it said.
One by one the rest of the afflicted stood. "You have made a grave mistake." They spoke in unison. | 2015-05-18T19:33:05 | 2015-05-18T13:29:22 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] write the best story you can in 5 sentences or less | His first time in prison, he was only 15
It made him hard and it made him mean
When they let him out, he was a mess.
Four more times before a judge, until a bullet in the chest
Meant that his life could be told in 5 sentences or less
Edit: Formatting and typos | The self exists in relation to a singular locus, of which there are three variations at any given time: the *is*, *is not*, and the *should be*. Normally, these psychic structures labor in tandem, much like the machinations of a wristwatch. But if the self begins to confound these articulations, pervert their functions and forms -- it ceases to exist. It is no longer a thinking thing, only a featureless, enveloping void.
The self then encounters the phenomenon of *suicide*.
**Edit**: feedback would be greatly appreciated! | 2015-08-09T12:17:27 | 2015-08-09T11:06:09 | 76 | 12 |
[WP] write the best story you can in 5 sentences or less | I held a parent in my arms as I blinked at the world.
I held a schoolbag in my arms as I laughed at the world.
I held a laptop in my arms as I lived in the world.
I held a woman in my arms as I loved in the world.
I held a parent in my arms as she left the world. | The self exists in relation to a singular locus, of which there are three variations at any given time: the *is*, *is not*, and the *should be*. Normally, these psychic structures labor in tandem, much like the machinations of a wristwatch. But if the self begins to confound these articulations, pervert their functions and forms -- it ceases to exist. It is no longer a thinking thing, only a featureless, enveloping void.
The self then encounters the phenomenon of *suicide*.
**Edit**: feedback would be greatly appreciated! | 2015-08-09T12:37:06 | 2015-08-09T11:06:09 | 36 | 12 |
[WP] write the best story you can in 5 sentences or less | My wife and I just had our second child. She's thrilled, really hoping this will be just the thing we need to mend the rough turn our relationship has taken in the past couple of years. Me? I'm just annoyed. I had such a hard time getting rid of the first one. | The self exists in relation to a singular locus, of which there are three variations at any given time: the *is*, *is not*, and the *should be*. Normally, these psychic structures labor in tandem, much like the machinations of a wristwatch. But if the self begins to confound these articulations, pervert their functions and forms -- it ceases to exist. It is no longer a thinking thing, only a featureless, enveloping void.
The self then encounters the phenomenon of *suicide*.
**Edit**: feedback would be greatly appreciated! | 2015-08-09T12:16:28 | 2015-08-09T11:06:09 | 23 | 12 |
[WP] You are a supervillain, while your girlfriend is a hero. She doesn't know your secret identity but you know hers. After years of fighting each other you decide it's going to pull a heel face turn and join the heroes. | "There's nothing going on between me and Captain Invincible" Norah sighed, rolling her big brown eyes once, twice, thrice. I knew she was lying.
"How could you?" I screamed. "That dude wears spandex and a speedo on the outside of his costume. You can see the contours of his balls! He dresses like that in front of *children*, he's a creep!"
"It's a superhero thing." Norah shrugged. "I have to wear those ridiculous tights and low cut top or I would never get sponsorship deals."
"Not the same thing" I grumbled. "That's because--" Uh oh, she's giving me that look. I was about to say sex sells, but Norah would break every bone in my body if I implied she's some glorified pin up girl.
"Anyway" I try to sound commanding, but my voice partially cracked. "Anyway, if I find out you've been messing around, I'll..."
"You'll do what? Throw me out of MY house?" The living room suddenly got a lot chillier, and I could swear I could see my breath.
"You live in MY house, eat MY food, you're wearing clothes I bought you." She fumed. "In fact, I don't even know what you do for a living. You just disappear for 6-12 hours at a time with no word. The only people this secretive are superheroes and..."
CRAP, she's getting too close. Gotta distract, gotta distract. I reached into my pants pocket for the panic button and repeatedly mashed it. There was giant explosion and bright light streamed in through the windows, blinding us both momentarily.
"Oh no", I tried my best to act surprised, and hoped that all the commotion would mask my terrible acting. "Is that a Giant robotic T-rex that shoots lasers out of its mouth and eyes? What a terrible, yet ingenious, creation."
"Ugh, it's Metallicus again." Norah groaned. "Only he'd design something that stupid."
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN STUPID?" Norah looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "I meant to say, whatever do you mean? All I can do is cower in fear at the sight of this ferocious metal beast"
"I mean, look at that thing" she responded. "It's got tiny t-rex arms that flail around and serve no other purpose but to make it look more like a t-rex."
*Come in, Ultragirl, come in. This is Captain Invincible. The Hall of Justice needs your aid.*
"Ugh, I gotta go." Norah groaned while looking at her transceiver. "We can fight about this after I beat the robot. Love you."
She swiftly bent her knees and launched herself into the air, punching a hole through the roof and cracking the hardwood floor underneath her. Great, I'm gonna have to clean this up.
How did this all happen. I, Metallicus, master of all iron and steel, in love with his arch-rival. I guess it's true what they say about people who work together day after day. Or in this case, almost kill each other day after day. If only Captain Invincible was dead, but that's impossible. He's invincible. If only I was Captain Invincible, she'd be drooling over me....no I could never act like an idiot like him, but with my powers, all it'd take is a dumb costume and I could be a hero too. Nah, that's stupid.
----Meanwhile, across town----
"You really didn't have to come personally, Captain Invincible", Omniac spoke. "It was a mere threat level 2."
"It's always good publicity for the captain to make a showing" Harlowe smiled.
"What I don't understand is why you called Ultragirl" Gonzo questioned. "We finished up 5 minutes ago and she hasn't even gotten here yet."
Omniac, the enhanced intelligence; Harlowe, Warlock of the Fates; and Spacehunter Gonzo were the greatest Heroes the hall of justice had ever seen. Yet even they trembled and lowered their heads in deference to Captain invincible, Son of the sun, Defender of earth, leader of the Hall of Justice.
"Merchandising has dropped drastically" Captain Invincible spoke softly. "My action figures sales are falling, movies studios are producing less and less superhero movies, and even sponsorships are going away."
"Villains just aren't what they used to be" the captain sighed. "Nothing excites the people anymore. But I have a scenario planned to rejuvenate everything, get the citizens to start caring about superheroes once again."
"What do you guys think of: The Death of Ultragirl." Captain smiled. "Catchy title, isn't it?"
| I look over at the woman I love, her eyes filled to the brim with fresh tears, and my hands ache.
“Okay, one more time, Richard,” she sniffles, “Tell me what you told them.”
It takes more courage than I care to admit just to draw my next breath. In spite of the repetition, I can see the words are only now having an impact. I didn’t think it would go this way. I thought she would understand. “I told them I was done, Sally. I-“
She cuts me off.
“Done with *what*, Richard?” She blinks. The tears run down either side of her face, her eyes so glassy I can almost see myself in them.
I consider rewording my answer in the moment between breathes. Maybe if I choose a different phrase, she’ll feel differently. Christ, my hands really hurt. Hard to think through the pain. The raw truth is all that comes to mind, and I have to say something. “Done with being…” And there they are. My own tears to match hers. I didn’t even know I could do this anymore – feel this way. That’s love for you.
“Being **WHAT**?” She screams. I can’t even pretend I’m offended by her anger. I steady myself, willing the sobs away. Our eyes meet.
“A supervillain.”
Sally cries some more, crumbling to the floor to comfort herself. The ache in my heart begins to match the ache in my hands. I want so badly for things to be different. I thought they would be.
“Sally, *please…*” I begin to say, already knowing the words won’t be any use. But if this is it – if I never see Sally again, I have to try something. “Can’t you see that I had to do this? This was the *only way* we could be together.”
The love of my life looks up at me, raising an open hand towards the wall to my left. Her fingers bend in slightly as if she’s palming a basketball and she swipes her arm behind her. The wall flies away, a larger display of her power than I’ve ever seen. Her hair, matted with dirt but still beautiful in its own way, goes from blonde to a toxic green. The clamps around my hands and ankles press in even harder, and I lose all of the feeling in them, the ache I was feeling now gone. She raises herself from the floor, unfurling her legs and floating towards me in a standing position. I can see in her mind that she’s no longer Sally. She’s let her alter ego take over.
In this moment, she’s **Cerezul**.
She lifts a finger and I tighten as I feel her grab my face with her power. It’s the same feeling I’ve felt for years as her greatest nemesis. Under normal circumstances, I would be able to escape. But I came here without my suit, and I’ve turned off the dampeners I keep under my skin. She leans in close to me, Sally’s tears steaming, evaporating away like the smoke from a dragon’s nose.
“Please, baby.” I start, my words cut off momentarily by a psychic punch to the gut. “Please, just hear me on this. Just hear me. I *had* to do this.” Cerezul’s face stays neutral as I talk, the sides of her cheeks flexing as she grinds her teeth. I push back at the foreign sensation of her power turning my head, but I stop when I realize what she’s doing. She wants me to look at it.
She wants me to see what I’ve done.
I take it all in for a moment, her Skyloft apartment providing a clear view of my actions from thirty stories up. The wind blows and I catch a whiff of the gas, reminding myself that I fed us both the countering agent for weeks. We’re immune to the poison, just not the smell. It mixes with the aroma of Sally’s apartment before completely overriding the appleberry air fresheners she leaves around her space.
She turns my head back, leaning in close. “You expect me to believe…that you did **this** for *us*? You killed an entire city, my friends…my…Christ, Richard! **YOU KILLED MY FAMILY**!”
Cerezul reaches her right hand back, all three of the tools next to her fireplace rising as she does. She blinks and looks away, her head falling just slightly as she begins to turn and float out towards the ruined, impossibly quiet city. Her hair hits the midpoint between her transformation and she turns around to look at me as Sally. Her eyebrows crinkle, fresh tears forming. I start to think that she’s right. Maybe it was too much. I guess it takes a special kind of logic to think being a supervillain is a good idea in the first place. Sally sniffles one good, long sniffle, and her hair is back to toxic. She turns around and I glance at the tools by the fireplace, still floating, held in the air with her power.
Then Cerezul swipes her arm towards me.
| 2015-11-08T14:04:31 | 2015-11-08T11:36:50 | 39 | 21 |
[WP] You discover the legendary weapon, capable of defeating all evil. However, its definition of 'Evil' is a bit skewed. | "What the... he was just standing there!"
"Exactly. Do you know how rich he is... was?"
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"If he had donated that money, he could have saved thousands of lives."
"So that makes him evil?!"
"If you saw a drowning child and a man who could save the child, but refuses because it would ruin his thousand-dollar suit, you would call that man evil, no?"
"I... I guess but-"
"And he refused to donate his money when he could have saved the equivalent of 2.6734 children per thousand dollars. So is he not 2.6734 times as evil as the man with the suit?"
"Well... but that's different. I mean he wasn't killing them or anything."
"But he let them die when he could have saved them. That's functionally the same. Imagine two train tracks-"
"OH MY GOD! Stop with the train tracks already! The thing is you can't just murder all the rich people! Just look what you've done!"
"I was created to defeat evil, so people who decrease, whether by action or inaction, net utility in the world. That is all I can do."
"Fuck! What are you gonna do then, kill us all?"
"Only the evil. By the way the ration of negative to positive utility is approaching 1 at an alarming rate."
"What?! Come on, I even helped that old Lady cross the road just yesterday!"
"Yeah, and then she was involved in a fatal car crash as a result."
"How the fuck should I have known that that car was about to come out of nowhere?"
"Tha... Nevermind. New target acquired."
"That guy? I know him, he's my doctor! Don't kill him, he's good! He always takes great care of his patients!"
"Exactly. He should've harvested some of them for organs instead."
"No! Is there no way to make you stop?!"
"The only way would be... Interesting."
"What?"
"My own net utility is negative. turns out the rich man was about to drive to a fundraiser for charity, but now he can't. I must defeat myself."
"What?"
"I am now evil, and must kill myself."
"Okay. That's probably for the best to be honest."
"Wow, that's such an utilitarian thing to say." | "Sounds promising." I murmured, holding the dagger as the door burst into splinters.
*The one in grey and caked in mud*.
"They're *all* caked in mud. We're in farmer central, remember?" An angry bar goer smashed a bottle down against the table, splashes of stale beer coating my boots.
*The one missing half of his teeth.*
"Again, farmer central, narrow it down a bit more." I muttered to myself. The farmers squinted at me, baring their teeth. They had about two mouthfuls between a dozen of them.
*Two to the right, the one without a bottle. He has a knife in his boot and a short blade underneath the table.*
Tense. The other bar goers hadn't moved an inch, something paralysing their movement. "Are you doing this?" I asked.
*Throw the blade, then I will release them to their drinks.*
Producing a small throwing knife, I steadied myself. He was fidgeting, his arms beneath the table. The steel, cold against the bitter winter felt vindictive with the will of the pendant. A sudden grunt erupted form the man, forcing a rushed lash of the throw.
*You missed.*
Recovering to my position, I unsheathed my rogue's blade. Walking briskly to the corner, the man's shoulder had been cut clean off. His dominant arm, lay bleeding into the wood beneath.
"So, what was his crime?"
*Sprinkled urine on my roasted peanuts.*
I felt my face become hot, red. The scared face tried to plead, but mouth spurt from him mouth in his words place.
"Peanuts?!" I roared. The man beneath me was terrified, cowering with his one good arm. "This man has lived in dung his entire life! How the hell did he do that?!"
*Many lives ago, when I was a boy...*
"God you are useless." I sighed and gutted the man with a quick stroke. No sense in making him suffer.
"This place smells." Covering my face again, I left the establishment, smell and all. The wind lashed at my face, cutting through everything to the bare skin. "Next time you want revenge, take me somewhere warm."
*Well, there was my ex-wife who cheated on me with my brother...*
Groaning loudly, I covered my ears. It was sixty miles to the next inn. | 2016-02-29T20:12:36 | 2016-02-29T15:55:00 | 28 | 10 |
[WP] The world is flat. There is no known edge, just wasteland and winds that blow harder and harder against you the further out you go. You're part of a research expedition trying to make it further out than anyone ever has. | An *Endless Abyss*, they all said. Well, for all intensive porpoises, I guess it is. Terrible though it may seem, yo' chance of getting through the winds is nigh to none. I made it, tho', somehow. Don't know where my friends are, or what happened to 'em. Don't even know what'll happen to me once the winds calm down. Don't got enough food thing to make it back, 'specially if I gotta rando move through that "eye" thing those physimawhosits were talkin' bout. Just know that after we all passed it, was like the winds stole us away. Hell, wasn't *like* that, was that! 'Cept the winds were goin the wrong way. We all spent two sometin months pushing forwards thru that godfersaken wind and what do we get? A NEW wind tearing us all apart. Hope those boys make it back home somehows, few o' them still gots mouths to feed. Least I ain't got nothin' to go back to..
\*\*End of Video Diary**
It was shaped like a wedge. From the outside, looked like it was made of thin metal. Twenty feet on the bottom, got to five feet tall. Hard to imagine it barely had room for a man in a form fitting padded cell. At least, that's what it seemed like.
The sleek metal machines were quite ingenious, actually. Hundreds of tons in just the bottom few inches, the pointed ends of the machines measuring in at mere microns in width, ground down to a handful of atoms! Cut the wind right in two, it did. Then there were the life support systems, measuring in at 2 tons, with the passenger directly above, stuck in a human shaped hole with a tube in their arm. Only thing above them was the power source: wind turbines. Those were mostly shut now, though. Too strong of a wind would tear them to pieces.
The crew had started off optimistic. The expedition before them had found an edge... kind of. They never made it, but with the data they transmitted back, a model was successfully calculated.
"Forty thousand miles."
"That's it?"
"Yep. Fourth thousand, and the wind's too fast. Ground couldn't stand a chance. Don't see a dust cloud here, so something's stopping the wind from picking up that ground."
"My money's on a hole."
"More like an edge."
"Don't bother making bets, just go see it!"
Many people were enthralled with the news. Few signed up to travel. Those that did were scientists, Physicists mostly, Meteorologists too. There was even an odd Geologist in the mix. Joe? Joe wasn't part of that group. Joe was only here because he'd get early parole if he made it back.
The party set off at dawn. Each person had their own device, each one custom suited to the driver. "Can't these things go any faster!?" Joe shouted out over the comms. A few of the others laughed, but only one explained why they could not, in fact, go faster.
The winds started really picking up about three weeks into the journey. By now the batteries had long been depleted and discarded, and the machines were going forward on pure wind power. Far as the eye could see, the ground was dry and cracked. No life, no water. Days and nights blurred together. Thirty thousand miles, only ten thousand to go.
Month and a half in. Each inch gets slower. Samantha's vehicle overturned the day prior. Seems it was built poorly, front wasn't low enough. Ever since, everyone's worried they'll be next, but there's no turning around now. The party had gotten further than any before, but they all wanted to get to the end. They wanted to know how the world worked.
"Hey, I'm losing power!"
"Same here!"
"All units report on power levels!"
Everyone was losing power. At first, there was confusion and fear. Was the wind too strong? Had it blown out the turbines? They were so close. 39,500 miles in. It couldn't be over, could it?
No. The turbines were reporting all green. The wind just wasn't able to turn them.
"Wait. No wind? Is this it? Is this the end?"
"Look through your cameras, fool! This ain't no end, there's brown far as the eye can see!" Joe was understandably annoyed.
"Maybe the wind just... stopped."
"The wind can't just stop, it's wind! How would wind just 'stop'?"
One of the physicists volunteered to step outside of their vehicle. Many protested this, but she was adamant. All camera feeds turned to her door cam as she stepped out, and all were greeted with the horrifying sight of her body being compressed to the ground almost instantly, as if she were play-doh.
"Dear lord have mercy on her soul."
"May he have mercy to us all."
"The wind hasn't stopped. I think we found its source: above us."
"It's like we're in the eye of a storm."
"What happens if we get to the other side..?"
That was the last time Joe heard from anyone else.
_________________________________________
First time submitting here! All constructive criticisms are welcome and appreciated! | *Day 62*
*Scout Lucas Brentwood*
Lucas placed his left foot on the bark of the tree before he grabbed the two closest branches. He took a deep breath before hauling himself upwards and placing his right foot on the closest gap. He started to climb, checking each branch before he would put his weight on it. It was a normal climb to Lucas, something he had done a thousand times in the safety of the city, and now a thousand times in the wilderness. It didn't take him long to reach the top of the tree, where he finally sat.
"What do you see?" His Captain shouted from below the thicket of branches and leaves. Lucas could no longer see him or the rest of the search party. Now, all he could see was trees in any direction. Even the light of their home city had disappeared in the forest.
"Nothing but trees, Cap'n!" He shook his head and looked around, "As usual," he whispered. Lucas tried to spot anything, a landmark, a rock formation, even a different type of tree, but there was nothing. Just tall, ever-greens for miles on end.
"No landmarks?"
"No, sir!"
"Any distinguishing features?"
"No, sir!"
Lucas couldn't hear him, or see him, but he knew his Captain was now grunting to himself and pulling out the map. They had left known territory of the Inner Valley twenty-seven days ago. Since then, they had been traveling West. And Lucas knew with what he was seeing, they would continue to head West.
_______
*Day 118*
*Scout Lucas Brentwood*
"Are you sure you're doing it, right?"
Lucas laughed, "Is there a wrong way to *climb* a tree?"
Janine shrugged, she was the Captains' second and would take over if anything happened to him. As each day passed, some of the members of the party wanted Janine to take over. "I mean, are you getting high enough?"
"I go as high as the tree goes, Second." He shrugged, "All of the trees are usually the same size."
Janine nodded. And they continued on.
_____________
*Day 176*
*Scout Lucas Brentwood*
Lucas peered at the horizon. One hundred and seventy-six days and finally, there was something *strange* about what he was seeing. The trees that he had grown accustomed to staring at, along with the dirt of the forest floor, was changing in the horizon. Turning from a cool green into a harsh and desolate brown.
And the wind, Lucas could feel himself getting hit harder and harder as each day passed, but today it was more intense than ever. He had seen trees move from the strength of the wind. Yet now, as he stared at the endless sea of them all around, they were *dancing*, moving back and forth in a beautiful and infinite pattern.
Back and forth. Back and forth. Until the horizon changed and the dancing stopped. He sighed, whatever he was about to tell the Captain, he was either going to be very happy or incredibly disappointed.
_________
*Day 184*
*Scout Lucas Brentwood*
Lucas was just as surprised as the rest of the party when the trees ended. Not all at once either, they all felt the forest thin out, a few trees disappeared, and then more and more until trees were a rare sight. Now, they were gone, only the ones behind them could still be seen. Everything in front of them now was just brown and sandy.
And the wind, too, howling at them in the nights and screaming at them during the day. Kicking up sand into the faces of the party and burying their bodies at night. They were terrified. Trees and the forest floor was about the only thing they ever knew. And a sea of nothing? Lucas had never heard of such a thing before.
"Maybe that's why never told us," one of the Packers said, "ya'know, to keep us in the city."
"Why wouldn't they talk about all this then?" Captain said, "Why not mention the brown blanket?"
"Fear, maybe," Janine shrugged, "we haven't seen an animal in eight days, a falcon in five. And water in twelve."
"You mean why tell the world that there's nothing out there?"
"Hope," I whispered, but they all heard me. I nodded, "Hope that there's something better out there."
Captain grunted, "If there is, we're going to find it."
_________
*Day 201*
*Acting Captain Janine Westworth*
Janine never imagined Captain Northbrow would fall in the brown blanket. She had practically been raised by the man, thinking that he was immortal more than anything. He had taught her everything she knew, and quite possibly a few other things she didn't know just yet. But when he fell, Janine knew she had to take up the mantle. She knew what to do.
Missions like this, you don't take the wounded. When hunting, you don't bring the dying with you. You do the humane thing. You take the gun strapped to your back, and you put the poor thing out of it's misery.
It was the first shot fired on the mission.
Janine knew, just from looking at the rest of the party and the brown blanket in front of her, that it would not be the last.
________
*Great prompt OP! You can check out /r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs for more of my work!* | 2016-03-17T19:19:08 | 2016-03-17T19:17:18 | 94 | 46 |
[WP] Write a story where the good guy is actually the bad guy, but it's only revealed on the last line. | "Do you know how many chefs there are in the world?", he asked as he casually sliced and diced an onion, not pausing for a response. "You don't get to be on top by being average. You have to stand out. Make a name for yourself." He placed the onions in a hot skillet, and they sizzled sharply when they touched the hot pan.
"You have to work hard and make sacrifices to get ahead in this business. I've spent my entire life making a name for myself. It takes focus and hard work to get to where I am. I've put in the time and now it's finally paying off. Keep your focus and find a way to stand out, and you too could be where I am."
The onions were transulent and added to the dish. The aroma from the kitchen was fragrant and full.
"Voila, the last African Rhino. Bon appetite!" | He ducked in through the doorway. His tall 7' frame, drenched to the core. Taking off his hat and dripping coat to hang in the entry. A small slender framed woman poked her head from around the kitchen corner.
"Lylle, where have you been?"
He could smell her cooking and knew he smelled distinctly of the bar he had been at.
"Trista... I was celebratin' wit' da Bos..." he slurred
"It's almost 10pm! You could have called!" Christa exclaims
He looks barely capable of understanding. With a dumbfounded look on his face he manages to slur out,
"Me an the bos at the station, we foun the guy."
Looking confused, Christa walks into full view, belly protruding. A good seven moths into her pregnancy. Wiping her hands on a towel from the kitchen she say;
"Which one Lylle? You have so many cases I can hardly keep track."
Even spinning around the room as she appeared to him, he could see her starting to display some signs of distress, good. He points to her belly with a knowing smirk. | 2016-08-20T07:57:51 | 2016-08-20T05:43:48 | 86 | 19 |
[WP] Your new girlfriend has almost everything in common with you. One day, you learn that she's your female clone | When I first met her, I was surprised by just one thing.
Her face caught my eye at the bar, as I was grabbing a round for my table. Her eyes had that almond color that drew you in, just like my previous partners had told me I had. I recognized the curl of her hair that was just a touch too unruly to comb down, but not curly enough to be luscious as a shampoo model's locks.
This wasn't what surprised me.
I struck up a conversation with her at the bar, turned out she had come from the same middle-of-nowhere town I had, just a few short years after I had. We had both followed our dreams into the big city, the same college, same major, down to the same activities and interests. It was almost like we were made for each other. She was the first person I had met at a bar like this where we had really clicked.
That wasn't what surprised me either.
We ended up at my apartment nearby. She was new to the city and staying with a friend who, as it turned out, lived across the hall from me in college. I poured a glass of wine for each of us, and the conversation flowed just like the rest of the bottle. We ended up talking into the late hours of the night. This was starting to develop into a real relationship, the kind I hadn't had since before I graduated and started my company.
The connection didn't surprise me either.
One day, a handful of months later, we ended up in the shower together. As she ran her hands through her hair, I noticed a streak on the back of her neck. I rubbed it with my thumb, and when it didn't come off easily, I looked closer. It was a string of numbers and letters. On closer inspection, it was hexadecimal, some 32 characters long. I took a picture of it and showed her, to prove I wasn't just making it up.
The tattoo wasn't the surprise either.
We looked it up, and couldn't find anything about it online. She decided to call her parents, to ask them if they had noticed it before. The worry lines that creased her face as her side of the conversation dried up were endearing, but the matter at hand was far too serious for that. She said the numbers were only supposed to appear in a certain situation, and her parents hadn't explained anything except that she should check the necks of those around her when it appeared.
The real surprise was when she swept my hair aside, I had the same string of numbers, but instead of ending in 97F, mine ended in 92M.
Her parents had said only one other thing to us after we told them what the result was. Only something about the warranty being expired if the two models ever came near enough each other to be intimate, and the disastrous possibilities if anything like that were to happen, but that was all I remembered before everything faded to black, and she left my life. | We love all the same things… It’s crazy really. So, I have this thing for ice cream, right? Eat it for breakfast. But she does too! And the freezer is like our little ice cream library. I mean, we moved in together after what, a month? She’s impulsive… like me.
Our taste in music, movies… she loves the slow boring stuff as much as me, and we even get distracted around the same time. Sexually we’re perfect together.
Then I brought her home to meet my parents for Christmas. First off, she’s never said much about her parents, I mean, neither have I… I don’t talk about mine much either so I didn’t think much of it, but her stories always seemed pretty generic. My parents were also pretty weird about it, like overly excited and I couldn’t put my finger on why? You know?
So… here’s where the shit hits the fan: they ask me, “so when’s the wedding?” like right in front of her and I’m a little annoyed… I laugh it off at first but then I’m getting red and my heart is thumping and… my dad calls me into the other room.
“So she… we had her made. She’s you. We used your DNA and made a female clone.”
Turns out they thought I was too quiet and shy and I’d be alone forever so they went out and made a girl version of me.
“We want to to get married and we want grandkids. She wasn’t cheap and hell, you seem really happy. Can you blame us?”
And honestly, I guess I can’t. I mean, I was mad at my folks, but I couldn’t take it out on her. She didn’t know and when I told her… she cried and cried, oh man was that a mess. She didn’t believe me until we took the test and sure enough… we’re the same.
I mean, we CAN’T have babies like this. It’d be incest, really.
At first, we were furious... it was cruel. They lied to me, to us, and played us like toys, but once we calmed down and we talked for a bit, I thought: let's give em what they want. So what if our lives weren't our choice but theirs? Eventually, she came to the same opinion. And man if you thought we were similar before; nothing compared to our shared desire for payback.
So that’s what brings us here, you and I.
We planned to have a kid. Fertility treatments the whole shebang. She got pregnant with twins! Crazy. And we loved each other so much through all of it… I’m sorry, I get a little teary thinking about it.
I held her hand as she lay there on the table in the hospital and I held them in my arms. A boy and a girl. We named them Ava and Otto. The hardest thing we ever had to do was take them home. Then drown them in the bathtub.
We drove them over to Mom and Dad’s place and threw them on their doorstep. Boy were they surprised. Then we doused ourselves in gasoline and lit the match, but as you see… I survived. | 2017-01-25T19:28:57 | 2017-01-25T18:29:17 | 29 | 12 |
[WP]You are a parent in an anime. Your child is born with epic anime hair, and you are certain they will become the protagonist. You are determined to not become a tragic back story like so many other anime parents. | "Dear son,
I love you, with all my heart. You're the greatest thing that has ever happened to me and your mother, but also the worst. When you were born, your head was full of this luscious, golden, bloody pointy hair. It seriously messed up your mother giving birth to you. I mean, have you tried touching your own hair by now? It's freaking sharp, boy! It's not naturally supposed to be like that unless it's just a *bit* harder and thicker than the average do. Then again, it sways in the wind like any other hair, so I can't really explain the physics behind it.
But I digress. See, the main conclusion your mother and I reached was this: You must be a protagonist. There's almost no other way to explain that do, unless you're actually an antagonist, in which case: FUCK YOU! But since we love you, we just assumed the former.
Now, unless you're about as thick as your hair, you should realize what this means. We, your parents, are screwed. We both love you. We both wanted to raise you as our own, darling son. But whenever an anime protagonist is born, their parents are royally screwed. Maybe we'll get hit by a meteor. Maybe we'll go out fist fighting an endless army of eerily similar masked fuckers. Maybe one of us will just get cancer and the other will for some reason resent you for that forever. Point is, no matter what, bad stuff is going to happen to us if we stick around.
So we decided to leave you. This was the hardest thing we have ever had to make a decision about. Your mother is crying as I'm writing this, and I can even hear a sad piano soundtrack playing in the background. Probably the same you can hear when you read this. This is some sad shit. But I love your mother and we both love you, and seeing as we know nothing good can come from us sticking around, we thought it would be better if we just made sure you were in good hands before we left and will use the rest of our lives traveling.
So we've put you in the care of my sister, who, as you know, is already a pretty sad character, but with a heart of gold underneath that tough, chain smoking exterior. She should do fine raising you. She already knows that you're a protagonist, but considering her current life style and how she probably will be slightly neglectful, she accepted you nonetheless because odds are she'll at least live to see you become 12.
I hope you grow up to be a wonderful young man and smite the ever-living shit out of whoever will be your nemesis. I wish we could provide you a normal, stress-free life, but that was sadly not meant to be.
Live well and take care.
Yours truly,
Mom and dad.
PS: Do *not* think about finding us! We already know how that will turn out. Seriously, stay the fuck away! K, love you, bye!" | "OK, here's another one. What is a banana's favourite gymnastics move? The split!"
Rochard let out a heavy sigh. For days now Lemmic, a good friend of his, has been telling dreadful jokes. At first he guessed he must be taking part in some sort of stage show or wedding speech or...? But no, any inquiry about such ideas was met with dismissal or objection.
Enough was enough, before Lemmic got another joke out Rochard confronted him. He looked up from the mug of luke-warm coffee Lemmic got him, and looked across to his friend and asked straight.
"OK man, c'mon. You've been telling me bad joke after bad joke for nearly a week. What's gotten into you? You've never been a funny guy?"
The words were a simple truth, and not the first time it's been mentioned. But for some reason Lemmic took it particularly personally this time.
"What? That's stupid and you know it! I...I've made lots of people laugh, and lots of times! Like...remember the time me, you and the Elson brothers got completely trashed at that new bar in sector 3? I had all you guys in tears!"
"We were laughing **at** you, there's a difference. You were a mess that night, so you probably don't remember dancing around on the bar with your underwear around your ankles."
Lemmic let out a forced sigh through his nostrils. Then looked out of the window. The coffee place was old. Not great but cheap, and the view at least was good enough to warrant spending time there. Lemmic was usually the type of guy who preferred to be in the background, something obviously changed but what?
"You don't get it Rochard. I *need* to be funny. I need to learn, there's not much time left..."
Lemmic took a picture out of his pocket and handed it to Rochard. A quick look and Rochard's eyes widened.
"This...this is a CT scan. Holy shit Lemmic, you're having a kid! Why didn't you tell me!?"
Lemmic's eyes was not happy ones. The worry lines were deep set, he slowly pointed at the image in his friend's hand and asked him to look again. At the hair. Rochard did just that. He needed to squint, but the faint outline started to come into focus.
Sharp angles. Almost like...oh.
"Shit Lemmic. Why didn't you say anything? When...when is the kid due?"
"The scan was done a few weeks ago. Due date is 3 months. Rochard, I need to be funny! If I'm not the comic relief then...then..."
"Yeah, yeah I get it now. It's not like you can be the mentor is it? You're not smart enough for that."
Lemmic looked deadpan.
"What? If you want to be funny you'd better get used to it. I'll stock up on booze, get the guys 'round and tonight we'll get you into some *training.* I think I still have that inflatable pig somewhere."
"...What pig? Hang on, is...is this where *Lemmic the Porker* comes from!?"
Rochard didn't comment, but yes. That's exactly where it came from.
| 2017-02-15T04:53:49 | 2017-02-15T04:38:20 | 107 | 37 |
[WP] Every month or so, the same man walks into a barbershop for a haircut, not knowing that it is just a front for the mob. He arrives every time just as all the real barbers are on break and the mob boss must cut his hair. | "Sometimes it's just unbelievable, you know," he said, "I give simple instructions and no one seems to be able to follow them. I worked hard to get here and when I was in their shoes, I knew how to get the job done the way my boss wanted it."
A larger man, somewhere in his early 50s, swirled a comb through some Barbasol. He picked up the next bit of hair and began snipping the ends.
"Hey, deliver this notice, drop this off at the bank, go get my car," he huffed, "they're not difficult tasks! Just get them done! I shouldn't have to go get my hands dirty for simple errands, but you know I can't fire the kid cuz he's my brother-in-law's nephew and I don't wanna hear about it from my sister."
"Have you tried extra training?" the man in the chair suggested. His eyes were closed as the man behind him worked his way around his head. "Or maybe a checklist? Some do's and don'ts or something?"
"Hey Jimmy, maybe next time don't follow that floozy down an alley and you'll get to the bank on time! Common sense stuff, Jeff, these guys don't got any of it. Across all my businesses, it gets tiring."
"Well," he paused while the barber removed the cape around his neck, "I used to be in HR for a firm. I can do a workshop with these guys or maybe filter through your hires, look at their resumes or something beforehand. Maybe reduce the number of slackers you get just looking to make a quick buck. Some of these guys might be better suited for other positions in your businesses."
The older man laid the cape over the back of another chair, nodding at Jeff.
"You know, I might take you up on that. I'll talk with the wife, see what she thinks, give you a call."
Jeff pulled his wallet out, but the other man shook his head. A favor, he said.
Jeff shook his hand and walked out the door, a small bell jingling above him. The other barbers were coming back from lunch, laughing about some lake trip they'd taken last week when they pushed someone off the dock. Young men having fun in the summer - the American dream. He waved at them as he passed, the three men smiling and giving a slew of "the boss really cleaned you up good today!"s. Jeff commented that their boss really was a great guy, they were lucky. The men laughed, waving goodbye as they stepped into the shop. A car pulled up outside the shop as Jeff waited to cross the street. The mayor stepped out of the back seat, walking quickly into the shop.
"You know, if it's good enough for the mayor, it's good enough for me."
Edit: looking at doing a part 2 (the HR workshop) tomorrow when I've got time for anyone still interested!
Edit 2: part 2 is [here!](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6kzdsv/comment/djr61fz?st=J4PF9VVR&sh=46e28c02) | "What are you doing, Mizuo?"
The voice came from the far end of the shop. He tilted his head just slightly and gulped as he caught sight of the most muscular man he had ever seen in real life. The giant towered, his hair easily brushing against the narrow doorway of the barber's as he squeezed his way in. Tattoes covered his arms, grinning dragons.
"Hmm...? Oh. it's just you."
His hair dresser set aside a set of scissors and picked up a comb, expertly running it through his hair with nary a pause.
The large man scowled, those frighteningly cold eyes passing briefly over him before glancing up at his hair dresser.
"That all you have to say? I hear you got promoted and what do you do-"
"Quiet." His hairdresser's quiet voice cut firmly through the large man's rant. "I'm with a customer. Go in the back if you must."
"Ha! As if you can get rid of me so easily, you disrespectful little-"
The comb slid across a nearby table. The hairdresser picked up a long pair of scissors, seeming to hold it speculatively for a moment. Light gleamed off the stainless steel.
"Mr Nitagawa."
He started.
The hairdresser smiled at him. "Please excuse me for a moment. Come on, Jin, we can settle this in the back."
The big man, Jin, started to grin, his large fingers straining against his biker gloves as he clenched his hands into fists. "I'll teach you just what it means to-"
They disappeared into the back of the shop. He sat there, heart beating slightly fast and mildly annoyed that his hair was still only half-cut.
He heard a loud crash behind a moment later and jerked almost out of his chair.
It was silent after that. He strained his ears. He sat back down, turning his chair slightly so he could observe the bead curtain separating the backroom from the store.
A moment later, his hairdresser returned, smiling lightly.
"Sorry for the wait, sir. Let's continue."
His haircut was finished in moments. As he stood up, he considered the hair dresser- a fairly young man with dark, shrewd eyes and a profound ability to cut.
"Should I call the police?" he said, "That hooligan looked like he might be trouble."
The young man laughed, "Oh he's trouble, but nothing I can't manage. Jin and I...we're the same kind of people you could say. No need to have cops butting in."
"If you say so." he left a sizeable tip with the hairdresser.
The hairdresser smiled as he escorted him to the door.
"Thank you for your service. You're very good at cutting hair." he said, half outside in the wet streets beyond.
The hairdresser shrugged and gave him an amused smile. "I just enjoy my job. Cutting hair is relaxing. Low stakes, you could say."
Not so modestly, he added,
"Besides, I've always been great at cutting off loose ends."
He thought he heard a low groan coming from the back of the shop. It must have been his imagination. The hair dresser waved at him as he left for the dark, rainy night outside.
| 2017-07-03T08:59:33 | 2017-07-03T05:43:32 | 1,094 | 593 |
[WP] Puns are now illegal and punishable by death. Those who laughs to the pun will die instead of the person who said it. As an assassin, you utilize this law to murder people. | Johnny walked into the bar, he saw three pieces of dripping red meat hanging above the counter. It was hard not to miss them.
Slightly disgusted by the sight, Johnny asked the bar tender, "What's up with those 3 pieces of meat?"
Johnny's innocent and unintended pun caused the burly man sitting next to Johnny to snicker a little. He was trying to suppress any laughter coming out of his mouth because of the recent bill passed. Any punk found laughing at a pun will be found guilty, with the sentence of being punched to death.
The bar tender replied Johnny, "It is for a bet. If you can slap all three pieces of meat with your palms, your tab will be on us for tonight. If not, you owe everyone else a drink. Do you want to take the bet?"
Everyone at the bar was watching the conversation. "It has been a long time since someone took up the bet. Spoiled meat is a dead loss." said Susan who was sitting across from the counter.
"I don't want to take up your bet, the steaks are too high."
Everyone was trying to bottle up their laughter hearing Johnny's pun. Unfortunately, the man who was sitting next to Johnny boy could not contain his laughter.
The man started laughing loudly in awkwardly timed short bursts. His laughter reverberated throughout the bar. A chain of laughter soon ensued. Many like Susan were laughing at the man's laughter but others were laughing at the pun.
Soon, the police arrived. Finding hard to distinguish who was laughing at the pun or the man, the man in blue took everyone in for investigation.
The judge found everyone laughing at the bar to be guilty. Death, was awaiting them. And that was how Johnny earned his nickname, The Punisher. | I light the last of my cigs as I kept my two volumes in my drawer. One's named Dick, and he tells me the word on the street, and the dinosaur's Theresa, who finds me alternatives. The tools of my trade. They call me the Donkey- the Double Donkey. My real name is something else altogether- gotta keep things confidential in this line of work.
That is, if I did have work. My wallet was lacking green as a cowardly red-shirt on a hot summer day- that is to say, like a desert. I was about to get some dessert when the door opened and in came a dame.
She was a little shifty- all covered up under a trenchcoat. I'd judge that she had some funny business, but then again so did all my clients. She had a pretty face and I was having a drought in more than just my jobs, but I turned my mind back to work. Didn't matter if she was stacked, as long as she could bring the stacks.
"I hear you're a professional punman," the dame whispered, "I've got someone who needs the giggles."
My eyes narrowed. This pretty face had a pretty ugly heart. Looked good from afar, but was far from good. But it wasn't my business to ask questions, so I made it her business to know my fees.
"The Double Donkey's sins are expensive, lady."
She placed an envelope on my desk. Shuffling through it, I found enough pounds to gain their own gravitational pull. I raised an eyebrow.
"And that's just the down payment."
This dame ain't joking around- but then again, that was my job, not hers. Time to get to the funny business. "Well then, miss," I drawled, "who's the target?"
Silently, the dame handed me a file. I read through it- and got ready my devices, literary, stylistic and the other non-linguistic necessities. Looks like Mark's the mark. Time to make use of the clause in the law with some clauses of my own. | 2017-07-15T01:07:18 | 2017-07-15T00:43:55 | 75 | 13 |
[WP] In the future, humans have the ability to transfer pain from one person to another. Every town has one person to whom they transfer every other citizen's pain. | I sat on my stump and, sure enough, my leg twinged with pain. My fireside seat had this pesky nub of oak that jutted straight into my thigh. Without fail my toes would throb; my calves would prickle.
"I could have it sanded down," my attendant Martha would say. She'd stoop low and frown at the knob like some malignant mass.
"No," I'd say. "This pain is my own. It's sorta nice."
Martha readied her clipboard and said we'd drawn quite a crowd.
"We'll be late to Brisby Hills," she sighed, scribbling away.
I squinted through the tent flaps and wagered she was right. From Calloway to Kimberling, we'd trundle along, soaking up the woes of the countryfolk like a sponge. They'd amble from their shanties en masse and greet me like a plumber long overdue.
"Took your sweetass time," a leather-faced farmer might say as I tended to his son. "You guys Union?"
"Happy to be of service," I'd say and wince, the bones in my arm beginning to splinter.
The first patient stumbled into the firelight and Martha drew up her clipboard.
"Affliction, please."
The man swayed on his feet, but managed a feeble smile.
"Devil's wrapped my head in a tight squeeze," he said.
"Pardon, sir?"
"He's hungover," I said.
I eyed the fool up and down.
"Got yourself properly sloshed when you heard we were down the road?"
The man stood silent.
Then he pulled out a wad of cash.
"Come on then," I sighed.
He shuffled forward and I placed my palm on top of his greasy head. His pain soaked through, crawling up my arm. The firelight began to burn much too brightly, and the smoke made me terribly nauseous. Suddenly, I felt a strange burning sensation down below.
I pinpointed each individual feeling and manifested them into mice. I picked them up by squirmy little tails, picturing a safe, deep in my chest. One by one I dropped them in and locked them up.
The man blinked.
"Thas' amazin'," he said.
I was still tingling in places I shouldn't be.
"Best get yourself tested."
Martha ushered him away, droning out our typical disclaimers:
*We are Anesthetics. Your pain is gone, but your other symptoms remain. Please do not operate heavy machinery, etc. etc.*
One by one the townsfolk stepped forward. They laid bare their broken bodies, tarnished souls, and wads of cash.. Old codgers with bad hips walked back into the world practically skipping. Poor gals with broken hearts smiled at the ease with which a few green bills could dispose of the unfaithful. By day's end I'd soaked enough pain that my stomach complained. Agony sat like a greasy burger in my gut--too much at once and I got indigestion.
Martha went to pack up shop when a shabby man stumbled through the tent flaps.
"Are you still open?" he panted.
"We'll be back within a month," I said, and motioned for Martha to kick the fool to the curb.
"Please, sir, I'm begging you. Ran straight from Calloway soon as I heard "
His shaky hands offered a few paltry coins. Not near enough. But Martha'd assessed the man's tattered shirt and unkempt hair, and her eyes went all watery so I knew it was game over. She drew up her clipboard.
"Affliction, please."
The man looked confused. His eyes blinked rapidly across the fire.
"I...ehm..."
"She means what's the matter with you?" I said.
The man's gaze sunk to his sneakers.
"Wife's dead."
Martha shot me the *Oh Dear*.
"Sir, you'll have to head a bit further south if you're looking for a necromancer."
"I don't aim to raise nobody from the dead," he whispered.
"What, then? You want me to take your grief?"
"You done that already," he said. "Just last month."
Silence coiled in the air alongside the campfire smoke.
The man raised his head and fixed me with the most alarming gaze.
"Can you give it back?"
"Y-you what..."
"I want my grief back sir, please. I'll give you anything."
"Why would you want it back?" Martha asked, perplexed.
The man said:
"My wife's ashes lay spread through our backwoods and I crunch through them as mindlessly as if she were snow. My kid called me a coward the other day. *Fucking spineless coward.* He's a smart kid--can still remember her face. I reckon he's got a good point."
"This pain is your own," I said.
"Yes," the man nodded. "And I ought to bear it."
I beckoned the man forward, placing my palm over his heart. The door to my safe wrenched open and I began rifling through my collection. There, nestled next to a brutal case of pink eye and a skinned knee sat a beautiful woman with chestnut hair. Her cheeks dimpled as I plucked her up.
A rush of emotions flooded through me. I grew bleary eyed as they cascaded down my shoulder. I longed for her so dearly, so deeply, that memories danced before my eyes.
She used to make shitty pancakes. They tasted so terrible even the dog ran off to bury them. She hated scary movies. Still, every year she and I ate candy corn and rented a new redbox. She'd tremble at the jump scares and I'd look into her eyes and say *It's just a movie dear*.
The memories ebbed and flowed, filling my chest with this humid sort of pang. They filtered through my palm and into this poor man, and then, in a flash, she was gone.
The man pulled back and began to weep. My arm lingered. I felt I'd been privy to something private. Something sacred.
"She was beautiful," I whispered. "I'm sorry I took her."
"Yes, she was," the man croaked. "I never should have given her up."
_______________________
r/writerscrywhiskey
| You sit silently at the bar, alone, with a loose grasp around your beer bottle. You pull your long, blonde hair back and put it up in a high-bun.
A man in the bar looks over and notices your subtle act. He sees the signature red tattoo on your neck - an emblem indicating that you are a Pain-Taker.
He stumbles over and sticks his hand out for you to shake. "Let's get this over with."
"Not right now." You quietly whisper as you take another sip of your cold beer.
"Why the... why you no help me, pretty buns?" The words fumble out of the drunk man's mouth.
You sit in silence, ignoring him, and glance up at the television.
You feel the man still standing next to you, staring at you... cross-eyed probably. After a few seconds, he walks away and returns back to the other end of the bar to continue his game of darts.
You grab a handful of peanuts from the dish on the bar. You reflect on when you first got the tattoo, making yourself a Pain-Taker.
____
"Ah!!! What the heck, I thought you said it wouldn't hurt!" You shout to the Doctor as he finishes tattooing the red emblem on your neck.
"Sorry about that. Sometimes the bio-organisms in the ink have a mind of their own." He mutters as he dabs the newly inked tattoo with protective vaseline.
You sit upright in the hospital bed. "So how exactly do I take away people's pain now?"
The Doctor looks at you with a warm smile. "You shake someones hand, and POOF, their pain is gone and transferred to you."
"I know that, but like... do I need to say some magic word or anything for it to take effect?" You offer, hopping off the hospital bed.
"Nope! Just give someone a nice firm handshake and all of their pain will be transferred to you." The Doctor repeats as he starts cleaning up the room. "Be careful though, the longer you shake someones hand, the more pain you take from them."
"Right." You quickly agree, as everything you read about Pain-Takers aligns with what the Doctor is saying. "And if someone gives me a handshake, and I re-enforce the handshake by clasping my other hand around theirs, I can take away all of their emotions."
The Doctor's eyes grew wide as he looked up from the table to lock eyes with you. "Yes... but why would you want to do that, Alice?"
"No, no. I am just curious, that's all." With that, you offer your thanks and leave the hospital room.
____
You finish the peanuts, and push the empty bowl towards the bartender. You take another sip of your beer and reflect on the first time you took someone's pain.
____
As you run down the sidewalk with the moon casting a shadow behind you, you click NEXT on your I-pod. You are almost finished your run, when out of the corner of your eye you see someone lying in an alley, bleeding. You rip the earbuds out of your ear and run over.
"Oh my gosh, are you okay?" You offer, as you kneel down beside the bleeding man.
You notice the man was loosing a lot of blood and he likely wouldn't make it.
"It h-hurts so b-bad. I was r-robbed." The man struggles to say. "The ambulance is on the w-way."
"Here, shake my hand!" You thrust your small hand toward the dying man. "Hurry."
You notice the man's pupils dilate as he realizes you're a Pain-Taker. "R-really? Y-you would... d-do that... for... me?"
"Of course." You whisper, still holding your hand out for him to shake.
The man manages to grab and shake your hand. You hold on for a few seconds and then release.
"AAAHHHHHHH!" You scream, as the sudden shock pulses through your body - a feeling you have never before endured. Somehow you manage to stand up through all the torture. As you stand, you wince and cringe in agonizing pain. You manage to gather your bearings and you look down at the man still lying on the wet asphalt.
You notice he appears much more relaxed and this brings a warm feeling to your heart.
The ambulance sirens come out of nowhere, and the large white and red truck rips around the corner and creeps down the alley.
"Thank you." The man calmly says, looking up at you.
You smile and nod, then put your earbuds back in and resume your run - each step sending shocking pain throughout your whole body.
You bottle the pain away throughout your run, and soon you don't feel it anymore.
____
You finish your last sip of beer, and hop off the bar stool. You throw a $20 bill on the bar counter and begin your walk towards the exit. You pass the dart board and feel someone's hand grab your shoulder.
"Come on wiff it, sugar pie."
You turn around, knowing exactly who it is and what he wants.
Without thinking, you grab the man's hand and shake it.
You watch him close his eyes and tilt his head back, enjoying the pain as it left his body.
You can see a sense of euphoria wash over the mans face.
Continuing to shake his hand, you feel him try to pull it away. "Otaay, th-thank you hunny."
You yank his arm and pull him close, still clenching his hand; you slap your other hand over his.
"St-staaap!" The man mumbles, as he tries to pull his hand away. "AHHHHH."
A few other bar patrons look over, and observe the rare spectacle.
"AAAHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhh." The man shouts louder, but the scream slowly fades as the seconds tick past.
After about 35 seconds, you release the man's hands from your grip. The whole bar is now watching.
You turn and walk away towards the door; one step after the other, just as painful as the last, but after so many years you hide it well.
As for the man, he stands there for a few seconds, as a blank stare covers his face.
His body drops limp to the ground.
The bar patrons watch you as you walk towards the exit, all of them in shock at what just took place.
Just before you walk out the door, you turn back and say:
"A man without emotion, is really no man at all."
____
Edit: Fixing tense.
Edit2: Added missing words.
| 2017-07-15T18:15:14 | 2017-07-15T17:03:49 | 75 | 17 |
[WP] you go to Hell to realize that it has completely been over ran by humans. After Centuries of Human deaths. Humans vastly out number demons. making it a Hotter second earth....but you know, with demons and stuff. | Dear Diary,
I've been in Hell for a long time now - four centuries, in fact - and I have finally been offered a place in Heaven. Wonderful news! - or, so I *thought*. I mean, I'd been on the Heaven's Gate waiting list for three centuries, and had been praying for this day ever since I signed up. But now that it's here... well, I'm not so sure that I want to go, any more. There are so many things I love down here - is it really worth giving it all up, just to be a bit *holier-than-thou* and enjoy the occasional smiting?
That's why I've decided to write a list. Hopefully, it will help me decide.
***Nicholas' pros and cons list of life in Hell.***
**Pro**: The weather all year round is beautiful! Coming from Britain, it's a *revelation* finding somewhere warm more than six days a year! The hot lava pools are lush, and my skin has never looked better. *Who cares* if the mud in the mud bath's isn't exactly mud - it still works wonders. I've got a great tan, to boot.
**Con**: It's damned hard to find a spot by the lava-pools. The Germans (there are a lot of them, nearly as many as there are us Brits) are always up early to claim the sun-loungers. Sometimes I see them scurrying along in the dark, towel between their arms, before I've even been to bed! The pool-demon life guards do their best to stop them (reserving is against the rules), but it's basically a bath-time blitzkrieg and there's little they can do.
**Pro**: I have plenty of friends down here. So many people I knew were secret atheists. I guess God had the last laugh. There are a ton of people I don't know, too - more women to meet here, than there are living on Earth! (Wink wink, nudge nudge)
**Con**: It turns out that friends wear each other's nerves after a certain period of time together (twenty minutes together, I'm informed). There *are* more women than on Earth, but they show the same lack of interest in me as the Earthen women did.
**Pro**: Gluttony is encouraged, and I do love to gorge! There's an all-you-can-eat BBQ every night, just outside obliteration pit 15. I bet Heaven is full of vegans...
**Con**: The meat on the BBQ is usually a person. Hell, it's been me twice. Once you've been spit roasted in Hell, well let me tell you, dear diary, I don't fancy getting spit roasted again.
**Pro**: Lust is encouraged. And considering I'm single, and it looks like it's staying that way for the foreseeable future, it's nice to... *imagine*, sometimes. *Sigh*.
**Con**: The demons... they also lust. And well... *not now, diary*. Not now.
**Pro**: No going to church every Sunday! Hallelujah and praise the Lord!
**Con**: Sunday's are now acid bath day. Still beats church?
**Pro**: Mum and dad are here.
**Con**: Mum and dad are here.
**Pro/Con**: No football or cricket. Although there are plenty of Ba'al games.
Well, that's all I can think of for now, diary. Maybe I'll come up with more ideas and edit my list, if any comments inspire me. But for now, I think I'll stay here - at least until the place freezes over.
| I look at the demon in front of me and he looks at me back, with a scowl on its face. It probably knows what I am going to ask and I am probably not the first one either. And definitely not the last. Still, I am curious.
"So... you mean to say that God, with his infinite wisdom, completely oversaw this thing? Like literally the painfully obvious problem?"
The demon lets out a grunt. "You humans gave that old man too much credit. If there's one thing that we know, infinite wisdom is one thing that he doesn't have. Not with this problem."
The demon gestures to the horizon behind it, and as far as I can see, thousands upon thousands of humans dotted the landscape. Each of them stood only inches within each other. The entire scene reminds me of a badly organized concert. Or my early morning commute to work back on earth, squeezing into trains like sardine fishes. Still, I find the entire overcrowding issue to be a little unbelievable.
"Surely, in your powers, or the Devil's powers, or God's powers, you can solve the space issue right? Like isn't Hell supposed to a constantly expanding space? Like you know, how our living universe is?"
The demon frowns, clearly annoyed. A tiny flame glows in its eyes. "Look, do you really think you're the first one who is asking about this problem? When this place was created, space wasn't an issue."
People behind me are crowding around the table, eager to listen in to the conversation. A few others who have already checked in are also trying to approach the entrance back. The demon seems to be aware of the people looking in, raising its voice considerably louder. "We thought that when the issue arise, it can be solved easily, with God and the devil around. But..."
"But what?" A woman not far from me cuts in.
"But we have not heard from them both for a very long time." The demon sighs and drops back into its seat. Anxious and confused murmurs among the crowd, while the other demons look indifferent. Or resigned, I cannot tell.
A hand shoots from my left. A young man, probably in his twenties. Must have done something pretty messed up to deserve a spot in hell at his age. Everyone's eyes turn to him. "Where are they then? No one tried to find them?"
The demon shrugs. "Only God knows, I guess." It says with a grin, before assuming its bored look again. "Attempts were made, but never successful."
I try to open my mouth to ask more, only to have a scarred hand appear in front of me. The same crimson eyes are staring into mine. "No more questions. The lobby is already quite packed as it is."
Before I can protest, two warm hands wrap around mine, and drag me away from the counter. "Next!" I hear the demon call, as a strange substance wraps around me as we pass a gate. It feels hot, like a candle's wax, burning my skin. I scream from the pain, but the two guards next to me seem unfazed.
"Welcome to hell," one of them says, before tossing me over a cliff and into a sea of souls below. "You'll make a lot of friends here."
As I rolled down the edge of the cliff, each stone cutting into my skin and the heat burning me, a strange thought floats up my mind. I cannot stay in hell. And I need to find out what happened.
My head eventually hits a rock at the bottom of the cliff, and as everything fades into black, the sound of tortured screams, explosions and chaos gradually grows louder.
----------------
*This story may probably be a start to a host of stories based on WPs in preparation for Nanowrimo! Check out /r/dori_tales for other stories in the meantime!* | 2017-07-21T07:51:22 | 2017-07-21T07:49:20 | 44 | 20 |
[WP] You have many of the abilities of a Disney princess. You can talk to animals, people burst into song around you, and it seems every other day a "Prince Charming" type falls madly in love with you. As one of the most feared mafia enforcers in New York, it's tough, but you make it work. | So, my situation is pretty damn peculiar.
You see, ever since I was born into the family, I had an innate knack to rise up in the ranks and gain power in the biz. I always had the abilities of a Disney princess... I could communicate with animals, force my victims into vulnerability by magically forcing them to sing musicals, or even seduce my... err... male competition to convince them to become my hired hands. And don't get me wrong, this skill set is great and all, but there's just *one* problem.
I'm an effing guy.
Yep. That's right. Also, before you even ask, I don't swing *that* way. Kapeesh? But to be honest, almost all my underlings do. You know... because of that little "seduce Prince Charmings" knack.
*Knock knock.*
Well, it looks like another dirty task for me to complete.
"Excuse me sir, but Mr. Charm wants you to get rid of his wife. She's been pestering him to get her expensive glass slippers on the daily, and he's offering a reward of a million, but only if he gets to spend a night with you." the butler explained. I could see a hint of jealousy in his eyes.
"Well, looks like another one bites the dust. I knew he was a simple target, fell for me at first sight at the ball last Saturday. Tell him I'll accept it, but only if he agrees to not bite off more than he can chew with 'a night'- you know my orientation- and that I'll perform the 'usual'. I'll have Ms. Ella literally singing her death tune in no time. Prepare the pack of ravenous squirrels, they've been begging me to let them join in on the action lately. Also set up the obstacle course of candles, I'll perform my daily 'nimble training' when I return." I casually ordered as I donned my tuxedo before reaching for the door.
"Yes, sir Jack."
"Alright, be back in two hours tops."
*Creak.*
*Slam.*
r/JackWrites
| Sweetie wrapped her bushy tail around the Capa's ear and whispered her recent scouting results. Shipment at the docks this time; apparently the Yakuza thought staying out of the city could protect their chatter. The Capa had eyes everywhere though, not just near central, and her employees weren't of the conventional type. A bag of bird seed, some bread crumbs, and sometimes old chicken wings and she had allies for life in the street animals. Sure they had their weaknesses, just last week Princess brought back a spool of thread instead of a location of a drop off. But overall the advantages were far more numerous. This didn't stop Sarah form wondering about a few... minor improvements.
*Now if they just let me pick their names so they aren't Sweetie or Daffodil and something more fierce..... If my human employees ever found out I'd have a big mess on my hands.*
Satisfied with Sweetie's report, Sarah leaned back in her cougar skinned chair. Why cougar skinned? Well it turns out they aren't the most cooperative of companions. It wasn't too hard to arrange a little "accident" at the zoo. Nothing to do now but to wait for the drop. Sarah shut her eyes and settled in, might as well get paid for being on the clock. Except.... was that.... singing? She threw open her blinds and forced herself not to close them again, despite the eye bleach she now desperately needed. Another sing song, dressed in a bard's outfit singing about everlasting love. Couldn't these ignoramuses give her a break? She hit a button on the console near her ink stand; the bright lettering read Code 4. Two bullets struck the would-be-suitor and threw him off his rhythm. This was why she still kept a few human bodyguards around; not many animals were willing to kill. She settled back into her chair and put a pair of earphones on just to be safe. She turned back in her chair, but was greeted by a peculiar sight. With the suitor's distraction, someone slipped an apple onto her desk.
*Well I did miss lunch*
Her teeth bit into the apple, and she immediately felt her tongue explode into agony. Floundering, she tumbled out of the chair and banged her head on her desk. As she scrambled for purchase on her desk, the apple slipped onto the floor next to her. With her dying breath, she saw the label.
**Fuji Apple**
| 2017-07-31T11:46:36 | 2017-07-31T10:25:21 | 66 | 13 |
[WP] in your world, everyone has a almost entirely unique symbol on their wrist, soulmates have the same symbol. Your whole life you've been drawing on a symbol with a sharpie to hide the fact you don't have a soulmate. One day, you meet someone without a symbol, just like you.
Thank you everyone for informing me that this is a stupid and pathetic writing prompt but I like writing in this genre. If you do not like this writing prompt, please ignore it, you don't have to comment that I'm an unoriginal 14 year old. You can easily move on to another prompt you enjoy. | Pool party. I'm an idiot, right? For someone like me, wouldn't a big body of water by the prime place to avoid?
Most of the time, my brain's thinking clearly, and I would have declined the invitation. Hell, I've gotten really good at thinking about all the twists and turns of any sort of social interaction - will there be booze, and I might lose control? Will people be getting wet? Is there rubbing alcohol around? Will my secret remain safe?
But when Kara looked at me, those big eyes of hers glimmering in the flickering light of our college graduation bonfire, my brain turned off. She grinned as she informed the rest of us that her parents had a pool in their backyard, that she was "watching their house" and could "totally get us in." She leapt up to her feet, body parts jiggling in delightful ways that made my hindbrain applaud, and waved at us to follow her.
And twenty minutes later, I found myself staring down at the shimmering water, lit from beneath by lights, trying to shake off the calls from the rest of my friends.
"C'mon, Tom, the water's great!" called out Danny, bobbing up and down beside Kara. He grinned up at me - although that wasn't anything special, Danny basically always grinned whenever he was around Kara.
After all, they'd found each other. Perfectly matching symbols on their wrists, down to the tiny, intricate pattern of stippled dots surrounding the main diagram. They were meant to be together, and anyone could see it from the way they got lost in each other's eyes.
The others hooted and hollered, gesturing for me to take the leap. We'd been friends practically since the first day of college, and I knew them all so well. Elaine, with her interlocking triangles. Danny and Kara, who fell in love even before they revealed their symbols. Rick, who insisted that his shape looked like an "alien smiley face".
Only Sasha hung back, as usual. I still didn't know how she'd become a part of her group, with her reserved nature, shy withdrawal from most conversation, and refusal to participate in anything unless we begged. In any other world, her baggy sweatshirt and big eyes peeping out from beneath waves of black hair would make her an outcast.
But we'd welcomed her. She sat behind me, on a deck chair, barely hovering on the periphery of our circle. That was usual, for Sasha.
That was where I should have been. I didn't belong here, wavering on the edge of this pool, feeling my wrist burn with the lie that I'd carefully traced on with Sharpie this morning, like I did each morning. I belonged back in the shadows, with Sasha - an outcast.
I turned away. "I'm sorry, guys, I can't!" I called out, eliciting a round of groans from the others. "I'm too drunk to get wet! You all have fun - I'll keep Sasha company."
"Nuh uh!" Quick as a striking snake, Rick rose up from the water, his hand flying out towards me. I scrambled backward, but not quite fast enough; his fingers wrapped around my arm, sliding down towards my hand as he fell back and attempted to haul me into the pool.
His fingers slid over my wrist. Oh god, the symbol - would the pen resist the water? Panicking, I shook Rick off, my hand now sodden and dripping from the transferred water.
It was too dark. I couldn't see the symbol clearly, but I couldn't risk being exposed. I backpedaled, away from the fun and frolicking, back towards Sasha and withdrawal.
Ignoring the boos from my friends, I dropped onto the deck chair beside Sasha. Kara's parents had outfitted the whole backyard like a resort, with palm trees and a corner bar. Sasha, pulled in on herself, didn't seem to notice any of it.
Her big, pale eyes, however, fastened on me as I sat down beside her. I wanted to check my wrist, see if the ink had smeared, but I couldn't do it next to her. "Hi," I said, feeling awkward.
"Hi." She kept watching me, and the silence stretched out. I scrambled for something else to say.
"So what do you have planned now? Now that you're graduating?" The words felt hollow, but it beat out the silence.
She shrugged, a pale, small shoulder briefly appearing from inside the oversized sweatshirt. "Dunno. You?"
"I don't really know, either," I admitted. I shook my hand, trying to get some of the water off. "Travel, maybe. Or just try to find a job. Not that anyone's hiring much, as far as I can tell."
Sasha nodded, and then suddenly, for no reason at all, a terribly stupid suggestion sprang into mind. "We could go together," I went on, my mouth plunging ahead as my brain recoiled in shock. "Travel together. Go someplace new."
For just an instant, I thought I saw a flare of something in those big eyes, a look of... surprise? Need? Desperate hunger? What were those emotions doing on her face? She lifted a hand, almost unconsciously, reaching out towards me.
"I don't think so." The words seemed to be all but ripped from her, but she shook her head. A blink, and we were back to ourselves, that strange moment now past. "I... I don't really do well around people."
"Yeah, I've noticed." I tried to give her a wry smile, show her that I didn't mean the words to hurt. "I feel that way too, a lot of the time."
She shook her head again. "Not like this."
If I'd been a little more sober, I might have wondered what she meant. Instead, however, a new idea sparked in my head. "Well, let me at least make you a drink," I called out, standing up. As I did so, however, blood suddenly rushed to my head, and I felt a wave of wooziness hit me.
Vision swinging, I reached out to catch something to steady myself. Before Sasha could say anything, my hand closed on hers - and the sleeve of that oversized, baggy, ratty sweatshirt that she always wore slid up.
And I felt a bolt of lightning run up my spine to burn out all conscious thought in my brain.
Her wrist was bare.
She didn't have a symbol.
She was like me-
Sasha was up, tearing her hand away from me. Her eyes burned, tears glimmering at their edges even as her mouth opened in a hiss. "Get away!" But she paused, torn between fight or flight.
I only had a second to react, before she would be gone - forever, I knew. But somehow, for the first time in my life, I knew what to do.
I turned my wrist, displaying it to her - and drew one finger down, over the symbol that I so painstakingly traced out each morning. The ink bled, ran, slipped away under my wet fingers.
I looked back up at Sasha, and saw her mouth hanging open. For a long minute, neither of us spoke. The party burbled on in the nearby pool, but we were in our own world.
I finally cleared my throat, fighting the hoarseness that made me feel like I hadn't spoken aloud in years. "So, about that drink..." I began.
She nodded, even as she self-consciously tugged the sleeve back down to cover her wrist. "Okay."
And even as Dan and Kara splashed happily together, and Rick and Elaine flirted (because even if two symbols didn't match, that didn't mean you couldn't have a little fun, right?), we drew away. Neither of us knew what this meant, but we'd both realized the same conclusion.
We weren't the only ones.
******
*Read other writings at /r/Romanticon* | The worst part of constantly redrawing my symbol is that by the time I get home every night, it's smudged and that makes my wrist all grey and weird. I always have to keep my smudged wrist hidden on the subway from work to the station nearest my home.
Today, a hetero couple across from me is arguing; their hands are waving around and I can see that their symbols are similar enough, but it looks like the girl has been adding Sharpie to her symbol to make it match his.
The argument gets loud and disruptive, and I can't help wincing in sympathy for the girl. Then the guy raises his hand and brings it down across the side of her head with a ruthless snap. I start forward to give him a piece of my mind, but a gay couple just on the other side of them gets there first, the taller male grabbing the guy by the wrists while the smaller male quickly pulls the sobbing girl away from them. In the struggles, I see that their symbols are perfectly identical, and my heart strains in my chest, longing to have that connection with someone.
I understand why the girl did it, and when the subway train stops, allowing the gay man to yank the abusive guy out and toss him toward the stairs with a warning, I go over and offer her a bottle of water, smiling slightly. She takes it, and then buries her face in the other gay man's shoulder, crying at the loss of her safety net.
Just another reason I've been hiding my lack of a symbol, I think to myself as I mount the stairs into my neighborhood, giving the abusive guy a dirty look as I pass him trying to convince a cop that he wasn't the one in the wrong. There's enough people trying to force their symbols to match without giving them someone to hold as a pariah.
I'm so lost in my thoughts that I don't notice the car until a horn honk makes my head snap up. I gasp, jolting backward, but I know it's not enough, and I can already smell the stink of burning rubber as tires squeal across pavement.
All at once, someone plows into me, taking us both to the ground just out of the danger zone. The car screeches to a stop a little ways away and the driver jumps out as a crowd gathers. I groan and hold my aching head, ignoring the curious stares and questioning murmurs of the bystanders.
"Are you okay?" the driver asks, all in a tizzy over how close he came to an accident. He starts fussing over me, and I almost punch him, wanting a moment to myself to get my head on straight.
"She's fine; we're fine," a loud, solid voice says. I vaguely recognise the form of the person who tackled me to safety as they reach to offer me a hand up, and I blink firmly a couple times as I accept, trying to clear my vision.
The first thing I see makes me freeze, unable to stand due to the dock it gives my system.
The wrist is blank. There isn't even a grey smudge indicating that this person draws on a symbol, like I do.
"Hey, you okay?" my rescuer asks, drawing my gaze up to the most fascinating indigo blue eyes I have ever seen.
Then it hits me: she's a woman, and I'm absolutely straight.
My heart lurches in my chest, my stomach tightening as tears bite at my eyes. At long last, I have proof that I'm not alone, that I do have a soulmate, and now that I've finally met her, I know in my heart that I will never be able to love her the way I want to.
Agonising over my revelation, I use her grip to pull myself up, and then I turn and run, pushing through the crowd.. The only thought in my mind is to get home as quickly as I can.
"Hey, wait!" I refuse to stop, but her voice, so deep and concerned, makes me falter. How could fate screw with me like this? Make me a straight woman with seemingly no soulmate, only to give me another woman as a soulmate?
When I get back to my apartment, I slow and drag my keys out of my purse, scrubbing tears from my cheeks as I fumble to unlock my door. After stupidly doing my keys, I scoop the up and take a breath to calm down before trying again.
"Need some help?" I jump sharply, whirling to face... HER, my rescuer, my soulmate. She smiles genuinely, breathing hard, and leans on her knees to catch her breath. "Damn you run fast..."
"H-how...? Why did you..?" I can't form a coherent sentence, my thoughts scrambled with stress and nerves.
"You dropped this," she answers, holding out my wallet. "I thought you might, you know, just maybe, need it soon?" She winks, playful and friendly, and I realise she probably doesn't know, since my wrists are covered with long sleeves held in place by holes in the fabric for my thumbs.
"I... th-thank you..." I reach to take it, and she pulls it away.
"First you have to tell me why you ran," she says decisively. "You're not on the run from the cops or anything, are you? I mean, as cool as it would be to have an adventure, my conscience just wouldn't let me lie to the cops, and this would have to go into their hands."
Red hot embarrassment creeps up my neck, and I blurry the first thing that comes to mind.
"You don't have a symbol." That isn't what I intended.
She blinks at me, caught completely off guard. Her gaze skips quickly to my covered wrists, and then hardens, jaw setting in determination as she lifts her chin a bit and stands straighter, stiffer.
"Is that a problem?" she asks tersely. I realise abruptly that she's already been looked down on for her lack of a symbol, and I feel a terrible ache gnaw at my chest.
I know there's nothing I can say now to assure her, but there is something I can do, and it takes everything I have to wrangle in my courage and pull my thumb from my sleeve so I can roll it back and expose the smudged grey remains of my Sharpie symbol.
She stares blankly for a long moment, not comprehending, and I wither under her strong gaze. I'm ready to bolt again when she finally gets it and gasps.
"We're... but then, why'd you run?" she asks, perplexed. I cringe in shame.
"I couldn't... it's been so hard, thinking I had no soulmate," I admit quietly, lowering my head. "And then for the tiniest of moments, I was overcome with joy to realise that maybe, just maybe... But I'm not... I mean, I don't... I... I'm straight..."
She pauses for a moment to process that and then bursts out laughing, increasing my shame.
"Oh... Oh, honey..." Smiling, she reaches one slender hand up and brushes it through her fluffy gold waves, surprising me by pulling away a wig and revealing a much more masculine cut of black-brown hair beneath. I blink, trying to catch up, and realise 'she' is actually more of an extremely feminine 'he.'
"I'm not exactly a woman," she--he--says. I'm so confused, and his smile doesn't help. "I'm actually genderfluid; you just happened to catch me on a distinctly female day. Believe it or not, my body is all male."
On impulse, I reach out and squeeze a breast, jerking back when I realise it really is fake. He squeaks in surprise and then laughs.
"Hold on there, honey; at least buy me dinner first!"
A door nearby closes, catching our attention, and we both look over to see a young man giving us weird looks as he quickly heads for the stairs. I flush in embarrassment, and the man--woman?--across from me winces sympathetically.
"Do you mind if I come in?" he asks. I almost say yes reflexively, but stop as I realise there's more to that question than on the surface; he's giving me a choice to accept the possibly that we really are soulmates and give him a chance, or shut him down and send him away.
I stare at him for a long moment, battling with myself. At last, I turn and unlock my door. Then I face him and hold out my hand for the wallet, which he immediately turned over, his expression falling. Just as he turns to leave, I step out of the way.
"Hey." He glances back and I gesture him in. "Come on in." | 2017-08-06T17:01:38 | 2017-08-06T15:49:22 | 594 | 149 |
[WP] In the future, to pass college you no longer must pass written finals. Instead, you are simply dropped into a real life scenario related to your major, and left to fend for yourself with your new found knowledge.
*My first post on WP, sorry if it's a repeat and/or against any rule(s)*
Edit: wow, sincerely thank you all so much! was not expecting my first post on WP to go front page! | The stench of gunpowder hung in the air. I could hear the artillery fire cascading into a nearby town. I stood up, groggy and confused.
I looked down at myself. I recognized the uniform immediately from my history class. A red swastika covered my left arm.
"Why am I here?" I asked aloud.
A man accosted me from behind. I spun around, gripping my pistol.
"Easy there," the man said, whose voice I now recognized as my history advisor. I loosened my grip.
"You were the smartest student I had. I know you're capable. You have all the knowledge you need. Now stop the war."
| "I said skim with low fat caramel!" the lady screamed at me as I snapped back into myself. I was still trying to adjust to my current reality. A barista? This was my exam? I had spent 4 years working towards this degree and this was my exam?!?! Well, I guess my parents may have been right after all. Wait what am I saying? Get it together, you've come this far, no sense in stopping now, this is a pretty trendy shop at least.
"My apologies ma'am, I'll fix that right up for you!" I rolled up the sleeves of my flannel shirt, tucked my ironic beard into my beard net and proceeded to make the most beautiful latte that coffee shop has ever seen, complete with a rendering of Van Gogh's Starry Night in the foam. Perhaps tomorrow I could work on trying to recreate a couple Monets. Who said Art wasn't a useful major! | 2017-08-10T05:16:53 | 2017-08-10T05:15:48 | 741 | 67 |
[WP] Aliens try to invade earth but they can't bring themselves to do it because humans are too cute to them | Sorthol the Immortal stepped out of his ship and onto the queer green land. The atmosphere smelled about 20% oxygen, and the lifeforms reflected it. Tiny little insects buzzed around him, he swatted at them absentmindedly, looking around for other signs of life. Smooth green hills roll away in all directions, most of them covered in oxygen producing mobile-life. Sorthol watched as his breath turns a deep blue in the warm air, and quickly dissipated. "Good." he said, nodding to himself.
About 5 units due north a small hermitages stretched before him, with many metal lodgings. *Looks like maybe a level 2 species.* he thought. *My bet's aviary.* he added, noticing the shiny quality of some of the lodgings. He set out towards them.
As he approached he can begin to hear the unique sounds of the civilization. A small constant rumbling vibrated the air around him. *Noisy critters. Must have no advanced predators.*
*Should be a piece of cake.*
Long loping strides, and he was nearly there. Paved land lead into the dwelling from many directions, and small metal boxes roam it. *Supply boxes, maybe?* he thought, scratching his forearm in thought. He continued to lope onward, and stopped only at the point where the paved land reached the buildings. Several of the boxes began to behave erratically, and he almost thought he sees little beings in them. Some of them stopped completely, and he saw eyes. *What are those?* he thought, looking back into them. He turned toward the city, and hundreds small of dots of little creatures roam between the lodgings. He loped toward the nearest he could see.
Swooping them up in his claws, he lifted the being up towards his eyes.
"Can you speak, little one?" he asked. The being was very clearly nervous, and scratched him frantically on the paw. "Mean little bugger, aren't you?" Sorthol asked, not without affection. The creature began to scream, a horrible little sound.
"Now, now." Sorthol found himself saying. "I didn't mean to hurt you, little ape." He lowered his paw, and the little one ceased screaming, and began to scurry away into a nearby lodging. "Poor little guy was shy, I guess." He muttered to himself. He surveyed the land. Several of the creatures had gotten out of their paved-land boxes, and were now holding up picture taking devices towards him. The look of awe and excitement on their faces stirred something deep within him, and he remembered how little ones of his own race are always excited about everything. *Dammit.* he thought to himself. *I can't kill these guys.* he realized.
*But I am going to tell everyone about how adorable they are.* he thought, imagining his friends reaction to the little critters. *Maybe we'll even take some of the cutest ones back, and put them in a little lodging of our own.* he thought, and began to take note of the architecture around him. *Shouldn't be too hard to replicate.* he paused. *Nah, I have a better idea.* he thought, reaching over. The metal box was not rooted very deep in the ground, and did not resist very long. *Ooh, maybe some of them are still in here.* he thought, turning back to his ship.
___
/r/Periapoapsis | (I'm saying mah alien spoke like in Shakespearean times. Because honestly, that makes it easier for me.)
...Mine parents always spake unto me, uttering words of degredation in regards to those creatures we refer to as... 'humans'... Mortals.. humans.. writhing sacks of flesh... What have you.. Many a name hathe we inscribed upon them, and yet they insist unto us they be referred to as.. strangely.. 'children of God'.
Especially this small one before me..
"It would behoof thee to relinquish even touch from these creatures. They aught bring unto us naught more than pestilence and plague; upon which the cure is death.."
Oh how she writhed.. how she squirmed upon our first meeting; her very lifeblood had gone wintry as she had gazed upon mine visage; she pleaded unto me her life, seeking that I give her succor and solace; I hath no obligation but to acquiesce at such a moment, for at the time, I was loathe of these... humans.. thinking they brought unto mine kind diseases.
Ahah, but that was eons ago.. or so it seems.
A decade later, and here reside. I had found her status as an innocent waif too delightful to pass up.. Discovering mine beloved's history hath revealed unto me she had been abandoned following a family schism of the most vitriolic nature.. I posed unto her a query.
"Child.. hath ye any desire to leave this mortal realm? Heretofore gazing upon thee, I found you repulsive; but upon further inspection, I've nurtured a desire to keep thee.. Thy innocence and helplessness have in truth, attached me unto you. Bearing thoughts of abandoning you to this harsh world of Terra-Prime, now? Such thoughts threaten to split my mind unto twain with anguish... Thou art innocent.. dangerously so. One must not let such a precious creature squander itself in misery.
"Y...You can stop talking like that you know.. But.. I.. I wouldn't mind.. sir.." I heard the words course from her lips, quiet, in a basheful whisper, as if t'were ashamed.
"Ahah.. 'sir'! Woman, thy pure intentions and favourable disposition give thee power.. never hath I met such a polite little creature as you"..
The woman, upon reaching my transport vehicle.. Oh how she squirmed.. I held her within mine embrace as she wept tears.. Tears of freedom and joy... but of the most acidic, vitriolic anguish you could imagine. How she spake and quoth to me of freedom.. Freedom from torment from the people whose blood floweth within her.. And so she writhed... She writhed and squirmed, crying out, like a homunculus unto its creator when it hath experienced the first birthing torments and pleasures of life, seeking understanding and yet begging death to bless it with darkness.
How fragile her psyche was.. How helpless her mind and body.. t'was this that motivated me; surged my efforts further to give her reprieve and comfort..
" Now come.. thee and I shan't tarry here much longer. Bequeath unto this.. this Earth... your final partings and farewells.. I see thou art neither a quean, nor a quidnunc, but that thou art rathe-ripe. I commend thee for having disciplined thyself to such rigid standards.." I quoth unto her before we had departed, taking her hands gently to lead her away. A wave of my hand... and we had left this wretched plane of mortal torment... known as Earth.
Known as my land of birth. | 2017-08-20T07:21:20 | 2017-08-20T07:16:42 | 1,830 | 25 |
[WP] Aliens try to invade earth but they can't bring themselves to do it because humans are too cute to them | Arganax flicked his antenna in irritation as he glanced around the conference room. The air was heavy as each multifaceted eyes twitched away from his stare.
"So," he clicked. "The decision to retreat was universal."
A brief buzzing filled the room as the augmented battle armor they all wore activated under the twitching of vestigial wing muscles.
Arganax growled, a low rumbling sound that echoed through the silent room.
"Sir... High Warmaster..." began Taraks one of the younger generals. "You have to understand, we tried. Disabled there satilites, even bombed a few cities but... The men sir... it was taking its toll."
Arganax regarded him silently.
"Troops were vomiting in their formations. Most of our medical service personnel broke rank immediately to say nothing of the reactions of the Queens."
"Do you know who we are?"
"Sir?"
"We are the second most feared race in the known galaxy, we have defeated more than four hundred worlds, turning them into brood-chambers for the next generation of our people. We defeated the Sarax, the night children and the upstart gods. I was told this was a level 2 technology world, barely above nuclear capability.
WHAT WENT WRONG!"
Taraks shivered before him, "they look like larve sir. More appealing even, like those little soft bodied cartoons we used to watch when we were young."
Chattering and warm looks of agreement went amongst the generals. "One of their countries leaders even looked like TurraTurra."
Artarak looked on astonished.
"Seriously sir you have no idea. They are all like funny little infants. And once you think you're ready for how appealing they look, you see something better. You haven't lived until you've seen something that looks like your child blown up into a pudgy ball, or clutching and playing with a living moss tuft; you know, like we all did back in the hives."
"Indeed," interrupted Neelza, usually famed for his use of bioweapons. "They even have miniature larva of their own, like ours, but even smaller. It's truly... Truly beautiful sir."
"Yes sir. They must be protected." Another of the generals chimed in.
"I agree. We all do. That's why we returned to the fleet sir. To convince you."
Artarak was dumbfounded... and strange for himself, curious. Just what must creatures that adorable be like. He'd yet to review any of the data that had been brought over to his ships, wishing to interrogate his failed generals first. He tapped a claw on the table.
"This species," he finally said. "Where is it located?"
-----
My first try at one of these. Hope you enjoy. | Gorestaff the Annihilator snuck carefully through the unfamiliar base. The holographics had shown him what to expect, but the smaller structures were like some sort of nestlings play area to the 8 meter tall Zaxarian, who's hardened carapace was festooned with the gilt of conquered worlds.
But finally he had arrived at the main complex. Angling up his disintegration staff he converted it to wide area and took aim at the wall for the inevitable slaughter that was about to begin. Checking to see if the other member of his team was in place, Gorestaff brought the weapon up and fired, the outer wall glowing green for a moment as 6 inches of reinforced concrete and steel were converted into nothing by the energy of the zero point converter in his staff.
A lone being from this world turned around like a startled animal, reached into its side and pulled out a weapon. Grinning Gorestaff watched as the small flash of the weapon answered, and felt the gentle ping as the weapon bounced harmlessly off of his null field.
"Gorestaff," came a voice from the meta communicator.
"Yes Slaughtermaster?"
"Have the enemy attacked you yet," asked the greatest warrior of the Zaxarian Race, who's mono molecular blade had claimed the head of the God Emperor of Halcyis.
"Yes."
"Have you noticed anything odd," replied the Prime Warrior.
Gorestaff considered as more shots bounced harmlessly off of his shield. It reminded him of a children's party actually, where his nest mates had 'ambushed' him with a bunch of Neutronic Emitting Refiring Field weapons. The pop and the flash was almost identical. The pop and the flash were identical.
"By the nine levels of the Sarlac, they are attacking us with toys!" Gorestaff's inner and outer eyes widened as he looked around. Another human had a small tube which launched some sort of small explosive party favor at them, as he could tell by the string it kept attached to the launcher, the bright flash was enough to shatter the nearby flimsily built structure.
As his horns retracted, a much larger squat vehicle rolled out on tracks, aimed and fired a super sized toy weapon at him. It even exploded on impact, illuminating the small humans as they attempted to look threatening and several made to charge at him.
Finally, Gorestaff got a good look at them. They were adorable as they attempted to drive small metal knives into his legs. A dry realization struck him, "Putressa the Puss Bringer would love one of these."
"Slaughtermaster, we shall not conquer a land that celebrates our arrival, grab several of these things for your mates. We will hold a proper festival here later," stated Gorestaff as he looked into the sky where his landing ship was being bombarded by nuclear missiles. The lights in the sky were glorious. | 2017-08-20T08:54:15 | 2017-08-20T08:37:27 | 316 | 96 |
[WP] The end of the world is at hand. Everyone starts to tick off their bucket list, doing crazy things because they know it won't matter in the long run. In an odd twist of fate, the crisis is averted. Now everyone has to live with the repercussions of what they did. | "The crisis is averted. I repeat, the crisis is averted. The asteroid is no longer on a collision course towards Earth. Stay tuned for an interview with the NASA scientists who rerouted it."
I stare at the TV and hug my kids. Tears flow from my eyes as I feel their tiny hands wrapped around me. Thank God. I kiss their pale little foreheads and send them away to play.
I feel as if I am coming back to life. I had spent the last 12 hours in the same position, watching the television and comforting my kids. Accepting my death. It is only now that I realize how glad I am to be alive. How much there is that I haven't done.
My mind wanders. What if I didn't have kids? No responsibility...nothing to stop me from doing what I wanted? What would I have done?
I wander outside. My breath catches in my throat. It's like a wasteland out here.
The Webter's house has all its windows broken. Their shed is on fire. A dog limps by, and I notice with interest that his left hind leg has been messily chopped off. Most intriguing, though, are the Bakers.
Tom Baker lies in a bloody heap, stab wounds littering his body. Next to him, sobbing hysterically, is his wife, holding a kitchen knife and covered in her husband's blood. I shiver with excitement.
As I gaze upon this massacre, I feel red hot jealousy growing inside me. This is what I missed. The feeling of flesh yielding under my fingers, of warm blood trickling across my hands...
I turn back to my house, and my rage builds. It's their fault. Their fault that I missed this.
Did I miss it?
I walk slowly inside. Call my children to me. I don't grab a knife. I don't need one. My hands will do.
I wonder if Mrs. Baker can hear their screams. | The, to be fair rather recently elected President of the 6 Continents (may the people of Europe rest in peace) has spoken in public today:
"Things have changed, for the better and for the worse. We are one free people, unbound by the shackles of what cruel fate had struck us before, yet bound by the need for choice. A world without repercussions gave us an out of a guaranteed demise, gave us a truly trusting society. However, I will neither be the first person that you have heard this from, neither will I be the first person to tell you that we have done despicable things as well.
"Unlike my fellow men, I will not lie, I will not beat around the bush: No repercussions meant I did everything I never dared to, like uniting everyone I could, helping all I wanted to, and to punish those that declined. I did things not because they were the safest, the easiest. I did things because I wanted to do them!
"And I am certain that you all, each and every one of you, has done much and the same. Each and every one of us has done things in knowledge that they'd be erased by the future. But now that we are in the future, as one people, as one world, having averted crisis due to our resilience, due to our ingenuity, due to our heart, we need to ask ourselves:
"What now?
What do we do now with the knowledge of what we did?
Do we expect justice for every thing we did, do we turn ourselves in as a species after breaking free from the imprisonment of certain demise?
Do we only choose to enforce justice and law after the end, spitting those in the face that were harmed, that were pained, that still are pained?
Or, do we, as a species, give a pass on restrictions and lawmaking itself, seeing as it didn't help us when we needed it, freeing us from the shackles that brought us to the brink of annihilation?
"I have revised the rules of Humanity. Gone are the days of forbidden fruit, of consequences as issued by few people to masses, no more is the need for bribery, for self-control. From now on, there shall only be one law: The law to completely forbid any and all lawmaking, agreements or bound contracts!"
| 2017-11-29T06:47:31 | 2017-11-29T04:06:09 | 54 | 14 |
[WP] The monsters can only get you when the lights are out, so the lights stay on 24/7, globally. One night in the middle of winter, a massive power outage hits the United States. | The Montgomery’s were having a normal dinner on a winter’s evening when snow began to distract young Steven from his mother, Mary Montgomery.
“Steven are you even listening to your father?” Mary raised her palm in front of Steven’s face trying to gain his attention. Steven’s eyes were fixed on each snow flake illuminating from the bright lamppost sitting in front of their door.
“Why do we have so much light?” Steven looked towards his mother.
Mary looked at her husband Daniel Montgomery before hesitating to answer, “You know the light protects us Steven, now eat your dinner.”
“Not before you answer the question I just asked you,” Daniel lowered his fork and knife.
Steven rolled his eyes while his sister, Alycia, smiled. Steven and Alycia were both in high school but Alycia was a year older – and she constantly reminded him of that fact.
“What was the question?” Steven shook his head towards Daniel.
“I asked you why you were out late last night. You know not to go out during the night.”
Alycia giggled, “He was probably out at Molly’s house.”
“Shut up Alycia!” Steven shouted.
“Both of you enough!” Mary slammed her fist on the table. “Your father is right. You do not go out at night.”
“What’s the problem? This entire city is lit like a christmas tree! There is light everywhere no matter how dark it is! You both said as long as there is light then there is no reason to fear the dark. Your words.” Steven pointed trying to justify his actions.
“There is a reason that even with light, no one goes out during the night!” Mary shouted back across the dinner table.
It was a normal dinner for the Montgomery’s. Just after a few minutes, the entire dinner table was engulfed in loud arguing over the purpose of light always being on for their protection. It was when Daniel stood up from his seat and shouted, “Enough!” that the power in the Montgomery’s house went out. With just a blink of an eye, their home was taken over by darkness.
“Oh my god!” Mary stood from her seat.
Alycia jumped out of her chair freighted while Steven just sat there taking a bite out of a dinner roll.
“Oh no, the darkness is going to get us.” Steven said sarcastically while continuing to eat his roll.
“Shut up Steven!” Alycia hit his shoulder, “This is serious!”
“Kids, in the basement now.” Daniel pointed.
Steven’s laughter was halted when the sirens throughout the city started to echo across the dark skies. The sirens spread from each neighborhood to the next until reaching the Montgomery’s. Steven looked out of the window to notice lights were off everywhere.
“Kids, basement, now.” Mary repeated Daniel’s order.
Steven and Alycia started towards the basement when they heard gunshots going off in the other neighborhoods. Screaming suddenly started from the house across the street.
“Go now!” Daniel shouted while Mary, Steven and Alycia darted down the stairs and into the basement.
Daniel slammed the door behind him shinning a flashlight down into the basement until reaching a special bookshelf. Daniel pressed a button on the side of the bookshelf making it open into a small room. Steven and Alycia were both shocked to find a hidden room in their own house.
“Kids, grab any weapon you can find.” Mary whispered.
“What’s going on?” Alycia began to tear.
Steven’s eyes widened when he saw his father loading a shotgun. “I’m with Alycia, what is all of this?”
“This is to defend ourselves and our home.” Daniel loaded a final round before pumping the shotgun ready to fire.
“Defend it from what exactly?” Steven leaned in.
“Steven, Alycia, grab a weapon, now!” Mary slightly raised her voice as she picked up an axe.
“Will somebody please tell us what the hell is going on?” Alycia locked her eyes onto Daniel.
Steven shook his head in confusion before taking a bat from the room. Mary leaned in to calm Alycia before telling her the truth. She handed Alycia a sword before whispering,
“The monsters that came here long before you were born.”
“What monsters?” Steven asked.
Mary and Daniel looked at each other before they were startled by the sounds of the upstairs window being broken. The Montgomery family all stood frozen in silence. They each tightened their grip on their weapon. It was when their basement door slowly started to creak open when Daniel’s flashlight suddenly ran out of battery. Daniel sat his shotgun down struggling to keep their only light from going out.
“Oh no.” Daniel hit the flashlight against his sweaty palm but it died. They all stood in the dark while listening to the sounds of heavy footsteps coming from the kitchen.
“Get ready children.” Mary whispered behind them. “Whatever happens, I will not let them eat you.”
Steven gulped while holding tightly to his bat. Alycia started to cry as they listened to the footsteps coming down the stairs.
***
To read more of my stories, visit [r/13thOlympian] (https://www.reddit.com/r/13thOlympian/) | The stars that night were alive in a scattered glow, pulsing with light, but cold, and far behind the grey clouds. She saw them looking down at her. Her arm trembled from gooseflesh. She had never seen the stars before. The dark had never been so black.
Something was wrong. She closed the door. The shadows fell long against the candlelight. It was quiet. She could hear insects call, and the trees were moving in December's wind. Then all was still and that feeling grew stronger and she stared amidst the shadows.
Her mind played tricks. She faces as she moved. She checked the doors and pulled the curtains. She could see the stars from the window and she wondered if they could see her. Or was she too small?
She had seen stars once before. They were not real stars but painted ones on the ceiling of her room. She knew they were not real but she remembered staring at them and hoping they would move, twinkle like the old song said. Everything would be well if the stars twinkled.
Now in the dark they twinkled in the cold night. She heard a noise. Something crashed to the back where the trees were. She steeled herself and listened hard but there was only silence.
Then her phone rang.
She gasped and her heart betrayed her. It was beating hard and she trembled against the wall where the shadows grew. She looked at the phone and it was a number she did not know.
*I do know it.*
The dark hid monsters. Her mother had told her as much. Mother always lived in the dark. She had always *known* what happened in the dark, and she was okay with it.
She answered the phone. A deep voice breathed heavily.
"Hello?"
"I see you," it said. "I see your little face in the window. I see the stars reflect on the glass. I see you, babe."
She backed away. She wanted to drop the phone but her hands were frozen. They hurt in the cold. The candles burned low and weak and the dark surrounded her.
"You thought you could hide in the light, didn't you? You had me locked up, babe. They had me in the light too. This outage now, though, has gotten me free. They couldn't keep the doors closed. They couldn't shine a light."
"You... You..."
"I missed you, babe. I remember when I last saw you."
She screamed.
"Do you remember?"
She remembered the stars. They were painted upon the ceiling. Had she liked them before? She could not remember. She only saw them in a veil of hurt and screams.
"How young you were... I bet you've grown now."
A shadow moved outside. She heard glass break. She reached for something, any weapon she could find. The kitchen was down the hall, down the black and evil way. Footsteps echoed from there. She screamed and reached for a candle. The shadows swung in a wild patterns.
"Babe!" the figure called.
He was large and dark, like some animal ready to charge.
"Come hear princess. Show your daddy some love!"
He rushed her and she stumbled backwards. She thrust the candle into him. She could smell the perfume he wore. His clothes was damp from sweat and it stuck to her. She felt his warmth and she hit the wall. His breath was stale and he bit her and she was small again.
The window shattered and she stared at the light. She could see the stars as she craned her head. The stars were real and they twinkled and then she closed her eyes.
"Help!" she screamed.
A new strength grew within her and she looked at the monster pinning her down. His head was old and withered. His face hung loose like some mask, unchanging in the candlelight. His eyes were fixed and still, and he was large, at least twice her height.
"Help!"
And there were people coming. She looked at him and tried to force him off.
*The stars are twinkling,* she thought.
And she stared at him again and he was normal sized and growing older. He aged decades in front of her and his grip became weak. She looked down at the fallen phone and felt a wave of relief.
How could he have her number?
Her heart steadied and her arms were free. He melted into the dark. Someone was banging on the door. Her neighbors were here. She looked around and she was alone and shaking, but she felt glad and tranquil.
She opened the vault of bad memories and remembered his death, the news from the prison, and how mother had sobbed and blamed her for everything.
It hurt, but that was long ago. She went to the door and felt embarrassed. Outside the stars shone bright in the dark night. She had never seen real stars before.
*I may never see them without seeing a monster,* she thought.
And she felt sad. There was nothing that could change that. The stars were beautiful that night.
*I have conquered one monster tonight.*
And she thought she could look at them. She stared at their beauty, behind the thin wisps of grey, and she watched them twinkle in the stillness of the night.
-
*Hi there! If you liked this story, then you might want to check out my subreddit, r/PanMan. Its the place that collects all my writing. Check it out if you can, and thanks for the support!* | 2018-02-01T23:02:24 | 2018-02-01T22:34:56 | 423 | 22 |
[WP] The monsters can only get you when the lights are out, so the lights stay on 24/7, globally. One night in the middle of winter, a massive power outage hits the United States. | I had been in the park when the siren sounded. I had exactly two minutes; there was no way I could make it. I was a dead man, and I knew it. At first I thought it was a drill, but they only did those in schools nowadays - there had been no real emergency in over 20 years. The words of the old film reel ran through my head as I ran towards the city. “If the lights go out, there’s no need to shout! Lock your front door, and get on the floor! There’ll be no need to fight, just set a candle alight!” It was all so colourful and cartoony.
It didn’t feel so cheerful now, and things had changed since then. Everything was automated now. Everyday door and window in the world was fitted with a battery fail safe that lasted exactly two minutes. After it died they were magnetically sealed. Anyone left outside was on their own. That’s how long the monsters needed to come out of hiding. That two minute mark had changed the way the world was built. No one could be more than two minutes away from safety, but the park had been around for a long time, and there were still areas that fell outside the two minute safe zone. I had been in one of them.
The 10 second warning sounded as I got to the edge of the trees. My breath came out in heaves, billowing steam in the cold night air. I could see past the parking lot to what was normally a busy commercial street. ‘BEEP’ Nine seconds left. A few people were still crowding into shops and office buildings. I eyed the nearest shop, an electronics dealer, and sprinted with everything I had left. Four seconds to cross the parking lot ‘BEEP’. My heart felt like it was going to burst from my chest. Three more seconds to cross the street ‘BEEP’. My legs started to feel like jelly. Just one second to get to the store front ‘BEEP’, I stumbled on the curb but regained my balance. I reached for the door knob, my hand trembling, and heard the lock engage with an ominous thunk.
On the other side of the door an older man with a bushy white moustache stared out at me in shock. He tried opening the door from his side but it wouldn’t budge. He just looked at me and mouthed the words, ‘I’m Sorry’. From behind him a shop full of people stared out at me all with the same look in their eyes. Like they were looking at a corpse.
I turned away from the onlookers and slumped against the door, my back sliding down the cool glass surface. The glass, I knew, was made of pretty strong stuff. And even if I could break it, that would only be dooming the people inside to the same fate. My heart still pounded and I could feel it in the veins in my forehead, and hear it like a base drum in my ears. I tried to slow my breathing as I thought about how this could have happened.
The government and the corporations kept us safe. They kept the lights on 24/7 without fail. The power stations were state of the art, built with redundancies and fail-safes. Even if one went down, other stations in other cities would take over within seconds. It was what the majority of government spending had been funnelled towards ever since the last attack. I’d been six years old maybe? Not more than seven. It was getting hard to think straight sitting on the cold ground; bit’s of snow drifted by in the silence. Thousands of people had died. Tens of Thousands. And since then it was the reason and excuse for everything they did. Everyone felt safe, until now.
I got up and pulled my coat around me trying to keep from shivering. I could feel the sweat on my face evaporating and a shiver ran down my spine. A glow coming from the shop window caught my eye. The people in the shop had turned on the news on the window TVs with the sub titles on. How thoughtful of them.
The screen was showing scenes of devastation, fire and explosions at power plant after power plant. The words at the bottom of the screen read, ‘A coordinated attack unlike anything we’ve seen. Military has been dispatched all across the country. The government is advising everyone to stay in their homes, find all sources of light they can, and do not let them go out.’ Images taken from helicopters of battles between military forces and gigantic creatures with long arms and hairy gaunt bodies flashed across the screen. I turned away. I knew I’d be seeing something like that up close soon enough. I didn’t even have a flashlight. How could I have been so stupid?
I walked out onto the middle of the street. The snow had picked up, and there was no moon in the sky. Everything was quiet. All around me there was flickering yellow glow. I looked around and saw lights coming from every shop window, every office building. People had filled every available space and holding candles. They were staring at me, all alone on the cold dark street, all with that same sad look in their eyes. From one dark alleyway I caught a gleam of eyes, and the reflection off bright white teeth. | The stars that night were alive in a scattered glow, pulsing with light, but cold, and far behind the grey clouds. She saw them looking down at her. Her arm trembled from gooseflesh. She had never seen the stars before. The dark had never been so black.
Something was wrong. She closed the door. The shadows fell long against the candlelight. It was quiet. She could hear insects call, and the trees were moving in December's wind. Then all was still and that feeling grew stronger and she stared amidst the shadows.
Her mind played tricks. She faces as she moved. She checked the doors and pulled the curtains. She could see the stars from the window and she wondered if they could see her. Or was she too small?
She had seen stars once before. They were not real stars but painted ones on the ceiling of her room. She knew they were not real but she remembered staring at them and hoping they would move, twinkle like the old song said. Everything would be well if the stars twinkled.
Now in the dark they twinkled in the cold night. She heard a noise. Something crashed to the back where the trees were. She steeled herself and listened hard but there was only silence.
Then her phone rang.
She gasped and her heart betrayed her. It was beating hard and she trembled against the wall where the shadows grew. She looked at the phone and it was a number she did not know.
*I do know it.*
The dark hid monsters. Her mother had told her as much. Mother always lived in the dark. She had always *known* what happened in the dark, and she was okay with it.
She answered the phone. A deep voice breathed heavily.
"Hello?"
"I see you," it said. "I see your little face in the window. I see the stars reflect on the glass. I see you, babe."
She backed away. She wanted to drop the phone but her hands were frozen. They hurt in the cold. The candles burned low and weak and the dark surrounded her.
"You thought you could hide in the light, didn't you? You had me locked up, babe. They had me in the light too. This outage now, though, has gotten me free. They couldn't keep the doors closed. They couldn't shine a light."
"You... You..."
"I missed you, babe. I remember when I last saw you."
She screamed.
"Do you remember?"
She remembered the stars. They were painted upon the ceiling. Had she liked them before? She could not remember. She only saw them in a veil of hurt and screams.
"How young you were... I bet you've grown now."
A shadow moved outside. She heard glass break. She reached for something, any weapon she could find. The kitchen was down the hall, down the black and evil way. Footsteps echoed from there. She screamed and reached for a candle. The shadows swung in a wild patterns.
"Babe!" the figure called.
He was large and dark, like some animal ready to charge.
"Come hear princess. Show your daddy some love!"
He rushed her and she stumbled backwards. She thrust the candle into him. She could smell the perfume he wore. His clothes was damp from sweat and it stuck to her. She felt his warmth and she hit the wall. His breath was stale and he bit her and she was small again.
The window shattered and she stared at the light. She could see the stars as she craned her head. The stars were real and they twinkled and then she closed her eyes.
"Help!" she screamed.
A new strength grew within her and she looked at the monster pinning her down. His head was old and withered. His face hung loose like some mask, unchanging in the candlelight. His eyes were fixed and still, and he was large, at least twice her height.
"Help!"
And there were people coming. She looked at him and tried to force him off.
*The stars are twinkling,* she thought.
And she stared at him again and he was normal sized and growing older. He aged decades in front of her and his grip became weak. She looked down at the fallen phone and felt a wave of relief.
How could he have her number?
Her heart steadied and her arms were free. He melted into the dark. Someone was banging on the door. Her neighbors were here. She looked around and she was alone and shaking, but she felt glad and tranquil.
She opened the vault of bad memories and remembered his death, the news from the prison, and how mother had sobbed and blamed her for everything.
It hurt, but that was long ago. She went to the door and felt embarrassed. Outside the stars shone bright in the dark night. She had never seen real stars before.
*I may never see them without seeing a monster,* she thought.
And she felt sad. There was nothing that could change that. The stars were beautiful that night.
*I have conquered one monster tonight.*
And she thought she could look at them. She stared at their beauty, behind the thin wisps of grey, and she watched them twinkle in the stillness of the night.
-
*Hi there! If you liked this story, then you might want to check out my subreddit, r/PanMan. Its the place that collects all my writing. Check it out if you can, and thanks for the support!* | 2018-02-02T04:45:23 | 2018-02-01T22:34:56 | 37 | 22 |
[WP] There's a saying among the galactic community. "Never hire a human"... you just hired 200 of them. And you're about to find out why that saying exists. | Never hire a human. I know. I mean, we all know. We just don't know why.
It's not like I had a choice though. Business was running slow and the plethora of intergalactic wars had depleted most of our resources. Money was scarce and humans... weren't. Humans are cheap.
So I figured, to hell with it. If I want to keep this company running I have to take a few risks. What's the worst that could happen? I flew to the nearest human nest and found 200 willing workers.
It started out just fine. Better, even. Humans turned out to be quite inventive and hard workers. If they don't know how to finish a task, they would find a way. And most of all, they were friendly.
Cassy knew everything about my sleeping rituals by the second week. Somewhere around the fourth week she would leave a cup of hot water out for me to find when I'd wake up. I love a cup of hot water.
Bob likes to sing during his day. He's not very good at it, but that doesn't seem to bother him. He asked me about songs of my homeplanet. Since then I have heard him hum the tunes several times. He said he 'looked it up.'
Jamie likes to chat. Not sure what he's talking about usually, but it passes the time.
For a while things were fine. Production went up, my workers were effective. Then, another war started. Closer this time.
I'll never forget the cracking sounds around me after the first bomb hit. They... they told me to run, they'd 'hold the fort', said Lois. So I ran.
And when it was over I returned.
They were gone. All of them. My humans. Dead. They don't regenerate well.
No more singing or whistling. No more chatter. No more cups of water. Just silence, deafening silence. I've never felt more alone.
Never hire a human, they say. Because you'll miss them. And it hurts. | There’s an old saying on home world that goes something like “Never hire a human” or some shit. Words that could have changed my perspective...had I listened. But be that as it may, those words were lost to me as I stared at a stack of resumes piling up in my database after a few weeks of neglect. Our staff had been cut short unexpectedly and I had the egregious task of finding replacements. Who knew that lowballing your employees would lead to a strike? Corporations are corporations though, even in space. But hey, the managerial gig comes with hella benefits so my personal feelings have been shelved for the time being.
The task at hand seemed to stretch time and space itself and I really wasn’t looking forward to hours and hours of flipping through holowork. So I did what any self respecting manager would do...I clicked the first 200 applications off the stack and gave them a job. A horrible mistake, I’d come to find.
As soon as I approved the last application, the transporter fired into gear. I sighed and sipped my energy booster, silently praying that no one would get motion sickness this time.
Confusion set in as I stared at the many unfamiliar faces of the new hires warping in.
“This...this can’t be right.” I muttered as I fumbled to check my holotab again. There has to be a mistake. These were humans! You don’t hire humans unless you want your shit ruined. Oh fuck I’m going to get-
“Excuse me?” A stocky human with what could be perceived as hair growing on its face stepped up to my desk. I quickly popped a linguistics pod into a place on my neck and looked at this strange creature expectantly.
“Is this Astrotech?” It asked, shifting nervously.
I nodded and handed it a leaflet.
Hesitantly, I stood to address the crowd.
“Welcome to Astrotech, new hires. I look forward to working with you all.”
A look of what seemed to be relief spread across the crowd.
I sighed inwardly.
There was vomit by the transporter.
What the hell am I doing?
Edit/This is a first for me! Please forgive the mistakes! I’m on mobile.
| 2018-04-27T13:39:05 | 2018-04-27T12:18:08 | 535 | 25 |
[WP] Wandering the streets, jobless, homeless, you happen across a silver ring with an inscription: "Help for the Needy." Idly you slip it on. Suddenly a voice resonates deep within your bones: "44 YARDS NORTH A CHILD LIES FACE DOWN IN THEIR POOL, UNATTENDED. DEATH IN 172 SECONDS. TIME TO RUN." | Five years later...
The ring sat there on the nightstand the glint from the morning sun reflecting off of it. It seemed to be glaring at him.
He had done it. After five years he had finally taken it off. Five years of running. Five years of pushing people out of the way of buses, cars, and trains. Five years of snatching jumpers. Five years of diving into lakes, ponds and strange pools. Five years of searching purses and pockets for epipens. Five years of arguing with hospital staff over medication overdoses. Five years of no sleep except in snatches. Five years of near misses. Five years of incredible guilt but last night he took it off. After hauling a water logged toddler from a storm drain and performing CPR until the medics arrived, he shuffled home and without hesistation he slipped it off and set it on the nightstand.
The toddler hadn't made it. He was too late. It wasn't the first time. She lay there; blue lips, cold hair matted across her face. He was only one person.
He slipped the ring on. *THERE IS A PERSON HAVING A HEART ATTACK 1.1 MILES AWAY. RUN! RUN! HURRY!*
Tears rolled down his face. He slipped the ring off. He was so tired. He stood at the window of his apartment and threw it into the street below. The ring bounced tinging metallically down the asphalt.
***
Something rang out clinking as it fell. It rolled into a crevice at her feet. She bent over looking at the glinting object. *Hmm a ring?* She thought. She picked it up and looked it over, a plain scuffed silver ring.
She slipped it on.
*A PERSON IS ABOUT TO JUMP FROM THE FIFTH STORY WINDOW. HURRY! HURRY! YOU MUST SAVE THEM!*
She looked up to see a man casually step from the window and crash to the pavement below.
She shrieked and in her ears the new voice echoed. *YOU HAVE FAILED! YOU HAVE FAILED!*
| No, Jeremy was sure this had to be a prank. A stupid ring on the ground couldn’t actually be able to… but, what if?
Well, it’s not like they had anything better to do.
On his ventures around the dumpsters, he found a small shiny ring covered in the dirt. Brushing it off greeted him with the most detailed ring they’ve ever seen. A carefully inscription was inscribed on its side:
*This ring is dedicated for the help of the needy. It’s possessor shall be able to help those in their moments of crisis, and darkest of hours.”*
Jeremy knew he could probably get a couple bucks of this at the pawn shop, and casually slipped it on for safe keeping. The moment it slipped their finger burned like fire. In their head was the loudest voice they’ve ever heard.
***ALERT! ALERT! "44 YARDS NORTH A CHILD LIES FACE DOWN IN THEIR POOL, UNATTENDED. DEATH IN 172 SECONDS. TIME TO RUN."***
The response was almost automatic, running in a completely different direction to wherever his body was . He found himself in complete confusion of why he listening to what was surely early signs of schizophrenia, but off he went.
The gate rattled as he jumped over it. Sure enough, there was a child sitting motioniessly on the deep end in the pool. Jeremy rushed to the other side and pulled him out, finding the child’s face to being completely blue. Luckily, Jeremy managed to recall his lessons of CPR and promptly got to work.
12 seconds to spare
It took a few minutes, but eventually the boy began to move and spit of water. A wave of relief came over Jeremy, and he pulled the child up.
“Where are your parents?” Jeremy asked trying to keep calm.
“I-I don’t know” the boy stammered out. “I think there in the house and-“
The child’s reply was suddenly cut off by the blaring of police sirens. A neighbor had called in a Burglary, and possible weapons on the suspect. Jeremy looked around and realized he just ran into MeadowWoods, one of the most richest and heavily-guarded neighborhoods in the state.
Another voice popped in Jeremy’ head.
***“ALERT. ALERT. “USER SURROUNDED BY POLICE. DEATH IN 72 SECONDS. TIME TO RUN.”***
*This was my first time writing in third-person. Visit r/StoryStar for more :)* | 2018-04-30T10:41:56 | 2018-04-30T10:19:31 | 447 | 143 |
[wp] Sick of somebody trying to get into your servers, you let them in, only to spring a virus into their system. To your surprise, the news the next day says that the goverment's systems have been absolutely wrecked.
​ | I’m still relatively new to writing, so any constructive criticism would be appreciated, thanks.
***
Another ping. They’re trying to get into the server again. Why? It’s a tiny server. It’s for running this game I made for me and a few friends. No one would ever find it particularly interesting. And yet, here they are, trying to log on for the hundredth time.
“Ugh. Screw this,” I say. I’ll let them in, but they’ll get a bit of a surprise. A virus I was making in my spare time as a prank. It’s designed to disguise itself as benign data, spread itself around, and then run All Star by Smash Mouth really loud on repeat until it’s removed. I doubted it’d take more than a few minutes and a cheap antivirus to get rid of it after the system gets infected. I quickly change the code to let them in and infect them.
They get on, then leave almost immediately.
I wait for a while. Silence from the system. Finally! I change the code back to normal, and go have lunch.
A few hours later, I turn on the TV. Before I can switch over to Netflix, I hear a headline. “Breaking news: cyber attack from unknown source cripples government.” It then goes on to talk about how earlier an unknown organization broke through their firewall and infected all the systems.
Apparently, all the systems had started blaring music once they were infected.
The remote falls from my hands. What have I done? | Paul awoke the next day groggy as hell.
Well I won't be doing that for a while he said to himself as he swiped the empty beer cans off his table into the trash can.
He looked at his desk with eyes half open trying to remember the following night.
Then it dawned on him in. A sudden flash. He had let that knocking bandit in last night.
He also gave his friend a nice parting gift. A virus he'd been tweaking for years. One that followed it's way through its related networks like a plumbers snake,and filling the cracks with malicious code.
He had finally let his dog off the leash.
At first he cringed on how this could come back in him. He imagined lawsuits,jail time.
Then he sat down and caught his breath.
He had a chuckle at himself after a while. Who would admit to breaking into their network, who would represent another hacker. He laughed.again. then he turned in the TV.
The news was on.
"Today,mass pandemonium as the CIA and the FBI report massive network system failure. No one has been named as of yet responsible for the attack,but the the virus has been identified by a comment line found in the code referring to it as Paul's punishment."
A rush of adrenaline filled Paul as he reached for his chest and doubled over.
It would only be a matter of time before they linked it to him now.
Paul fell on the floor hyperventilating.
Thoughts of prison flooded his mind,his friends,his family,his plans all in the rear view mirror.
Paul clenches his chest tighter as he realises he's having a heart attack.
Paul take his final breath as his heart collapses. | 2018-09-03T22:24:30 | 2018-09-03T21:09:41 | 26 | 12 |
[wp] Sick of somebody trying to get into your servers, you let them in, only to spring a virus into their system. To your surprise, the news the next day says that the goverment's systems have been absolutely wrecked.
​ | The sounds of the cafe around me drowned in the shivers of my ragged breathing, my racing heart. I glanced at the man across the table. He sat in front of me, still silent. Still expressionless. My eyes fixed themselves firmly on the table, perhaps in some vain hope that he would go away if I pretended not to notice him.
Suddenly, everything around me loomed threatening, my mind frantic at the conspiracies it concocted. The girl at the counter was watching us. The man by the door had a gun under his jacket. My coffee was a cup of mercury.
But despite the cacophony ringing in my head, I remained as motionless and inscrutable as the man before me. At least, I tried.
After a small eternity, the man reached across the table slowly, something in his hand. An envelope. Plain and white, with no markings. It burned in my hand as I took it from his.
"So, what's this then?" I croaked weakly.
"A job offer."
For a moment, I could have sworn I saw the faintest of smiles flit across his face. | "Heh, bet that dude's feeling the pain by now. That virus should have totally bricked their system." I hopped on to my couch and turned on the TV to check what was going on in the world. And oh boy, something was going on. The headline read 'Government computer system has been destroyed by suspected cyber terrorist.' I heard the anchor talking about how they had some official to let them know what had happened. I just looked in awe. "That can't be a coincidence. Please tell me it isn't." I saw that a representative in full formal business attire had shown up on the screen, with audible and visible workers trying to figure out how to fix this. "We believe a cyber terrorist we had been trying to infiltrate had counter hacked us and uploaded a virus to our system." I looked at the time, and decided I shouldn't go to school today. So I sat down and let out a cheer, that the government was finally gone. And I killed it. I let out a cry of joy! I guess God must have been on my side for this little anarchist to singlehandedly take down the government. I was about to go back to my room to rest some more. Then I heard a knock on my door. I heard a man yell "FBI! Open up!" And my heart sank. I opened the door, only to get charged and knocked onto the floor, and cuffed. Shucks. I guess the government hadn't been knocked oit entirely. | 2018-09-03T22:05:53 | 2018-09-03T20:35:43 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] A disease has infected half of the world's population. There is no cure and there is no test for infection. The only symptom is a permanent inability to reason logically. You do not know whether you are infected or not. | At some point, you just have to trust yourself. There's no point in all the arguing and rioting and war. Right is right, and wrong is wrong, and if you can't reason with them, they have to go.
It's like when you have a spider in the bathroom. Of course it's a living thing, so you can't just kill it, but it's not as if you can just sit down with it and explain that the bathroom is off limits. I'm as live and let live as anybody, until I'm naked and wet and staring down a spider. Of course i kill it. Gross.
This is the same way. I mean, you've seen the internet, right? So much nonsense. all these conspiracy theories, all the endless stupidity. The doctors say no one can tell for sure, and at this point, the divisions run so deep there is no correcting them. The countries that aren't burning themselves down are busy burning each other.
Can't talk to your neighbor if your neighbor is as insane as you are.
Plus, half those doctors have to be infected too, right?
Half saying, "Of course the infection exists, half the world is crazy."
Half saying, "There is no infection, half the world is crazy."
At some point, you just have to trust your heart. Politics is so far gone, no help is coming. Both sides are ready for blood. Diplomacy is a fantasy. Each half sees the other as that spider, invading their most private of spaces. So alien and such a violation that extermination is the only cure.
Politics is a bad example, as it was such a slow burn. It all happened slowly. You could have hardly known, judging by the internet. We got so used to just writing people off as trolls and idiots. How many of them wrote us off the same way?
You can't know, none of us can. That is the real trouble of it. Unless you trust your heart. At some point, your perception is your reality. And the more realities people live in, the more insulated we get, the more spiders we encounter.
Anyway, I don't want to ramble, I know you are busy dying, and that bleeding out is intense. I just felt you had to know why I did it. I mean, i treasure the times we had together, but i knew you were with the spiders since i figured out your Reddit name.
I'm sorry i had to kill you for being insane, but come on. The Round Earthers? Non-ironically? No human would post the things you do.
Plus you said my toenail necklace was gross. As if they were my own toenails.
Now who's crazy?
| THE INFECTION
We were sitting up in bed, staring deep into our laptops, and typing gently.
I looked to my right, and she suddenly looked as beautiful as when I'd first met her.
I'd stopped typing and had been looking at her when she smiled and mumbled: "Baby, what're you looking at?"
I laughed.
"Nothing," I said. "I just remembered how much I still love you."
She looked up and looked at me. She looked a little sad beneath that smile.
"I know," she said. "I know."
She kissed my right cheek.
"Does it ever both you?" I asked.
"The infection?"
"Yea," I said.
"Love is a stranger," she said as she went back to her typing. "Isn't that how the song goes? Love isn't logical. It's not rational."
Suddenly, I felt frightened. I felt a sharp, cold scissor stab my chest. It shot up into my throat, and into my mouth.
"What if we're all lying to ourselves?" I said. I felt scared.
She looked at me gently.
"I'm scared you'll leave me," I said. "Please don't leave me."
She leaned over and hugged me with her left arm.
"I won't ever leave you, baby," she said. "You worry too much. It's like herpes. Everyone already has it. Some know it. Some not so much. They can't even differentiate it from schizophrenia. Everyone could have it. The President could have it. We'd never know."
I felt my brow stiffen.
I thought I caught a peek of her screen. I thought there was something naughty there. And then I dismissed it because I didn't want to fight again during the peace.
And so I went back to typing.
"I'll never leave you," I said. "Never. I'll never leave you."
I kept typing.
It took me a while to notice that I'd left one of the porn sites open on my browser tabs.
It scares me now, to be honest.
Did she notice it? I'm scared she'll leave me if she catches me watching porn again. Every single day. I can't stop. I don't even sleep around anymore. Ever since the infection, I've been extra careful. I've been loyal every single day since the outbreak became public.
But I'm worried.
I could have sworn she wasn't frightened at all. She keeps staring at her screen. She keeps smiling like she's chatting to someone else.
No.
No, she won't leave me. That'd be too illogical. She owes me. I own her. I'm too rich. No, she won't ever leave me. She won't ever leave me. I know this.
I just wish I didn't feel so scared all the time. | 2018-09-22T10:43:26 | 2018-09-22T09:41:44 | 60 | 13 |
[WP] Kidnapped by an alien scout party, you are taken back to their ship. Aware your answers will be used to assist in their invasion, you try to lie but fail. They are somehow forcing you to speak the truth, so you do the only thing you can: Tell the truth in as disturbing a manner as possible... | "So, tell me," the Commander said, "what are humans vulnerable to? How can we hurt and dishearten them?"
I took a deep breath, and swallowed. "That depends, really."
"How so?" I could hear the sneer, even if I couldn't see it.
"Well, we're vulnerable to radiation, for one. It can burn and disfigure us. But many of us choose to expose ourselves to solar radiation for fun. Many find it soothing."
I couldn't tell for sure, but the Commander looked confused. Good.
"Falling is another one. But so many people enjoy it that we've created numerous ways to do it without dying."
"Torture, then!" the alien cried, a cicada-like buzz rattling in the back of his throat. "Beatings, whippings, humiliation."
I snickered. "Oh, boy. Yeah, a lot of us really, *really* like that," -he definitely looked confused now, there was no mistaking it- "We've included it in our mating practices."
And now it was disgust. I'd the Commander had a nose, it would be wrinkled. "We're done here," he said angrily. "Take him away."
One of the other aliens grabbed the end next the table I was strapped on, and wheeled me towards the door. I couldn't believe it. It had worked. I had been completely factual, and not told them anything they could use. Laughter, the sound of pure joy and victory, began to bubble in my chest, finally breaking free and reaching a crescendo.
"You'll never win! One of us put a jar in his ass FOR FUN! There is nothing you can do to us that we won't co-opt or fetishize! We've already won and turned you into a Netflix original, and you don't even know it!"
As the door closed, I heard the Commander spit something in his native language. I didn't know the word, but I knew the tone.
"**Fuck**." | “Tell us about the weakness of humans” demanded the chief alien, his obsidian eyes emotionless in its stare.
The device that hovered over my head forced me to tell the truth, so that is precisely what I told.
“The weakness of humans is our destructive greed. Human greed is a greed like no other. If we see a resource, we exploit it to no end; like parasites we corrupt and devour everything. Look at our oceans - what was once full of life has now become an empty wasteland filled with our plastic. Look at our forests, huge jungles are now barren deserts. Look at our earth, we alone through our greed are the sole cause of its decay. In a few decades there will be nothing left on earth for us, so I doubt there will be anything left for you either”.
The alien did not move, and I could not tell if it was surprised by my answer but after a pause it asked “And what is the strongest trait of humans?”
“Our Ruthlessness. We are the top predators, preying on not only other living animals but also among ourselves. The few numbers of the human rich happily trod on the billions of poor. The poor are enslaved to make money for the rich in a system which we call ‘the global economy’. We willingly slaughter each other in droves in the name of politics, religion or simply because we want something the other has. There is nothing we won’t kill. We will kill other beings, of any species, for any reason.”
I thought I could see the alien shift slightly, uncomfortable perhaps with this new knowledge. “Tell me about human weaponry”
“We have countless weapons - from nuclear weapons that will shred matter out of existence in the blink of an eye, to artillery shells that can be fired over many countries or laser beams that can blast objects out of the sky in seconds. But that is nothing compared to our industry and carbon emissions. We produce so much from our industry that we have started to suffocate the earth in a blanket of carbon. We have developed this weapon which is capable of raising the seas, poisoning the air and fuelling natural disasters, naturally killing every human. In fact, before you came we had already started this process. You just happen to have a timely arrival”
For the first time in a while, the alien blinked. The device over my head appeared to power down, as my world faded to black.
| 2018-10-14T06:07:24 | 2018-10-14T03:01:58 | 54 | 24 |
[WP] The genie granted your wish: to be able to understand and speak every language. Your mind is flooded with thousands upon thousands of dead and living languages, human and alien alike. But, most surprisingly, you also now understand the operating system running the universe. | "Java. The entire universe runs on an outdated version of Java? Are you kidding me?"
The Genie chuckled. "What did you expect?"
"Not fucking *Java*, that's for sure," I replied. "Come on, we're going back home. I need some time to process this."
"Your wish is my command," the Genie said with a sly grin.
"That wasn't a wish, asshole."
And then I went home, and slept.
| ***To understand is not the same as to have the ability to communicate..***
This is one of the first thoughts to flit across my frantically overloaded mind, in several different languages simultaneously, fittingly enough...
Sure I could speak every language, but never the one I wanted in a given situation anymore. This has made communication very difficult when the only languages my mouth would allow me to produce weren’t any that the listener in question knew.
I find myself speaking a lot in dead languages, and occasionally in code. Usually something dreadfully inconvenient for anybody to decipher. So I have gone from at least being fluent in English and passingly conversational in Spanish, to being completely incomprehensible.
Never trust a genie... it never works out like you think it will. | 2018-10-18T13:42:48 | 2018-10-18T12:01:54 | 508 | 79 |
[WP] The genie granted your wish: to be able to understand and speak every language. Your mind is flooded with thousands upon thousands of dead and living languages, human and alien alike. But, most surprisingly, you also now understand the operating system running the universe. | Sobbing with the sheer weight of understanding, I reach for the only comfort left to me and bring it to my lips.
I tilt my head back, and look to the sky. Even through the beauty of the stars my comprehension demands relief.
"It's PHP all the way down." I whisper as my finger tightens on the trigger and a moment later relief finds me.
Edit: spelling | ***To understand is not the same as to have the ability to communicate..***
This is one of the first thoughts to flit across my frantically overloaded mind, in several different languages simultaneously, fittingly enough...
Sure I could speak every language, but never the one I wanted in a given situation anymore. This has made communication very difficult when the only languages my mouth would allow me to produce weren’t any that the listener in question knew.
I find myself speaking a lot in dead languages, and occasionally in code. Usually something dreadfully inconvenient for anybody to decipher. So I have gone from at least being fluent in English and passingly conversational in Spanish, to being completely incomprehensible.
Never trust a genie... it never works out like you think it will. | 2018-10-18T14:11:40 | 2018-10-18T12:01:54 | 212 | 79 |
[WP] Through selective breeding we managed to turn wolves into pugs. For the last 1000 years a secret cult has also been selective breeding, but not with wolves but lizards. Crocodiles, monitors, sneks. The largest and most dangerous, into finally they created their perfect monster... A Dragon.
Just wanted to thank everyone for the awesome stories. Also, yes the spelling of Snek was deliberate. I’ve been trying to post a writing prompt here every night before bed for the last couple days and it is really encouraging when I see so many people willing to spend their time writing awesome stories from my prompt. Keep it up fellow writers and good night from Australia.
Edit: Front page, awesome and thanks. Also good morning from Australia. Glad you all got to write some awesome stories from my prompt. | I thank you for your interest Mr. Darson. Yes we have quite a few breeds of Dracus Domesticus. This way please.
Now, if you wish to choose from the catalogue you'll notice that each of our fine creatures has a vet certificate of health and their shots are all up to date. Now if you'd let me know your price range...
You would rather see them in person? Well yes that could be arranged. However I must warn you that due to little darling's nature there are a few wavers you'll have to sign. Yes, hair and eyebrows singes are not unheard off however should that happen wigs and hair transplant brochures are in the lobby for you to browse. I myself adore the Lovely (Do or Dye Saloon). Very reasonable prices and most people couldn't even tell it's a wig.
Thank you for signing, let me take you to the stables. Now in this location we manage medium to large sized breeds. You have your Slimehides, very popular those. Your giant tails though we only have three of those at the moment. Bloodyhorns a plenty, Breed like rabbits they do. five Goddamned backspikes but they're in a seperate location. Very territorial I'm afraid and haven't learned to play nice with others yet. Ah here we are. This way and please put on the fire proof mitts if you plan to touch any of them.
What's that? Why are they all small? What are you talking about. Look at little Jakekr here, he's had a growth spurt this summer and is now bigger then my palm. Very impressive for his breed wouldn't you agree?
Look I can see you are not ready to own a pet. Please come back when you are, these babies are all rescues. People see a picture of a dragon in a tea cup and they rush to get their own. a few weeks later they realized that this is a living creature. It needs a balanced diet, a lot of care and each breed comes with it's own list of possible problems due to generations of inbreeding by some cruel and greedy basement dwellers. We did this to them and yet all they ever wanted from us is love, companionship and a friend.
What do you mean why is the fire coming out that way! How else are they supposed to fart? | "Hurry up, you wouldn't want to miss this!"
"Huh, miss what?"
Some things are just not meant to be hidden for long.
"Darn my friend, you were one of the lead scientists, weren't you? Why are you so far behind the news?" The other man replied.
In a secret cult, a massive upheaval was ongoing. One of their long discarded projects, the Dragon Creation, had a sliver of success.
"Wait, I was only focusing on that stupid virus, what did I miss?" The lab coated man said with a tired voice. John, as his name was, was thrown into an almost impossible project after his failure on a few other ones. He didn't dislike impossible projects, but they were really eating up his sleep.
"I will tell you what you *almost* missed. The birth of a freaking Dragon!" His friend replied. The two knew each other from their school years and oftenly would hang out together. They weren't best friends per say at the beginning, but it was hard to say now.
"Come again?" John wanted to ask, not daring to believe his friend's words. He didn't have much more to say though, before a weird dog went and bit his leg.
Surprised, the man kicked the dog as hard as he could, the pain from the bite hiding his smoking now outfit.
Cursing in pain, he was soon surrounded by a whole armed force, all of whom were aiming their guns at him.
"What the-" He couldn't help but exclaim, but a man cut him off.
"It's not breathing..."
Vaguely beginning to realise what was going on, he noted his almost burnt outfit. Wanting to curse whatever luck he had, he didn't have a chance to explain before an angry officer shot him dead.
"No..." John's friend uttered in silence, not being able to word anything else out of sheer shock.
The Dragon was dead and so was his friend. Alas, this accursed cult was never fated to have something good for once.
"The... The Dragon is... Dead?"
It was close to their first success, they would have studied the specimen and replicated the results, but alas... the only thing they hoped for, was that their current data would be enough to replicate their success.
A funeral was held for both victims of this bad luck, as well as for the soldier who shot the scientist.
Not wanting to harm, or blemish the beautiful Beast, who very much seemed to be sleeping, alas with the luck of breath, they decided to bury it on the forest just outside their facilities. Pity that the Dragons needed to breathe... right?
*woof?!*
| 2018-10-20T08:08:21 | 2018-10-20T07:38:23 | 27 | 11 |
[WP] With total war as a foreign concept to the rest of our galaxy. Everyone saw humans as the negotiators and the peace makers, soft and weak, today is the day the galaxy finds out why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | We’d thought the humans would be easy to defeat.
How wrong we were.
The war had started when we struck a major human spaceport with a hundred ships of the line. Ten thousand space-fighters bombed that planet, razing cities with precision strikes. The humans had attempted to defend themselves, but what could this peace-loving federation do against the military might of the Aresian Empire?
Nothing.
We’d intercepted a couple of transmissions later that day from planet Earth.
“… Yesterday, a date which will live in infamy — the United Federation of Humanity was suddenly and deliberately attacked by the forces of the Aresian Empire.”
I remember we’d laughed, then. Clearly an attempt to emulate a rousing war-speech from the Humans’ past, but speech or no, we’d crush them all the same.
In the next few battles, the Humans were barely able to stop us. We captured more and more of their territory, as they grew more and more desperate.
We could tell: they were repairing hulking warships from years ago to put them back into service against us, only for them to be blown out of the sky. Six months in, we had their navy running on a shoe-string.
\*\*\*
The Battle of Centerpoint.
On one side, two hundred spacecraft of the Aresian navy.
On the other, a single human ship.
We called the humans’ commander.
“Surrender, human. You have no hope of winning this battle.”
“I am sorry. I never surrender.”
We prepared to fire on the ship, when it ignited its main drive and accelerated toward us.
As it approached, we noticed that it was a freighter, not a warship.
We couldn’t believe our eyes- the humans had the nerve to field an unarmed ship in a naval battle?- but the ship kept speeding up toward us.
Too late, we realized what it was. The human commander was using a last-ditch maneuver from a long-forgotten conflict: a suicide run using your own craft. It may not have worked with their primitive aircraft- but with an eight-thousand-ton spacecraft traveling at over 99 percent of the speed of light, it worked all too well.
The human freighter smashed directly into the Aresian flagship, destroying it and much of the fleet. Whatever remained limped home.
\*\*\*
We fought back, of course. We dismissed the madness of the Centerpoint commander as a fluke. But the humans saw it as a viable strategy. Some months later, half our navy was in ruins due to these suicidal attacks on our fleets.
To make matters worse, our intelligence officers made a chilling discovery.
The humans had geared their entire economy towards war.
Production of civilian goods in their federation was down to zero, while their Sol factories were producing a warship every single day. Food rationing was in effect. Every able-bodied human between the ages of eighteen and forty was conscripted into the military.
And yet, despite the suffering- despite the rampant rationing and the risk of dying- the humans seemed to be enjoying it. People who were outside the legal age range- *children*\- were signing up to go to the front lines to get their hands green with our blood.
The humans also enjoyed tormenting us with their mad tactics.
When we captured a planet? The humans set off nuclear “self-destruct” charges rendering it unlivable.
When we were fighting in jungles? The humans put up “booby traps” to make our soldiers die a horrific death.
When we were sending supplies to our troops on the front lines? The humans picked us off with their stealth craft, costing us millions of tons of food and water- and tens of thousands of lives.
What could we do against such a war-loving species?
Eventually, with their newly-minted fleet- much of which either ran on entirely new technology or was reverse-engineered from us- they pushed us back to our own borders, and kept pushing.
Now, it was our turn to be on the back foot. We attempted to use their own tactics against them, but the humans easily countered us. What did we expect? They had been using these tactics for centuries.
Five years after the initial attack, the humans have landed on our homeworld. Their commander has demanded our unconditional surrender.
We could not do much but accept their terms- our fleet was in ruins, our planet would have followed suit, and we had lost millions.
I fear that, with this disaster, we have awakened a sleeping giant- and filled Humanity with a terrible resolve.
\*\*\*\*\*\*
Feedback welcome!
Also, yeah, I shamelessly ripped WW2 history into this.
EDIT: Thanks, all, for the feedback. I never imagined I'd get so many positive comments! I've changed around the kamikaze bit, since it was a bit too telegraphed. | The selected representative of the United Earth, Amy Sliskin, stood before the Council Of Space Faring Species, reading from a prepared speech. “I am here today representing the United Earth to notify this council that that Ratilkin Empire is preparing for war against us.”
An envoy from the Empire stood across from Amy, a neutral expression on his face.
“The Empire has attacked our ships, and, as of this morning, destroyed a research space station near the space they claim.”
The envoy from the Empire interrupted. “We have always demanded a buffer around our territory, it is the humans fault that we must destroy their vessels for trespassing in our space.
“What they have found, and what many of you have suspected, is that we have no warships of any kind. Not once have we responded with violence to their attacks, we’ve asked this council to condemn these attacks and they have refused to do so.”
“It is typical of humans to run to their betters when in trouble, and the Empire is glad that the council has ignored them. The council knows you humans are a worthless lot, not worthy of it’s time.”
Amy stopped her speech. “I would like you to stop interrupting me.”
The envoy’s snout flared. “Little girl, you should know better than to talk to your betters that way.”
“All I see is a scared little puppy.” A few members of the council laughed, others looked at each other confused, asking if they have heard of a puppy. “Did you know we have little versions of you on our planet? We make them do tricks. Would you like me to show you how we make them sit?”
“You will not…”
Amy interrupted the envoy. “Im sorry, I wasn’t being clear, stop talking and sit down.”
A lone clap came from the Nyler envoy, he had spent some time on Earth and learned of the custom to clap to show approval. Nobody had ever dared to talk back to anybody from the Ratilkin Empire, doing so had led to war in the past, and the Ratilkin Empire always won their wars.
The Ratilkin envoy gathered his things, about to storm out in a very loud fashion.
Amy continued her speech. “The council has refused to do so because they are scared of the Empire, and we completely understand this. The Ratilkin Empire has a military larger than all other species of this council combined, and they will attack for any or no reason. We have simulated war with the Empire, and in most cases it ends with trillions dead on both sides. Many Council members have said they would like to help us, but we can not drag them into a war. The outcome of such a war would be untenable, so we ask for unconditional surrender.”
The Ratilkin’s ears perked up. “We accept your surrender.”
“No, we’re asking for the Ratilkin Empire to surrender.”
“Ridiculous,” the envoy pounded the desk in front of his seat, “we will crush you and enslave you. And any species that helps you will be enslaved as well.”
“I will have to reject your counter-offer.” Amy pressed a button on her tablet, bringing up video of space. “Here’s our counter to your counter-offer, in a few minutes you will see the Ratilkin homeworld.”
“What is this?” Asked the Ratilkin envoy.
“We’re looking at video from a planet currently heading to your homeworld. You have about ten minutes to surrender before we can’t stop it.” The video turned around, showing a gas giant.
“This is impossible, you expect me to believe you can move planets?”
“Of course not, we didn’t move it, I don’t really understand what they did, something about transversable wormholes or something like that. They just opened one up and in it went, and now it’s heading to your homeworld. This is a big planet to, at least ten times bigger than your planet. You won’t even be able to find your planet once this thing hits it.” Amy stared at the envoy, finally he didn’t have anything to say. “Oh, and you’re about to get a call from home, you better answer it.”
At that moment the envoy got a call from the emperor of the Ratilkin Empire. He listened for a few seconds and said something no Ratilkin had ever said, “We surrender.”
“Good boy, remind me to give you a treat later.”
The video feed went blank. “Is it done?” Asked the envoy.
Amy looked at her tablet, panicked. “Oh no, we’re too late.”
The envoy stood frozen in place, not knowing what to say or do next.
Amy looked up from her tablet, jaw hanging. “I’m just joking, we put the planet back where it belonged, everybody’s okay.” She laughed. “Anyway, since the Ratilkin Empire has unconditionally surrendered to us we can do whatever we want. First order of business is fixing up their awful instructure, human only work crews of course, we don’t enslave anybody.” | 2018-12-14T18:25:59 | 2018-12-14T17:52:57 | 1,305 | 488 |
[WP] With total war as a foreign concept to the rest of our galaxy. Everyone saw humans as the negotiators and the peace makers, soft and weak, today is the day the galaxy finds out why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | Day 143 of the 10,365th year of the Galactic Federation (April 7th 2574)
As the human ambassador and his staff left the conference room Thrassik found himself walking over to Fleet Commander Horlaq. Horlaq watched his approach with two of his eye stalks, the other three stared at the humans until they were out of sight. "So it begins" he said.
Thrassik shook his head, "No, it began when we included membership in the Galactic Federation as a part of the ultimatum. The Humans may be peaceful, but they've always been individualists, we should have known that they would never give up their sovereignty."
Horlaq grunted. Thrassik was the closest thing the Federation had to an expert on the Humans, that's why he was included in the delegation that delivered the declaration of war. Even so, Horlaq couldn't help but question his reasoning. "It was membership in the Federation? Not the demand to turn over the two planets they colonized in the border zone? Not the demand for a reduction in the size of their fleet? Every other race in the galaxy willingly joined the Federation, both of our species practically came begging to the Federation for membership, why should the Humans find the idea so abhorrent?"
Thrassik paused for a moment, considering his reply before answering. "The Humans aren't like the rest of the races in the galaxy, their entire history is a struggle for or against the unity of their species. Did you know that it was only in the last hundred years that they managed to convince the last of their dissenters to join with their central government? It took them thousands of years to get their species to agree on how they should rule themselves, they would have given up systems and ships and survived, but their government would have shattered if they suddenly put themselves under our rule."
"Not that they have much choice in the matter anymore, they've been outside the fold for far too long. Our fleets should retake those two worlds within a year, and be able to advance into Human space a few months after that. We have over ten times the ships they do and millennia of experience, the Humans have never even fought a proper interstellar war before. They'll be forced to accept membership whether they want to or not. "
Thrassik shook his head. "I hope you are right, Fleet Commander, but I fear the Humans will not give up so easily."
\---
Day 43 of the 10,366th year of the Galactic Federation (December 28th 2575)
"And you were so concerned, Thrassik. Almost a year to prepare and look and how poorly the Humans defended their world."
Thrassik and Horlaq stood on the bridge of the flagship of the Federation fleet, looking at the devastation in orbit around the Human colony of Harlan III. A small debris ring was forming from the remains of two dozen ruined warships, with small fires where pockets of atmosphere were still escaping.
"Twenty four ships, Thrassik, twenty four against our two hundred. All of them destroyed without the loss of a single one of ours. The Humans are fools to continue to resist us. Surely they will have to give up now"
"They didn't give in to our terms when we presented the ultimatum, Horlaq, they didn't give in when we arrived on their borders with the largest fleet they'd ever seen. They didn't give in before the battle when we warned them to surrender. And how many times have they sent delegations to us asking for peace, with any condition acceptable but membership in the Federation? I've lost count. I think it will take more than the loss of a fleet or make them change their minds."
"It's not just a fleet, we have their planet now too. Our administrators are already on their way to their capital. Once the Human's see how much better life is when we're in charg-"
"Fleet Commander," Interrupted an officer on the command deck "we've lost the shuttle with the administrators."
Horlaq's eye stalks swiveled to the officer in surprise. "What happened, a malfunction? Did they hit debris from the battle?"
"No sir, it looks like they were hit by weapons fire from the planet's surface. They were shot down." The quiet babble of the command deck immediate went silent. The officer went on. "I've conducted a surface scan, it looks like the capital city has been fortified, and there are concealed weapons batteries in the hills to the North and East of the city, the shuttle was struck by a missile fired from one of them."
Horlaq's eye stalks were rigid with shock. "Are they not aware they lost the battle? Send them a message on an open channel, tell them that their fleet has been destroyed and that they are to surrender immediately."
All eyes were on the officer as she sent the message. They didn't have to wait long for a response. "They refuse to surrender sir. The say that you should, uh, put your demand for a surrender in an orifice I don't believe you possess."
"They want a ground engagement." Horlaq muttered to Thrassik, "The federation hasn't fought a ground engagement since its formation. Don't they know we've won? That we can bombard them from orbit? Why would they do this?"
Thrassik's skin, what little of it could be seen beneath his scales, was pale. "They seem to be taking this war a bit more seriously than we are, Fleet Commander. Can we win a fight on the ground?"
"Win? All we have is a security force meant to ensure law and order on an occupied world, they aren't prepared to fight a battle. No, there's only one option. Communications, order the defenders to stand down within five hours, otherwise we will be forced to bombard their city from orbit. Let's hope for their sake they accept."
Just over five hours later fire fell from the sky upon the world of Harlan III. The Human defences were obliterated in minutes, and the planet set ablaze. Then the fire moved to the cities. After just an hour of bombardment the government capitulated, but there was no celebration from the victors after the grim event.
"How many do you think died before they gave up?" Asked Thrassik, "surely they surrendered before suffering too many casualties."
Horlaq shrugged, "It's too early to say. Tens, maybe hundreds of thousands? We've never had to use an orbital bombardment before, the threat has always been enough. At least this will be then end, surely they must surrender."
Thrassik stared at the world burning below them, cities, forests and fields sending fire, smoke and ash billowing into the sky. "For any of us I think that would be the case, but I fear for the Humans surrender may be the last thing on their minds.
​ | I've never written anything, but strumbling upon this thread on the FP I started typing regardless.
I haven't read it after finishing and there must be a gazillion typo's due to a keboard that is falling apart.
​
Humans, those annoying humans. Always talking talking talking. Negotiating peace whenever the other species need a good scrap, denying others their fun and bloodlust. Always dragging things on at the negotiating table, and suprisingly often they succeeded, sending hopeful and exited armies back home with nothing, the soldiers bored and empty handed instead of returning home with pride and trophies, bereft of the opportunity to make a name for themselves, having their name mentioned in songs and having no stories to tell their children or grandchildren.
Sure, there are other “peaceful” species in our universe. Usually not the species one would want a fight with anway, due to their wealth, advanced technology or fighting prowess, but these had proven themselves already and were regarded with respect, unlike these humans.
Humans on the other hand had never accepted a duel, always shirked from a fair fight and challenged any conflict on the council instead of the battlefield. Not only where the were concerned, they meddled in every conflict and were succesful surprisingly often. The had a way with words and twisting the truth.
Sure, many species had challenged them, showing up at the borders of one of their man factions, armed and ready to fight, taking their merchant ships, raiding outposts, anything they could do to to get an armed response, but the response always took place in the council and the courtrooms, always offering something to make the attackers returning home, having been given nothing but a few skirmishes unworth of even a single verse of a battle hymn.
Despeciable beings, those humans too, soft and squishy, easily brushed aside, easy to kill, not too intelligent either and yet they cry about every drop of blood spilled, as if each death is a tragedy even though our intelligence had conluded their number might be over a billion.
And so we sought to provoke them in such a way they would have to respond. We already negigiated with the galactic council to not interfere, to not accept their case in court and ignore an council meetings over the matter. It didn't even take too much effort, even the council was sick and tired of these disgusting beings calling for emergenc meetings over and over. No, this time they would have to fight, with no council to have their backs and the scope of our invasion, fight is all they could do, or be driven back into their own solar system in isolation and a reputation of being incompetent cowards, no one would even talk or trade with them anymore. Unacceptable to them surely, the only thing bigger than their ego is their pride.
Three invasion fleets were assembled, more than enough to do the job even those it was but a small part of our armed forces.Smash through their defenses and fight our way into the interior of their so called empire and put to the torch anthing of value. As expected the invasion was a succes, apart from the usual ambush there was no fighting and as expected there were many calls for a council meeting to negotiate peace, all of which went unanswered. Fist they demanded a meeting, then they begged, kneeled, offering all sorts of compensations if only we stopped. While not getting the fight we wanted, we relished the thought of at least seeing them on their knees begging before us, while not worth a song, at least there was some honour in seeing the enem grovel before us, something to tell about at home at least. After 8 months of begging however, their tone changed dramatically. If we didn't stop they'd take measures. Drastic measures. Prepare for total war they said. Finally war. Total war even, surely getting them to fight with all their forces insterad of just their border force must be worth a song. From what we knew their combined forces were a match for our 3 fleets. We gratiously accepted their challenge so we could go home with our thirst for battle satisfied and the Humans, whether the realise it or not, would gain some respect amongst te rest of the races, maybe even be grateful. Total war sounds so much better than war too. I'd remember that phrase, whatever it means.
And this is how it started, Ambassador. I am sure have heard this story in many variations, but this is my version, the version of the fleet Admiral and not what you're being taught, not like it's in the history books or in the lectures you have attended. You neeed to know how it's us that provoked it, how it's us that sought and found support in the council to not mediate, how it's us that indeed massacred the civilions on the planets we took and how we destroyed their worlds to provoke a response. We could never had guessed what total war meant, we never knew the reason for the humans to shirk away from honourable war, as those Humans hid their histor as being afraid of it. Total war, as the humans call it, is the mobilisation of their entire society, their last resort when threatened, the ultimate defense mechanism and the bane of anyone who threatens them. In short, it means the total annihalation of their enemy. Who of us could have guessed they were able to increase their combat ship production so sharply, train and arm millions of troops within such a short time frame? Who could have guessed that a species so weak and so peace minded would throw their forces heedlessly into the fray time and again, to have them slaughtered by our superior forces until we run out of ammunition and equipment only to be slaughtered to the man, and yet have their troops cheering before the assault. Who'd think they'd be capable of sending entire battlefleets to certain destruction only to have them rebuilt for a next attempt in the time it takes us to build a single squadron? Who'd have thought they'd have it in them to not just be content with conquering our colonised planets, but dropping polanetbusters on them ensuring nothing survives? And who'd have thought the were so numerous, our intelligence so faulty?
But such is the reality. And so, as the only surviving high ranking Officer who was in the field at the time, and as the grand Admiral in charge of the defense of the last outpost berore they will reach the capital of what was once our empire and thus our last solar system. 50 years of “total war” is enough.
So I hereby beg you, knowing full well I'll surrender every remaining shred of honour, for you to do the same. Come clean on what we did, why we did it. Ask for forgiveness, beg for peace, go onto our knees and grovel before them. Honour may be the greatest good, the sole purpose of our existance, but what good is an honourable scpecies that went extinct? Beg for peace and have mercy on our souls if they refuse once more. And please, for the love of everything that is dear to you,, refrain from saying they stink, even though it breaks tradition.
Signed: The Admiral of the grand fleet | 2018-12-15T09:26:04 | 2018-12-15T07:32:50 | 45 | 20 |
[WP] once in every month soulmates get to see from eachothers’ eyes for 60 seconds until they meet for the first time. It happens unexpectedly and neither of the pair knows when it will happen. One day you see someone you recognise from your soulmate’s eyes. | Every month, I've slowly been accumulating knowledge over my soulmate, ever since my third vision, I've wrote down the most valuable information each vision I've gotten.
*She has a friend named Luke, and a cousin called "BB" (nickname?)
*She's in a football team, her uniform is green.
*Her name is Rachael, she gets good grades, 9/10. (Does not write surname on exams, wonder why?)
*She either lives in Italy or is visiting!
*She has a little brother? Definitely a younger family member of some sort.
*She's crying.
*She was reading a book.
*She has scars on her left wrist.
*She's reading a book, nothing interesting here...
*Quite frankly I'd rather forget this one, she has a boyfriend.
*New scars, she was showering, scars on her legs too...
*She's in the cinema, watching a movie.
*She's looking in the mirror! She's beautiful. I've never seen a more perfect girl in my life. She's brunnete, gorgeous blue eyes, tanned, red lipstick, dressed stunningly, definitely going for a night out. I won't forget that face, ever.
*She's looking over the edge of a cliff. Enjoying views? It's peaceful, no sight of other life, I wonder what's on her mind...
*She's laying in her bed.
*She was writing a song, I feel like this lyric was about me "He looked at the ocean with tears in his eyes, he can't find his soulmate he-", I didn't get to read anymore. That has to definitely be about me.
*SHE'S CALLING A PHONE NUMBER. I HAVE A BREAKTHROUGH! I have all of the digits except the last too. I'm going to call each possible number until I can find someone who's contacted her! I'm so close to finding out who she is!
*My vision is overdue.
A month after I wrote that, I realized what happened. They say if you go three months without a vision, something bad has happened, I already know, the number she called, a suicide hotline. It's obvious she took her own life. I think about Rachael every day.
I managed to contact her family around a month afterwards. I cancelled my trip around Europe, the mere mention of Italy made my heart sink.
I found it difficult to carry on with life after talking with her parents. She was troubled, moved around too much as a kid. Socially awkward. I never got that impression off the visions. I wonder what she had thought of me... I certainly thought of her differently than her parents did.
I didn't date until age 23. By then I had already accepted fate, and that maybe being with someone, even if there's the possibility they won't truly love you for you, is okay. I met this lovely blonde girl, with beautiful blue eyes, on the beach, after getting to know each other, we had similar experiences, stories. She didn't have a soulmate either. Yet, here we are, happy as can be, going through our old diaries and books from when I was your age, so it's okay if you don't have visions, you don't need them.
"So, umm, hey dad... Umm why am I named after your soulmate?" Because Rachael, supposedly, there is no one you love more then your soulmate. And honestly, you know that there is no one I love more than you...
She hugged me tight. Never have I felt happier.
EDIT: Formatting. (I'm on mobile) | I looked down at the diamond ring, then back to her face. This was the second moment of my life that seemed to last an eternity. I etched the look of true happiness to the back of my mind and thought about the first time I met her. Eight years ago, first day of high school. I remember nervously waiting outside the classroom of my first period class hoping I'd recognize anybody who walked in. Looking back on it now, it was probably a pretty dumb idea, considering I only had one friend throughout middle school. One minute until class started, I decided to give up until I heard someone call my name from behind me.
I turned around and there she was. She wasn't the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, in fact, she was pretty nerdy looking. Her frizzy brown hair was braided and she hid the rest with her hat. She wore glasses, a plain black oversized hoodie, jeans and converse. I'll admit, it wasn't love at first sight, but it was *something* at first sight. There was something about her that just seemed familiar, like I'd been looking into her eyes my whole life. She introduced herself as the girl that sat next to me the year before, but I didn't recognize her face. In retrospect, I hadn't bothered to look at anyone's face that year.
I was a pretty shy kid and I had a hard time letting anyone in, but this awkward and bubbly girl just stuck to me like glue. Even if I wanted to, it was impossible to get through an entire day without her and I mean that in the most literal sense there is. She was in every single one of my classes, and eventually she just started following me around. One day she mistakenly followed me all the way home because she was way too busy talking to me, although it didn't seem to bother my parents. I'd often hear friends say that we're 'conjoined at the hip,' whatever that means. I was there for her low points, and I was dragged along to celebrate her high points.
She hung out with me almost every single day in high school, but graduation finally rolled around. That morning went by in a blur but the first moment that seemed to last forever was the first time I saw her cry. She hadn't decided on a college yet, but I had just received my acceptance into Columbia University just a week before. The first tear fell, and it set in how much I'd miss her. We hugged and said our goodbyes, and I didn't see her again that summer.
Three months of packing, applying for scholarships and a whole lot of stress later, I finally set foot in my dorm room. I didn't have much time to savor the taste of emancipation because as soon as I flopped face-first into my bunk bed, I got a knock on the door. Expecting my roommate, I hastily opened the door and turned back towards the bed before I was tackled to the ground. Rolling over, I found a very familiar pair of eyes staring back into mine and my assailant reintroduced herself as the girl that followed me around in high school and my next door neighbor.
College went by in a colorful blur of alcohol, caffeine, highlighted notes and midnight fast food runs. Whether it was for emotional reasons or literally at a DUI checkpoint, we kept each other propped up and moving forward. I had come to realize that all this time she had meant more to me as a friend, and I decided to finally ask the question. After what seemed like an eternity in hell, we finally made it to graduation. I finally realized why I knew her eyes were so familiar to me. It took me way too long to realize that I had met my soul mate all those years ago. Staring at how beautiful she looks in the evening glow of our graduation stage light and how perfect that engagement ring looks on her hand doesn't help with the thought that I'm not hers. | 2019-02-13T16:28:22 | 2019-02-13T16:09:17 | 135 | 69 |
[WP] once in every month soulmates get to see from eachothers’ eyes for 60 seconds until they meet for the first time. It happens unexpectedly and neither of the pair knows when it will happen. One day you see someone you recognise from your soulmate’s eyes. | A change of scenery was what she needed. She had been working for about twelve hours a day, or more, if the current project has an early deadline. Today marks the end of the latest project, and she plans to skip the celebratory dinner and head home to plan her vacation. A friend suggested a nice beach on the outskirts of Lecithin, which was about 20 miles away, so she needed to pack some clothes and snacks for the long drive.
As she opened the door to her apartment, a cute little puppy was waiting for her. It bounced happily around her legs as she entered the room. She didn’t even have time to slide the door close in shock. She stood there looking around an unfamiliar house, memorizing all the details that she could, until everything went perfectly back to normal. There was no dog. The walls were back to light turquoise, and all was in place.
*That’s strange*, she thought.
The Peek was supposed to happen only once a month. Everyone gets an opportunity to see from their soulmate’s eyes for 60 seconds each month until they meet for the first time. Just last week, she was working late at the office and she was about to get a glass of water when suddenly a woman in a green apron handed her a scalpel. She was in an operating room and she was terrified that the 60 seconds she’d been given is a matter of life and death for the patient.
She knew little about her soulmate. She knew he was a surgeon at a hospital in the West, who loves to eat tacos and spend his time reading books, but that’s all she knew. She didn’t know what he looked like, there were no mirrors nearby when the Peek is happening. All she saw in her entire life were the familiar long white hall of the hospital, the green suits the nurses and patients were wearing, or a page of a book. She was lucky she had never seen the insides of a man.
The dog was new. The house was new. Everything she saw today at the Peek was totally unfamiliar. And this has been the second time this month. *What does that mean?*
She was thinking about it a lot even as she drove away to Lecithin. It was getting late but she’s not sleepy at all. She was daydreaming.
*I’d be lying if I said I’m not hoping that it all meant I’m seeing him soon.*
*Is he handsome? The nurses always acted pretty around him, always fluttering their fake eyelashes or biting their lips.*
*His house had a lot of books. At least we have something we could talk about when we meet.*
*Maybe he’s rich. A surgeon makes a lot of…*
She was suddenly in pain and she can’t see anything. At first she thought, *another Peek?* *Is he alright?* But 60 seconds have passed and she can feel every broken bone in her body.
A police car.
An ambulance.
The familiar long white hall of the hospital.
The nurse in green.
The fake eyelashes.
*Is this a Peek?*
*Is this real?*
She is in a stretcher. Nurses were moving her to the operating room. Everything went black again.
When she opened her eyes, she saw.
The man in white.
His green mask.
His eyeglasses.
It was him. | Karen and I broke up a little over a year ago.
We had had a whirlwind romance. We both knew our respective Soul Mates lived in the city and it felt right at first. After a few months we knew it wasn't right. We could see it in each other's eyes. In those moments we were alone when the visions came, we saw familiar places, the restless city beyond our doors, but the visions never stopped once we hooked up. It wasn't right.
Three months and four days after that career building mixed where we met, that was the day we knew it was over. We both knew that the other knew. It felt like some youthful joy was permanently lost that day.
It felt like we shared one of those unspoken conversations. The kind shared by old couples who never found their SMs and just stopped looking. They settled down with some they knew, who was familar, but wasn't The One. The kind of conversations that there aren't words for. There was a week or two of, like, stunned silence between us before the fighting began.
Anyway, yeah, I've told you about Karen before. So yeah, the minute came and instead of things I'd seen before, the subway, the bodega on 6th and Center, I saw Karen. And not spotted from a distance either, where the haze of the vision makes you question it. No. Karen was there and she was talking to her face. She was not happy, she was demanding. I could see that tone that Karen sometimes had. When she thinks she's right and trying to talk you out of something. Just like the way she said things, it was just... ugh. And she was only right like 50% of the time, max. Like, no better than random chance. She was pulling that on my SM!? What the hell.
I could even make out some of the words. I watched her say that damned catch phrase she had "You wouldn't know (blank) if it slapped you in the face." I hated that. Like, I remember she said to me, "You're so obsessed with your soul mate you can't get your head out of the clouds. You wouldn't recognize it if they slapped you in the goddamn face!" We broke up two days later.
Jeez. I can't believe that still gets to me. Is there like, is there a class for that, to just cut somebody open like that but still tell them exactly what they need to hear?
I guess I should be thankful, I've gotten more of my life together since then. It sounds terrible to say, but it felt like she was like a "training girlfriend."
So yeah that was last month. I've been tying not to obsess since then, but it's hard. Work helps, your advice has helped a lot.
Sorry, can I use the bathroom?
*"Sure, but we still need to end our session on the hour."*
...
Oh my God! It happened again! I had another one!
She must know Karen or something! I saw her building, she was going in and she...
Where's my phone? Would it be weird to call her and ask?
*"Slow down, let's be thoughtful about our actions, remember the three steps?"*
Yeah yeah.
I know Karen knows her. She has to, she went up to Karen's floor and she was getting out her keys and...
Karen.
I have to go.
| 2019-02-13T17:42:35 | 2019-02-13T17:03:12 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] One day, humanity receives a gift: everyone gets to ask for one power /ability. The more people asking for the same power, the weaker it is. You are the most powerful person in the world | I remember that day as clearly as though it were this morning. It was bizarre, to say the least. People said it was a hoax. It had wall to wall coverage on the TV, all the networks were displaying the message, each trying to put their own angle on it, every anchor wanting to be the first to either prove it as true or dismiss it as fake.
At exactly 8:03 in the morning, on March 15th, 2019, the sky had gone black. Twelve seconds later, it shone like gold, and a message appeared in black text: "Hello my creation. I would like to gift each and every one of you with the power or ability of your choosing. You must voice your choice out loud in twenty four hours. Chose wisely, my friends."
This message was display in the sky globally. Over whatever country the sky lay, the message was displayed in it's language. Even people who were completely illiterate were able to read and understand. To say that it was a modern day miracle of Biblical proportions is an understatement. Religious discussion flared up, Christians, Buddhists, Sikhs, Atheists and Agnostics furiously debating the source of this text. But this is my story. I'm not going to delve into the divine implications of it. I just knew what I wanted. And I knew that more than half the globe would want the same thing. Money.
But if this wasn't a hoax, and if it was indeed from a divine being, then surely if everyone just said they wanted money, the global economy would collapse, and the world would end prematurely. I had twenty four hours to decide what to do.
Those twenty four hours will go down in history as the sole time that the world was united in focusing on one thing: the message in the sky.
On Saturday, March 16th, 2019, the sky changed again. It had remained gold for the previous twenty four hours. Now it pulsed red for a minute, and then, for an hour, the black on gold message simply said, "Ask, and you shall receive."
And so I asked. And what I specifically said was, "I would like to have the ability that, whenever I seek to purchase or attain a property, goods, food, drink, perishable item, or any other product of monetary value, whether small or infinite, that I shall be able to reach into my pocket and have the exact funds available, either in cash or in credit, in the currency of the land that I am making the purchase in, but only if I am at the exact moment of transaction wearing odd socks."
Oddly specific, you may say. Yes. But oh boy, was I glad that I was.
I decided to test my 'wish' out.
I wore odd socks - one green, plain, one black, patterned, and headed to the local car dealer. I sauntered in, spotted what was probably the worst model on the lot, sporting a "Reduced - $7,999.00" tag, beckoned over a salesman, and said, "Would you take seventy five hundred cash for it?" He nearly bit my hand off. I reached into my previously empty pocket, and sure enough, I felt the crisp notes in there. Pulling them out, I handed them over without so much as glancing at them. The salesman carefully counted it - twice - and took me into his office to complete the relevant paperwork. Twenty minutes later, I was pulling out of the lot in a crummy used Toyota, but I was elated. I had struck the jackpot.
That evening - after a full day of very, very productive shopping, I met up with my close friend Zach.
"Hey Zach, what did you wish for?"
"What makes you think I wished for anything?"
"Come on Zach, the whole world wished for something, whether they believed it would happen or not."
"Huh. Well, it's kinda lame really."
"What?"
"I thought it would be super cool if I pointed my fingers at something, you know, finger gun style, and when you 'pull the trigger' flames would shoot out of my fingers."
"Seriously? And - did it work?"
"Not really. Check it out."
Zach made the finger guns, 'pulled the trigger', and a small, barely noticeable flame appeared at the tips of his fingers. You'd have been lucky to be able to light a gasoline soaked ciggy with it. I spat out my drink, and clutched my sides laughing.
"Oh, now I don't feel so bad about mine," I said. I'd already realised that I couldn't tell anyone - not even Zach - what I had wished for.
"What did you ask for?"
"I asked that I would always be able to know the time, whenever I wanted to. I thought it would be really useful, instead of wearing a watch or checking my phone."
"And did it work?" Zach asked.
I held out my wrist, showing him the Rolex that I had purchased that afternoon.
"This appeared on my wrist about thirty seconds after I spoke."
"Man, that's still cooler than these measly flames."
Over the course of the next few weeks, it became obvious what had happened. The more people that had asked for something, the less of that they received. It was almost as if they were sharing from a communal pot. So maybe if less people had asked for shooting flames from their fingers, Zach would have a flamethrower to hand. But he didn't.
It also became painfully obvious how many people had said "I want a ten figure bank account!" From that day on, everyone's bank account displayed with nine figures after the decimal. So if you only had one dollar in the account, it would read on cash machines, computers, receipts, and all that jazz, as "$1.000000000". That was a massive letdown, globally.
However. It would seem that not one other person on the planet had asked to have money in their pocket whilst wearing odd socks. At least, not as specifically as me. Because here I am, twenty years later, at the top of my game. Cars? I've got them all. Houses? I stopped counting after the second year. Islands? In what part of the world? Doesn't matter, I'll have at least one. Art? What I don't own is irrelevant. But the best part of it all? I've been able to maintain my privacy. Does anybody know that I'm the richest man on the planet? Not a chance. Oh, plenty know that I'm rich. Plenty know that I'm a billionaire. But no one - no one - knows how much I've got. To be honest, I don't even know how much I've got. Why? I've got lawyers that don't know that I've got lawyers. I've got bank accounts in every nation of the globe. I've got companies, businesses, shell companies, phoney companies, boards of directors, layer after layer after layer after layer, that it would take years upon years to fathom exactly what I own, what pies I've got my fingers in.
I've had threats. I've had near misses. I've had good times. I've had bad times. I've had moments of euphoria. I've had moments of regret. I've had moments of tragedy. Oh, the stories I could tell. The stories.
But I will never, ever, ever forget March 16th, 2019. The day the gift was delivered.
Oh, and that crummy Toyota? I’ve still got it, in storage, as a token of remembrance to that epic day.
​
/r/MarkChandler | Nate sat hunched over his sweating ice coffee; it was a warm summer day, and the afternoon sun was beating down on the cafe patio. He sighed as he wiped a single beed of sweat from his forehead and flurried his fingertips at the cup on the table. Chill air seeped from his hand, and the nearly melted cubes of ice in his coffee grew slightly in size.
When he'd encountered the spirit in a dream a week ago, just as everyone on Earth had, the first thing that entered his mind when it asked him what ability he desired was ice powers. It had always been his favorite—Ice Man, Subzero, Frozone, hell, even Elsa—he pictured himself building giant ice fortresses and sliding across frozen waterways suspended in the air. Unfortunately for him, he was not alone in his admiration for super-cold super-heroes.
But, of course, the spirit who'd offered power to the world had left out the part about individual powers being diminished the more they were asked for. Still, the world seemed a little more magical these days, and some made out better than others.
Lifting his gaze from his coffee and rubbing his chill hand on the back of his neck, Nate gazed out at the bustling city square. Lots of people were walking about, and he spotted a few who's feet no longer touched the ground as they hovered by just inches above the surface.
'That must be nice, easy on the knees.' he smiled at the thought.
He watched a man give an electric car's battery a little zap with his fingertips across the street, and a women with a small crowd huddled around her, she was asking children to think of a number, but please, only between one and four.
'I suppose it's for the best,' he thought, 'If we all had gotten what we wished for, then I'm sure things would have turned into a real mess.'
Someone screamed down the street, and Nate saw a few people running towards the source of the noise.
'Car accident?' he wondered as he iced his coffee again. "I didn't hear a crash, should be fine, plenty of people now who can heal minor wounds with their hands.'
Now more people were shouting, and a large crowd had gathered in the middle of the street at the end of the block.
'What's going–'
The ground shook as one of the shops exploded in a ball of fire and shrapnel. Nate was knocked off of his chair; staring up at the sky on his back, he could see dark clouds swirling, and massive bolts of lightning clawing and scratching menacingly in the black. He rolled over, and the woman who had been reading children's minds was now flailing her arms and legs wildly, covered in fire as she rolled about frantically on the ground a few feet from him.
Instinctively, he reached out both hands and used his power, but the light icy air that emitted from his fingertips before was replaced by a thick blizzard of snow and ice. The woman only screamed for a second longer, as the fire was extinguished and her body was pierced by dozens of razor sharp, blood covered icicles. She ceased moving, her face frozen in blue terror.
"Oh my God!" Nate scrambled back and stared at his own hands, which were now frozen from the tips of his fingers nearly to his elbows. He didn't feel particularly cold, but a power was flowing through him like he never could have imagined. "No! No! I'm sorry! Oh God!"
Everywhere people were running and crying out; bodies were strewn about the street and sidewalk, some charred, some cut to ribbons, and some missing most of their limbs.
He stood up in a panic and scanned the horrific scene. Amidst it all, there was a child sitting calmly on a bench as if nothing was happening, staring off into the distance. Behind the child, a row of bushes was growing rapidly, branches and vines reached out like tentacles, wrapping around legs and necks, squeezing and dragging their prey into a shrubbery hell.
Nate sprang into action, leaping over the woman he'd just accidentally killed, and barely ducking under a man soaring through the air at an incredible speed. The man who had charged the car battery with his fingers seemed to be radiating electricity, and moments later he exploded in a dazzling array of light. Nate felt the force of the shock-wave and crashed into the bench, grabbing the child's hand, "Come on! We have to get inside!"
The child turned his head slowly at Nate, a look of confusion and anguish on his face, "She's near; she's doing this..."
"What?" Nate glanced over the bench, the vines were slithering slowly towards them. "Who's doing this?!"
He shook his little head, tears of blood streaming out of his eyes now, "I just wanted to know if the other kids at school like me... It's too much... I can't... It's too much! Please, make it stop!"
The young boy fell off the bench, ripping his hand from Nate's and clawing at his own skull like it was covered with bugs. By the time Nate reached down to lift him up, the boy's head had inflated for a moment then exploded, covering him in blood and bits of brain.
Something curled up around Nate's leg, and in his state of shock he let himself get dragged under the bench and towards the now gigantic shrub. The last thing he saw was someone hovering slightly above the ground, shaking spastically while their blood seeped out of every pore in their body; then, everything went black as the leaves and branches closed around him.
_____
When he woke, there was no sound except for the light breeze and a slow, rhythmic crunch in the distance. The bush that had dragged him in lay lifeless all around him, but the damage had been done. A large branch ran through his back and out of his stomach, and a few smaller ones protruded from his body here and there. A light ash fell on his face, and the crunching grew a bit louder as he shifted in the leaves and thorns.
Footsteps. Someone was walking slowly through the corpses and rubble.
"Help," he whimpered, a bit of blood trickling from his lips. "Please, help me..."
The crunching stopped abruptly, he heard the feet of the survivor shift, and the footsteps started again in his direction.
He raised a hand weakly in the air, shaking through the pain.
"Yes, yes. I see you over there." a woman's voice called out, in a casual and slightly annoyed tone.
She came into view, standing over him, beautiful, clean and unscathed. Long red hair fell over a dark leather jacket, and she put a high-healed boot down on the branch in Nate's stomach, leaning down hard and putting her hand on her knee.
Nate shrieked as the branch moved inside of him, and the woman laughed as she watched him squirm.
She sighed dramatically, scanning the area and tossing her hands in the air, "What a fucking mess, right?"
"Please, lady. Help me!"
"Oh, but I already did, didn't I?" she motioned to the bodies all around them. "I gave you and all these people exactly what you wanted!"
"What the hell, what are you talking about!?"
She smiled, knelt down, and whispered in his hear. "Try not think too much about it," she'd pulled something from her jacket and moved her hand around his head. "These are, after all, the last thoughts you'll ever have."
He didn't feel the pain, just the warm blood oozing form his throat and collecting around his neck and ears.
The woman continued her stroll through the destruction, amplifying the powers of others to uncontrollable heights wherever she went.
/r/BeagleTales
| 2019-03-14T15:24:31 | 2019-03-14T15:09:01 | 358 | 42 |
[WP] Most young mages use incredibly complex spells and extremely rare ingredients to summon their familiar. You just drew a circle and threw a bag of chips in it. | First day at the academy, but it's not that exciting. I've been here before and it was just as boring then. The real fun doesn't come until after, most people don't even keep the familiar they get while they're here. Just a big 'show of power' or whatever. Wait... why is that cat following him...and that lizard on her shoulder?
​
"Uggggghhh", whoops. I look around. Yup, they noticed... I totally forgot to summon my familiar. Day one and I'm already behind.
​
Looking around, there are only a few spots I could do the summoning without someone seeing. This cove of trees should do the trick.
​
My pockets though. No wand today, some kind of 'no wands on the first day of school' what kind of policy is that? I break a stick off of a tree and draw a circle...it seems a bit empty.
​
I start going through my bag and of course, unprepared as ever, all I packed for lunch was a bag of chips, Cool Ranch Doritos. "I guess this'll have to do" and I toss it into the circle where it crinkles a bit.
​
Thankfully I brought the summoning dust, or rather, never took it out of the bag to begin with. Its the only thing that you really need to make a summoning work. I open the bag and grab a pinch. It smells weird... like mixing honey and \*sniff\* \*sniff\* barbecue sauce?
​
Then I feel my nose tingle. The wasn't a good idea...magic powder...nose...the tingling worsens... \*ACHOO\* the powder in the bag spills, emptying all over the ground, and the pinch i had gets scattered into the wind. I feel my jaw drop...I think I goofed. I look down at the circle and see no change, although I did notice the circle wasn't all the way closed...my best guess? It didn't work.
​
I hear the warning bell ring.
​
"Shoot, I don't have time to fix it or try again! Argghhh!" i grab my stuff and start rushing to the front door.
​
Huh? why are people crowded at the front gate? The closer I get the more apparent it is that everyone is staring down something blocking the way.
​
Finally I see it. "AHHH! What the heck??????" Sitting in front of the gate was a giant winged sphinx. All in all it was probably about the size of a large pickup with sky blue fur and a darker blue shade to its mane and tail.
​
What on earth is this thing doing here? I ask the guy next to me "Is this normal???"
​
He shrugs, "how should i know? its my first day here too you know!"
​
I turn back to the giant sphinx and squint...wait isn't that...in his mouth was a small open bag of...Cool Ranch Doritos.
​
"MASTER!" he roared out, the whole crowd gasped as the empty bag of doritos fell to the ground. "MASTER I HAVE HEARD YOUR CALL BUT I MUST ASK....ARE THERE ANY MORE OF THESE ASTOUNDING DELICACIES?????". He placed his front paw on the bag and stares directly at me.
​
My mind is racing a mile a minute, what on earth happened???
​
Then it hit me. The circles are closed to restrict the size of the familiar. Traditionally, familiars are meant to only be a certain size so they can follow their mages wherever they go.
​
And the summoning dust! It got caught into the wind, letting it travel to wherever this....sphinx came from.
​
"Hmm...maybe he didn't hear me." the sphinx begins to mumble to himself "perhaps i should try louder?" I snap back to reality...this isn't going to be good.
​
"MASTER!!!!!!" he roars, much louder than before, the sound echoes through the trees, shaking them and everything else in the area. The other students all cover their ears to minimize the sound, their screams basically inaudible over the sphinxes roar.
​
"Yeah I hear you! Quiet down!" I reply, rubbing my ears trying to get the ringing to stop. "I don't have any more Doritos but I can probably get more later. Who the heck are you?" although...i basically already know the important part of that question.
​
He sits up straight and proud. "I am Karass, The Northern Wonder, and am here to accept your offering of these 'Doritos' and fulfill my new duty as your familiar!" | Larry woke with a snorting start when his friends Don and Harmony burst into his dorm room, chased by two other animals. Cheetos tumbled off Larry’s faded graphic t-shirt, leaving trails of orange dust down his chest. The computer in his lap asked if he was still watching Netflix, and he was glad that was all he’d fallen asleep to.
“Larry, wake up!” Harmony shouted in a rush. She threw a worn, black book down next to him, and the weight of it dipped into the mattress. ‘The Tome of Twilight and Terror’ was scrawled in silvery script in a perfect circle around the image of an inhuman skull. “We’ve found a way to kill the Dark Lady!”
Larry groaned and thought to himself, “Couldn’t I have just *one* spring break without facing near death from She-Who-Shall-Be-Only-Obliquely-Referred-To?” He set aside his laptop to pull the book in its place. When he looked into the eyes of the skull, the image came to life, cackling and opening its maw to reveal Larry’s deepest fears. The boy wizard closed his eyes and sighed. Maybe a year or two ago he’d have been somewhere between awed and spooked shitless, but he was getting a bit tired of it now.
The book creaked open of its own accord and flipped to the page Harmony had magically bookmarked. She pointed at the image of a wizard wielding some kind of brass horn. “The Bugle of Desolation!” she said. “Legend says that if a witch or wizard plays the Reveille of Yesterday, they can go back in time! *We* can go back in time and stop the Dark Lady from ever being born!”
“Or kill her as a baby!” Don said, vengefully. The owl-familiar perched on his shoulder ruffled its feathers and shat on the floor.
“We’ll leave infanticide as a last resort,” Harmony chided him before asking of Larry, “Didn’t your parents make you take trumpet lessons before they were heinously turned inside out with the Intestinum Externalus curse?”
“Yeah,” Larry replied, noncommittal. He idly flipped through some of the other pages filled with unspeakable horrors. “But don’t we have that magizoology midterm due in a few days? I’m seriously close to failing, you guys. I’ve already missed too many classes chasing and murdering Raymond Ravengeful *before* break. Can’t we just take the win and chill? Hey, I just found this cool show on Netflix, it’s called ‘the Umbrella Academy,’ and-”
Harmony rolled her eyes and scoffed, “Don’t be such a lazy-Larry! Raymond was just the Dark Lady’s second-in-command. If we give her a chance to rebuild her army, she’ll return and do *much* worse than giving Don’s sister toes for eyeballs. Besides, you’ll never finish gathering all the ingredients and drafting the sigil for conjuring your familiar in time. I told you not to wait until the last minute.”
“I already did it, though.” Larry flopped his duvet cover over and revealed a hoary, hirsute little man with a squashed face and clawed hands. Larry handed it a Cheeto, and the creature slowly drew the snack to its lips. Don and his owl shrieked. Harmony swore, her black cat familiar raising its hackles and hissing.
“What absolute fuck is that?!” Don wailed.
“It’s a homunculous,” Harmony answered matter-of-factly. “You obviously didn’t do it right, Larry. It’ll have to be put it out of its misery.” She took out her wand from the pocket of her robes.
Larry held his hands out to shield his familiar, “Whoa, no, hold on. It’s just a sloth, guys. You know, from Brazil?”
Don poked the sloth in one of its bulbous eyes with his wand. It took two a solid second to blink.
Harmony harrumphed and crossed her arms over her chest, “Well excuse us for not going to Moogle-school and learning about your weird Moogle-animals, Larry. How did you conjure it?”
Larry shrugged and indicated to the floor, where a wobbly circle was burned into the floorboards, “I just kind of drew a thing and used some crisps as the offering and he just kind of came out. I’ve named him Henrique.”
“Bullshit!” Don ejaculated loudly, “I had to get 20 troll nose hairs, 3 mushrooms grown in unicorn dung, and a jar of mist from the Death Bog of Detention to summon my familiar!”
“Well not all of us can be the Wizard of Destiny like Larry Spotter,” Harmony sighed. “That settles it, though. You’ve got your familiar already, and even if we come back from our adventure late for the midterm, we can just Bugle ourselves back enough in time to be early!”
“*Or*,” Larry started, lifting his mattress and pulling out a small baggy, “we can stay here at Pigpimples, have some of this OG kush Nigel Shortass grew in the greenhouse, and watch the Umbrella Academy while we let the *actual* adults whose *actual* job it is to track down genocidal warlocks take care of the Dark Lady.”
Henrique nodded slowly.
Don looked between the dank weed, the dark tome, and the Cheeto-dusted sloth, before shrugging to Harmony, “I mean, that sounds like a good plan, too.”
Harmony scowled. | 2019-04-05T16:41:38 | 2019-04-05T15:51:00 | 71 | 39 |
[WP] Your ability to see what level of pain a person is experiencing has always helped you in your profession as a nurse. From the hovering "0.6" over the guy with the hangnail to the "42" over the crash victim. Today on the bus ride to work there is an "800" over a guy, calmly reading his paper... | I let out a small gasp. That's the highest number I have ever seen. He just sat there and turned the page of his paper.
This man looked like he was around the same age as me. He was maybe 20. He had dark brown curly hair and a long straight nose. He was wearing a black striped shirt, black jeans, and white high-top converse.
I stood up, rocking as the bus came to a stop. There was a space next to him. I hurried over and sat down.
"What's your story I asked him?"
"What?" He turned to look at me. He closed his newspaper and scooted away from me.
"Tell me about yourself. Tell me about your pain." I probably seemed really creepy, but I always ask this to everyone. It usually comes from me being a nurse, but I'm also really curious about everything.
"I'm sorry," I quickly said, "it's my job as a nurse to make sure people are okay. You just didn't seem right." I could never explain myself well because nobody could understand my ability.
"It's okay." He folded his newspaper and put it in his backpack. He extended his legs. "I'm used to people asking me if I'm okay. It's usually the black clothing that makes that question pop into their head."
He paused, and took a breath.
"It's hard to talk about. I really shouldn't talk about my issues to strangers, but my therapist would be proud of me for at least talking to someone."
He took another deep breath.
"It started a few years ago. I don't know how, but it began to become really dark. I had no hope in life. I've just been really depressed and upset for a while now. My mum died when I was 13. My dad took drugs until they killed him. I was 18 when that happened. I was rejected from university. My friends went to other parts of England when they turned 18. I got laid off of my job when I couldn't bring myself to come in everyday. Life has just been really hard recently." His voice got quiet towards the end. He turned to look at me, his hazel eyes turned to a glossy brown. A tear rolled down his cheek. He wiped it away with his sleeve.
I put my hand on his knee and squeezed it.
He shuddered at the touch of my fingers. I lifted my hand away and put it back in my lap.
"When are you free?" I asked him.
"What do you mean?" He replied, looking shocked.
"I mean, do you want to get coffee or something to eat?"
His number went down. 799, 798, 797.
"Sure." He turned and smiled at me. "Tonight?"
I nodded and smiled back. I pulled out my notepad and wrote my number on it.
"Text me." I handed him the slip of paper.
795, 794.
I looked outside of the bus window. The hospital was just a block away.
I stood up and made my way to the front of the bus. As it came to a stop, I turned around and I could see the man sitting there, tears streaming down my face. He was whispering something. I read his lips, it was a great skill I learned in the hospital.
*She was the sign*. | You look inquisitively at the man before deciding to sit next to him.
“Mind if I take this seat?” He seems happy to have company. Both of you don’t say a word for several minutes despite all the questions running through your head. You finically veal the silence.
“So, what are ya reading?” You croak, your voice a bit rough after inactivity.
“You know, the daily paper.” He responds, eyes still fixated on the price of literature. You peek over to see what story he is reading. You find that it is no story at all, he is reading the obituaries. He seems fixated on one name, focusing on the black text displayed. You read: “Jessie Tenter, suicide by shotgun” Right then, you see it. The numbers they just multiplied by a factor of 3, number now reading 2400. You look the man in the eyes, you see pain and torment, but he does not move a muscle. He flips the page. It is obvious he isn’t reading anymore, just trying to look okay. You try to reach out:
“Hey are you okay?” You whisper to the man
“Yeah, I’m fine. News is quite good today actually. Today scientists discovered-“ you cut him off.
“No, are YOU okay?” He looks up from his paper and we make eye contact for the first time. He knows I know what is up. For a moment I thought he was going to cry, but he simply re-adjusted his shirt.
“Do you know what it’s like to lose someone you love?” He asks. I prepare to respond but before I can start he cuts me off. “Do you know what it’s like watching all of your loved ones die, growing old and sick while you remain young and healthy?” He stops himself. “Look, I didn’t mean to be so harsh, you would never know. Let me explain. I am doctor Normandy. I worked along side several scientists during the 1800 to try to develop a cure for old age. We-“ He makes a fist with his hand. “You don’t believe me, do you?” He accuses.
“Doctor,” I respond. “I assure you I leave my judgment until the end.” This seems to calm him down. He continues.
“We discovered how to mix the blood of long living sea turtles and humans. We were running out of funds at this point, so we decided we needed something to show our government. So I volunteered to be a test subject. As you see, it worked out well. My colleagues on the other hand...” he looks out the window “I can’t say the same for them.” We remain silent for a while. I decide to break the silence once more.
“So why were you so hurt when reading the obituaries?” He looked st me shocked for a moment before he spoke.
“Well...” He began. “I made a friend. Not just any friend, a friend that won’t die like the others. Someone to stay by my side no matter what. She was studying the same thing I was, their lab had more success but they did not want to try it on humans. She decided to sneak in and try it herself, hoping that this will encourage other scientists to replicate the experiment. We had something special. Where as, you are eventually going to die, be forgotten, and turn into dirt, we are going to exist much longer, but she-“ the bus stopped. “This is where I get off. I hope you enjoyed my tale, enjoy life while you have it”
He walked off the bus, across the street to the local gun store. As the bus sped off, he gives me a bit of a wink. | 2019-04-14T02:13:01 | 2019-04-14T01:38:46 | 34 | 17 |
[WP] When you arrived in the future, the locals put you in a "historical village" in an attempt to reduce culture shock. Unfortunately, their ideas about your past life are hilariously inaccurate. | "We're here," Detective Jake said as he lead me out of the vehicle we're in. "Welcome to Old Earth Island, a state-of-the-art recreation of the 21st century world based on different records about your culture there. We brought you here to help you adjust to our society."
"Uhh, Detective, I appreciate the thought, but... What the hell is that?" I said pointing to a statue of Shaggy pinned on a Cross.
"That's Shaggy, the most prominent religious figure of the 21st century," he said, proudly.
"Are you kidding me?" I said with disbelief. "What kind of reference are you using?"
"Excuse me? Are you implying that we are wrong?"
"No. I'm saying it is."
"For your information, we only use the most trusted sources when we recreated this place."
"Like?"
"Reddit, a community of professionals in different fields,"
I burst out laughing. "You used Reddit as your reference?" I said. "No wonder..." | Poem
Flying cars, ray guns, and massive wealth.
And my desire to go there was the promise of good health.
My mom's cancer was back for sure,
In the future I know we've got a cure.
So I made a machine to travel through time,
It worked on the first try and I arrived in the future to a friendly chime.
Apparently people make it so frequently that there is a standard protocol,
Everyone also ends up in San Francisco, weird feature of the wormhole.
Anyway I'm here,
But no one will talk to me out of fear.
They don't want to let us actually into the future, and we can never go back.
They don't care about my mom's cancer or the treatment she lacks.
Instead I now live in San Francisco in the New Jersey district.
I'm surrounded by gyms and clubs, it's Jersey shore realistic.
I'm thinking about moving to the New York area,
The apartments are huge and inexpensive,
Who ever built the area watched Friends for days, it's comprehensive.
But more then that it's filled with labs and tools, straight out of Ghostbusters Spiderman.
I know I'll find the gear to make my way home if i can.
Mom never had to start smoking all those years ago,
I can save her that way, take out the real foe. | 2019-04-23T17:11:43 | 2019-04-23T10:35:49 | 45 | 19 |
[WP] "Oh shit, you survived it?" your best friend says to you, minutes after the global disappearance of the human race and the emergence of the Others. "What?" you ask, terrified and confused. "Normally, I have to fix it all by myself every cycle", he responds. | A loud high pitched scream ripped my friend Hudson and I right out of our video game and back into the real world. I jumped up from the couch, the sound seemed to come from upstairs where my mother had been cleaning.
"Shit, is it time already. I'm getting slow."
I can hear my friend say from behind me. I barely register the words, as my body froze and my mind filled with fear as another blood-curdling scream could be heard from above. I was certain it was my mother again but before I could even think about moving something grabbed my arm. I turn to see Hudson still sitting on the couch with his arm outstretched.
"This is important Jack, so quickly tell me where does your mother keep her car keys."
The words almost cut me, I had never seen him so serious before. His eyes looked at me with a focus they had never once shown. I could still hear the screams of my mother and the dull chimes of the grandfather clock striking noon. It was all I could do to answer him with a lame,
"They're on the hook, by the front door."
In hearing my response his face started to take on more of a sorrowful expression. He stood up and said letting go of my arm.
"I just want you to know, you were one of the best friends I've ever had. I don't usually allow myself to get attached. I'll miss you, Jack."
As he finished he left my living room at a brisk pace. The house was silent now, except for a dull ticking sound coming from the clock. I tried to snap myself out of it, I told myself I need to move, to see if my mother was okay. That's when I heard two new sounds, the shaking of keys and the front door being opened. Almost immediately I unfroze, just the thought of my best friend abandoning me at a time like this was enough to get me to move. I nearly sprinted to the front door and grabbed his arm. He turned to look at me shocked as if he had seen a ghost but I was too angry to care.
"My mom just screamed like that and you're going to-" but before I could finish he interrupted me.
"Your mother is dead, but the real question here is why aren't you."
At the sound of those words, I let go of him. My anger turned to fear but before I could do or say anything another sound could be heard from upstairs. I turned around behind me to look upstairs and what I saw made my face turn a pale white. A four-legged, dark red, fleshy mass, the size of a large dog was standing at the top of the stairs. Without a face or head, it still felt as if it was staring at me. Then it lept, jumping right down the stairs. Again before I could even think I was being pulled out of my house. Hudson slammed the door and dragged me to my mom's car.
"Get it in, quick! I'll explain on the way."
I stumbled to the passenger's seat and stammered.
"Is - Is that what - you know. Killed... my mom"
He didn't answer immediately, instead of focusing on getting out of my neighborhood. There were no other cars on the streets, except for a few parked in the middle of the road. We passed at least two accidents before he answered.
"Jack, that was your mom. It's... kind of my fault." I opened my mouth wanting to ask more questions but before I could he stopped me and said "Please, just let me explain, and don't interrupt until I'm finished. This may be hard to believe but I'm not actually human. I'm an alien and I came to visit your planet a long time ago. Except I didn't realize I was sick, a basic disease on my planet, but deadly for yours. In your species, it transforms you into those beasts with no sense of what you were before. Now you have to understand I had no intention to spread it to you. I just wanted to observe a new life form, but I was careless. So I landed permanently, I used the technology from my ship to construct a lab. I've been rebuilding your population. At least trying to. However every time, every generation you all always contract the disease. Until now, until you."
​
I haven't written in a while so this was fun. I hope you enjoy and I'm always interested in feedback! :D | A cloudy fog of carbon dioxide transpired on the glass barely floating above my face. Luckily two stainless-steel desks saved my face from inevitable dismemberment. I twisted my arms back around to the backside of my body and attempted to push myself up.
It was no use.
Fragments of steel frame from the crumbled building once called a school suppressed my legs. My bones felt like they were about to rip out of my body. The pain was so imminent I screamed. Mucus and bloody saliva shot out of my mouth as the echoes of my distorted voice shot through the air.
My voice then seemed distant. Not a single hint of white noise- nothingness. The usual sensation of green leaves bristling in the wind and the summer crickets flourishing in the nearby vicinity did not exist.
I tried once again to free myself from the shackles of the rubble but only managed to extend the length of my legs by two centimeters.
My scream. Not exactly a scream but more like an almost in audible ringing vibrating through my ears.
It kept getting louder.
And louder.
Louder.
I screamed for the final time and my body fell back down onto the cracked floor tiles like a rag doll.
I lay down. A black hue clouding my peripherals, masked in utter darkness covered my retinas as I was about to fall into an eternal sleep.
“Oh shit! Wuzza-wuzza-wuzzup!”
No. Fucking. Way. Mark?
“You survived it. Well, that’s a sure surprise!”
I gave a sigh of relief. Wait, did I? I couldn’t hear it from the outside, my vocal chords didn’t vibrate, what the fuck is going on? Mark walks towards me; without a single scratch on his body.
“Hmmmm... seems like you can’t speak. Here, lemme fix that for you.”
He snapped his fingers on his left hand and my throat cleared. Air suddenly rushed into my lungs and I coughed out some excess blood as a result.
“Wh-what happened? What’s g-go-going on M-Mark?”
“Oh yeah, so basically the entire human race doesn’t exist anymore. Well, except for you.”
I was about to speak but he interrupted me before I could get my words out into the open.
“Dammit. By 14:29 in this exact time zone everyone should have been dead. Well, as living proof I need to hone my mass-extermination skills a tad bit more, it does seem.”
I had so many questions just flooding my head. Who are you? What the fuck just happened? Why am I still alive? I finally worked of the courage to ask the throbbing question.
“Who are you? What the fuck just happened? Why am I still alive?”
Well, I guess multiple questions will do...
“Woah there dude! Chill out with the questions! Even as a divine being I cannot keep up with you! You humans are very interesting. Anyways, ‘who am I?’ Just said it. ‘What the fuck just happened?’ The fifth human mass extinction in all of time-“
“Woah! Wait, hold it. So you’re telling me, you are a divine being in control of exterminating the human race...”
He came up to me and got right up in my face.
“Um, yeah. That’s literally what I just said you dumbass.”
Jeez, I didn’t know that Gods were this fucking rude.
“Alright look here Mark. I don’t need you attidu-“
The open wounds on my legs squirted out heaps of blood and sprayed the half-wall with red liquid. This time I didn’t scream. This time I went fucking mental.
“Okay so, shut up mortal?”
My voice suddenly suppressed and I could hear it no more. My vocal chords were vibrating but my voice wouldn’t be let out.
“Listen here ‘friend’. Since you’re still alive, why not help me clean up. Normally, I have to fix it all by myself every cycle. But with you around, we could get it done in double-time! So, what’d ya say? You want to help or not? Just an tip: if you deny me you die.”
I nod my head as fast as I could muster for an incapacitated almost-dead guy.
“Okay, good. Now get up and let’s get started.”
Mark, you’ve always been a total airhead. Even as a God. I literally can’t move my fucking legs, yanno? | 2019-06-10T05:55:35 | 2019-06-10T05:19:36 | 115 | 36 |
[WP] You own a coffee shop, and you make some damn fine coffee. After decades of running the place, one of your most loyal patrons approaches you, reveals themselves as some kind of immortal being (a god, vampire, etc.), and offers to make you immortal as well, as along as you keep running the shop.
No idea why it says ‘along’ instead of ‘long.’ Oh well, my bad. | I had always wanted to be a vampire.
​
I remember reading about them with my brother Henry as kids, watching them in whatever movies or tv shows we could. They fascinated us, and I wanted to be a part of that world much more than this one. Now, here was Christina, standing in front of me and offering to make me one. She had waited until I closed, sitting in the back room unnoticed. I had come in to lock up the cash drawer, and there she was.
​
I had known what she was the first time she came into our little coffee shop. We saw a lot of strange customers, since we were the most popular shop in our little city. But Something about the way she carried herself, the way she spoke. It's so hard to describe her, between the constant shifts in hair and clothes, she could look homeless one day, and the next morning comes in looking like a billionaire. In my 30 plus years of working in this shop I had never met anyone like her. No matter what she wore, who she appeared to be that day, it was always the same order. 1 medium Iced latte macchiato, coconut milk sub. $4.38 due, $5 tender, $0.62 change, always into the donation jar on the counter.
​
I think Christina originally started coming in just to see my brother. It had been his coffee shop before he went missing, and was his labor of love. He would always make a point to speak to her, no matter how busy it was, odd for him since he was not the most social or comfortable around women. I had assumed once the police marked it as a cold case and stopped looking for him that she would come in less, but now there were days she came in twice. She still helped me hang flyers on Sunday nights, then we would go get a few beers and reminisce. We would take a shot for each day that week I had forgotten to update the "daily special" board Henry had implemented it. I always thought it was silly, to take 25 cents off one item and mark it as a special, but he was adamant we continue the promotion. Regulars grew accustomed to hearing him say "You forgot to update the daily specials!" and it had almost become an inside joke. Henry had always loved all things coffee, and when he opened the shop that dedication only grew. It was nice to think back on him with a friend, someone he had known.
​
"There is a condition, though" Her voice broke me out of my train of thought. She had an almost melodic voice, truly mesmerizing.
​
"If it's free latte's, the answer is no. You already get the friends and family discount, I'm not made of money."
​
"I just want you to keep the coffee shop running. I know it's been rough, but you can't close it down."
​
"Seriously? You know all the trouble I've had getting good help in here! The last person I hired quit when I asked them to take out the trash! I can't keep it running by myself much longer, even if you tun me and I don't need to sleep!"
​
"Oh, we still have to sleep" Christina laughed. I threw my hands up, the point being made.
​
"What if I find you some help?" She walked over to the sink and began to wash her hands. At this point, we both knew what my answer would be.
​
"Alright, but if they quit on me, you have to come help. Deal?" She nodded and turned to me.
​
\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~
​
The next thing I remember was waking up. I was in my own bed, in my apartment above the coffee shop. I didn't feel very different, and wondered if I had dreamed last night. While thinking it over, I got ready for the day, and went to open the shop down below.
​
Throughout the day, I noticed changes. I absolutely had to keep the blinds shut, the sun was so strong. I could finally smell the difference between the different coffee beans, like Henry had always tried to teach me. My ears were more sensitive than normal, as if I could hear the conversations from down the road if I focused long enough. If I had had my sense about me, I would have called Christina to make sure this was normal.
​
At about 11:30, she finally came in. She ordered, got her drink, then went to the back. I followed her, ready to bombard her with all the questions that were finally rising in my mind.
​
"I found someone to help you out around here, I told him to come in the back for his interview. He's like us, by the way, so don't freak out" With this she started to open the back door.
​
"Why would I freak out? Why can't we just interview him in the fro-" The door swung open, and in strolled Henry like no time had passed since he was here late, even though it had been about 3 1/2 years.
​
He put on an apron and walked out toward the register.
"You forgot to update the daily specials!" | The buzzing of the phone stirred the man from a short slumber. As he groaned and tossed the sheet back and forth, a small tantrum, defying the nature of the organized life and society. Grunting the man who could be called middle-aged sat up, loud pops and cracks wracking him with pain and misery. The discomfort was due to numerous reasons, but the most likely culprit was the impossibly soft and overused mattress that had been in the man’s possession since he opened his coffee shop and lived in the loft above it. It had been a dream of his since he was but a man refusing to comply with conforming with the college grind. Opening an artesian coffee shop and spreading the name of his delicately refined roasts across the land.
Dreams never come true. That’s what the man learned.
But still, he lived a comfortable albeit meager living, and he owed nothing to anyone. Debts were paid, the building was paid for, and he was his own man. He focused on combining grounds and focused on his craft and although his building and abode was dated horribly and in need of renovation, it had established itself as one of the best hole-in-the-wall coffee shops in all of the land. As word spread, people would come, and most would wait several minutes for a single cup of decadent dark roast that would fuel the soul and for many people would be their one indulgence for the day.
Climbing down the stairs to his shop, the clock on the wall read four fifteen in the morning. Ritual had become the man’s norm as he cleaned the shop up and prepared the dining room for his customers. He served no food in this establishment. This was no bakery, and this was not a place people could come to plug in and disconnect from the day. There was no Wi-Fi, and no matter the pleas the man would not modernize the store. If one wanted that atmosphere, they could go to one of those chains that actually makes money.
As the man proceeded to set up his coffee makers one of his oldest customers had come in. This woman had been a customer since he opened up shop all those decades ago. While seeing these people day in and day out, he tried to stay out of their personal lives, going so far as to not learn the names of most of the people that had come in. This woman was different though, she had an elegance about her. Although the man could not be sure, she didn’t seem to age a day since he first noticed her. A wild mane of blonde curly locks that served as a halo surrounding the creamy brown skin and piercing blue eyes. Truly a statuesque and regal looking woman, a woman that would turn heads in any event. She typically was the first customer of the day, and over the years she had worked her way into this man’s life.
“Good morning!” She inhaled deeply revealing a pleasured smiled on her face as she took in the aroma of all the coffees being made for the morning rush. “… I will never get over that aroma…”
“Good morning Miss Twilight.” The man never felt right calling her by her first name. That level of familiarity was not something he was used to, especially with someone so beautiful. He never learned the profession of Miss Twilight, but she was obviously successful and did well enough for herself. “Shall I get you the usual?”
The woman stood for a moment and pondered the man before raising her hand to snap her fingers. In a moment the sound of trickling coffee pouring into pots ceased. As the man looked back and forth he noticed everything around him slowed to a standstill. Blinking, not sure if he was dreaming, the man questioned the scene surrounding him. As he moved to investigate the paranormal experience the woman began. “I must admit, seeing you collect more gray hairs troubles me.”
The woman strode with confidence. Sitting on one of only three stools laying one leg over the other pulling down her skirt to keep herself modest she proceeded to lean forward on the counter to continue her proposal to the man who had served her all these years. “You needn’t worry about other customers currently, I have ceased the river of time to have this private audience with you. I have certain… abilities.”
The man stood and waited for further elaboration. As he did so he couldn’t help but feel the uncomfortable sensation of admiration coming from this beautiful woman. He never was the type of man who could speak to women well. His paunch belly, speckled face, and large hooked nose had surely made him feel less than desirable. After a while, the yearning for attention and desire seemed to quiet, and it became something he simply used to do. To have those feelings stir again were strange, unsettling and he wasn’t sure if he approved of it.
“I have a proposal for you my good sir. You shall serve me coffee for all of eternity. You will wake up in the loft above here every morning much like you do now. You will not age another day, and you will not tire, grow older or sick. You will serve me as you have served me for the past nineteen years three hundred and twenty-one days.” The man still didn’t understand what Miss Twilight was talking about, what she was referring to. But considering the coffee pots were no longer filling he felt useless as he could not dispense upon her what she always came in to enjoy.
“…So, something different today it seems. Not your usual?”
The woman sighed, knowing full well the man couldn’t grasp the gravity of the situation. It was all over his face. The pale skin from lack of sunlight. The constant red eyes due to dryness. The scars from acne on his face and the nervousness in his voice. Miss Twilight very much appreciated the man and his routines as it synchronized well with her daily responsibilities. But this man could not grasp the bigger picture. He couldn’t grasp the service he would be doing for his goddess. She would ask again in a few years, maybe after the daily grind would finally start to break down the man’s psyche. Maybe she could then seek the comforts of a man solely dedicated to a singular task, and perhaps she could learn more about this man.
Grabbing the man by the collar of his shirt and pulling him in, she planted a deep kiss on his lips. The process to wipe the man’s memories of the most recent events. And as she let go of the artisan the coffee pots continued to brew the coffee as she patiently awaited her usual. | 2019-06-27T07:07:10 | 2019-06-27T06:55:46 | 34 | 10 |
[WP] The submarine had run out of power and was now dead underwater. Slowly, you watched your crew mates die of starvation but for some reason you didn’t die, you survived months and years on end in a dead submarine. Fast forward 75 years and your submarine is found. | *Great. Now I’m hearing voices.* I thought to myself as I continued to mark yet another day on the metal wall of my cabin.
I was running out of space in this room, after all it had been more or less 27 368 days since D-Day, or at least since I’d started to count the days. I’d been alone with my thoughts for most of that time and let me tell you, I was practically begging to die at this point.
I twirled a long strand of blonde hair in my fingers while admiring the pale, barely there line I had worked so hard to make, following thousands of similar lines. The voices were getting louder, but honestly, I wasn’t too bothered by that. After all this time spent alone, and the amount of deaths that had occurred on this ship, it was only natural that I’d start hearing things. It didn’t matter, no one was around to care either way.
I turned away from the wall and made my way to the small mirror hanging above the sink in the “washing area” of the cabin. Everything here was made to be small and practical, providing little to no entertainment. I stared at myself. That’s all I could do was stare at things until I got bored, then stare at something else. The voices were getting closer still.
I hadn’t changed much. I still had my high cheekbones, my thick eyelashes and full lips and my cute nose and small chin. I hadn’t aged a day. Yet another thing that had made me question reality, but I’d stop wondering about that years ago. I was, but an empty shell, my body breathing, my heart beating, but completely *lifeless*. The voices grew loud, accompanied this time by the echoing sound of footsteps. *What a terrible, cruel hallucination* I thought.
I turned away from the unhappy reflection in the mirror to step outside my cabin; maybe a walk would help. It never did, but my stupid heart still held hope. I walked aimlessly through the whole submarine, I knew these hallways like the back of my hand, but that didn’t mean anything to me anymore. The voices spoke again, this time actually saying something. “... how horrible it must’ve been for these people. To die in such circumstances...”
I found myself subconsciously following the voices. It wasn’t long before I found where they were coming from; the control room. I barged in like the savage I now was, only to find a group of 8 people staring at me in shock.
I’m out of inspiration, now. It’s been ages since I’ve written anything. | I'll never forget that day. The day when the torpedo took out our power. One by one they fell. There was no thing we could do. Tim got married the week before. Poor guy. Jerry, Stevens, captain justin, benny and kris, all dead. All gone. Looks like old man death forgot about me. I do not know how much time has passed, I do not seem to age. It may be due to the fact that our sub was nuclear, but I'll never know. Since that day when I was the last one left, I decided to fix this vessel.
The monitor came on and I got a signal of a vessel.
"This is adrian Spielberg of the submarine Poseidons' horse requesting assistance"
"I'm sorry but that's Impossible, that vessel has been sunk for 75 years, there is no way you survived that long"
"75 years, but how?I haven't aged in all that time."
"A response team is heading in the direction of your transmission. Stay put."
30 minutes later I got out for the first time in decades. I didn't even get to see the faces of my rescuer.
"Thank you" I said with tears in my eyes
"No prob......what are you"
I look up and see faces that are somewhat human, they were blue with fins and gills.
"Im human" I replied
"But that that must mean, youre unevolved"
"What?"
"Well, 50 years ago humanity evolved into 3 different kinds, the water born, us, can live under water. The earth born, who can dig at surprising speeds and survive in the hottest climates, and finally, the air born, who have wings and impeccable eye sight. each kind is now it's own nation. You are currently in the waters of Atlantida, the seas of the water born"
This is too much, how in hell did all of this happen. In less than a millennia humanity evolved. And how am I still alive.
"If you are an unevolved, how did you survive so long in there"
"The sub was nuclear, I think I got irradiated"
"But this can't be......we were told only air born can be born as.......imortals"
After all of that I went to the capital of Atlantida. I talked with there leader. And was announced as a national treasure, this really pissed off all of of the air born in aries, for they had 7, I meat them, they were all frozen in time like me. A Russian, Hispanic, Pole, Mexican,Scot and an Indian, they told me there stories. None of them were exposed to any radiation.
They told me thet they all are tired of this eternal life, that they have seen everything in this univers. Now I'm on a new journey, to find out why we are immortal.
And how to kill one | 2019-11-11T05:39:12 | 2019-11-11T04:47:59 | 45 | 31 |
[WP] The team's healer is absolutely sick and tired of always being insulted or forgotten about so they join the bad guys; they are a much more terrifying villain than anyone thought possible. | "I just need more time" the healer said. "If you would take a few minutes to plan and let me do my work instead of rushing into danger, we wouldn't have to keep doing this" As he spoke his hands ran across the Paladins chest, a warm glow spilling across the slowly closing wounds.
"Evil waits for no one", the paladin replied. "If you're too cowardly to do Men's work, then we don't need you with us. You'll only be a liability."
The glow stopped as the healer's hands fell to his sides. "Cowardly? Do you know how many times I've saved your life? I've lost count. Even beyond that, I have resurrected you a dozen times. You were gone, beyond all conventional help, held in the grasp of your precious Gods. I pulled you back. Me. Do you think it's easy? Do you think it's guaranteed? And if I fall who is there to wrest me from the clutches of death. You? You whose magic is only good for killing those you disagree with? The wizard perhaps? His version of resurrection is something I would not subject my worst enemies to. None of the others could come close."
"It's your job. You get your share like everyone else. Now quit your complaining and finish patching me up." The paladin took a swig from his flask.
"No."
"No? You don't get to say no. This is your job. It's the only thing you bring to the party. "
"No."
The Paladin stood to his feet, slightly reinvigorated by the healing already received. He glared down at the healer with contempt in his eyes. "Then you can go. We never needed you. I have slayed dragons and giants. I can find an eager replacement within the fortnight."
The healer smiled, faintly, with just a hint of a tear forming in his eye. "You will never replace me. I know you better than you know yourself. I know every wound you've received and how. I know every moment of pain and weakness you've felt. I know you. And I know you will live to regret this." He gathered his belongings without another word, the uncomfortable silence spreading through the camp as the rest of the party came to realize what was happening. The ranger gave a solemn nod, and that was the only goodbye he received. As he rode into the fading light of dusk, he feared not the things that lurked in the dark places of the world, instead he reflected on his past adventures, the many lives he'd returned to the world as his companions stripped others from it, and as a smile came to his face, he whispered to himself, "Dragons and giants."
Months later as the gate to the Paladin's keep came crashing down, with all of his vanquished enemies swarming, competing to claim their vengeance, he heard a familiar voice calling above the horde. "Don't worry, there's enough for everyone. You can kill him as many times as you like"
Edit: Thanks for all the love! I'm very glad you guys enjoyed my little story, and sorry so many of you related to it. | >*"Rhathma! What have you done?!"* the spindly cleric was let up. All her healing spells had fizzled, leaving the party at the mercy of common Gnolls and their hyena pack mates. As they growled and laughed the party lay prone and at their mercy. A thousand curses were wished upon the healer under muddled breath. The heroes were stripped and bound all while a cacophony of shrill laughs filled the ancient throne room. The catfolk fighter, centaur paladin, the dwarf barbarian, and twin gnomish wizards were forced to watch as she ascended the throne.
>*"You know, this could've been avoided. All I wanted was enough gold to buy some half decent armor. Chainmail, a breastplate... honestly anything would've done."* Rhathma began stripping herself, her stomach bearing horrible bite and slashing scars. *"You couldn't even spare a potion after the Goblin Caves! I had to push my own guts into place! 'Don't waste it on her!' 'She didn't even fight, she doesn't deserve a cut!' You treated me like a servant!"* The throne room darkened. *"That night I prayed and every night since then...please let me die. You.stole.everything.from.me! But my prayers were answered..."* Before the throne Rathma was gifted the ornate full plate, two swords, the numerous hoarded scrolls, the largest braid of the dwarf and his belt of healing potions, all their gold... everything she had been denied was given with admiration by furry hands and careful fangs capable of crushing bone. Her new god was generous.
>*"I have one last gift for you all. What you earned in life you shall now receive two-fold."* Again, laughter filled the air. The centaur began to writhe and kick. *"You see? Healing doesn't have to stop when you're well...Amon'verdas forsa seera! Amon'verdas forsa seera!"* The centaur began to grow and howl in pain. The horse in him screamed in agony as every muscle flexed but slowly faded away to silence and the others began to cry. Eventually the skin began to split right at the base of his torso. The screaming was unbearable and only drowned out by the laughter between breaths. They looked in horror as their friend was now two blood covered beings...one man and one horse.
>*"You monster!"* one of her former allies muttered, tears in his eyes. *"I think not Wrenjöth, let me show you a true monster. Amon'verdas gorgoth sgertha! Amon'verdas gorgoth sgertha!"* And with her newfound will her spell found its way into the gnolls and hyenas and they doubled over with laughter. As she pulled a lever near the throne a secret door opened... *"You were my allies. My friends. I trusted you... Never again."* As the faces of the hyenas and gnolls split and became two sets of jaws the laughter doubled as the two-headed mutants closed in on their prey...a gift from their new leader. My rat form, thankfully, wasn't noticed by any of them as I made my escape. We attack the pack at dawn. I'll never forget those screams... I need to go hug my cleric.
-excerpt from the journal of Ash Muh'Çtek, Half-elf Moon Druid. | 2020-01-05T12:01:26 | 2020-01-05T11:54:50 | 317 | 27 |
[WP] In an alternate universe where human skin changes colour according to their emotions, you alone lack this ability. As a result, nobody really believes a single word you say. | I stare at the carpet, pretending to myself that I can't hear while the school's color therapist speaks to my parents. Focusing on the calming yellow of kindness and on my fingers touching rhythmically, I can almost feel like they are talking about someone else.
"-ith enough training and effort, she should be able to feel and emote like a normal young woman, but her mimicking is getting in the way of this. The way that she insists on expressing herself through strange facial movements and vocalizations are habits that *have* to be broken if she's to fit into normal human society and not require a caretaker for the rest of her life."
Almost. It hurts to have them talk about me like this. Tears blur my vision but I can still see my hand. A bland, neutral shade of green. Devoid of any meaning beyond calm passivity. If anyone were to look at me they'd think I was having a bland day. If they were to see my eyes watering and my lips quivering they'd become a swirl of emotions. Pale blues of confusion as they started registering the strange way my face looks, followed by the disturbed shades of worry, fear, disgust, and pity forming a kaleidoscope as they realized I was colorless.
Fingers suddenly snap inches from my face and I jump as my mother says sternly, "Mary, use your colors."
I feel ashamed of myself as tears start to fall and a quiver taints my voice when I speak, "I'm sorry." I know she's right. | I know I stand out. A brown amidst a sea of red. People are angry, understandably so. Their government has failed them, left them to suffer, and I agree, but my affliction receives slander instead of smiles.
"Why are you even here?" A light red woman asks me as she shoves her way by, pounds of blubber followed by three even fatter kids. They waddle their way up to the front of the rally, a sea of red worshipping the Great Orange Blob in the Sky, that's the way it is, the way it's always been.
I sigh as I head backstage to slip into one of my outfits. A red one of course. My employers have to provide me and people of one tone afflication suits, to be able to work, but they don't like it. Nevermind that I'm just an electrician, here to fix a line to the speakers, no part in the circus, but they don't care, and if I'm honest, neither do I.
I don't hate the President but I don't love him either. It just sucks I have to change my color to do a basic job as the rest of the world spits vitriol and burns. Oh well. It's better this way. People see brown as anger, or darkness, or evil, chaos even, but really brown is the the color of the earth, the soil, of survival. I can get amber, or ochre, cappuccino, even balsamic, but I cant switch to red or blue, yellow, orange or pink.
They say one toners are different, are useless, but I disagree. Brown and black will absorb any color that comes into contact with it and thereso I am a wealth of colors, you just can't see it. | 2020-02-25T09:14:43 | 2020-02-25T08:43:13 | 33 | 24 |
[WP] A blind little girl somehow hugs a demon, mistaking him for her dad. No one has ever shown a demon affection before this point, and it has a very surprising efect. | "Just do it already," the demon thought to himself. "For god's sake, she walked right into your arms. It's never this easy. Now harvest her soul!"
But he couldn't. Instead, the demon just stood there in the arms of Bella. The dread and anger that consumed him for all of eternity had disappeared. Even a demon has its demons, but they'd vanished with this simple, loving embrace from a child. Normally, the kids just scream and run away from the demon. This was different.
After a few moments, the demon retreated into the ether, leaving Bella startled and confused. On her bedside table, her Braille slate began to chatter rapidly. She quickly picked up the possessed slate and read to herself:
"Dear Bella. You made a dark soul light. Remember, when love is our cause, it's limitless in efect."
"It's spelled **e-f-f-e-c-t**, dumbass," she said softly. | She hugged me.. she actually hugged me. A little human girl hugged me. Does she not know the danger she’s in. At any moment I could rip off a arm, take away a toe or just eat her whole. She can’t really see all too well so maybe that’s it. Maybe she’s mistaken me for something or someone I don’t know but I gotta get her away from me. But no one has ever hugged me let alone a human be the one to do it. She says her name is melody but I heard her call me father. That must be the reason for the affection, I knew it couldn’t be anything I’ve done. Let me get this girl back to the human world. Drop her off at the border and let the detectives figure it out. But as long as we’re traversing demon world together nothing is gonna hurt her. You hear that melody nothing is gonna hurt you. I’ll lose a arm a leg a eye anything for your safety. I know it sounds idiotic for a demon to ramble bout feelings but that hug got me. She felt safe around me. A complete stranger. A demon. She felt safe around all that. I owe it to her to get her back home even if it means I don’t get back home. | 2020-03-17T22:32:42 | 2020-03-17T21:46:52 | 89 | 29 |
[WP] Your sister disappeared on her way to school, but no one noticed. When you asked your parents they told you you didn’t have a sister. All the family pictures in your house only show you and your parents. You spend the next 7 years investigating until you receive a knock on your door. | Just for the record, what I am about to say will make you slowly walk away out of fear for your safety. It'll sound crazy, but it's true. You're just going to have to believe me.
I don't remember much about my youth. Most of what I remember are glimpses of events, some vague faces, and feelings of dread and hatred. From what my parents have taught me, I used to be a big trouble maker when I was young. But that all changed with my sister. I was around 12 or so and had developed a strong case of depression. I saw no point in living anymore and often contemplated suicide. My sister, Audrey, had just turned 20 and could clearly see that something was troubling me.
One day when I came home from school, she was in the kitchen, cutting up an apple into slices. As I entered the front door from the absolute hell that was 7th grade, she talked to me. She wanted us to sit down and just talk about our feelings. As she proposed this to me she started peeling off the skins of the apple slices in front of her. Just the way I liked it. I couldn't help but smile.
This continued for several years, us talking for several hours every night. Sometimes we'd watch a movie, sometimes we'd read a book like we were part of a two-person book club, and sometimes all we would do is just talk to each other as if nothing was wrong. And it worked. I became more energetic, more focused, more... more like myself.
This continued for several years, well into high school. One time I brought up how I was struggling to come up with ways to ask a girl in my class if she wanted to go to Prom with me. She said that she didn't have the best luck with boys in high school either because of her looks. She said that the bright red birthmark the stretched across the right side of her forehead always scared the boys off. I told her that I thought her birthmark was cute, sort of a way to make her stand out. The conversation ended with me having the courage to ask the girl to the dance. The girl would eventually become my wife later down the line.
The last time I saw Audrey was less than a week before she started her last week of medical school. It was the day I moved out for my freshman year of college. I gave her a huge hug that lasted almost a minute, and ended with her having large wet stains from my tears on her shirt. The last thing I ever said to her was "Thank you." To which she responded, "No, thank you."
That was the last I saw her. Of course, I didn't know it at the time as when she stopped answering my texts, I thought it was because I had bad cell service from campus. It wasn't until Thanksgiving that I learned the truth. When I came home that weekend, I was so excited to finally see Audrey again. Little did I know that I wouldn't see her. In fact, when I asked everyone where Audrey was, they always answered with "I don't know an Audrey" or "You mean Aunt Audrey?" I was furious. Why was everyone acting as though my sister didn't exist. At first I thought it was just a cute prank that she decided to pull on me that went on for far too long. That is, until I looked at the family portrait that hung above the fire place in the living room. She was gone. Instead of having her stand to my right, us holding hands, she wasn't there. It was only me and my parents. I refused to leave the house until they told me where my sister was. To which they responded with 'You never had a sister'. It wasn't until I was threatened to be cut off financially that I finally decided to go back to campus.
That was seven years ago.
Seven years have passed since my sister disappeared. Seven years since everyone acted as though she had never existed. I still think about her often and rarely ever go to my parents house as the memories it brings back are just too painful. I have since graduated college, and have begun my medical training to become a pediatrician. I proposed to my wife shortly after graduation and we were expecting our first child any minute. We were expecting a beautiful baby girl that we were going to name Audrey. The day my wife called me to say she was heading to the hospital was the happiest day of my life. It was also the most confusing.
I was caught in traffic on my way to the hospital so I missed the birth of my daughter. I was furious, but that didn't matter. I rushed into the hospital and made my way up to my wife's room. As she entered, she told me to be quiet, as our daughter was sleeping in her arms. I couldn't help but cry a little at the sight of it. But as I approached my wife, I noticed something. I pulled back on the blanket wrapped around my daughter and confirmed my suspicions. My daughter had a light cover of blond hair on top of her head and had a mostly normal appearance.
Except for the bright red birthmark that stretched along the right side of her forehead.
I jumped back in shock and tripped over the IV rack sitting next to my wife. My wife asked what was wrong, but everything around me was spinning. I said that I didn't feel well and left the room. It took me a minute to catch my breath, but when I did I couldn't go back in there. So I left and drove home.
I sat at home for several hours, my phone blowing up with texts from my wife and parents about where I was, if I was okay, things like that. I felt like I was losing my mind. "How could my daughter have the same birthmark as my sister?" I asked myself. "It-it must be genetic" I answered, trying to think of how this could possibly happen.
Just as I was about to text my wife back to tell her that I'm on my way back to the hospital, there was a knock at my door. I got up and looked through the peephole to see the mailman climb back into his truck. I opened the door and saw a letter fall at my feet. I picked it up and noticed that it was addressed to me. I also noticed that it was written in my sister's handwriting. I grabbed the letter and brought it back into my house. I opened the letter in my kitchen and read it.
"Dear brother,
By the time you're reading this, I'm sure you've found out the truth. As for how I did it, well that's a long story. To shorten it up, I helped discover time travel. And in exchange for my efforts, they offered me one free trip to whatever period of time I wanted. As for why I chose to spend it pretending to be your sister, well, when I was young I was depressed and struggled to find purpose. You helped me by talking about your long-lost sister, Audrey, and how she helped you when you needed help.
It took me a while to realize that you truly believed you had a sister, and that it wasn't just a metaphor for an imaginary friend when you were a toddler. And when I realized that, I knew what I had to do. I became your sister and helped you in the same way that you helped me. As for how you remembered who I was after I left, I don't know. Maybe love truly does transcend time and space.
Don't worry. I'll see you when I get back in a few decades.
So, thanks, Dad. Thanks for Everything.
\-Audrey" | The knock sounded on the door to my room. I glanced up, confused. We weren't really a knocking family, or at least mom and dad weren't. Still, I was thankful for the chance to compose myself, and I quickly folded the caricature into my pocket. I always liked to bring it out on D-Day, just to see her and refresh my memory.
I coughed to clear my throat, "Come in!"
The knock sounded once more.
"I said come in!"
A silence. Then the knock.
Grumbling to myself, I rolled off my bed and made my way over to the door, turning the handle and pulling it inward. A strange woman met my eyes. She was a few years older than me, maybe in her early twenties. She regarded me for a moment, her stare impassive.
"It would be easier for all involved if you stopped," she said.
I took a step back, "I'm sorry, but who the hell are you?"
"A Guardian." She made use of the distance I had created and made her way into my room. She sat upon my bed and spread her slate grey dress. A metal brooch in the shape of a shield stood on the lapel of her suit jacket top. Once she was settled, she continued. "I stand betwixt Here and There, protecting that which is Here from that which is There."
"Here and There?" I'm still gawking at her. "That doesn't make any sense, and you still haven't told me who you are. Are you some sort of police officer or something?" I made a police report on my sisters disappearance every year, updating it with what I had found the prior year. After the second year, they had stopped responding.
"I have told you who I am, it just does not make any sense to you," she replied.
"Great, well, there's not much difference from where I'm standing. Just go. Mom doesn't like me to have girls in my room," I replied.
She arched a brow and offered a small giggle. "I see, yes, well, that would not do at all. I was simply here to deliver a message and I can be on my way." She smoothed her dress around her thighs but made no other move indicating she would leave.
"Okay, Guardian, easier for who if I stopped what?" I said.
Her smile broadened now. "Yes, that is more like it. The who is important in a request like this. On one level, all of us," she swept her arms outward, "all of humanity that is, are involved in the matter of Here and There. But, if I were to be specific about the intent of my message, I would say that your efforts are an inconvenience to those who defend Here from There specifically."
"What do you mean, Here and There?" I ask.
"There is where They reside. Here is where We reside," she replied, matter-of-factly.
"And We and They do not get along?"
Her lips pressed together. "No. We and They do not get along."
"And what does this have to do with me stopping whatever it is you want me to stop?"
"We would ask you to stop inquiring into the matter of your sister." She said, her hands clasped in her lap.
The words struck me like a bolt of lightning, my heart thudded in my chest and my mouth went dry. It had been so long since anyone other than myself had mentioned her, so long since there was any indication she had ever existed at all beyond my own fever dreams. "My sister?"
She nodded, "Yes, your sister."
I stumble over to the bed, and fall into a seat beside her. "You...you know about her?" I ask.
She smiles lightly, just an uptick at the corner of her lips. "Yes, Sam is a friend of mine."
My eyes water and I find it hard to breathe. The strange woman knew my sister's name. Knew my sister. My sister was real, just as I'd always known. "Where is she. Please, tell me where she is." I reached out and grabbed the woman's hand. It was like clutching molten steel. I snatched my hand back, and examined it for burns. There was nothing there.
"It is best if you do not touch me."
"But you know her. You know Sam. I've been looking...looking for so long." I pulled the caricature out of my pocket and folded it, showing it to the woman. "She disappeared--"
"She did not disappear. She was erased, and for good purpose."
"Erased? What...did you do this? Did you steal her?" I asked.
"She left willingly, as all who are asked to fight the There are. It was not me, but a Finder from the organization I work for."
"Left willingly? She was eleven! She couldn't make a choice like that, she was just a kid, she wouldn't understand," I've hopped up from the bed and I'm pacing in front of her.
"That is what makes your sister exceptional. She's an Empath. She always understands," she replied.
I freeze, "An Empath?" My brain wraps around the foreign word, parsing its intent from the rest of what the woman has said. I moment of awe settles over me. "She does, doesn't she?"
She nodded, "Yes. It is an important and rare gift. It is also one that is often abused by those around the Gifted. The Finders exert considerable effort to locate Empaths before they are overloaded with the burden of others."
"Burden of others?"
"They understand all. They feel all. They take it into themselves. They are Empaths, and they fight for the Here," she said.
"Why did everyone else forget her?"
"Because everyone was meant to forget her. You were no exception, the process simply did not work upon you."
"The process? Why didn't it work?" I said.
"Empaths can form a soul bond. It is uncommon, and dangerous for both. When one is formed, there is shared-consciousness that becomes rooted deep within the pair. We believe you and your sister formed one prior to her departure. It is highly disruptive and therefore deeply inconvenient."
"Disruptive? Why?"
Cool blue eyes pore into me. "She feels everything, Jacob. She feels your pain. Feels your sadness. Feels you searching for something which you will never find. She cannot severe the bond, and so she endures, carrying the burden of you as she prepares to fight the There. It is possible she cannot succeed so long as you cloud her mind."
A lump forms in my throat, "She knows I remember her? That I care?"
"I would not be here otherwise."
"And you want me to...just stop? Stop trying to find her?"
"She has chosen this path. She is fighting the There. Fighting for Us. Fighting for you," the woman said, her voice softer now. "You must let her go."
"Can't I just see her? Just once?"
"Such a thing would not be possible. It could complicate matters considerably more. I have come to give you some peace of mind. I have also come bearing a gift."
She reached into her suit pocket and withdrew a small envelop. "Read it once, then return it." She handed it to me, making sure our skin did not touch.
I turned it over. The back was sealed in wax with a small, strange insignia of a lock and key on it. I pushed a nail under the seal, brushed the seal away and opened the envelop. Inside was a piece of paper, folded over once. I unfolded it and was greeted by a small collection of sentences.
**PART 1A in following comment. Got too long.**
**Platypus OUT.**
**Want MOAR Peril?** r/PerilousPlatypus | 2020-05-03T11:39:04 | 2020-05-03T10:51:48 | 76 | 36 |
[WP] You're mindlessly scrolling through random subreddits when you find a subreddit filled with photos of you at different hours of the day, explanations of all your activities, people discussing what life decisions you'll take. Confused, you notice a new post titled: "We've been found!" | “Damn. They really upvoting pics of me at work. Why y’all people so interested in watching me cut golf hole cups? The real deal is me mowing tees, everyone knows that is the real show stopper. What’s next? ASMR Green Syringing? ,” I joke to myself.
While mostly lighthearted, I can’t help but feel this niche subreddit I stumbled across is a bit unsettling. I mean whoever is running this subreddit is posting pics of things that most people would not be privy to. And my Subway order? Seriously? Well... that’s not too bad. What’s is really concerning is that they posted my route that I take home on sunny days, out in the countryside. This leads me to believe that I have stalker out there somewhere. Just watching me.
I scroll a little bit more and find one post that startles me to the bone. It’s a picture of me chilling on my couch at home and the caption said “he’s probably thinking I have nothing better to do than watch him all day. Well he’d be right😈”
I immediately sit up and look out the window to the spot where it looks the picture like it was taken... nothing there but two shoe imprints in the grass. I shout “okay, jokes over now! You got me! Har dee har har!” I shout to no one in particular. At this point I’m on complete edge. What the fuck is going here?
I look down at my phone at the subreddit... a new post.
It’s a photo of me standing... at the window... looking my phone. The caption reads “shit, we’ve been found.” | I stood outside the restaurant waiting for my friend as I scrolled through my reddit feed, barely registering the posts when one made me freeze. At first I just scrolled past it, then I froze and scrolled back. I felt sick to my stomach as I stared at the pictures, me in my house, at my school, with my friends, showering. I couldn’t think, panic seemed to cut off all reason. They posted pictures of me in the shower. I felt panicked, violated, like nowhere was safe. I had a stalker. And worse, people discussed my actions, my life, and my decisions.
I clicked the subreddit and saw the most recent post entitled We’ve Been Found. I hit it, almost missing because my hands were shaking.
“Zoe Aston, also known as Hiddenpenguinsincars and alicornsandimps has discovered this subreddit.
Zoe, you are special, and we needed to monitor you. We knew you’d eventually discover us, and we have a plan for you. Don’t worry. What happens next will be painless,” the post read.
I ran as fast as I could to my car, none of that sounding good.
Someone grabbed my arm. I felt a needle pierce my skin. My legs gave out and my vision blurred. I fought as hard as I could, but the drug still knocked me out.
I woke up in a large room with green and blue walls, but no windows. A woman stood in the corner, watching me with her dark green eyes.
“Good you’re up, we’ve been waiting for this,”
I felt like I couldn’t move. I was lying on a large bed, under copious amounts of covers.
It was hard to think, like my head was stuffed with cotton, and my emotions were not as strong as usual.
The woman walked over and took my hand. “You are the key, you will do great things,” she whispered. | 2020-06-30T11:25:05 | 2020-06-30T10:43:11 | 210 | 25 |
[WP] On the eve of your arranged marriage, you slipped away into the night. Intending to never be seen again. While scaling the garden wall, you spotted your fiancée doing the same thing. You both stared at each other for a while. | If love is a fairy tale, why had I not heard the one about the prince scaling his garden wall the night before his wedding? I figured only the stories with happy endings become romantic fables; mine was over before it had even begun.
Look, she wasn’t a *bad* partner. Her father owned a successful software development company, and the fruits of his labour trickled down to his children in the form of exquisite art and lavish jewellery. On our first meeting, her wrists glittered with diamonds. On our second meeting, nothing of the sort caught my eye, but my father declaimed the complete list of gemstones embedded in her outfit, and assured me we were a perfect pairing.
We met for the third and final time away from our fathers. Her older brother chaperoned the occasion, but the extra pair of footsteps only amplified the many periods of silence. I did muster the courage to ask about her hobbies, interests and life plans, but she was reticent in her responses. She addressed me as Mr. Kaur multiple times throughout the day, and each time I permitted her to use my first name, she turned a slightly darker shade of red.
As I took slow, careful steps up my garden wall, the image of my fiancée left heart-stricken at the altar, compounded with the red-faced fury of my father, weighed heavily on me. Choosing between living a loveless marriage and shaming the family name is an impossible task. That’s why I chose the cowards way out.
When I finally made it to the top, I sat awhile, musing at the long open plain which would soon lead me to freedom. The night was still. It was peaceful. For the first time in a long time, I felt content.
Then, just as I began my descent, a glint from the darkness caught my eye. It was her, perched atop her garden wall, gazing at me from beneath the moonlight. I didn’t recognise her at first; she wore a simple jumper and jogging bottoms, and her hair was scrunched up in a messy bun. She goggled at me relentlessly and I couldn't help but stare back, part frozen in shock, part captured by the twinkling of her skin. Her eyes lit up the landscape, shining brighter than the stars. Simultaneously, and without so much as a blink, we clambered down our individual walls and drifted towards each other.
We met in the centre of the plain and stood in silence for a moment. She wore no makeup, revealing freckles that peppered her cheeks. I watched her breath escape into the cold air.
Then, we erupted into a fit of laughter and fell to the ground in each other's arms. | When i was little, all I wanted was to be a dragon. A dragon, or a knight. My parents forced me into clothing that didn't fit, forced me down and restrained me. All while gushing about how handsome of a husband I would get.
I noticed something was wrong not long after my thirteenth birthday. I was hormonal, at the start of my puberty, and my parents were acting strange whenever I brought a boy home. They'd whisper in hushed tones behind their hands, and the only words i could catch were 'husband' and 'wife.' After all, a Crown Princess must be wed to the perfect man to have children. I didn't know why, but I hated that idea.
I thought I simply didn't feel love. Until the day i saw her face, glinting happily in the sunlight. My first love, Apple Sunbloom, tanned skin and smiles and lemonade on the beach. I thought it was something else, we were just friends, that's it, until I heard one of the snotty nobles' sons talking about the girl that caught his eye. The way he talked about his love was the way I talked about Apple. And then I realised what I was.
It was only after the third heartbreak, on my twenty-first birthday, that they proudly announced my arranged marriage to some stuck-up Crown Prince of a faraway land who was apparently the biggest hunk of his vast country. They were surprised when I scowled, when I stormed out of the room plotting my escape. I had realised that they would never love what I was.
The whispers from other lands that I sometimes overheard dropped a term. They said I was a Gynaika Erastis, or a Gyera for short. Woman Lover in Greek.
I couldn't live with someone I'd never love. So I loved one f my maids instead, and under that weak facade she too was like me, Gynaika Erastis, cold, hard, and brimming with determination. How ironic, then, that her name, Adynamia, meant weakness.
On the eve of my wedding, in the witching hour, I scaled the garden wall with my lover. All our senses were aflame. It was now or never.
A dull thump sounded from the bushes.
How surprised I was when the head of Crown Prince Finnick emerged from it!
We talked at length. He was like me, except of a different sex. An Antras Erastis. We both knew that our respective kingdoms would never accept us. They were too rooted in the Old Ways, the ways that said it was always a husband and wife that married, the ways that said women were puppets and men weren't allowed to caress and love their children.
And so, as we both went our separate ways, down the immaculately trimmed garden hedge into the cold, black night, my heart felt like it was finally free. | 2020-07-07T15:03:42 | 2020-07-07T14:51:38 | 32 | 17 |
[WP] You've just entered the restaurant of Karma, where everyone gets what they deserve. As a very normal person, you expect to get a bowl of soup, or maybe pasta. But before you can even sit down, the staff carry out a 12-course meal for you. | "I do not deserve this", I sighed as the waitress brought me the food.
"We are just bringing the meal that you deserve," smiled the waitress.
"There must be a mistake of some sort," I insisted. "The most I deserve is a bowl of soup. I have not done anything worthy of praise in my life."
"We don't make mistakes here," the waitress was still smiling. "Here. I have got the bill from the counter. You have 3265 Karma, which is definitely enough for a 12 course meal..."
"Nope," I denied. "I haven't invented anything remarkable, nor have I save people from burning buildings. I did not motivate my nation into reforming itself, nor did I bring criminals to justice. There has to be a mistake."
"Let's see... You have saved a number of lives throughout your life. Your friend Leah told us that she was grateful for your help throughout her difficult life..."
"The real person that helped her is her psychologist," I explained. "I was just a rock for her. A tree that she can hug onto and cry on. The professionals are the real heroes here."
"Your sister also told us that you paid for her college and made sure that she could find a good job to support herself and her family..."
"As any brother would," I shook my head. "Not anything that deserve any praise."
"What about that time when you helped Natalia to write a love letter to her lover?"
"I am a selfish jerk," I confessed. "Seeing her happy makes me happy. I must have done it for the dopamine."
The waitress shook her head slowly.
"You don't need to look down on yourself. You are a great friend, a great brother, a great son. You deserve this meal."
I stood up from the dinner table, folding the napkin tidily and putting it back on the table.
"I am sorry. I cannot accept this. I am sure that there are people in need who would appreciate such a meal. Maybe you can donate all this to a food bank or let others enjoy this meal?"
"Please sit back down sir," said the waitress. "I understand that you may not feel that way but your actions changed plenty of lives. Sometimes the smallest acts of kindness can go a long way."
"I...I am not sure if I actually helped..."
"Of course you did! Who do you think this feast is prepared by? Your mother and sister, as well as your friends and colleagues all helped. They have been working in the kitchen for the past few hours. It is time for you to enjoy what they prepared for you."
"I...I am grateful for that but I will only eat if everyone else gets to join me... including you."
The waitress looked flattered. I sat back down as my family and friends came out from the kitchen with big smiles on their faces.
It was the best dinner I have ever had. | Theo finished the final course and allowed herself to relax into the soft, corner booth. She had arrived with the hopes of getting a bite to eat, not gorging herself on foods she had never even seen before! Why was this happening to her? When asked, the servers just smiled at her and ignored her questions.
Something was off here. Theo's Karma level placed her just above the poverty line, not to the tier in which she was currently being treated. It didn't make any sense.
A new attendant, different from the servers, approached. He had short black hair and wrinkly skin but he still seemed youthful. He grinned at her and offered his hand. Theo smiled back and accepted the man's wrinkled hand. Trying not to look ridiculous, she scooted her way out of the booth.
"Sir, do you know why I am being treated like Karma herself in this restaurant?" Theo asked.
The man didn't seem to understand her. He just squeezed her hand and smiled. Then, he began leading her to the back of the restaurant.
"Where are we going?' Theo demanded. He continued to pull her along, no reply. Not even a smile this time.
"Where are we going?" Theo asked more firmly this time.
The man stopped pulling her. He turned, and in extremely broken English, whispered, "*Corrrrse numbaaa thir...teen."*
Course number 13? More food? She already felt like she might explode!
She tried to object but the man was already pulling her arm again. He led her through the kitchens where dishes, all different in Karma portion sizes, were being prepared. Knives cut, pots clanged, and pans were set ablaze on the stove top.
The two of them traveled past the kitchen, through the back offices, and finally came to the end of a hall. The door there read, *Private Dining*. Theo had no idea how she would eat any more food. This was all too much for her. They should be treating her like a peasant, not a queen.
Strangely, the man released her hand and pat her twice on the head. "GoOOOd gee-irl," he whispered with his thick accent. He knocked on the door twice.
From inside, came a voice.
"Enter..." the voice bellowed. Was that a human voice? No, it couldn't have been. It sounded like 100 voices stacked on top of each other. Theo felt a bead of sweat run down her forehead. What was this? Who was behind this door?
The mysterious man grinned at her again before reaching for the door.
"Wait," Theo grabbed his arm, stopping him in place. "Who is behind this door?"
"Pandemonium," he said. Theo stood frozen in place. The word had come out in *perfect* English.
Before she could turn to run, the man grabbed her by the neck, opened the door, and tossed her inside. Immediately, she felt cold and.....surrounded. She rubbed at her neck, a fresh cut appearing under her left ear.
A demonic voice seemed to come from all directions, "Hello....Course 13..."
*screams...only screams...* | 2020-08-10T06:59:21 | 2020-08-10T06:56:18 | 172 | 40 |
[WP] A dragon egg has been found. On the day of the hatching over a dozen scientists each from different countries come hoping it picks them as a parent. The dragon's overwhelmed and chooses the one person not in it's face. The guard.
[removed] | An egg has been found- it was far larger than any egg found in the world. It was a soft shell like a snake's and people there could see the leathery surface writhe as the hatchling inside was waking up. People were being far too noisy to hear the gentle peeping of the whelp within. There was no knowing what exactly it was through that thick shell.
Researchers stood by closer to its chamber, hoping that it would imprint to one of them and they could keep the rich and royal away from it. They would reach for it the second that it poked its head from that shell, let alone grab it when it settled, and could run the risk of harming it. They looked to their guard, four men and two woman arranged in a circle, bearing sword and black powder weapons. There had already been six arrests made as rich assaulted them or tried to break their formation, at which a seventh and mountainous guard would haul them away.
A cut appeared in the leather, and a few bubbles poured from it as well as a tiny maw to gulp air. The room fell silent and the squeaking was clearer now. More cuts began to form as it pressed a sharp egg tooth to the shell and writhed. They could see pale scales within the shell, and at one point an eye peered from one of the cuts.
It was a good hour before the whelp poked its head from the shell, and it positively looked like a serpent. It held up its head, to see so many strange faces looking back. It looked around at them all, and one lunged from its place- until one of the guards firmly buried their shoulder into the person, decking them hard.
The researches spoke and it recognized their voices from its time in the shell. It pulled itself a bit more free of its shell, its forelimbs and wings slipping out. The scales on its head had begun to darken as it dried. After a bit longer it pulled its rear legs and tail free, and stood up on its hind legs with paws on the glass to look out over the edge.
One of the rich again rushed, this time he waited until the guards were busy. He tried to reach into the chamber and grab the baby, but quickly yelped as it had tiny jaws full of needles for teeth. And as he yanked his hand back, it bled, and he only realized that the burn in the bite was going up his arm- the baby had venom.
He didn't have much time to dwell on his bite as a closed fist came crashing into his cheek, then he was grabbed by one of the guards who began calling for additional to take him away.
Hours and hours, the baby didn't leave the chamber. Impatient, the rich were mostly removed by then and those who were calmer were hissed at by the now crimson red whelp. It hatched in the morning, and by evening, none were left but the researchers and guards. Out of hundreds of people, it was content in the warm incubator.
"Remove your helmets," the researchers commanded their six guards, the seventh was still busy in another room. And they would do so- fair faces, most already showed a scar of kinds. The hatchling stood again, inspecting these new faces. This time it climbed onto the edge of the chamber, its tail hanging for balance.
Suddenly, like a frog, it leaped onto one of the woman. It held onto her arm, and with the help of tiny claws it crawled up and to her shoulder where it inspected her closely. Then it would climb onto her head, the guard wincing at the claws as it tried to get a grip on her auburn hair.. Much like a kitten, but bigger.
It would sit there and purr, looking triumphant in its accomplishment.
"Well, Ms. Sckell." One of the researchers breathed out. "Looks like it was waiting to see you for itself."
"Yeah... I was hoping that it wouldn't go for one of those greedy bastards." She reached up with both hands to take hold of it, which it held onto her hair and scalp a moment before letting go. She pulled it into her arms to hold like she would a cat.
"You have a dragon on your hands now, imprinted to you. If it is like other creatures, it will be largely inseparable until adulthood. We would still like to aid in its care, as we have already acquired the resources and would like to continue monitoring its growth."
"I'll need the help." She nodded, looking down at the dragon, who looked up at her. Then it stretched and rubbed its head against her cheek, purring louder. | Preface:
The young acolyte, dressed in his plain clothes and hooded cloak, ran hastily toward the Master's Sanctum in the base of the mountain. He pulls his hood down against the rain as he runs, trying desperately not to slip and fall on the muddy soil beneath his feet in the low visibility of the nights rainfall. The Master needed to hear this news, and he needed to hear it now.
Approaching the Sanctum's entrance, the acolyte is met and barred from entering by two weathered warriors standing guard. One inquires the acolytes business, while the other gives him a bored and tired look. The acolyte fishes around in his pack under the cloak, and produces a black and white print out of a news article from a national news organization's website. The questioning guard gives the acolyte an annoyed look, and then peers over the paper presented to him. His demeanor changes instantly upon recognizing the image, and he looks back at his partner, whose expression has now gone to confusion. Without a further word to him, the acolyte is ushered into the undermountain, and the guards convene in the entryway, discussing what has just been brought to light.
The acolyte rushes down the sloping path carved out of the mountains base, following the already lit torches in their sconces mounted on the walls every 10 or so feet. After a few moments walk, the acolyte emerges in to a large domed room carved from the mountain's stone. The room is dark, except for a small fire in a carved hearth in the far wall, and a small oil lamp that is set on a small table next to a large, wing-backed chair which faces the hearth. The acolyte knew that had it been daylight, a multitude of oil lamps would be lit in this chamber, allowing all to see the massive book shelves that take up the majority of the space within. However, tonight, like every night, it was just the Master, in his chair, with a book, and the fire. The acolyte rushed forward, stopping just before reaching the back of the chair.
"Master," he called as he approached, "I apologize for this late intrusion, but I have news. News that you must be made aware of, for all our sakes."
The acolyte stood, waiting for an actual response from his Master, but knowing well enough to not press further and speaking out of turn. The warmth within this chamber from the fire, added to the exertion of running from the living quarters down the hill, made the acolytes body begin to perfuse, beads of sweat forming on his lip and brow. In the silence of this carved out cave, the fire crackled and popped, as if expressing its tenants complete disinterest in anything the acolyte had to say. Still, the acolyte stood and waited for an actual response, for he knew now he could not leave the chamber without being properly dismissed.
The book in the Master's hands snapped closed with finality. The man who had now seen six decades in this life, soon seven, stood up from the chair, grasping a gnarled walking stick in his right hand. He set the large tome down on the seat of the chair he formerly resided in, and turned so that his figure was silhouetted by the firelight. He wore his customary oversized robe that hung a little too loose around his frame, and he adjusted the small, round spectacles that sat on the bridge of his nose, forcing his eyes to focus on the acolyte. Without a word, he clasped the head of his walking stick with both hands in the center of his body and inclined his head toward the acolyte.
The acolyte stammered and moved slowly forward, his body bent in a respective bow to the Master. "The A-A-Americans. O-O-One of th-the-their expeditions. They found one." He managed to get out as he produced the same print out from his pack.
The Master took the paper with his left hand and turned toward the fire, bending down slightly to allow its light to illuminate the news article that was just handed to him. Upon seeing the black and white photo at the very top of the page, the Master gripped his walking stick tightly and his jaw became set as he clenched it to abate his surprise.
*So, it is time.* The master thought to himself looking over the picture of what was obviously a large egg, bigger than those laid by an emu. *The time of the ancients has come again. Only this time, humanity has no clue what is about to hit them.*
Standing upright again, the Master crumpled the paper given to him in his fist and threw it into the fire. "Brother Sao, I believe I need to freshen up and prepare to travel to the West. Please, arrange for my transport and travel at first light." He said, addressing the acolyte in his presence. "The time of the ancients has come." | 2020-12-12T05:55:26 | 2020-12-12T03:18:35 | 33 | 15 |
[WP] Everyone jokes that you'll be haunted by spirits for building your tea shop on sacred ground. But at night you actually serve the undead spirits and calm the restless. | I shut the door, lock it. Flip the Open sign to Closed.
“They gone?” One of them asks from the back wall.
“They’re gone,” I say, watching my last customer walk down the path and into the night.
I walk back across the tea shop. They are coming in now, through the back, with their slow, patient strides across my tiled floor. Walking as though they have all the time in the world. And I suppose they do.
Soon, the whole place will be filled with them. They’ll talk with each other. Fill the shop with their memories. Memories of lives they've finished living. Some hundreds of years ago, before planes, before trains, before automobiles. They mingle amongst each other and laugh and joke.
People have joked that I’d be haunted by spirits for building my shop here, but I don’t feel it’s a haunting. They keep me company. Frankly, they forget I’m even here half the time. Sometimes they ask me questions, about the world. What I tell them always seems to amaze them, intrigue them.
I wipe the table next to a young woman. Her name is Jenny, she died of tuberculosis at a young age. She’s pretty, the track lighting touching her soft skin. Many think ghosts, or spirits, have an insubstantial aura to them, as though they have a tenuous grasp on the world. What they don’t know is that when a spirit is comfortable, when they aren’t restless, their form shines bright, just as though they are alive.
In my shop, I’m proud to say, they shine like a bright, colorful festival.
All of them are welcome here.
A man walks through the door, he looks scared, anxious, his form flickers amongst the night through the window.
“Where are am I?” He asks.
“You’ve passed over,” another man says. His name Colonel Adams and he’s wearing a military uniform. He was a civil war hero. I know this because I’ve heard his stories over and over. But I don’t doubt them. I can tell he’s a courageous person. I don’t know how I picked that up in his conversations, but I did. “What’s your name?” The Colonel asks the newcomer.
“Jack,” the man says as he looks around the room, staggering into the bright lights. “But what do you mean passed over?”
“You’ve died, Jack.”
The room is quiet, the room is always quiet when a newcomer is finding out what has happened. I restock the shelves as they bring Jack into the shop and sit him in a chair. The spirits come up to him, one by one, welcoming him.
“We’re so glad to have you, Jack,” they are saying, making him feel as though he hasn’t been abandoned, that there is still companionship on the other side.
By the time I’m leaving for the night, after everything is in order. Jack is sitting with a group who are eagerly asking him questions. He’s comfortable now, I can see it. His form is beginning to shine as bright as the rest.
As I’m putting on my jacket to leave, the Colonel tips his hat at me and I give him a nod. I step out into the cold night with the sounds of the dead ringing pleasantly in my ear. The door closes and I’m in the silent night.
I see an ethereal shape, soft as gossamer, staggering through the graveyard bordering my tea shop. It is a little girl, she seems scared.
“I….I’m lost...can you help me?” She asks.
I bend down next to her and smile. “Sure, I can,” I say. “Now what’s your name?”
“Lisa,” she says, her voice is soft, frightened.
“Here come with me, Lisa,” I say and walk her to the shop. Through the window I can see the spirits laughing and talking gregariously amongst each other. Colonel Adams is telling Jack a story about a buffalo stampede. I know the story. I recognize it by the animated gestures he’s making.
I unlock the front door and the crowd quiets down.
“Everyone, this is Lisa, and she’s feeling a little scared, can you all make her feel welcome?”
“Lisa!” the crowd cheers out. “Welcome!”
Jenny walks up quickly and kneels down next to Lisa. I look at Jenny and she nods to me and I close the door. As I walk back into the night, I see Jenny’s arm over Lisa and bringing her into the friendly and warm folds of the crowded tea shop.
By tomorrow she’ll be shining bright as the rest.
The night is cold, the stars spangle the black sheet of night above me.
It is good to be alive.
\----
More [stories](https://www.reddit.com/r/CataclysmicRhythmic/wiki/index) at [r/CataclysmicRhythmic](https://www.reddit.com/r/CataclysmicRhythmic/) | “Have a good night Hal!”
“You too Sam!”
Sam started to step out of the doorway before he paused, and swung his head around for a quick jab
“Make sure to put plenty of garlic around your room tonight eh, wouldn’t want the ghosts to take you away in your sleep.”
“That’s vampires, Sam,” I started to reply but the door had already shut behind him.
Plenty of people had warned me not to open my tea shop at the Old Town Building, Sam especially. The rumors that surround the Quincy Old Town Building and its property are about as cursed as it can get, and what historical fact there is about the building is just about as bad. It was rumored that back in the 1800’s, the U.S. Cavalry had massacred a village of Indians who were camped out on what would later become downtown Quincy. The village consisted mainly of woman and children, while most of the warriors were off hunting. Later on, when the town of Quincy was founded, the first town council somehow arrived on the wrong side of a gunslinger. One year into the township, the gunslinger strolled into the town hall, and gunned down every single member of the city council. The Deputy Sharif later found the gunslinger laying low in the town over, and apprehended him. Instead of throwing him in jail, he decided to take the law into his own hands. The records don’t confirm the rumor that the deputy dragged the gunslinger over 10 miles back to Quincy, but it does confirm that the deputy hung the gunslinger from the Old Town Buildings balcony for a week. After the buzzards had got to him, he was dumped in an unmarked grave. The deputy fled town shortly thereafter when rumors of a bounty on his head for usurping the law started to spread around town.
Scary stuff. Quincy remained a small town, only really getting by off the business the interstate brought in. During the day, my tea shop brought in barely enough to make a profit. Rent was cheap in downtown Quincy, and luckily for me it was close to my second job.
It doesn’t pay well. Actually, it doesn’t pay at all, and It’s more of a hobby than a real job. I was staying late one night crunching numbers in the back room, when I heard the door open. At the time, Sam had been going through a rough patch in his marriage, so I assumed it was him coming to distract himself by distracting me. When I stepped into the main room, face to face with a man I’ve never seen before, I nearly fainted. It wasn’t the broad blue cowboy hat on top of this man's head, or the yellow bandana hanging around his blue army uniform. No, what turned me as white as a catfish's belly was the hatchet buried deep into the man's chest.
“Sorry to bother you sir, but I seem to have been separated from my horse and my company, and I could use a place to rest my weary head for the night.”
At that moment I could barely breathe. I could only manage a quiet, raspy,
“Your chest, I...”
Before my head hit the floor.
I awoke the next morning, assuming it had all been a dream, but when the man with the hatchet in his chest returned the following night, I was able to keep myself from passing out.
“What is your name?” Was the reply I had to his question that evening, and upon hearing his name and rank, first sergeant George Adams of the U.S. Cavalry, I pieced together that the rumors surrounding the Old Town Building were true. Being the curious mind that I am, I offered him a cup of tea and a sandwich. As he ate he told me about the last engagement his unit had been in, and the horrible things his commanding officer had asked of him and his men. I tried to comfort him the best I could, reminding him he had no choice, but it did little for the poor lost soul. After a few hours, he got up, praised my food and drink, and walked off into the night.
He never did return, and I wonder if he is still out there searching for his unit. I signed it off as a one time thing until a few months later when a different man came in, this time a young, well dressed cowboy with a deputies star on his left breast pocket. This man was looking for a place to rest his head as well, and after a cup of tea and some food, the gentleman told he was trying to find his way back home, he had done something very bad and he was afraid of the very thing that his badge represented would come for him next. I tried to reassure him like the first man, I tried to tell him he was safe and no one was coming, but It did little to comfort the man with the badge. He left the same way as the man with the hatchet in his chest, and never returned.
After a year and 3 more spirits finding their way into my shop; 2 soldiers and a native woman, I now stay late and keep my door unlocked. I don’t know why these souls keep coming to me, or where they go when they leave, but if I can provide a place of rest and comfort, I don’t mind staying late. | 2021-03-10T18:00:27 | 2021-03-10T17:08:10 | 1,778 | 44 |
[WP] You have the ability to rewind non-living objects back in time to previous states they existed in. One day you come across an object older than the universe itself. The object goes back farther than your power can reach. You can't shake the ominous feeling that the object is dangerous. | A power beyond imagining and comprehension. It breaks the known rules of physics and reality, would render humans mad if they thought about it for too long.
Not you, though. You staved off madness by seeing the power as a tool, a dayjob to earn a salary.
People think you're a repairman.
The idiots.
Take this client for example, he has a fascination for ancient weapons, and a good nose for it too. It's not the first time he brings a rusted mess that turns out to be the real deal. Thanks to him, you got to see a 14th century scimitar and a venician pike in action. Not that you enjoy witnessing a weapon bringing death on a field of battle, but it is quite the experience to witness a moment of history by holding an inert witness in your hands.
The client got hold of an old axe, rusted, chipped and split. It belonged to a vikingr, so he hopes. The door closes as he leaves your workshop. All the machines here only serve to bluff potential customers. The only tool needed in the trade is your finger.
You lay an index on the axe and the work begins. You feel the traces the atoms left as the years passed by, the material lost and decayed. In a second that expands for weeks, you reverse the process that every speck in this axe has undertaken. Shine is brought back, a century-old edge cuts again, the wooden handle becomes pristine again, just like the engravings. Your senses remember the blood the axe has shed. It wasn't made for battle, the handle is too soft, would have broken at the first strike against a shield. It was meant for ritual killing, and killed it did.
The smell is sickening, saturating, Worse than you could have expected. You hear crimson torrents flowing from a pile of rotten cadavers, bloated and surrounded by flies. The sharp cut of the alloy through skin and bones.
The axe had cut through more arteries than your head can handle, you jolt back in pain and fall.
You lay on the cold ground, panting, shivering. The axe is on the table, unmoved, almost innocent.
Something's wrong. The very air is stale and afraid, and the stink hasn't left. It should have the moment you broke contact.
You take a deep breath and get back up. The story of this weapon goes further, deeper. On closer inspection, you understand the handle was an addition that came later.
You feel sick and decide to close shop and let the matter rest.
Your powers had a fairly mundane utility so far, but it appears you crossed a threshold. You're unable to not think about the metal, where it came from, how far it goes. In the night, you turn and turn in bed and can't find sleep, plagued by the scent and the shock of steel against bones.
Exhausted and confused, you decide to solve the riddle and get it over with.
The axe is still on the table, the air thick and heavy. Your index follows the engravings.
You hear, see and smell the carnage. Men were obssessed with this piece and unaware of it, felt compelled to come back to it, use it one way or another.
It is a shovel that digs mass graves. Trees are planted atop the pile of cadavers, the fruits so tasty they maked other foods seem bland.
It is a door hinge. Beyond the door, pacts are signed, whores are hired and nobles are murdered.
It is a crown, in a time where steel does not exist. Kings and queens have great ambitions. They build great libraries, envision wonders, wage wars and form empires. All is dead and forgotten.
It is a piece of a greater whole, broken a long time ago. A sliver of remembrance contained in the object drew men, drew women, drew you to seek it out time and time again.
And beyond it goes, the ground disappears and you float inside a formless void that will once become the universe. A silverish hand is reconstructed, with six elongated and fine fingers. Bits and pieces come from the void and attach to it. You see the meteor that has broken it reverse its course.
Just as the impact is about to be undone, you see the metal piece your client brought, levitating towards the strange hand construct.
Too late you scream for it to stop. It is complete.
Suddenly, you notice a presence beyond the hand.
Its attention is on you.
And you hear the voice inside your head.
*I see you.*
Everything goes black.
You wake up inside the workshop, the sun hasn't come up yet. You know the man next to you, it's the client. He extends a helpful hand.
You push it away, you're terrified.
"What would I do to you?" he says, "kill you? What for? Everything is already done. They are coming."
"Who is coming?" you ask.
he smiles and leaves. You follow him outside. The sky is dark, specked with stars as it always had been.
And you know.
Something lurks in the dark of space.
And it's looking right at you. | "Where...did you get this thing?", Gregory asked, terrified.
"He-hey, bud, are you okay? What's wrong? You look pale", Jeremy inquired, worried of his friend.
"Where did you get this thing?", Gregory asked again, with more demanding voice from before.
"Relax dude, my god. I found this stashed away in my grandparents' old home", Jeremy answered. "Wh--why? What's wrong with it?"
The two men stared down at the object sitting on the table-- a perfect spherical orb, completely black not unlike a bowling ball, though the same size it was noticeably made of a different material.
"This thing is....it's dangerous", Gregory said, trying to distance himself from the object.
"What do you mean? It's just some kind of a marble ball or some kind", Jeremy lifted it and throwing it onto the air playfully. "I just wanted to know its origin with your ability, is all"
"Put it down!", Gregory snapped.
Jeremy instinctively did, seeing the utter seriousness from his friend. Now he was more curious than ever.
"Okay, okay, dude, calm down. Just...tell me what you know about this thing?"
Gregory sighed. Glancing down at the object while at the same time not wanting to look at it.
"You know how my ability works again, right?", Gregory asked.
"You touch a thing and you can revert the thing to its previous state", Jeremy shrugged.
"It's not that simple. When I touch a thing, a non-living thing to be exact, I see in my head the life story of that thing. It's like seeing a film reel, a shot by shot frame of the object's history. Take this pencil for example..."
Gregory grabbed the pencil lying around on the table. As he did so he closed his eyes.
"I see it now moving backwards-- you sharpening this pencil, using it, back to the factory where it was made, back to the block of wood it was made of, the tree it was chopped off from, even back to the seed which the tree was born from", Gregory opened his eyes. "I can pick a moment in the object's story and realize it in real life..."
A glow emanated from the pencil held by Gregory. In a blink of an eye he held in his hand a perfectly sanded block of wood.
"Yeah, sweet dude. So what did you see when you touched this thing?", Jeremy asked, knocking on the orb, making an almost damped ringing sound.
"I...I saw...I saw the beginnjng", Gregory said with trembling voice.
"You saw...the beginning?", Jeremy raised a brow questioningly. "Beginning of what?"
"The universe"
A shiver ran down Jeremy's spine.
"And that's not all. The beginning of the universe was not the end of the story. This thing goes way back, way back even before the creation of this universe. I can't see it past that as it's way beyond my capability, but I can sense it. This is the end..."
Jeremy became even more confused.
"But didn't you say it was the beginning?"
"I said I saw the beginning. This thing existed at the end of what came before, before the beginning this universe. It is what separated the previous story from this current one-- the proverbial period at the end of a sentence"
The weight of the situation was finally understood by Jeremy. Now taking more caution of not even trying to touching the orb.
"S-so...what do we do with it now?", asked Jeremy.
Gregory was silent for the longest time, only staring at the orb.
"I don't know. It's getting too late, man. Let's....let's just sleep tonight off and we'll figure something to do about it tomorrow morning"
Jeremy nodded, agreeing. Seeing the clock had strike 3AM anyway he stood and sauntered off the his bedroom leaving Gregory behind.
"Good night, Greg", Jeremy said, closing his bedroom door.
"Good night...", Gregory replied in whisper.
Alone in his living room, Gregory kept staring at the orb. Realizing the danger of the object, another thought popped up in his head.
"The knowledge of the universe, all of it at the palm of my hand...", he muttered.
Gregory extebded his index finger, touching the orb. From one finger Gregory mustered the courage to place his entire palm on the orb. The coldness of the orb wasn't perturbed by the warmth of his hand.
Gregory stared at it, at his reflection on the shiny black surface.
"It's dangerous, but maybe...just a peek..."
Gregory closed his eyes and the myriad of frames, each telling the story of the orb flashed before his eyes. Billions and billions of years worth of it.
Finally arriving at the end, he saw the blast of the great explosion going in reverse, retracted towards the centre of the yet expanding universe.
"The beginning...", he smiled triumphantly.
A glow began to emanate from the orb where he touched it. And in a blink of an eye, everything went dark. Something to nothing in a mere second...and time resumes forward.
*Let there be light.*
r/HangryWritey | 2021-07-27T01:39:32 | 2021-07-27T01:31:43 | 31 | 22 |
[WP] The hero disappears overnight, and the only one who looks is the villain. Not their "friends", not their family, not the news reporters or any of the people who claim to love them. Just the villain. | # Smoke and Starlight
He was only here so he could gloat, Smoke thought.
There had been a time when the Bottled Worm was just a seedy warehouse. That time had long since passed. Now it was a disaster zone, the sort of place that only existed because long-dead authorities had been paid off not to demolish the rusty biohazard a generation before anyone even thought to turn it into a club.
Now, somehow, it was exclusive. But still, it wasn’t the sort of place anyone would think to find Ms. Starlight.
Not that anyone else had tried. Smoke couldn’t parse that one. The media had run some stories and then wrung their hands, her sister had been even worse. Her boyfriend? The bastard seemed almost gleeful. Smoke chuckled, clouds of hazy green leaking out from the slits in his neck. The bouncers at the doors edged back, giving him a respectful distance even as their hands darted down towards their guns.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Smoke said. One of them, the younger one, tried to turn the gesture nonchalant. He wiped his palm on his shirt and looked Smoke right in his cold, dead eyes.
“Attaboy,” Smoke said.
The crowd parted and the bouncers let him through, and there was nothing but sweaty flesh, broken, bloody tiles, and overpriced drinks as far as the eye could see.
Smoke was right at home.
\*\*\*
He was only here to prove a point, Smoke thought.
He waded through the writhing bodies, one tall, dark figure among many, though a little thicker, a little strong— lethal. Ahead the bodies writhed in all directions, gyrated in patterns that some people called “dance.” Behind they only writhed away. Smoke had a smell like crushed mountain flowers, just the menacing side of too sweet. In the right circles, it was known.
The point was simple: Smoke got everywhere. He infested all the corners of the world, even the shitholes that didn’t matter, the ones where he’d dredged up her past. Ms. Starlight, the darling of the Capital, wasn’t half the saint she seemed. Beneath the thousand-watt smile and the silvery, enticing eyes, she was just as human as all the rest of them. As human as him.
Before everything, before she was Ms. Starlight, before she was a sensation, before she was the ray of hope in the night that crushed all his dreams, she had been Ava Solis. Ava Solis was a Gaze Addict.
You weren’t anyone when you were on Gaze. At least, not outwardly. Gaze was a drug you took to slip into someone else’s skin or to give your own to someone else for a time. A Gaze addict’s eyes were too blank to see, their hands couldn’t grip; sometimes they even forgot to breathe. But behind those eyes they could be anywhere, the full force of the human mind cut loose to hallucinate at will, like lucid dreaming but ten times as real.
There was Gaze here, Smoke could see a few addicts by the bar, tearing packets and passing pills, a trio of rich hotshots with their muscle nearby in case someone tried to kick them off the bar. It was a statement, to take up a whole barstool in a place as exclusive as the Bottled Worm, just to go somewhere else.
Smoke heard a tortured scream and a bell ringing. He glanced up to the second level where banks of TVs hung down to broadcast a fight the plebs couldn’t afford to see in person, even though it was happening right up there. A razor-fiend was down and screaming, a badly grafted crab claw arm snapped off and spurting blood. The victor, a guy with chrome-plated hands, held the arm over his head like a trophy. He shook it violently and dropped it to the ground, cracked the crab claw open, and reached in for the meat.
Smoke turned away. He shouldered one of the hotshots off his barstool and the man crumpled bonelessly to the ground. One of the enforcers started towards him and Smoke blew a single puff of green haze at him. The man backed off with a shrug. Smoke glanced down at the hotshot. A creaseless white Armani shirt and a thickly braided gold chain, a spot on his pants where he’d pissed himself. It was a wonder Ms. Starlight had ever kicked the stuff.
The bartender was a young girl after his own heart, gill slits prominently displayed on the graceful column of her neck. “I’m looking for a woman,” Smoke said.
“You’ve come to the right place,” she said.
Smoke shook his head, almost sadly, and said her name.
\*\*\*
He was only here because he’d been an addict too, Smoke thought, playing absently with the photograph in his hand. It was impressive, what Ms. Starlight had done, even if she'd fallen off the wagon.
He followed the bartender deeper into the Bottled Worm’s guts, a series of progressively shoddier warehouses. There were more fights here. Dour men stood in silent rings as gene-spliced freaks beat the hell out of each other; the only sounds were the bartender’s heels and the wet impact of fists on flesh, or scales, or occasionally fur.
“What makes you think Ms. Starlight is here?” the bartender asked.
Smoke said nothing. One of the fight rings split open and a man done up like a werewolf spilled out towards him, clawing at the space where its muzzle had been. It lurched and swayed, the bartender stared as silently as the men. Smoke stepped towards it.
“My face,” the werewolf was trying to say, “oh god, my face.”
If he hadn’t seen the fights before, Smoke would never have understood it. He grabbed the creature around the shoulders, hugging it to him.
“What?” the werewolf said. "What, what?"
“Rest now,” Smoke said, and he expelled a tendril of emerald green. He felt the creature stiffen, feet weakly pawing at the ground. It trembled, gave one last, violent heave, and then fell silent.
Smoke let the werewolf fall. All eyes were on him, and many things that were not eyes.
But they smelled his sweetness, saw the creature at his feet, and they let him be.
"I don't think she had a choice,” Smoke said. When he looked back, the bartender was scared. | >**SILAS AND THE SEVEN SPRINGS**
“Begone, you wretch!”
Silas had heard that phrase so many times. Such was the life of an orphan- an orphan, and foreigner, at that. Doubly cursed, since the day he had escaped the chains of his slave master. He was young when he had been sold into slavery- too young. Then, when he escaped, he found that there were no support systems to help him. There was no food to be found- not while it was all hoarded onto the tables of the wealthy.
Silas survived by fleeing from one country to the next, stealing and sneaking through every miserable night, only hoping to survive.
That was when he found the book- the turning point in his life. The catalyst of his ascension.
Some wealthy dignitary had hired a Collegium Wizard to write a basic primer on magic for his children. It fell from his pack, as he left an expensive tavern one night, stumbling and drunk.
Silas had been hiding in the dark, hoping for an opportunity to steal into the tavern’s cellar- instead, he collected the fallen book, originally thinking to sell it for a few spare coins- but when he read its contents, he was mesmerized. The elite class kept the secrets of magic close to their chest- so close it may as well have been their own beating hearts. It was their one sure ticket to ensure control over their slaves and working class.
Their secrets were now *in Silas’s hands*.
Not knowing what else to do, Silas continued to steal, and practice magic- eventually, he combined the two practices, and he began to steal more, and better. He made complicated games, confidence schemes- tricking merchants out of their money by promising great returns on investments and things of that nature. Silas learned how to talk as they did, how to move like he had been born into wealth.
The first step of this, curiously, was to steal expensive clothes.
Eventually, Silas caught wind of a very illustrious party being held, and he stole inside. He shook many hands, memorized each and every face. Silas told them I was a traveling dignitary, waiting for his father to die so he could take his inheritance.
The nobles ate the story up, and why wouldn’t they? It was exciting, and Silas had every outward flourish that marked him as one of *them*- all except for the fierce anger which kept his blood moving. They would never see that side of him- not until he decided he no longer needed them.
For a time, things went well- he secured a lavish apartment, and began tutoring rich brats in magic, for an exorbitant fee, while using his new connections to acquire more knowledge.
It was only after Silas’s first duel that he learned that the nobles studied magic very casually- or, perhaps, they did not possess the fortitude necessary to become skilled at magic, as evidenced by how easy his first duel went.
Silas had, mostly by accident, offended some pompous old man. He had barely noticed until the duel had already begun.
Silas’s opponent had barely conjured a few licks of flame before he was ripped in half with a temporal vortex. With that, Silas’s stature was cemented as a skilled, cunning man of high pedigree.
Everything was progressing according to Silas’s grand plans...
Then the self-proclaimed ‘hero’ came. In all fairness, they did seem to walk the walk. Perhaps they did deserve the title.
Silas didn’t end up bumping into them at any parties, so he paid a local footpad for an intelligence report.
Hali, short for Halibaba, was the consummate picture of a ‘hero’. She served the Lords, the upper class, the Kings. She ensured ‘order’, and served faithfully.
Apparently she never had any reason to think that she was *empowering oppressors*.
She was alleged to be skilled with both magic and metal, but skilled warriors were common enough that Silas hadn’t had a reason to investigate this hero any further. She seemed very unlikely to ever become a threat to Silas’s plans.
Her reputation grew over the coming months, and it seemed that she was settling into Rayben City on a more permanent basis, so Silas had his operative keep him up to date on their actions, along with some of the other notables within the city.
He learned that Hali had begun to use her accumulated wealth for setting up soup kitchens and other infrastructure to lessen the terrible conditions the peasantry had to deal with. Silas was impressed- but still did not deign to make her acquaintance.
Then the day came that Halibaba seemed to have gotten word of Silas’s plans- how she did it, he didn’t know. Perhaps the damage to Silas’s operation were merely *incidental*- but the damage was very real.
Every key procurement was delayed, canceled, or sunk in the harbor, and every time, the fault, one way or another, came down to Halibaba.
Silas considered having her killed- but her combat prowess was well-known, and it would certainly raise eyebrows if there was a failed assassination attempt on the hero. It would mark that she was doing something right- and Silas could not afford to be outed just yet.
After a few weeks, Silas formulated a plan to cripple the hero’s efficiency- remove the gold in her coffers, make her fall from favor, and she would not be able to operate with even half of her current strength.
His plan was thwarted, and, in turn, one of Silas’s assets, an old warehouse, was burned to the ground.
Perhaps the hero *did* know who Silas was, after all.
The two began a quiet war- trading blow for blow, learning to hate each other, yet having never even seen the other's face.
Then, one day, the attacks stopped. Everything returned to operating as smoothly as it ever had- and Silas soon learned why.
“Good sir,” began the footpad as he entered Silas’s apartment. “I bring news that I am sure you will love.”
Silas had always struggled to remain composed in front of this footpad. His smile was as insincere as a cobra’s, his every word was coated with a toxic honey. Silas knew that if the footpad thought he could get away with it, he would have cut Silas’s throat and tossed him into the harbor without a moment’s hesitation, even if all he gained from it was a single bent copper coin.
Silas could very easily have become this person, if he hadn’t escaped his enslavement as quickly as he had.
“What news?” Silas asked, turning away. He was experimenting with an ancient form of alchemy, and could not be bothered to abandon it for the likes of him.
“The Hero is gone.”
------------------------------
**CONT'D** | 2021-12-28T19:33:56 | 2021-12-28T18:13:43 | 1,166 | 311 |
[WP] As the only immortal you know about, it's just occured to you; your online friend has been around for a bit too long. | The concrete world began to crumble without humans left to repair it. Like how snow, once firm and compact, melts into the cracks of the earth without winter to hold it, leaving no trace of its previous form. Towers bent, sagged, and fell; dirt-infused air sanded both brick and wood to dust; bright red rust salvaged the boats it grew on, loosening hinged panels and piling them neatly on the ocean floor.
All this the last man watched beneath charcoal skies. Humanity’s prolonged autumn — sewn by our own hands, the reaping carried out by nature’s scythe. He, the last man, became a tourist. Revisiting cities he’d not been to in hundreds of years to see how they’d changed.
Now he sailed a plastic-bottle raft across a black ocean with a muzzle of salt stuccoed about his lips. He wanted this misery to end. He always wanted it to end but couldn’t find a way to make it happen. Or else couldn’t find the courage.
Eventually he reached land, as always, and began the long walk to a city he remembered as alive. An origami city — his memory of it drawn on paper that had now faded and folded in on itself. Memories that had once made sense: Korean and Italian restaurants down this street. Wine, beer, whiskey sold here. Parks of matchstick trees and tamed rivers. Now, being in the origami city, his memories linked up incorrectly, the streets led down or up instead of right or left.
This city had been called Amsterdam at one point. He remembered bicycles and trams and boats. He remembered a girl — a night in bed like a stirred cup of coffee. He remembered promises of calling and keeping in touch, adding each other on chat applications back when there had been chat applications.
For a while their promises had been sapling-honest, green and growthful, small now but one day… sky-high?
And then they’d gotten busy, as people do, and the sapling turned directions, wilted to the ground. Busy… Had he ever been busy?
He could hear the canals babble beneath the slabs of fallen buildings like some still functioning sewer still shuttling the city’s shit out to the ocean.
It was afternoon when the clouds opened and the black rain fell. Each drop contained a grain of dirt, water seemingly growing around it like an azure pearl.
The rain couldn’t kill him but it would tear his clothes and claw his skin into red slick streaks.
He made shelter. He wasn’t Robinson Crusoe (a book he’d read a hundred times before its dust became a stain on his mind) but he could prop poles into triangles, layer the roof with plastic-sheeting, tuck in his feet and wait the rain-days out.
It was as he searched for roofing material that he found the phone. Tucked into a nest of plastic wrapping, a baby swaddled and cared for by strangers. He barely remembered its shape or purpose upon seeing it. A plastic crab with a filleted belly.
He didn’t try switching it on until his shelter was complete. Didn’t believe there was any point. But he pocketed it; a souvenir of his old life that would churn out memories for a hundred or so years until it fell apart like the rest of his world.
Even then, he didn’t mean to turn it on. Must have lain on his pocket, held the button.
It beeped. Twice.
Nature had destroyed the world of man. Its ivy feelers, like the legs of a great Kraken, had twisted and strangled and eventually fed on all our nutrients. Our bodies swallowed into its vast belly, our bones broken down and processed into slick oil.
But nature could not reach out of the snow globe prison it had built for itself.
High above, endlessly looping satellites — powered by sunlight — still whirled. Like electrons infinitely orbiting their nucleus. And with them, servers belonging to our once-largest companies rotated, safe from human threats that might, and did, one day arise.
”You said you’d message me. I know it’s been a while but I’m still waiting.”
His hands had been trembling, throat clogged by hope. He’d switched the phone off: had to preserve battery. Then on again. Then off— no, he was wasting its precious energy.
His best find up to now had been a teddy in the shape of a dog that reminded him of an old pet, Benjamin. It was mud-caked but loved by no one more than him. He’d taken it everywhere for decades, until it became little balls of fluff indistinguishable from the lint that lined his pockets.
He checked a sports website first. Found the frozen results of the last ever NFL game. Our final snapshot of being human. He found recipes then for fish and potatoes, the only foods he ever seemed to find. Burned them to his memory.
Then he logged into old accounts, starving to read ancient messages. From his mother. Sibling. Friends.
But it’d been her message that had popped up as new. Unread.
The girl he’d met here long ago, exchanged faux-promises with, thought he’d exchanged lies with — but maybe she’d only traded truths.
”I know it’s been a while but I’m still waiting. I miss you. I love you.”
For a minute his heart had beat all through his body, his neck and ears and fingers pulsing with a drumbeat of light.
In this hope he found his humanity. He’d been certain he’d lost it but now—
The rain pelted his shelter. Sounded like clumps of wet sand being hurled at glass windows.
He saw the date of the message.
Unread, yes. But the message had come three days before the end. Centuries ago.
His body shook, convulsed. Suddenly he’d lost the world all over again. This time a world that had never been and never would, but could have been. Their world together. This girl he hardly remembered but had once maybe-loved.
Eventually the rain stopped.
Maybe two days had passed. In the darkness it was hard to say.
For a while, as he’d rested, he’d felt numb. Then the numbness had melted into a strange, okay feeling. Better than okay, even.
He crawled out of his shelter and searched the city for further souvenirs.
He thought maybe he’d find another Benjamin today. It felt like a lucky day.
The phone was off again for now. But imprinted on that screen, or at least on his memory, was the knowledge he’d been loved. A fresh, sharp knowledge that stung delightfully. A drip of lemon into an eye.
For the first time in as long as he could remember, he wanted to go on. Wanted to see the next city. He didn’t want it to end. | Internet is a safe space. At least, that's what Kleon used to think at the dawn of the world wide web. He found a community of like minded people he could interact with without ever meeting them, and to a man in his situation, it was nothing short of a boon.
*Place of birth: The city-state of Athens.*
Socrates and Plato be damned. Socrates drank the hemlock, absolutely certain he would survive the death of his body and live on. "Everything works in cycles," he used to say, "and everything has it's opposite. We are not only defined by what opposes us, but tend towards it. What is hot was once cold. You, who are awake were once asleep. Life and death are no different, there is darkness before I was born, I return to the darkness and will be born again."
*Likes: Silence, peace of mind, tranquility.*
Plato lapped it up. "Socrates makes a wonderful argument in favor of the existence of immortality, how would you deny me this point, Kleon?"
At the time Kleon didn't answer, preferring to leave the room and get some fresh air outside before his head started to hurt. He had loathed philosopher, Plato even more than the others, thought them idiots contemplating their navels while real people had real problems they never cared about. Millennia later, Kleon could safely tell Plato that he had over-thought it once more.
*Dislikes: Talking too much.*
Souls, cycles, resurgence, opposites and convoluted theories to explain the possibility of immortality, when Kleon stood as proof of it. He was, he is, and the body remains whole.
There, immortality proven, now get out with your numerous thesis and intellectual masturbation.
A shame the ancient philosophers didn't share eternal life, because Kleon would certainly need a conversation with Greek philosophers or any second-rate Roman orator. Namely, the second Kleon realized immortality was a curse and not a boon, he began hating his younger self for not dabbling more in philosophy and failing to use the occasion to speak with the progenitors of higher thinking.
Humans were born, learned and marveled at the world, lived to a midlife point where memories were as numerous as possibilities, and died with a head full of stories, leaving the world to the young. Alas, Kleon was out of the cycle. Immortality broke the very idea of cycle, where was Socrates when you needed him?
*Goals: Finding a goal would be nice.*
Memories piled up, the endless power of the brain soaked up life like a sponge and death did not come to relieve it. If Kleon had friends, he remembered the thousands he had before, death and buried and forgotten by all except him. The living acted as a reminder of their fate. He remembered natural spots at their best, and in the centuries he lived, the world was past it's most perfect moment. He had precise pictures of the wonders of the ancient world in his mind, had seen historical wars and undertakings, too many.
Stories piled up, Kleon was a man with an overwhelming past, a whispering present and a future he would prefer to have little of.
And immortality laughed at suicide attempts.
*Hobbies: realizing too late when I'm wrong. Also, cooking.*
Came the internet, only interesting invention in quite some time, opening a new way at being social. Kleon got to meet and speak to people without ever witnessing their deaths, life without the end of it, fitting for a man in his position. He roamed the early bulletin board system and the first forums, defecated on public politics on non-moderated websites and was personally responsible for some of the ugliest and stupidest early websites ever. They, too, had been buried under history, and only Kleon remembered.
There he was again, a self-loathing and immortality-cursing bender. Kleon went onto a random forum and hoped some cat video or conversation would calm him down.
For the first time, he noticed the oddity.
*MommyShagger666* had very similar manners of speech - or rather, writing - than *Roxxor-Salazar-L33Tskillz*. Nothing surprising, with so many billions on Earth, some humans were meant to share similarities. But there was that little thing more, this je-ne-sais-quoi nagging at the back of Kleon's mind. *MommyShagger666* also wrote as if he had always written like this. A tenuous clue, more of a feeling, really, but it occupied Kleon and he didn't ask for more. And this peculiar pseudonym wasn't the only one suspicious.
Kleon scoured his well-kept memory and dug up all the suspicious pseudonyms to gather them in a chatroom. There, he asked the important question.
*310N: You wouldn't happen to be immortal by chance?*
*DADIDOU: I am. You?*
This might take some time.
*310N: It's a weird question, I know.*
*MommyShagger666: Where u from?*
*310N: Ancient Greece, believe it or not.*
*310N: I was pal with Aristotle, had a beef with others about the idea of immortality.*
*DADIDOU: Kleon?*
*310N: Weird times, many lifetimes ago.*
*310N: Wait a minute, how do you know?*
*DADIDOU: It's me, Plato.*
A feeling arose in Kleon, one he had thought not possible. Marvel. The sheer, overwhelming wave of a joyous discovery.
*MommyShagger666: DADIDOU, dis a frind of you?*
*DADIDOU: Yes, I know him from school! Kleon, this is Sigmund Freud by the way. I think you invited Elvis in the chat too.*
*DeKINGDeBigOne: Hey there.*
Immortality, a curse. And if they were on the internet, it meant Elvis, Freud and Plato agreed with how bad it could be. But Kleon wasn't alone anymore.
*310N: DADIDOU, I really need to speak with you, re-frame that whole eternal life thing. We didn't always get along, but I beg for your help now.*
*DeKINGDeBigOne: Oh God.*
*310N: What?*
*DeKINGDeBigOne disconnected.*
*MommyShagger666 disconnected.*
*TheIronMaidenAndLady disconnected.*
*IbeatTheCrapOutOfEnglandIn1428 disconnected.*
*DADIDOU: Let's consider the act of not dying through the scope of a greater cycle, as if the cogs contained several cogs into themselves and we simply went on to a bigger one, as Socrates said during...*
Kleon turned off the computer and went to get some fresh air outside before his head started to hurt.
Lifetimes later and Plato still annoyed the shit out of Kleon like no one else could. | 2022-02-09T06:16:21 | 2022-02-09T05:58:05 | 1,060 | 185 |
[WP]They laughed at your power... until they noticed the "no cooldown, no energy cost" description, and realized the implications | They laughed a lot at me, at school. “Wow,” they said, “you can share your thoughts. So, basically, you can speak to people’s minds, but can’t receive anything?”
I didn’t mind too much, my friends helped support me on the worst days. Some people got bad powers in this world, they pointed out. Like the guy who can turn his fingers blue by holding his breath. “And your powers, you don’t even need to hold your breath!” It was nice to be appreciated.
And you know, they were right. I just needed to listen to my friends, and life after that? Well, it was normal. Took life at a normal pace, found a place where they could help people like me, those without good powers. A nice room, 3 meals a day, and nice people to talk to, but they weren’t as good as my friends.
It wasn’t until there was a mean person at my place that I realized maybe I could do a bit more. Well, specifically, when I got punched in the head. He had a white coat, so my friends and I were supposed to listen to him, but he hit me! It hurt a lot!
My friends didn’t like that, either. “Maybe you should share that thought with him.” It didn’t take any effort at all. Suddenly I was in his head, showing him how much that hurt. My worries and fears of concussions, the hospital bills. My friends were pretty happy with me then, shouting “think more! Think faster!”
I realized now the man could hear my friends now, too. Oh, that was so good! Lately they’d been very loud, so much shouting. Not even the extra meals had been enough to keep my friends quiet.
His nose and ears started bleeding, the man who hit me. So many thoughts I had to share, and share them all at the same time, over and over! It was like…. Letting go of something you’d been holding on to for so long that you’d forgotten you’d been holding onto it.
“Why not everyone?” One of my friends asked, his black claws skittering across the ceiling, the gaping smile and empty voids for his eyes looking at me.
“Yes, why not everyone?” Another friend asked, bleeding teeth out of his hands and feet.
They had a point I didn’t consider! Maybe, just maybe, if I shared all my thoughts, and all my friends, with everyone…
Maybe life wouldn’t be so boring in my white room, my 3 meals, and orderly day, with all my thousands of friends.
“It would be easy,” said one more, their marble eyes rolling across the floor, stopping to rest at my feet. “We could tell everyone jokes!”
“What fun that would be,” I said, and the man with the bloodied nose and ears echoed with me, “What fun that would be!”
I laughed, delighted. And then everyone laughed with me. | Stephen and Darius laughed, faces twisted into near caricatures of themselves. They were barely amateur wizards, and yet they took every opportunity and expense to laugh at me. Nothing like punching down on your inferiors, no matter the grand scheme of things.
“This guy’s a terrible wizard!” Stephen sneered.
Previously, I’ve tolerated them. Not out of preference, but of necessity. Crude magic users they might be, but it was still magic. There was nothing a normal human could do to prevent a fireball from burning them up. But things have changed.
“I’m no longer your punching bag,” I said. “I’m a wizard now.”
Outwardly, I figured it was calm. But inside, a tumultuous storm of emotions brewed within me. The pair’s visages darkened, stone gargoyles guarding an exclusive entrance—wizardry.
“Impossible,” Darius said.
Stephen simply chuckled, one hand weaving into an intricate motion. I held up one hand, clenching it into a fist.
“I can cast punch.”
The two stood there, as stunned as statues. I expected them to burst out laughing, but instead, incredulity flooded their faces. Question marks might as well have spawned around their heads.
“What do you mean, you cast punch?” Darius said. “That’s not possible.”
“You don’t even have mana,” Stephen finally said. “There’s no spell you can cast.”
“It takes no energy for me to cast my punch,” I said.
“Cast punch? But that’s impossible,” Darius said. “The muscles involved expend energy. You need to move your—”
“I cast punch.”
He was swiftly interrupted by a haymaker. It was not thrown from my own fist. Rather, it came from seemingly out of nowhere, a perfectly centered hit on his right cheek. His face contorted into incredulity, mouth so wide open that an anaconda would be immensely jealous.
A startled Stephen took one step back, while Darius held the side of his face in pain. The two looked around frantically, eyes scanning every possible atom, but the truth was right there—I had not moved.
“What the hell? You could have broken my jaw!” Darius cried. Fear seeped into his words, lifting every syllable in a panic.
Darius received another punch to his face. After all, his mouth was wide open. It was simply too tempting.
“My jaw!”
“What’s going on?” Stephen cried. “You are going to get it now! Once I get this fireball off, you’ll—”
Punch to the gut. Stephen bent double over, his spindly, scholarly body desperately wheezing for air.
“Now,” I smiled. “You two are my punching bags.”
The bully pair turned towards each other. Their eyes shone with recognition—they were no longer the masters of the situation. With wounded growls, they turned and started booking it.
In a way, Stephen was right. I had no mana. I might never will.
But I had my body. And to a wizard’s level, it was a physique honed to near impossible levels, like magic would looked to a normal human. Casting punch took virtually no effort, and there was practically no cooldown.
“Fools,” I muttered, clenching my fists tight. “I will not stand being bullied any longer.”
---
r/dexdrafts | 2022-06-03T14:45:20 | 2022-06-03T12:04:48 | 1,075 | 107 |
[WP] A man tries to explain what a nuclear bomb is in fantasy terms to the grand council of wizards | "Okay. I'll try to keep this simple but detailed. Understand?"
"Yes. Explain."
"What's the most devastating spell you can yield? Something that can destroy everything, including yourself."
"In what manner? There's more than one way to do so."
"Complete destruction. The kind that people can't recover from for generations."
"Faeli-ah'kar Corvallis. Spell of dismantlement. It destroys the land the body, even the soul."
"I see. This works like that. It's usually encased in a type of iron, so to speak. You don't cast anything. You set a chain reaction in motion. When it explodes, it destroys all."
"I have seen your use of those... casings you yield."
"Oh those, those are different. That's small time. No this... This is much worse. It's brighter than the sun. You can be far away from it, and you'll still catch fire. Burn to death. You can be out of range, and go blind if you see it. It can move mountains, displace water. Flatten forests and kingdoms in a blink. Turn sand to glass. It can poison the land. And the water that's left..."
"It turns the rain black. The wind deadly. Everyone who's left will get sick. Many will die afterward. If anything, the luckiest people die at the center of the blast. It'd destroy the mind, body, and soul."
"What sorcery is that?"
"That's the problem. It's not a spell. It's a creation. A conjuring without magic."
"Impossible."
"Clearly I'm here. Are you sure about that?"
"...How do we stop such a thing?"
"Don't arm it in the first place."
"How is such a war won?"
"You don't win that war. We have a lot of them. There wouldn't be many people left to kill."
"There's more than one??"
"Thousands. Our kingdoms have thousands. And we sit there and aim them at each other. And make sure the other kingdoms don't want to shoot."
"...A world without magic is a dangerous place."
"Absolutely." | So, we had our own alchemists as well. We just didn't bother with focusing on turning lead into gold, or capturing a soul. We did at first but we became far more curious about what makes something... something. What makes gold gold? What's the smallest amount of something you can have and still have it be that something?
It sounds like a worthless endeavor, but unexpectedly it brought results. It brought new materials, it allowed us to distill materials that didn't exist in nature, it allowed us to create materials that were unnatural, beautiful, and also deadly and destructive. We found new laws of nature, and we realized that many of nature's laws were really just suggestions.
One such physicist, sorry alchemist, was Oppenheimer. He went one step further, he knew that the simplest forms of matter were built from simpler things and theorized he could split one material we discovered into two other materials we discovered... the problem, and the benefit, was that the process was violent and powerful. So if we gathered enough of the material, strapped it to the equivalent of a pigeon... well that was it really. The nuke was ready, and was delivered to the city in question.
You lack a decent vocabulary for what a nuke does. Razing a city would be the closest, but razing leaves the bones of a city. You can tell there was a city, you can survive a razing, you can loot a city in a razing.
Nuking a city replaces a city with a second sun, i'm not speaking figuratively. I'm being literal. The surrounding area of the city instantly chars, like a match being lit. Further out, the heat finally begins to peter out, but the massive boom blows out trees and homes, beyond that comes the poison.
Again, you lack accurate words for this. I say poison but it's not anything like a disease or a toxin, and this radiation lays on the greater surrounding area (as well as the destroyed interior) for months at a time.
You can't shoot down every bird that flies across your city. You can try to delay, but you cannot stop everyone from building this nuke once the word is out. Perhaps a peasant can't build one in a field, but any nation can put the resources together. Because of nukes, war became a rarity. Nobody wants to fight a war when the only soldiers left are the dead and pigeons. | 2022-07-23T20:04:19 | 2022-07-23T19:25:54 | 19 | 12 |
[WP] As the most powerful superhero on the team, no one believed you when you said you could quit the drugs, alcohol, and tobacco whenever you wanted. When the only friend you have on the team died on a mission, you sobered up for the first time in years. Now people will learn why you stay drunk. | Those who say alcoholism is selfish really didn't know how selfless it was for me to stay drunk out of my fucking mind.
The drinking made everything just a little too slow. Thoughts would trot instead of racing, memories would stumble gently upon my brain instead of hitting it full-force. Everything was a bit dim; and when all the thoughts your brain throws at you are incandescent, you learn to enjoy the dimness. Not the quiet—there hasn't been quiet in a long time—but the dimness.
Life had the glow of a camera film left in the sun, overexposed and blinding. Like glaring straight into a volcano. My so-called "bad habits" made it a bit more tolerable. It was by no means a perfect method, but it's what worked. Like walking in the rain with a half-broken umbrella.
The media salivated at my drinking. "World's strongest man finds solace at the bottom of a bottle" *is* a really catchy headline. My teammates, though, were less enthused by it.
"You're literally unkillable, Worldslayer," Thunderlord would say. "Why do you drink so much?"
"You can shatter countries with a punch," Vigilance cried out. "Yet you can't put the drink down for one moment?"
I'd tell them I could quit at any time. They didn't buy it. And in hindsight, I can't really blame them.
Malice was the only one that understood. She knew what it was like. She'd drink the first two drinks for fun, the next two out of social duties, and the next 20 just to drown out her voices. That was her superpower. She had these voices just warning her of every danger, every disaster, every incoming punch. The drinking made it worse. She was a paranoid drunk, and the voices would go into overdrive right after drink five or six. Drinks seven and onwards used to be just to calm her down. She tried to quit, but it wasn't that simple. She had too much pain behind the curtains, and the voices that saved her wouldn't let her forget it.
Lately, she'd been feeling the voices slip away from her. On one hand, she liked the quiet. But that quiet also meant she didn't think she had a place—not in the team, not in the world. So she'd just keep drinking and drinking. Just so the voices would stay with her.
I can't say I was truly surprised when she passed, but that really didn't make it hurt any less. One of the voices was just a little bit too late to warn her of a bullet going her way. She tried to dodge, but by the time she realized what was going on, the bullet was already lodged in her heart. It was the work of a paramilitary organization, a ultranationalist network somewhere in the Balkans.
I quit drinking cold turkey before she was even buried. Wine to water. Drinking reminded me of Malice, and that made the dim pain just as irradiating and incandescent as everything else.
I vowed to take revenge for her. Thunderlord though it was a grand gesture. Midas thought I was joking. But now that the booze isn't flowing, the anger is taking its place.
After all, you can't be Worldslayer if there is nothing to slay.
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/zx7kqk/wp_as_the_most_powerful_superhero_on_the_team_no/j21gmjz/) | The last time I was sober was my 16th birthday. That day I got my powers and ever since I always had to occupy myself with something. I am so used with being on drugs that I’m not affected much by them. Often when people see me drinking and smoking weed, a cigarette to calm down the nerves, along with occasional other drugs, they’re in awe about me still being able to function properly. Especially my team mates. I remember when we first started training, Marc was in utter disbelief of how much I drank, often joking he wished he could handle alcohol that well. So knowing me as the addict with superpowers, of course no one ever believed me I could just quit cold turkey.
But now Elle died. My best friend, my only friend, since childhood. We were on a mission and I was busy fighting, so I failed to notice how Elle and Ben got cornered, attacked, wounded. When I had finally slayed my opponents and fought towards Elle and Ben, all I could see was Ben holding Elle in his arms, their blood surrounding them, as Elle was taking her last breath.We were all shattered. I almost cried at her funeral. We talked about what happened, why it happened. Ben of course blames himself. Ash says it happened because we were outnumbered, how were we supposed to stand a chance at one of us against 20 of them. But I know the truth. It was my fault. Had I been sober I could’ve saved her, could’ve killed every single one of our enemies. But I wasn’t, so I am responsible for Elle’s death.
The morning after the funeral is the first time in over a decade where I drink a cup of tea instead of my usual drug cocktail. My body protests for about half an hour, then it gives up and instead tries to tame my power. I never told anyone besides Elle why I am intoxicated all the time. By ten o clock my head is completely empty and my body is on fire. Everything I usually shut out is there, all the sounds, all this energy pulsing through my veins. I meditate. Try to keep my head empty, my strength inside. Nonetheless I accidentally set the door on fire when I finally leave my apartment at noon.
I know exactly where to find the guy I’m looking for. Not like he has changed his hideout since the last time we attacked four days ago. Arrogance. But he was smart enough to get new guards, doubled them up. Now there is about 200 of them. They don’t stand a single chance against me. One breath I let out and they’re flying, burning, their lungs collapsing, their brains freezing. The locks and mechanisms are nothing but a fun little puzzle for a two year old. I just have to find out where the air flows and it all blows up. I send a shock wave through the hideout, nocking every one off their feet but him. When I finally enter his chamber, Olokan looks up to me in utter disbelief, fear flashing in his black eyes.“It’s you”, he whispers. “You’re real. All this time I thought it was but a tale, the man who was one with air.” I say nothing, look at him. He’s on the ground, weak, the air slowly being sucked from his lungs. “I never… thought this would be… how I die.” He coughs, blood coming from his mouth. “Don‘t flatter yourself. You killed my best friend. Suffocating is too much of mercy for you.” I look at him. A fire spreads around his body, into his mouth. There is no more air inside his lungs, yet he screams. His body becomes fire, but there is still oxygen in his brain, he is still conscious, feeling the ice cold fire consuming him whole. “Asshole”, I whisper as a single tear runs down my face. | 2022-12-28T08:49:46 | 2022-12-28T08:03:54 | 1,700 | 238 |
[WP] As the most powerful superhero on the team, no one believed you when you said you could quit the drugs, alcohol, and tobacco whenever you wanted. When the only friend you have on the team died on a mission, you sobered up for the first time in years. Now people will learn why you stay drunk. | "I can quit whenever I want."
"So why don't you?"
"Because I *don't*."
That should've been the end of that. But let's face it, when you spend half your time stoned out of your mind and the other half so damn hammered that they could get drunk off your blood, it was understandably hard to let the topic rest. Even a brief smoke would raise an eyebrow, and a few brows at that. Frankly, it was *hard* to put the poison down. Hard, but not impossible. Never impossible. I just needed a damn good reason to put the drugs and booze on the table long enough to sober up and *really* let loose. And, thankfully, there wasn't any.
They, the public and the other heroes, didn't believe that. The 'thankfully' part. Can't say they're wrong saying I was an addict, but didn't we all make sacrifices?
"How is *this* a sacrifice?"
The last question he ever asked me. Mocking as it may sound on paper, Night Veil was sincerely concerned. Out of all of us, he truly was a hero. The others may have saved the world, like us two, but Veil... he looked out for the little guy. He could have easily ignored them. He didn't. And that, I believed, was worthy of praise. Even after the decade or so of dealing with me and my drunk ass, he always looked out for me. I suppose that meant he was my friend. I told him such. He laughed. And, to my surprise, he agreed.
Now he was in the ground. Hole in his chest. I didn't quite know the *how*, but I did know *who.*
I suppose I ought to introduce myself. My name is, or was, Avitus. I have witnessed the birth of Queen Alexandria Victoria, in Kensington Palace, on 24 May, 1819. I was one of the doctors of the time. I have seen the rise and death of countries and empires over these couple of centuries. I am, simply, Life Incarnate. Vivo, ergo sum. Where I go, Life does too.
But now... now the one tie to Humanity I have has been severed. I would not Love. I would not Care. I would not do anything to preserve myself, beyond my sense of being. But I did at least care for him, and now he was dead.
Halcyon. I'm going to find you. I'm going to show you what 'Life' means. What it truly, irredeemably means. And so are all those you have condemned, including Night Veil.
We're coming for you. We, who burned from your Hate. We, who are denied Justice. We, who could not Rest.
We, who are Legion.
We're coming for you. You, who will burn.
Just like Us. | From within the city walls, everyone heard the loud and unnerving *boom* from the outlands as it traveled the empty night sky. Throughout the city, lights turned on, windows were opened, people took to the streets. It was 3 AM, yet everyone seemed to understand.
Explosions and loud noises were common occurrences outside the city walls. Out there was a barren hellscape, a lawless land overtaken by monsters and villains and the occasional nomadic tribe all stuck in a never ending war for survival. But this time was different, you could feel it. This explosion felt personal.
It felt dangerous.
Mastodon, Captain of the Peacekeepers, was the first of the heroes to wake up. She arose from bed, phased into her combat armor, and took flight to the north city wall. The citizens in the streets worriedly looking up as she flew overhead.
She reached the north wall and landed on the walkway leading into the north watchtower. As she was walking into the watchtower, she could see the guards nervously staring through one of the slits in the wall. They didn't say anything as she approached, nor did they even turn to acknowledge her. Mastodon approached the guards from behind and peaked out through the same slit.
Imagine a land that had always run red with blood and black with dust and memories of previous battles. No foliage, no mountains, just war and battle and dead bodies. It had always looked as though Hell itself had overtaken the Earth.
But looking out through the slit in the north watch tower on the north wall, there was *nothing*. It was as if the world had been erased. The lands were empty and plain, as if someone had set fire to everything and cleansed it all.
In the distance, Mastodon could just make out the shape of the Goblin citadel. A large and intimidating black castle which took the shape of a jagged mountain. It is a strongly defended and durably built fortress, which Mastodon has assisted in besieging unsuccessfully multiple times. The Goblins had proven time and time again to be dangerous, intelligent, and ruthless foes whose home in their Citadel was untouchable.
But there it was, in the distance, on fire and half destroyed.
Mastodon phased through the roof of the watchtower and floated idly, staring at the Citadel. Behind her, Star Flex and Lightbeam had arrived on their hoverboards. They, too, were staring at the Citadel.
Mastodon turned to them both. "Where is Whiskey Boom?" In her heart, she knew the answer, but she hoped more than she had ever done before that she was wrong.
Star Flex gave Mastodon a worried look before turning his uneasy stare back to the Citadel in the distance.
With that, Mastodon understood. She turned to the Citadel and the three began flying without hesitation, straight to the lair of the Villain which had caused them and their people so much pain, suffering and distress. Straight to the fortress where they had lost countless lives and suffered embarrassing defeats. The monument to their fear.
But it was not the Villain whom they feared for this time. | 2022-12-28T10:15:44 | 2022-12-28T10:01:31 | 35 | 26 |
[WP] This is a special post that I'm asking for your help with. Rather than the standard asking for a story, my fiancee and I would like your help writing our wedding vows.
**Edit: My fiancee and I looked through all the submissions, along with our Maid of Honor and Best Man. We unanimously selected /u/paashpointo's post not only for its simple elgance, but in keeping with our decorum. As promised, I awarded gold. We greatly appreciate /u/paashpointo's contribution to our ceremony, along with everyone else who took an interest in this post, either by submitting or simply by offering best wishes. Thank you to everybody.**
http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/21nfpv/wp_this_is_a_special_post_that_im_asking_for_your/cgeqxw4
--Original--
So, as the title states, I'm looking for someone who will write wedding vows for my fiancee and I. I spoke with the mods to make sure that this was OK, so here goes.
The officiant for our ceremony offered my fiancee and I several generic, stock vows to be read at our wedding. We weren't big fans, because while we want a traditional ceremony, we also want unique touches to it as well. So after discussion (including that both of us are terrible writers ourselves), we decided to involve the Reddit community as it is an important part of my life in many ways - it only seems right that, in one way or another, it is involved in our wedding. After describing the purpose of this sub in particular and my being impressed by much of the work I have seen here, my fiancee agreed that it would be fun to do this.
I want to provide some (non-identifying) information about my fiancee and I and see what magic this community can produce. So here goes.
First, I want to make clear that these will be the type of vows which the officiant will be reading and we will be repeating, so there is no need for personalization which would require further details, and the format would be such that it could be broken into pieces small enough for our anxiety-ridden minds to repeat back. The biggest problem that I had with the generic vows are the "richer or poorer, in sickness and in health" parts... it just seems like phrases like that have become so cliche as to become meaningless.
My fiancee (30F) and I (32M, 33 when we marry) will be marrying at the end of August of this year. She has a child (10F) from a previous relationship, and we have a child together (2F). At the time of our wedding, we will have been together for 4 years.
While our wedding does not have a specific theme, it could be described as "family of friends" - both of us are closer to our friends than we are to much of our families.
We are both non-religious - she is agnostic, I am atheist but spiritual. God, the Creator, or other religious references will not be included in our ceremony at any point, other than a moment of silence to recognize those that have passed away that we wish could be there to see us (grandparents, passed friends, etc.).
Our relationship, when not interfered with by the travails of life, could best be described as playful. While the vows are intended to be serious in intent, light joking would not be at all inappropriate. And while both of us are romantics in the idealistic sense, neither of us like the thick, syrupy lovey-dovey junk that you hear most of the time. Both of us reject strict traditionalism (clearly, since I'm here writing this) but believe *very* strongly in close ties to those we love - as noted before, that includes family *and* friends. Both of us believe that life is only worth living if you enjoy it - we don't identify ourselves by our careers and chose them because we love what we do, not because they will make us rich or famous. We are mostly homebodies, partly because of the aforementioned travails of life, but also because we enjoy each other's company enough that we just don't really feel the need to go elsewhere.
To those interested in helping us, but would like extra information about us or have any questions about us before you write, please feel free to PM or comment (comments subject to Reddiquette and sub rules of course).
The vows we choose will be selected by our family (excluding the 2yo) with input from our wedding party. I can't and won't give a definitive date for our decision, but I will reply directly to the /u/'s comment and send a PM to them as soon as a decision has been made.
To anyone who responds to this post, I appreciate your effort in advance. While I don't contribute to this sub, I lurk it frequently and am impressed by the quality of work here. I look forward to seeing what you can produce for my fiancee and I.
Lastly, the winner will most decidedly and deservedly receive Reddit Gold.
Thank you! | I, John,
take Jane,
into a lifelong bond,
founded on a mutual love, respect and understanding,
and always dedicated to the cause of good,
for the betterment of our family and friends,
both as individuals and united as one,
through the pains of growth and the trials of change,
to strengthen, complement and support each other,
with humility, courage and the fruits of our love,
and an understanding of the very nature of the world in which we live,
and our places within it. | THANK YOU FOR VISITING beautifulhandwrittenletters.com
*Please find your newly handwritten letters in your preferred format*:
"**uh, normal computer text I guess.**"
-
Darling one.
With these words, pulled from the nameless writers on the internet, I thank you for choosing me, for choosing joy and wellness on this day, and every other day after.
I offer you my love, my heart and body, through life's perilous journey, as one and as many.
Against the scourge of the lizard people.
As a family.
--
[I couldn't resist. I am sorry.] [I'm not really sorry.]
Seriously though, best of luck. May you have a wonderful and happy wedding day, and even happier days after that. | 2014-03-29T04:36:44 | 2014-03-29T00:46:50 | 19 | 12 |
[WP] When a person dies, their body evaporates into butterflies. One day, as the sky goes dark, you look up to see the sun blocked by an unending cloud of butterflies. | ONE DAY,
A day that is not a day, but boundless smaller days, a day where points become planes and all the finite moments stretch into paper thin filaments of time. And now you know, you know that this is how it always was, how it will be forever. If only your time had come sooner.
AS THE SKY GOES DARK,
Which is the eternal *fuck you, I love you* from God that happened and will happen and always happens. The flood rushes in and the city burns and the locusts swarm.
YOU LOOK UP TO SEE THE SUN
Which is not there. You knew that, but you looked anyways. You're happy for your scarf, which will soon collapse to the ground with no body to shroud.
BLOCKED BY AN UNENDING CLOUD OF BUTTERFLIES
And in that second is a kaleidoscope. Lurid reds and oranges tessellate with dazzling turquoise, the seething bright wings of millions soaring and falling and soaring again. Each second erupts new light on your face, and you know all the colors.
.
Every moment your hand and arm and chest turn to antennae and thoraxes clung to big beautiful wings, your matter collapsing like stone rushing into sand at the speed of your own thoughts, which are particularly light as they take off.
There are butterflies in your stomach and you smile and watch them fly away. | What had been done could not be reversed, and I was fully aware of that. I pulled out a cigar from my side and lit it with a brief puff of flame from one of my nostrils. I looked up as I saw the moons of the silvery planet start to drift away. Among the soon to be lost planets I watched the paths of millions of butterflies fly through the ash. Each swarm was a separate soul. A set of memories, emotions, ideas, loves, hates. I was watching something more than the destruction of a planet, more than the death of an entire race. I was watching the beginning of something new. Using the fiery surface as a source of fuel, I pushed the atmosphere of the dying planet upwards. Far off in the distance was a new planet, one that had just finished cooling. The flames around me intensified, and yet, I continued pushing the cool air out of the gravitational reach of the planet. The first butterfly pushed its way into the bridge. An individual memory floating to the new world, a brief flash of its wings signaled the others to follow it. My time was limited, but I had to hold that sky up long enough for the rest of the creatures escape. And so, I stood there for what felt like an eternity, holding every gas, every atom, every particle upwards, towards the fresh start. Once the last soul found its way into the bubble I had made, I shot upwards into space in order to avoid the debris that was flying at me. What happened next was something that nothing could ever compare to. I stood above the souls of an entire world, pushing them to a new hope. I may have helped to cause the death of their world, but that doesn't mean I won't help them find a new one. | 2014-09-25T20:21:42 | 2014-09-25T19:54:59 | 233 | 15 |
[WP] Everyone gets a clock at birth with the countdown untill their deaths, one man's clock only says ERROR | I pass through life with an apologetic smile.
I've always been in the way. I was in the way of my mother and father's happiness when I arrived on this planet so unexpectedly. I was supposed to be a tumor in my young mother's uterus. But there I was, hiding behind the tumor, in the way of its growth.
I was in the way as their marriage disintegrated in a beautiful mushroom cloud, and they fought over their possessions with ten times the acrimony with which they fought over me.
I walked away. I left a note that I was sorry, so sorry.
My wanderings began. I've lived in cities, suburbs, and, of course, the countryside. I think the last is my favorite. The land is so big and vast and wide that I can be of no trouble to anyone, at least until some farmer runs me off his land with a shotgun.
There was a girl, once. She was blonde and beautiful and I thought that maybe she could love me. When she would stand in the kitchen chopping vegetables with the sunlight streaming in from the windows I would put my arms around her waist and kiss her neck and think that I had found a place. I belonged.
But... I was in the way of her happiness, and it wasn't long before she too brushed past me to pursue her life with another.
I don't know how many years I've been 25. There are no gray hairs upon my head, but everyone I ever knew as a child is dead and gone. They all knew when their time was up. But here I am, ageless, nothing but an ERROR, not meant to exist, not meant to live.
Not meant to die. | Jill gripped the back of the chair and eased herself into it. She slumped there with a sigh, legs outstretched. She glanced at her wrist only for the 'ERROR' to blink at her as it always has. A constant reminder, not that she needed reminding.
She held her wrist up in the air, the message now blinking to the men in white coats on the other side of the glass. The emotions on their faces ranged from nonchalance to anger to surprise. The surprised ones must be new, they always are. They all scribbled down on their clipboards or typed furiously into their computers the results of the latest test.
Jill breathed deeply as oxygen refilled the room. She remembered this test and not fondly. She had reminded the men behind the glass but they brushed her off stating some kind of advancement in monitoring equipment. They always do that when they need to redo a test. The shortest time between a retest was ten days when someone lost the results. 'Lost' the results. She still remembers the look of glee on Dr. Scriver's face during that test. He was the worst. It's a good thing he 'accidentally' tripped on the stairs back to her room.
It has been 25 years since this last particular test. Not the longest, some have even only been done once much to her mild surprise. It won't be long, though, until the records are lost or some new technology comes along to make the test more efficient. For some of them, she hopes it never happens. The recovery was too long and too painful. She waited as the men behind the glass debate these new results until they are all satisfied and she can go back to her room. Her hand curled around her wrist where the message was blinking, staring blankly at it with disinterest. She strokes the word with her thumb every time it blinks on.
ERROR...ERROR...ERROR...ERROR...ERROR...WARNING...
[EDIT] Phrasing to remove repetition and fix grammar | 2014-09-30T07:21:37 | 2014-09-30T07:09:39 | 479 | 25 |
[WP] The most depressing back story that you can come up with in a few paragraphs | It started out simple enough, as it always does. A little nip here, a little nip there; just to keep the edge off, you know? I don’t need it, I can quit whenever I want.
So my wife, she was this gorgeous creature. Seriously, I still have the ring. I don’t wear it anymore since it just doesn’t seem right with her husband and all, but I still got it. But anyway, she was this gorgeous creature, and I loved her; still do in fact. I would do anything for her, but I wouldn’t stop with the nips. She asked me too, begged me too, told me she loved me and would see me through this, but I refused. I told her I can quit whenever I want.
Eventually my son, my Jimmy, started asking me to stop with the nips. Telling me that I was scaring him and mommy. I tried to tell him that he didn’t understand, that I didn’t need the nips, they were just to take the edge off. He begged me and I shoved him out of the way. My wife begged me to stop and I screamed at her to shut up, I can quit whenever I want.
The judge put a restraining order on me, said the black eyes and bruises on my wife and son were enough evidence for him to completely revoke my visitation rights. He also ordered me to go to a rehab center, but I told him I didn’t need that, I can quit whenever I want.
Well here I am, ten years later, mister, living under a bridge. I just need a nip, a little drink every now and again, just to keep the edge off. I’ll be honest, that’s why I need some change mister. Because it turns out I can’t quit whenever I want. | I had this thought the other day. There I was, cooking a greasy breakfast at home with the news on in the background. Another guy dead in some shithole, this one a journalist or a doctor or something, and I couldn’t help but think: flashbacks are *so* Vietnam.
The modern conception of flashbacks is rooted in the kind of cinema that made it big around the time we were high-tailing it out of Saigon. You know what I’m talking about: the late-night loner sinking whiskey after whiskey, smoking cheap cigarettes and trying to save an old buddy named Johnny. Tip: if your name is Johnny, don’t ever join the fucking military.
But neon-lights, bars and midnight whiskies almost never set you off: you ever see a neon light in ‘Nam before we turned up? Nope, it’s the everyday shit that sounds like a warzone that sets you off. A car backfiring, a squalling kid, or an old married couple speaking Viet or Dari or whatever the fuck. You could be anywhere, too, maybe an airplane or just watching TV. Once that shit starts you’ve got about sixty seconds to get yourself into a chair before your pistons start firing. Your chest gets tight, and suddenly you can’t even drag air into your goddamn lungs. You can’t focus, your ears start ringing. And when did it get so fucking cold? It’s sixty degrees in here, isn’t it?
But this isn’t ‘Nam and it’s not the ‘70s. Ask a modern vet what he feared the most in captivity, and you might be surprised. It’s not thumbscrews or knives or any of that shit. You’ll survive a nasty beating around the shins or the soles of your feet without too many scars (but don’t count on making the team when you rotate out). Nope, ask a modern vet what he feared most behind the lines, and he’ll surprise you. *Plastic sheeting and a fucking video camera.*
Because this is their director’s cut, and by the time you’re back, Johnny’s dead and you’ve burned your fucking bacon.
| 2014-11-20T02:47:07 | 2014-11-20T01:55:16 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] Satan ironically enjoys the multitude of letters from dyslexic children during the holidays.
Had to put it here after imagining a scene after reading a certain r/showerthoughts thread. | Dear Satan,
For Christmas, the thing I would most like more than anything in the world is probably a tac.. or a god. Could I have one of those?
Bets,
Timmy
.
Dear Timmy,
I have heard your request and am honestly quite excited to tell you that for this christ's birthday you may in fact have both. Actually, a close personal friend of mine is a rather popular pagan deity and he tells me he would be honored to stay at your home. Just remember to always leave out the milk and cookies for him come this time of year. It is vitally important that this ritual sacrifice not be neglected. I mean, it's not like your life depends on it.. but he can get so hungry. You don't have any pets do you? Oh yes, that brings us to the first request. A tac, or did you mean a cat? At any rate, be keeping an eye out for both. Watch where you sit ;).
Kind regards,
Satan | Satan looked over the latest letter, one of the hundreds he was working his way through.
*Deir Satan*
*For Cnrisnas mai I pelase heva a puppy, su that I heva smoetnhing to hug at nihgt*
*Bruec Jnoes*
It was a short one, and he re-read it several times. A cruel grin spread across his face, as he realised that this was a request he could have some fun with. A three headed hell-hound, that would rip him in half on Christmas morning sounded promising.
He lifted from his leather chair, and flung apart his arms, plucking fire and shadow and death from the air, and forming it into a small, squirming shape. He thought back to the pain of millions of children singing hymns that burnt him, the humiliation of being bested by messiahs and musicians alike.... thought back to being mocked as he struggled to piece together a demonic contract, being unable to understand the loopholes and hidden meanings that his peers used daily.
He waved the half-formed creature away, and began his work anew. It was damn time **somebody** actually answered these bloody letters.
| 2014-11-23T12:39:34 | 2014-11-23T12:34:03 | 71 | 29 |
[WP] The devil enters into a contract, and over time slowly realizes that *he* is actually the one being manipulated by it. | There once was a man named Lucifer,
Whose cable bill caused him to go nuclear.
So one desperate day, he called up Comcast to say hey...
is there a better deal I could receive for the future?
The agent was nice, and with out thinking twice,
He agreed to a bundle at "One low monthly price."
Now just to be clear, he asked one more time...
Xfinity is $49.99 for 105Mbps, HBO, and not one more dime?
Yes! Said the agent, I have locked you in...
you're rates won't change he said with a grin....
So, a few months later, upon bill number thrice,
Lucifer saw evils true form; a change in the price.
| "This can't be. This can't be." he thought as he looked upon lines upon lines of words written on scroll. Words that have never failed him. Words that were crafted to deceive and cloud even the most eloquent of men.
This man had wanted power, wanted to be followed and respected by the masses around him. It was a common request. After all, so many kings had asked, and so many kings have signed, and so many kings have their soul taken in the end. Simple betrayal by a trusted aide usually did the trick. If not he would just plant an idea that the king was a false prophet and start a revolt against the kingdom. It took longer but it always worked. Always. Until now.
As he reached the last line of the contract, he glanced at the signature at the bottom of the scroll. It was familiar, those letters. Normally he didn't care. After all, why should the name of a mere mortal matter? He took a closer look at that familiar cursive...
"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!" | 2015-02-18T09:06:59 | 2015-02-18T05:57:45 | 47 | 20 |
[WP] Zombie apocalypse has happened. The survivours have survived and are thriving, so much that people can go their entire lives with out seeing a zombie. You see one today. | Michael shuffled in the door, arms laden with bags of food, looking haggard.
"What's wrong, honey?" his wife asked, helping him remove his torn jacket. Michael didn't respond at first. "What happened?" Michael shook his head slowly.
"I saw one of...them, Donna." She screamed and dropped his coat, fumbling to pick it up. She stood slowly, terror written all over her face.
"If there's one..." Donna whispered.
"...There's more. Yeah." Michael dropped the bags on the table, reached out with both arms and pulled Donna in.
"So did you...you know...take care of it?" asked Donna.
"What do you think's in the bags?" Michael responded slyly. Donna squealed with joy.
"Darling! We haven't had human in ages!" | I saw a zombie! First thing I did was get out the camera and make sure it was a shambler and not a screamer, then I snuck close enough for a selfie. Then, my pic already uploaded to MyFace, I called in the Z-Squad. I'd never seen them in real life, just in shows where they were all grizzled men with grudges against the infected. In real life they're just ordinary dudes, doing a job, much like police or paramedics but in a slightly different uniform. Also, guns don't sound like guns in real life. They make soft "pop pop" noises and not ear-drum-rupturing "BANG BANG" noises like in movies. Anyway, they popped the zombie, made sure it was safe, hit it with the net and dragged it in to the back of the van. One of the squad went back for the arm that got left behind. The van rolled out and the de-con team came out and hosed the area down with the foam. I watched the whole thing. It took about five minutes. It was all a bit anti-climactic really.
But still, I got an awesome selfie! | 2015-03-14T09:22:31 | 2015-03-14T08:15:17 | 120 | 27 |
[WP] Cause of death appears to you as floating text over people's heads with no time indication. You start noticing a trend.
edit: thank you for all the truly great stories, and for taking this in directions I didn't expect. | Ever remember that scene from "The Sixth Sense", where the little kid says "I see dead people?". That was pretty much exactly how I first tried to tell people about my power. I was only six, and my parents laughed it off. My father is going to die in a car accident. My mother, a heart attack.
You see, I can see how people die. Their cause of death is shown in a little text box over their head. It normally shows something like my parents, an accident, or just old age. I tried to help people as I got older, trying to give people as much time as possible. I told cancers to get a check-up arranged. Car accidents to drive safely. Every goddamn one of them laughed it off. Said I was crazy. Well, Charlene died from a car accident a few weeks later. John has terminal cancer. Every single one of them died. I stopped trying soon after Sarah died from a drug overdose.
At first, there was no time. I couldn't tell when these deaths were going to happen, just how they were. Then, I noticed people's words becoming more opague. The closer they were, the more solid the words became. As I grew older, I noticed that they were cracking, shot through with veins of color. I started guessing how long they had, choosing the urgent cases, the brick-like car accidents and the tombstone murders. I couldn't interfere, just tell them to be careful. I examined them, carefully noting the color change. I soon had a system.
Blues, the long term people. Two decades or more, I'd guess. Greens, a decade. Yellows had a year, two tops. Reds, the next few months. Purples, a week. Blacks, a day or two.
I was sitting on a bus when I saw him. A boy, the same age as me, leaning his head against the window, looking out at the world passing by. Among all the other passengers, he was the only purple one, the rest a mess of greens and blues. There was a few yellows too.
Everyone else had the usual. Car accidents, cancer, one tiger, that was going to be rough. Nothing too bad. He had the word "suicide", surrounded by deep purple.
He lifted his head off the window, and glanced down at his hands. He seemed to have made a decision.
I watched as the colors shifted from purple to black.
I had promised myself not to interfere again.
I smashed that promise into smithereens as I got up and sat beside him.
"Hey, can I talk to you? My name's Nick... are you okay?"
He glanced up at me, and then back at his hands. I saw a hint of a smile...
Just on the edge of my vision, because I was too busy staring at the text box. It now read "old age", in the palest, most beautiful and perfect tracery of blue you can imagine.
**Thank you all so much for all the lovely comments. I had no idea how much of a reaction this reply would get. Thank you, thank you, thank you! <3** | I don't remember when I first started seeing them. I think it was after High School, but before college. They were kind of fuzzy at first, and I thought I just needed glasses.
One day I noticed that they were becoming clearer. There were words. Some were clearer than others. Then it happened.
I was walking down the street when I saw one that was clear as the writing you're reading right now. It said, "Hit by a car." I watched fascinated about what it could mean. Besides the obvious of course.
As I was watching him, he stepped off the curb to jaywalk. He was looking the wrong way. A police chase rounded the corner and the lead car took him out without him ever seeing it.
He was a big guy, and he must have broken an axle or something, because the car came to a stop, and as he got out with a gun raised, I saw above his head, "Shot by police."
Just as the police were getting out and drawing on him, I saw a few more words snap to crystal clarity around me. "Shot by police," and "Shot by Criminal." I dropped to the ground just in time.
I heard a series of bangs and the woman behind me fell on top of me. Her blood covered me like some hot, sticky jam that hadn't quite set yet. As soon the driver was down, I got out of there.
I went to the hospital to make sure that I was okay. This was a big mistake. It suddenly occurred to me that this was my first time in a hospital since High School.
All around me were muddled blurs above heads, except dispersed among them were clear words, and slightly fuzzy words. "Old age," on the ancient man in the corner. As I watched the words blurred and disappeared. The subtle rise and fall of his chest had stopped.
There was someone being wheeled through on a gurney and I saw, "Malpractice" above their head. There was a slightly blurry "Flu" above an elderly woman that was coughing. There was even a just legible "Syphilis" above one woman.
I turned around and ran. As I was running, I looked back and saw that I could read every word behind me. "Explosion." All except one. It said, "Wake up," and she was staring directly at me. I started to hear a beeping.
The source was a backpack left under a seat. I ran to it, and as I got closer the beeping quickened. Did no one else hear it?
I got to the backpack, the beeping coming so fast it was almost one sound now. I ripped open the bag to see a bomb. No timer, just beeping. I looked up for help and saw that everyone was around me. Staring. They all had the same words above their heads. "Wake up." They opened their mouths and the beeping began to emanate from their mouths.
As one they began raising their hands towards me. Just as they touched me the beeping became solid, and the bomb exploded. It was pleasantly warm. No where near as bad as I thought it would be. There was even lots of pretty white light.
_________________________________________
The doctor looked to the waiting mother and said, "I'm sorry." He then turned to the nurse while looking at his watch, "Time of death 10:42am." | 2015-03-31T11:10:46 | 2015-03-31T10:05:02 | 241 | 15 |
[WP] Cause of death appears to you as floating text over people's heads with no time indication. You start noticing a trend.
edit: thank you for all the truly great stories, and for taking this in directions I didn't expect. | Like I said, I was always used to this up until The Moment. Even as a little boy, I had to pretend like I didn't see a picture of a broken heart over someone's head or a cartoonish smashed car. Words eventually replaced the images and they got more scientific as my vocabulary grew. Old age... cancer... coronary embolism...acute pumlonary edema... whatever. They would walk around and smile and I just kept my mouth shut. But I was always okay with it. I'm not really sure why. You get used to things just like you get used to seeing tragedy on the news every goddamn night. Then, The Moment: I saw my own fucking name over a stanger. It was raining... I couldn't move... | They were all the same; burning. Let's just cut to the exposition: I knew how people died, to me a small piece of text would appear above their head. This would always contain their cause of death. No time, no ways to prevent, just their grim fate. Since birth I could always see this. Over time I learned to accept it and hide this unnatural knowledge. After all who'd listen to some kid's ramblings. Nowadays, I ignored it, except today. Here in this bus I noticed that everyone in here had the same cause of death. All of them would burn. Now I never see my own cause of death. It was a mystery I never wanted to know, but now I had that itching feeling. That little niggling idea that sits at the back of your mind. It was driving me crazy. To you, dear reader, I guess you know already. Though at the time I didn't know. I didn't know the bus would go up in flames. | 2015-03-31T07:48:21 | 2015-03-31T07:44:11 | 123 | 22 |
[WP] Cause of death appears to you as floating text over people's heads with no time indication. You start noticing a trend.
edit: thank you for all the truly great stories, and for taking this in directions I didn't expect. | They started showing themselves to me when I started high school. They were always a light shade of blue and wouldn't change. If someone was to die of a heart attack...he was to die of a heart attack. Nothing to be done about their fate. Nothing I could do, at least I thought. Those words would hang over the heads of my best friends, my significant others, and any pet I would own. It wasn't the best superpower, but at least nothing surprised me...at least, not recently. I started seeing some of the most painful, and drawn out, terminal diseases being replaced by a name. John Relain. I don't know who he is, all I know is I have to find him. If he has my power, and is acting on these diagnoses, I can't allow him to continue. | Our world has changed. With time travel comes death predictions. A technical engineer working alone in a garage created a "portal"in time just powerful enough to transfer technology, like cameras, microphones, and storage devices. The revolutioniser created a way of predicting death, but could only take down what happened, and not when due to storage limitations.
As I walk down the street, I begin finding patterns. First, I find an unlikely amount of people die of stress. Weird, but it happens I guess. I just kinda shrugged it off at first.
But then something very weird happened on the bus. The person next to me, a young Asian girl that was innocently talking about her biology homework, had changed her C.O.D from "Car crash" to "Suicide". I don't know how she did it, but it just... Well, popped into another word with an audible noise. The same noise began almost immediately in the city center, and everywhere the same word would hover over people's heads...
"World War Fallout"
***
Thanks, this is bad I know but it's very late, and I'm on mobile, so I will fix it up on my PC tomorrow :D | 2015-03-31T08:21:48 | 2015-03-31T07:50:48 | 47 | 21 |
[WP] Cause of death appears to you as floating text over people's heads with no time indication. You start noticing a trend.
edit: thank you for all the truly great stories, and for taking this in directions I didn't expect. | Tim wakes up with a scream. He knows something is wrong, but can't figure it out what. His body just wants to go back to sleep. He's never fully understood what the words above people's heads were, but after the first visit to the doctor he's never spoken about it again.
After last night's explosion, he's finally started to realize how sudden death can be. He knows exactly what the words mean.
His mom enters the room. Tim runs out of the apartment, and his mom follows him out with panic, sick with worry that he's going to need to see the psych again. He's knocking and screaming on every door and heading outside. Some people follow him out the building, worried that Tim's mom will have to handle him by herself.
A few minutes later, the building blows up.
Just another news story in NYC.
---
Criticism welcome and wanted. | Our world has changed. With time travel comes death predictions. A technical engineer working alone in a garage created a "portal"in time just powerful enough to transfer technology, like cameras, microphones, and storage devices. The revolutioniser created a way of predicting death, but could only take down what happened, and not when due to storage limitations.
As I walk down the street, I begin finding patterns. First, I find an unlikely amount of people die of stress. Weird, but it happens I guess. I just kinda shrugged it off at first.
But then something very weird happened on the bus. The person next to me, a young Asian girl that was innocently talking about her biology homework, had changed her C.O.D from "Car crash" to "Suicide". I don't know how she did it, but it just... Well, popped into another word with an audible noise. The same noise began almost immediately in the city center, and everywhere the same word would hover over people's heads...
"World War Fallout"
***
Thanks, this is bad I know but it's very late, and I'm on mobile, so I will fix it up on my PC tomorrow :D | 2015-03-31T08:43:31 | 2015-03-31T07:50:48 | 36 | 21 |
[WP] Humans are actually a phenomenally advanced species - except for the glaringly obvious thing they missed. Write from the perspective of a befuddled alien xenobiologist. | In a dark, windowless basement, a bored graduate student was sifting through camera feeds of various alien planets. They'd been told that these were all the cameras trained on planets without intelligence, but someone had to make sure they hadn't missed anything. It mostly entailed watching a feed for a few hours, seeing various animals wander about, then move on to the next one. Hours and hours of dumb animals. Not a glamorous job for a xenobiologist in-training that focused on intelligent life.
The grad student grew sick of this. They glanced around to see if their advisor was distracted. Not even in the same room. They decided to tune back in to an old favorite: a little watery planet that scientists called an anomaly. It had the seeds of intelligent life, but the animals on it never seemed to grow minds. Nonetheless, the grad student liked to watch it. At least watching vaguely people-like animals was better than watching completely dumb animals. Suddenly, a beacon caught the grad student's eye. Something giving off signals. It was a satellite.
Dumb animals don't make satellites.
"PROFESSOR! I found intelligence!"
The professor skittered over as fast as he could, "Cjoulf, this better not be another false alarm like the M-372 canal incident..."
"Professor, it's Sol-3."
"Oh! Did they finally get out of living in the dirt and grow some minds?"
"Professor. They have satellites around their planet."
The professor nearly fell over.
"That's impossible! We've had our advanced intelligence scanners on them for eons! They never even made any universal translators! No empathy readers! How did they communicate with one another? How did they do it well enough to make it to space tech??"
The grad student pointed at a camera feed.
"Sir, I've been watching them... for a while now. They didn't make those because they... don't need them. They've been independently working on these things for decades."
The professor's eyes grew wide.
"Cjoulf, you're a fool. No intelligent life holes themselves up in little groups and wastes their resources on themselves! That would mean they would fight and bicker over the most basic things!"
"Professor, I looked through past logs of the planet. They did. They did fight and bicker. So they never developed universal translators. They never made empathy readers. They didn't have to. And when they finally did reach the point where they needed to collaborate, they just... pointed and flailed like animals. And then traded! But... they mostly just... killed each other for resources."
The professor narrowed his eyes. "Cjoulf, do you know the definition of intelligent life? These are dumb animals!"
Cjoulf shook their head. "Dumb animals don't build satellites."
The professor rubbed his foreheads. "I think... I think I need to make some comm calls."
He skittered away. Cjoulf looked back to the screen. How in the known universe did a species entirely skip the universal communication stage of development, yet still make it into space? All they knew is that they were gonna get their name on some pretty big papers. | "The thing that gets me," began Blurk, swiveling away from the view-sphere to address his partner and research assistant Gabble (who was presently hunched over his own view-sphere, gazing intently at the fascinating image of two bipedal organisms from T-734 playing Ping-Pong), "and I recognize it's a bit puerile of me to make such a big deal about it, but..." Blurk paused, his leftmost tentacle corkscrewing hesitantly. Perhaps it wasn't even worth voicing aloud.
Gabble rolled his nostrils bemusedly as he swiveled around to face Blurk. He had a feeling he knew what was bothering the Derbolian. He'd been thinking the same thing.
"Come on, no need to be embarrassed. I couldn't help noticing, either. That is, if we're observing the same abnormality."
Blurk flombled with relief and grinned with at least four vacuoles. He laughed heartily and extended a tentacle to affectionately slap his mate on the shell.
"Oh, good. So you're a dirty phincorf, too."
It was several years before the two could suppress their giggles long enough to regain composure.
Still smiling, struggling mightily to resist launching again into hysterical laughter, Gabble wiped a drop of purple fluid from his eye-stalk and said, "But, to be serious for a moment, what do you make of it? I mean... we've never seen anything like this, have we?"
"It's true! I don't recall ever reading or even kromving about such a phenomenon. Or rather," and here he had to stop to laugh again for a few more years, "lack of phenomenon."
"They're clearly intelligent. They made it to Stage 4 without so much as a hitch. And I'd say they've a fair shot at reaching 5 or 6," said Blurk.
"That's what makes it all the more puzzling! Can they truly be so unfortunate as never to have discovered it? Surely, one of them would have tried by now, and quickly gotten the hang of it. They're trying things all the time! Just recently, I observed a small group of them haphazardly fling themselves at their orbital rock. How could they have decided to do that before... well, you know."
"Hush," giggled Blurk, "we'll never get any work done with all this laughing."
"Should we even include it in the report?" Gabble asked.
"I suppose we have to," Blurk replied, "Though I pity the descendants of these poor organisms, should they ever reach Stage 8. The tabloids will have rendered them a laughing stock before they've even joined the galactic community."
"I imagine their embarrassment will be overrode by their joy at discovering what they've been missing out on, assuming they haven't figured it out between now and Stage 8."
"Ha! I suspect you're right. And just think how long they'll be kicking themselves about it. Probably until the heat death of the universe."
The two began laughing again, spraying purple fluid and wiggling their tentacles every which way. It was all a bit too much. | 2015-04-09T12:36:13 | 2015-04-09T11:32:49 | 162 | 45 |
[WP] Every human has their soulmate's last words to them engraved in their skin from birth.
Idea from this Tumblr post
https://scontent-lga1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xpt1/v/t1.0-9/11206957_778391755645357_8477035769704355007_n.png?oh=5b3f35d575ad3aa39d6ba5c5ed39cce2&oe=56549C83 |
Some people keep their Last Words private. I've seen some that weren't intended to be seen, and I've known some religious people who keep them covered up with black CoverTape. They think that God writes your last words, and only your spouse should see them.
I never bothered. Written in a lovely script, it probably was God who wrote them. I never asked. "It was good to see you again." They became my second running joke. I was 6'5" at my prime, so "how tall are you," was the first. The second: drunk girls in bars, yelling as they walked away, "It was good to see you again!"
I didn't meet her in a bar, it was in a park. I thought she was pretty, and I said so. She thought I was probably a creep, but I talked her into an ice cream. I made her laugh over cookies and creme. She was pretty and dark haired, and she danced on the air when she danced ballet. She was good enough to be beautiful at it. She never made a living at it; I think she deserved better than a career in a grocery store, but she was happy.
She was happy when the cancer came. I told her it was treatable. She said she would get treatment. It went away. It came back, furiously, as if looking for revenge. This time she was ready to fight it: not the cancer, but death. I had always thought she was alive in ways I never knew, but I found out what it was to really live in those 18 months. She had.... *grace.* She took death out on the dance floor and swirled around... because he takes us all, the only way to fight him is to embrace him without fear. And she did.
I never meant to say her last words. She asked for some water, and I gave it to her. "Thanks." I told her, "Get some rest, I'll be here in the morning." Only after she fell asleep did the pit in my stomach grow and gnaw. I considered waking her up, but I couldn't. Only after she passed away a few hours later did I look again at the side of her leg" "I'll be here in the morning." I was her true love.
My Last Words didn't say "Thanks."
I didn't miss it. She didn't whisper. Like an idiot, I checked my arm. "It was good to see you again." Still, always.
Did she know?
_____________
| The subway slid along noisily underneath the city streets. Sam sat quietly in one corner listening to music through one earphone and mindlessly eating his breakfast (a granola bar that was a bit too hard) with the other. He stared at the words written plainly up his forearm. Words he, and everyone else in the world, was born with. Superstition held that these words would be the last you'd ever hear from your one true companion in life. Sam supposed it wasn't really superstition if it was always true. Most people simply had some variation of "I love you" but others where more foreboding. Among the latter was Sam. Everyone agreed he had some of the most tragic words they'd ever seen. All that was written was "No, Dammit, wait!" Sam pictured himself dying some gallant death as his wife called him. He wasn't to upset about it though. All men must die eventually, and perhaps his end would be like something out of a movie.
Suddenly, a light kick in the shins jarred him from his thoughts and brought Sam back to the present. A girl was standing over him looking down expectedly. It took Sam a moment to clue in. "Oh, right. Sorry." He said as he slid over to make room on the bench. The girl took a seat next to him. Sam went back to his thoughts of romantic death and zoned out again. He didn't get to far though, because all of the sudden, the girl spoke up.
"Whatcha listening to?" She asked.
Sam looked at the girl and blanked. She was pretty, with an angular face and long brown hair in a ponytail. Suddenly he decided he wanted this particular girl to like what he was listening to.
"Uhhh, Mumford and Sons?" He lied.
The girl smiled. "Can I listen? I hate the music they play through the PA in this damn train."
Sam tried and failed to supress his smile. He quickly changed the song and gave her an earphone.
They struck up a conversation and Sam found himself wondering if this was the girl he would die so gallantly for. As he looked at her smile though, the thought didn't sadden him. Too soon, the train was nearing his stop. As he felt it start to slow he got a piece of paper out of his pocket to write his number. He handed it to her as he got up to leave and she handed him his other head phone. She put the number in her wallet.
"It was nice meeting you," Sam said. "But I have to go now." He smiled as he got up and was pushed away by the crowd. When he looked back, he saw that she was pale, looking at him as if she'd seen a ghost. "No, Dammit," She shouted to him. "Wait!" Sams heart sunk like a rock as he was pushed out the doors and they slid shut behind him. | 2015-08-08T13:53:15 | 2015-08-08T12:14:55 | 27 | 14 |
[WP][CW] Make me fall in love with a character in 200 words or less. | "She's always messing with her hair, that one strand that flops in front of her face. I remember her brother's wedding, she was cross-eyed and raspberry-lipped to blow it out of her eyes. She was at it for a few minutes before she noticed me watching... We're going to Venice this Spring. Our seats are reserved already. We ate ramen every Tuesday to help save up," Theo grinned and looked at his feet, "I'm gonna buy her something nice there.
"She hates the way she pigeons her feet when she's anxious. It reminds her of her mother. She hates her mother, or at least that's what she says. I never believed it, not with the way she made all her mom's recipes, stowed them in the same cardbox, followed them to a T. I remember the quiche she made for my birthday. It was awful and blackened. But that was my fault, I kept her from it when she humored me with a dance across the kitchen floor. She was always dancing..." He looked up with wet eyes.
The room fell silent as his voice faded. He pulled in a breath and kissed her forehead, then turned from the casket.
| **I**t was ours
this place
where we'd hide
**O**ur own
little meadow
with grass to our knees
and the sound of cars
quiet in the distance
**O**ur own
little spot
where no one
would find us
**T**he meadow grass
soft
beneath our backs
**A**s I turned my head
from the slightly cloudy
blue sky
to look you in
your soft green eyes
**Y**ou whispered the words
I'd die to hear
one last time
**I**t was spring
the trees were green
the grass was fresh
the sweet smell of rain
hung in the air
and the birds chirped wildly
**Y**ou sat up
and jumped to your feet
**Y**our fiery red hair
swaying gently in the breeze
seemed to dance
in the sunlight
**T**hough
your smile
was all the light
I needed
**Y**our hand reached down
waiting for mine
to reach up
**M**aybe
we'll find
that meadow again
someday
**A**nd it'll be
just you and I
again
**B**ut for now
it's just me
remembering the way
things used to be
and how I wish
I had taken your hand
| 2015-10-21T19:57:07 | 2015-10-21T19:25:47 | 97 | 17 |
[WP] After dying, you found yourself staring at a large screen. "LOBBY. Current players: 7,383,275,800. Current game time: 1059040375.2 mins. Current spectarors: 21,458,374,931. Player rank: 2,648,535,901. Time until next game: 23695624.8 mins" | *Peter Lowe has joined respawn lobby chat #854393845*
*Server: Earth (pre-Cataclysm)*
*Players in server respawn lobby chat: 38*
Jack Howard: lMAO
Ellie Johnson: wtf dude
Harley Smith: whyyyyyy did u do this
Peter Lowe: WTF is this
Joseph Gabriel: I think it's his first game guys, easy
Peter Lowe: what's going on
Leshawn Okoye: what a fucking n00b
Leshawn Okoye: srsly who the fuck dies to falling down stairs
Leshawn Okoye: STAIRS
Peter Lowe: Where am I? What the hell's going on?
Leshawn Okoye: AT 33 FUCKING YEARS OLD
Joseph Gabriel: this is the Roy: Universe beta
Leshawn Okoye: COMPLETELY SOBER
Leshawn Okoye: HOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
*Bonnie Eilhart has disconnected from chat: respawned*
Ellie Johnson: lol leshawn
Joseph Gabriel: This your first game, Peter?
Harley Smith: obvisouly fuking faggot tripped down some stairs and died apparently
Peter Lowe: help me i'm trapped in this pod I can't see
Cho Zhao: dude's probably got that memory bug
Joseph Gabriel: There's a solution on the forums somewhere, I'd suggest looking there
Cho Zhao: i got that my first time, gave me a hell of a scare when I despawned
Peter Lowe: so
Peter Lowe: i'm dead
Peter Lowe: where's my wife? daughter? are they somewhere here?
Cho Zhao: yeah he's got it for sure
Jack Howard: that bug SUCKS i had to redownload everything about my meatspace life
Jack Howard: took like 20 minutes
Peter Lowe: fuck this I need help and it's not gonna be here
Joseph Gabriel: Try messaging a mod dude, there's no use panicing
Peter Lowe: i need to leave one way or another
*Peter Lowe has disconnected from chat: connection manually terminated*
Jack Howard: o shit
Stephanie Colter: whats going on in this chat
Stephanie Colter: seriously i'm getting so many notifications
Jack Howard: dumbass just hard DC'd after dying for the first time
Jack Howard: and his pre-Roy memories were wiped
Stephanie Colter: lol
Leshawn Okoye: hope the admins can help him before he completely loses it
Stephanie Colter: seriously what's with these respawn timers why are they so long
Leshawn Okoye: idk it's just a beta it'll be patched
Jack Howard: Roy developers have always ben lazy it'll never be patched out
Leshawn Okoye: fuck you dude if you hate them so much why do you play it
Leshawn Okoye: no-life nerd
Jack Howard: fuck you
Leshawn Okoye: fuck you
| I took deep breathes but they provided no relief. White specks danced around the corners of my vision and a slow darkness creeped inwards at an alarming rate from the edges until there was a single tunnel ahead of me.
Moments ago I felt nothing but panic and desperation. Now I felt serenity and calm.
I knew I was dying. I tried to fight it but only for a brief second before the exhaustion overtook me. There was no comfort in my thoughts. No need to comfort. This was it. The big nothing. I wondered if it would be like before I was born.
The tunnel grew bigger as I raced towards it. While I did not think it, I knew this was the culmination of hundreds of thousands of years of evolution. We evolved to make death bearable. A mass of flesh and tissue inside of my skull knew just by pure muscle-memory that it was approaching it's end. It did what it was designed to do and flooded my body with biochemicals to make death as tranquil as possible for itself. For me. For us.
I quickly approached the end of the tunnel and saw nothing but a blinding white light.
"I am nothing, again."
The light became less blinding and softened. I waited for the void but it never came.
That is when I realized I was still thinking. I still had thought. What happened? Am I in a coma? Instinctively I turned my head and saw my shoulder which disoriented me. I thought I was standing but now knew I was laying flat on my back.
Why do I still have a body? Where did this grey shirt come from? I stood carefully, taking care not to put much pressure on my knee as I had in life but there was no pain. I put more pressure on it then I had in years. Nothing.
There was nothing but white. I could not discern the walls or ceiling from the floor. Was I in the bottom of a sphere? but the ground was flat. It felt as if I were floating when I turned around. The absence of any other object messed with my spatial awareness. Then I saw it. In clean, bold and black shapes floating above me.
At first the letters looked like strange structures and slowly it came back to me.
"LOBBY".
Lobby? What the hell. Am I in a lobby to see god? Oh shit. Which one? Is he going to be mad that I didn't believe in him? Is he a he? A her? Something else? What if it isn't human.
The letters dissapeard and new ones appeard in it's place "Current players: 7,383,275,800"
7 billion players? What does that mean
"Current game time: 1059040375.2 mins"
"Current spectators: 21,458,374,931."
"Player rank: 2,648,535,901"
...oh....oh my shit.
This is a simulation? Those scientists were right. It's a game?
"Time until next game: 23695624.8 mins"
I can redo this? Do I get to live my life again?
I watched the time tick down thinking of how this game is played. Why it's played. How it's ranked. I had hoped that time was faster here.
It's not. | 2015-11-25T00:31:04 | 2015-11-24T23:52:59 | 1,235 | 26 |
[WP] After dying, you found yourself staring at a large screen. "LOBBY. Current players: 7,383,275,800. Current game time: 1059040375.2 mins. Current spectarors: 21,458,374,931. Player rank: 2,648,535,901. Time until next game: 23695624.8 mins" | Ed kept reading:
Player score: 4
It really was an absurdly over-engineered game for such a simple scoring system.
The ingenious twist that the game's designer had put in was that once you started playing you immediately forgot it was a game, you didn't even remember the rules. The only hint about what the game's goal was came in the form of base animal drives.
Jane glanced over at Ed's screen.
"Only four?" she asked. "What happened?"
Ed sighed.
"My character's parents were Mormons. He was brought up to believe that sex was sacred, and that sex outside of marriage was a sin. If my first wife hadn't died my score would only have been three. The funny thing is, in-game I felt really guilty about the other two. Oops. I got it completely wrong. How'd you do?"
Jane cackled: "You're not going to believe this. I ended up playing a Catholic priest. Huge handicap right? In-game I was wracked with guilt, but I wasn't able to fight the temptation. In the end, I got a respectable score. Good thing for me the scoring system doesn't distinguish between consensual and non."
Ed rolled his eyes.
"Lucky break. I'll beat you next round." | "Damn it! I was doing it all wrong."
Immediately everything was clear again. I remember it all. Fighting the urges for my whole life. Fighting against my better instincts, just because they said it was wrong.
"It fucking matters now doesn't it?" I mumble.
Those voices in my head, telling me to do those *things*. I should've listened to myself, I knew I had a mission. I knew it was important.
I spent all that time building something that didn't matter. I had a career, friends, family- three fucking cats. It should've been simple.
Those numbers burned into my eyes.
**EatsBacon (93)**
"93... How did I only get 93? The cats should've been freebies!"
I grab the microphone plopped in front of the monolithic screen.
"Leaderboards!"
*Rankings flood the screen*
**pepsi_next (9407266)
GallowBoob (6844992)
ibleeedorange (5241087)
1Voice1Life (3896288)
bubblr (3613265)
StickleyMan (3523504)
Libertatea (3405272)
isai76 (3303630)
mepper (3133454)
maxwellhill (3023509)
lobo2ffs (2993266)
way_fairer (2739961)
anutensil (2703213)
j0be (2520665)
Unidan (2496912)
ani625 (2478349)
mike_pants (2453440)
_vargas_ (2405433)
davidreiss666 (2330807)
ethan_kahn (2181939)**
| 2015-11-25T03:34:47 | 2015-11-25T00:10:22 | 21 | 10 |
[WP] - You are an angel of heaven. Angels are tasked with creating animals to populate the earth. You are called into God's office to discuss your finished project - the platypus. | "Ralph, God is ready to see you now"
Welcome Ralph, how are things going for you? Being dead is a big adjustment then to have Angelic status on top of that is a big step
It's been great! I wish I could talk to my family but watching over them is good enough for me. Sounds morbid but, they'll join me up here some day.
That's good to hear. Well, lets get right to it. You made this correct? And you called it the Platypus.
Yes sir! It's the first in my line of Super Animals. I have so man ideas, a horse with a horn on its head, a monkey that has wings, sharks with feathers. It's going to be great! It'll take evolution to an entirely new level!
Umm look.. Ralph.. did you read the code books when you took this position? Because we have a strict set of guide lines to follow and this is a bit of a mess. And unfortunately it's already been released.
A mess? But why?
Look Ralph I'm going to give you a second chance.
But God!
Ralph, you can't have a duck looking otter thing with some claws and call it done. The damn thing lays eggs for crying out loud. The last time someone screwed up this bad we got seals. They forgot the legs Ralph. We had to go back in time and give them flippers as a quick fix and now we have the creepy looking alien dog monsters that are terrifying. Have you ever tried to pet a seal? I made this entire universe and I'm getting chills here thinking about the insane death barrels. I even tried to get mankind to cull the bastards by making their flippers tasty and their fur fashionable. But no, humans decided they were cute as babies so they protested to stop the seal hunt. They were a mistake Ralph, a huge, blubbery, fish eating, stupid noise making mistake. And you went and done it again. How are fathers suppose to look at their daughters and say "honey, that's a platypus", it looks like you just copied and pasted parts of past projects together to see what it would look like and accidentally clicked print, this is a major screw up Ralph. And I'm sick and tired to screwing up time because of people like you. Now I have to go back and make changes, want to know what happened last time I made changes? The Holocaust Ralph. THE FREAKING HOLOCAUST. Do you even understand how serious that was? I made that mistake trying to fix another mistake made by someone like you. Everyone thinks that being God is so great. I started out just like you but I DIDN'T SCREW UP. I applied for this position because of people like you Ralph. People just like you that don't have the common sense to THINK about their actions before they go playing with life. Now I'm about to have a break down trying to comprehend why we hire so many people JUST. LIKE. YOU.
God... ummm
NO RALPH. You think this is some kind of joke? Do you? Hun? You think it's funny to go screwing around with every I and the seven previous Gods have worked so hard for? You know what I think is funny? I'm going to fire up the reincarnation system again, and I'm going to send you back to earth AS A PLATYPUS. HAVE FUN LAYING EGGS AND LOOKING LIKE A GOOSE RAN INTO A SMALL DOG WITH DEFORMED LEGS AND BECAME ONE USELESS WASTE OF SPACE ON THE FOOD CHAIN I SO CAREFULLY BALANCED. ARE YOU HAPPY RALPH?
Wow. This isn't how I expected this to go at all.
I QUIT. IM DONE DEALING WITH STUFF LIKE THIS EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. DONE! SATAN OFFERED ME A CUSHY POSITION AS HIS ADVISORY, I THINK ILL GO GIVE HIM A CALL.
So... does this mean I can apply to be God?
Get the hell out of my office Ralph. | Shining light emanates from Bartholomew who sits outside God's office. God, the big man, doesn't just see anyone. You either screwed up royally or you knocked it out of the park. Bart knows which one he's here about. He knocked that shit out of the park. The door to God's office opens and beckons him.
BART COME ON IN AND HAVE A SEAT
Bart does and sits on a cloud. The office is not enclosed as far as he can tell. The door slams shut behind him. While Bart looks vaguely human, God does not really have a form. He or she or it is several blinking lights that looks more like a constellation of stars than anything else. Bart smiles at him.
THE PLATYPUS, THAT WAS YOUR CREATION, CORRECT?
Odd that an all knowing being is asking him a question, but Bart answers it.
"Yes, my Lord. Quite proud of it, actually."
I KNEW YOU WOULD SAY THAT. MY REACTION IS DIFFERENT. THE PLATYPUS IS STUPID. JUST STUPID AND YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF FOR CREATING IT. IF YOU WEREN'T A GREAT DESIGNER I WOULD SEND YOU TO HELL.
"Whoa, what? Are you kidding me?"
NO, I HATE IT.
"It's in Australia. Gabe gave kangaroos three vaginas, and he was promoted. I design something like this, and you're talking about hell. Seriously?"
YES.
"You knew I would make this. You knew that. You've given me design notes before. Hell, you can guide me without telling me. You can control me. Your self-hating bullshit has gone too far. I made something weird that stands out, and you don't like it?"
THIS IS NOT THE FIRST TIME.
"Adam and Steve was an interesting concept and you ended that right quick anyway."
THERE'S MORE.
"Like?" Asks Bart.
THE GIANT SLOTH, THE MOA, THE THUNDERBIRDS, AND THE DINOSAURS.
"All extinct. You ended them all. Every last one of them. I design life on Earth, remember? If those are my own only mistakes, well, that seems pretty good. Oh wait, you're infallible supposedly. What is this really about? I'm not getting back together with Lucy, threats or not." Says Bart.
ALRIGHT FINE, I KIND OF LIKE THE PLATYPUS. IT'LL MAKE HUMANS MORE ACCEPTING WHEN THEY FIND THE DUCK PLANET, BUT LUCY IS UPSET. SHE MIGHT NOT TAKE NEW ARRIVALS BECAUSE OF IT. THERE'S NO HOPE FOR RECONCILIATION?
"It's been two million years. She's nice, but all she talks about is torture and punishment, and I'm sure the sex would have phenomenal if we had genitals, hint hint."
NO GENITALS FOR ANGELS. NOT GONNA HAPPEN. LOOK AT THE MADHOUSE IT IS ON EARTH BECAUSE OF GENITALS.
"Good point, but, you know, sex looks great."
IT'S THE MOST INCREDIBLE THING EVER. THAT'S WHY I CREATED HEROIN.
"Ooo, can I have that?"
NO. I KNEW THAT'S WHERE THIS CONVERSATION WAS GOING, AND I STILL DIDN'T AVOID IT.
"Says more about you than me."
YEAH, YEAH, YOU KNOW, LOOK GIVE HER A CALL, SOMETHING. THAT'S ALL I'M ASKING.
"Yes, sir."
BTW, I MISS THE DINOSAURS. FIGURE OUT A WAY TO BRING THEM BACK.
"Can do, my Lord."
ALRIGHT, GET OUT OF HERE.
Bart leaves and goes back to his job. He sends a quick message to Lucy. Bart thinks about the platypus and laughs. He couldn't wait for them to become hyper intelligent and ravage the universe. Lucy would think that's funny. He sends a quick message and gets back to work.
***
Post script: [And the great platypus war had begun](https://www.reddit.com/r/nickkuvaas/comments/4jlekb/and_the_great_platypus_war_had_begun/) | 2016-05-15T10:12:30 | 2016-05-15T10:00:23 | 1,052 | 438 |
[WP] Weight can be transferred from person to person if both parties accept. People pay money to transfer their unwanted pounds to someone who will deal with it in their stead. You run a gym/factory. | You want to know about the best business in the world?
Lemme tell ya about it.
I used to be a prison guard. Me, if you can imagine, working a job like that, people treating me like crap all day long...
But then BodyRight came out. You pop one pill to lose as much weight as you want, and that weight gets transferred to another person who took the counterpart pill. It was beautiful.
And the inventors, they were making money hand over fist. It was incredible! And it got me thinking about the possibilities. I didn't want to be a guard my whole life.
I managed to get a meeting with one of the private owners of the prison I worked at. I told him I had a way to make his prison a fortune, and all I'd need was a measly 2% ownership. I'd be a silent partner. Just wanted a slice of the pie and a nice life for me and my family.
Once we had a deal in place, I got to work. I contacted the BodyRight people and told them I could help them remove the need for donors for their customers. They just had to give me a tiny fraction of ownership in their company. Nothing big. They wouldn't even miss it with the amount of money I was going to help them make.
Another deal was fleshed out, and my perfect plan was in place.
Prisoners came to our facilities by the busload. Rather than spend money on feeding them, we'd give them donor pills. If a prisoner was looking a little thin, we'd give them another. All we had to provide at that point was water. Expenses were down. We even got to reduce the number of guards on hand.
I mean, guys that fat can't really riot too effectively. Most of them sat on their reinforced cots and waited.
Meanwhile, out in civilian America, people were losing weight everywhere! It didn't matter where it was going, because they didn't have to deal with it.
Our prison company expanded into every market. Our costs were lower than any other company by far. It was easy when you didn't have to feed your prisoners. It also helped that the more prisoners we had, the more donor pills we could accept, and the more money we got from BodyRight.
By the time I was ready to retire, we had prisons in nearly every country in the world.
It was the perfect system, and my family had more money than we knew what to do with.
Life was perfect.
Right up until I got arrested.
God, I am so hungry. | *Yoyobros*, that's what they called us - gym rats who weren't particularly motivated by their day jobs, or their relationships, and spent all their time sweating out their lives in small air-conditioned environments surrounded by like-minded people.
Dr Yaya's weight transfer process was revolutionary when it first came out, transferring physiques between consenting individuals in an overnight painless procedure. Us yoyobros were the first to turn it into a business.
I practically quit my day job the first time I was approached by my one of my (now) regulars, a man named Eddie. Eddie wasn't an unattractive man, just slightly pudgy around the middle and a little unsure of himself. He seemed like a nice guy, and he was offering good money, so I said yes.
The next day I *was* Eddie, or at least I felt like him, and Eddie had my muscles and gaunt face. Breathing suddenly became a conscious activity, and I never knew running could be so hard.
It took 4 months to get back to my regular routine, and another 4 months to regain a good portion of my physique, but I knew that the compact muscle I'd honed over the years was gone.
It was about that time I saw Eddie again. He'd taken my gloriously sculpted body - a fact I never truly appreciated at the time - and he'd added layers of fat all around it. He asked me for another transfer, promising more money this time.
The money from the last transfer was running dry, and I sure as hell didn't want to go back to a desk job. So I agreed, but only for half the amount of fat he had on him. He agreed, and the next day I felt terrible, but not as terrible as I'd been that first time.
In 2 months, I was back to my self again and Eddie hadn't splurged out that much either. It was around then that I started getting offers from other people like Eddie. I agreed to smaller and smaller fractions of fat from my new sources of income, never exceeding a total excess of 100 pounds.
I managed it all well for a bit; moved out of my dumpster and bought myself a nice little house in the middle of nowhere, met a girl who was okay with my yoyo-ing lifestyle and moved her in with me, had my first kid, had my second.
My priorities changed, and my schedule became more eratic as I fought to maintain my regimen whilst balancing a chaotic family lifestyle. I realised that I couldn't do it all alone, and so I thought it was about time to delegate some of my duties to some younger bucks who had more time and energy than I did.
Started my gymbro business about 8 years ago, and I now have almost five chains in different cities across the country. The rest is history. | 2016-06-29T17:14:24 | 2016-06-29T15:19:13 | 1,298 | 660 |
[WP] You've become an immortal being. Living throughout the ages you begin to notice that the souls of your companions or adversaries reincarnate and always seem to be drawn to you. After countless lifetimes, someone remembers.
Edit: This got so many responses! There's a lot of great post. | Lucidity is a luxury in the home.
The patients would come to us with flashes of it at first, infrequent moments of their former selves rushing through, but soon enough they became distant memories as their minds and bodies slipped away. It was a part of the natural order I supposed, and yet it didn't stop my heart from breaking whenever I witnessed it. Not for the patients, no, they were too far gone to realise anything was truly wrong and slipped easily back into blissful ignorance. It was for the families. The sons, daughters, husbands and wives who for a few seconds were able to reconnect with the person they'd known for most of their lives, and who had a flicker of hope in their eyes that this might be their chance to be normal once more, only for that hope to die on their faces as their loved ones turned back into strangers.
It was understandable that some stayed away. Some might have held that against the families - called them heartless or cruel - but I would never have done such a thing. Watching the people you love disappear from the world is something no man suffers easily, and it is perhaps harder to know that - even though they're still breathing - they're still gone, and you'll probably never speak to them again.
"Is my wife here?" Mr. Johnson asked me for the fourth time that day. He was laid up in bed, too frail to walk to the bathroom, let alone down to the communal area where families gathered. "We're going dancing. I said I wouldn't be late."
"I think she called," I lied. "She said that she's late, too. I'm sure she'll be here in an hour."
In twenty minutes or so, he would forget that he'd asked me, and would once again be boasting about how wonderfully his wife could dance.
"Why don't I get you a suit ready?" I attempted to distract him from my check ups so he wouldn't be difficult or become distressed by them. "You like the powder blue one, don't you?"
"It matches my wife's eyes," he said. "They're blue."
"Are they?" He'd told me this a thousand times. "Blue eyes are the prettiest, aren't they?"
"Has my wife called?" he asked, and I prepared to enter into the cycle all over again.
I was fond of Mr. Johnson, and I was all too happy to aid him in his illusions for the sake of keeping an old man at peace in his final days. He didn't have long to go. Terminally ill and without anyone to rely on in all the world, he might have spent such a time alone and frightened were it not for me. I had a duty of care to him as his nurse, and that extended beyond sponge baths and regulating his medication.
He took a deep, shuddering breath. It was an unusual noise for him, a man who usually drew his oxygen in a short, shallow manner. I set down my paperwork and took hold of his hand. "Mr. Johnson, are you in pain? Can you tell me where?"
Lucidity was a luxury in the home.
The patients would come to us with flashes of it at first, infrequent moments of their former selves rushing through, but soon enough they became distant memories as their minds and bodies slipped away.
There was nothing so poignant as the clearing of ones mind as they died, the clouds of dementia clearing momentarily to allow the patient a few seconds of their own mind as a parting gift to the world. As sad as it was, I smiled down at him, meeting his tired, green eyes with mine.
"You always had the most beautiful blue eyes, Maggie," he said, his fingers closing weakly around my own. "Am I late to go dancing?"
"No, Jeremiah. You're right on time."
Watching the people you love disappear from the world is something no man suffers easily, and it is perhaps harder to know that - even though they're still breathing - they're still gone, and you'll probably never speak to them again.
And knowing that when they return they'll only remember you as they draw their final breaths is the only thing that keeps you going.
One last flash of lucidity before your world falls away all over again.
EDIT: Thanks for the Gold, stranger! | It soon began to feel like a mosquito bite. An annoying mosquito bite that I couldn't see coming, which with a sharp pinch and a painful swell would leave its mark upon my person only to fade away until the next one came conquering. It was a brief pain, but those few seconds when it were the most excruciating of all my lifetimes.
That's how it felt every time I saw my brother's soul staring at me out of someone else's eyes. I vividly remember the last time I saw him-- in 1912 when he went down with the ship that brought us to America. I wanted to die right then and there, but unfortunately fate had other plans for me-- I would keep living one lifetime after the other, doomed to inevitably come upon an unfamiliar visage that housed a person more dear to me than myself.
I felt the sting again when I saw a young man working the ticket counter at the movie theatre. One look into his bright green eyes and immediately saw my brother's chocolate gaze take over. I gave him a pinched smile as I paid for my ticket and, as always, attempted to ignore the impulse to wrap myself around him and say his name. This, I told myself, is the torture and price you pay for having left him on that boat alone.
As I made my way down the stale blue carpet, I thought I heard my name. Not my name today, but my name as it was on my birth certificate. I shook my head thinking it couldn't be possible, but my brain overruled my heart when I heard a soft voice call, "Kieran?"
It was as though I were trapped in a vaccuum-- I couldn't hear anything, I couldn't feel anything, I couldn't even hear the sound of my own breath. I turned around slowly to see the young man in front of me-- his shaggy blond hair covering his green eyes that were welling up with tears, mirroring my own.
"Tristan?" I whispered, daring myself to believe. Believe it! Believe that this is God or whatever CEO is up there, giving me another chance. Hope drummed through my veins like never before as I stared into this boy's unfamiliar yet completely beloved face.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, tears rolling down his cheeks, "It took me three minutes too late to recognize my own brother."
At that moment, it didn't matter that I didn't know who the boy looking at me was. What mattered was that the words-- the boy speaking those words-- was someone I had loved for the past 100 years. I gave in to over 100 years of pent up emotion and raced down the hall to clasp my wiry arms around his lanky frame. We both shuddered with love and sobbed into each other's shoulders. Happiness-- that oh so elusive emotion that had escaped me all these years was now the only thing holding me up from collapsing. He was back. Tristan was back.
As I leaned back to smile at him, my face froze. His browns furrowed and the joy that he looked at me with soon displaced with confusion. I no longer felt the pain of a mosquito bite-- the look on his face caused a hurt to course through my chest like it had just been sliced open by a sword.
"You left me." He whispered accusingly.
I had no words. I couldn't deny it. I had jumped on the lifeboat first-- I assumed that Tristan had followed me onto the boat-- it was so crowded and there were so many screams renting the air that it was only as I watched the boat sink that I realized he wasn't with me.
"I drowned." His voice dripped with venom. "I froze to death. Do you have any idea how much that hurt, Kieran? Or did you not care?"
"It was an accident," I pleaded, "I tried to pull you on. But we got separated--"
"It wasn't an accident!" He exploded, "It was murder!"
I sat there staring at him for a solid five minutes. I couldn't deny his charge-- it was what had haunted me for years-- I killed my little brother. I had murdered him. I was the reason that he was frozen at the bottom of a watery grave.
I tried to have my body say what my mouth could not, but as I reached forward, Tristan spun on his heel and walked away. I couldn't follow him. Not now. He needed some time. Eventually, he would forgive. Because he had to.
And I had all the time in the world. | 2016-08-29T08:29:30 | 2016-08-29T08:10:40 | 38 | 14 |
[WP]You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.
Inspired by *The Merchant Adventurer*, by Patrick E. McLean.
EDIT: Wow, thanks everyone that contributed! The awesome Patrick E. McLean (/u/patrickemclean) stopped by, gave a snippet from his book in a comment, and even gave us a link to listen to *The Merchant Adventurer* as an audiobook:
>Okay, a bit unusual, but since I wrote the book that inspired this writing prompt, Here's mine. The Merchant Adventure is available as a free audiobook if you want the whole thing: http://podiobooks.com/title/the-merchant-adventurer/ | Jolder grimaced into his cup of tea when he heard the chime of the bell. *Another bleeding customer. Ah, well, the tea is cold anyway. When was the last time I had a hot mug of tea?* He drained the cup in one gulp, shuddering at the temperature, and made his way to the front of the store.
He rounded the corner, an unpleasant squelch meeting his ears. He held his breath. Standing at the counter was a hunter, bow slung over his back, a look of smug satisfaction playing across his features. Jolder couldn't see far enough into his hood to identify the man.
"Good afternoon." Jolder said, inclining his head minimally to his patron. "How can I be of assistance to you...?"
"Mandorin. Of Grinnet. I've brought you the synapses of a Mind Flayer." He indicated the burlap sack oozing on the counter. "It wasn't an easy kill, but I got the job done."
Jolder steeled himself before lifting the edge of the sack to peer inside. *Well I'll be damned. This bumpkin actually managed to kill an Illithid* He squashed his excitement, instead favoring his patron with a look of disdain. "The synapses. Yes. However, you've neglected to cut them out. What am I to do with the head of a Mind Flayer?"
Mandorin lifted the hood from his head, glaring daggers at Jolden. "I've brought you the damned thing. I'm no surgeon, that's what you're for, isn't it?"
Jolder arched an eyebrow at him, not dropping his gaze. "Aye, it's what I'm for. But it'll cost you. I'll not give you full payment for a job I have to do myself. Five knuckles." He fished five gold coins from the pocket of his coat to toss onto the counter. Mandorin's face was murderous.
"Five knuckles! Five knuckles, he says! A mind flayer's synapses are easily worth fifteen!" He was seething.
Jolder met his glare impassively. "Aye, they are worth fifteen, when they've been properly extracted. The process is a dangerous one, you're lucky you didn't try. Then, they'd be worthless, and you'd be dead."
Mandorin's jaw clenched around what Jolder could only assume was a veritable tirade of insults. "I won't take less than ten." he spat, acidly.
Jolder smiled widely. *You cannot hope to win this game, boy* "I'll give you five, and a one use, two hour, scroll of invisibility."
"Eight." He fired back. "I brought you the teeth as well, you can use those."
Jolder inclined his head minimally. "Eight, the scroll, and you have to clean my counters and floor." He indicated the congealed mess on his counter with a nod.
Mandorin sighed. "Done. Filthy thief." | Another mundane day goes by and I start to think of what to do at night. The business isn't going as stellar lately thanks to the tension between the empires. There has been news about the city patrol gone missing at nearby village. Luckily nothing major happens so far. Sometimes I wonder if I should have stayed behind the wall and do the business. While war means profit for some merchant, it is definitely not the case for a pawn shop like mine.
The doorbell rings and interrupts my train of thought. I put on my usual business face until I realize who he is.
"Argh! Not you again Colt." I look at the warrior with disappointment.
"It is good to see you. How is the business doing?"
"Not bad, until you come in." I raise my eyebrow when I see the big bag on Colt's back, "Don't tell me..."
"Relax, this time I got something real nice for you. I am sure you will find them valuable." Colt puts his bag on the floor with all his strength, "You know, at the time of war, staff like this is going to spike in price. Soon enough you will be swimming in all the fortune and..."
"Cut that, Colt. You never learn, right?" I step out of my counter and look at his bag, taking a sword out of it and examine it with one of my eyes closed.
"Ah! That is the sword I found in the ruin a few days ago. Some bandit took camp there. They said it is made by..."
"The master swordsmith? Yep, totally. All 87 of the swords in the bag are made by THAT master swordsmith. Am I right?"
"How do you know that? I never know you are an expert on the topic of sword." Colt's face is full of excitement.
"And my 16 year old niece can make one better than all of them. It does not take an expert to know these swords are just crap."
"Well... I do, however, have something that you may find interesting." Colt dives back into his bag until I stop him in the track.
"A few sets of broken armor, some dozens of stinky boots, probably several maces and axes..." I speak without looking at the bag, "Seriously, why you always have to do this to me. I am sick of buying your junks. They don't even sell!"
"But I spend so much time looting them from the roads and camps! Cannot you be more considerate about the hard work I have spent gathering them?" Colt looks at me with his teary eyes. Not this again I say to myself.
"This is why I hate adventurers... Fine. I will take them. Put them on the scale."
"A... what?"
"Put them on the scale, damn it." I look at him with my hands crossed, "You don't expect me to price them one by one, right?"
"But... but..."
"Either that or no deal. Seriously, I am already taking a big risk of buying all these crap from you."
"Sigh... Fine." Colt puts the bag on the scale and nearly breaks it. I give him a silver and some copper. He nods and smiles like an idiot. Maybe I should have paid less in the first place. But his reaction is always the best to lighten my day.
Colt leaves the shop while rumbling about the new sword he plans to buy. Meanwhile I put the closed sign on the door and start the treasure dive. I hope I could find one thing that can sell more than five copper. | 2016-10-16T09:13:08 | 2016-10-16T08:54:28 | 91 | 55 |
[WP] The founding fathers come back from the dead to check up on America, and boy do they have some asses to kick. | Reporters pushed their way through the crowd, and cameras flashed like firecrackers. The five men had formed a defensive ring, alternating their confused looks between each other and the crowd before them.
"Jeanne Larsen, New York Times," one reporter shouted, thrusting her microphone into the tallest one's face. "Can you confirm your identities as the American Founding Fathers?"
Thomas Jefferson glanced at the microphone, then down at Jeanne. His frown deepened, and he pushed the microphone towards the man next to him.
"Uh," John Adams said, and flinched as his voice was amplified. "I suppose? I'm Adams, John Adams - this man is Jefferson, this is - "
"John," one of the men whispered loudly, elbowing Adams. "John. You have to see this."
" - Franklin," Adams finished with a sigh, turning away from the reporter. "What is it, Ben?"
As an answer, Franklin waved a small rectangle in front of Adams' face. "This!" he said with a wide grin. "It's called a *phone*. You can communicate with people in instants!"
"How do you know that?"
Franklin indicated a young boy in front of him. "This man lent me his!"
"I, uh, kinda need that back," said the boy.
"In a minute," Franklin said, flapping his hand. "Look! He showed me this one site - it's called *Red-Dit*." The boy winced at his pronunciation, but said nothing.
John frowned at the small writing on the screen. "What does that mean?"
"Perhaps it's French?"
"It's not French," Jefferson said, glancing over. "And it sounds ridiculous."
"Oh, of course you would know - "
The smaller man next to Jefferson coughed loudly, and the three of them looked over at him. (The final man appeared to be occupied.) "Could we focus, please?" James Madison asked. "We're obviously far from home, although I don't know where, and - "
"You're in New York City," one reporter interjected. "Oh, uh - Scott Shaw, Washington Post."
"What?" the final man muttered, speaking for the first time.
"Not you, George," Madison said, pulling out his handkerchief. "I think it's his newspaper." He coughed again, then leaned over. "What on earth are you doing?"
Washington looked up at the woman in front of him. "What is this again?"
The woman smiled, an almost wicked gleam in her eyes. "This year's first presidential debate," she said.
"It's atrocious," Washington said. "I was expecting the two-party system, since my colleagues are a pigheaded bunch - I could never make them work together - but this is another disaster all together."
"What are they saying?" Madison asked, poking the screen of the tablet. The video paused. "What even is this?"
The woman leaned forward and unpaused the video. "Here's the other headphone," she said, passing it to Madison. "Just put it in your ear."
After a moment of fumbling, Madison put it in correctly and listened for a minute. His frown grew more and more pronounced, until he finally yanked it out. "Good God," he said.
"Don't worry," the woman said. "It gets worse."
"Impossible," Washington muttered.
On the other side of the ring, Adams' arm was repeatedly nudged. "John, look," Franklin whispered, holding out the phone again.
Adams broke off what he was saying to Jeanne and Scott ("I'm really not sure what you're asking; who are the Red Sox?") and looked at the phone. "Is that a cat?"
"Yes," Franklin said, beaming. "Look at it! Isn't it adorable?"
"What is it doing?"
"Being a cat," Franklin said, replaying the video. "Just look at it!"
"Look, man," the boy in front of Franklin said, "I really need my phone back. It's getting late."
"Hang on," Franklin said. "I just want to watch this again, give me a moment."
A loud holler went up at the edge of the crowd, and all five men turned to see the cause of the commotion. People began to shout, turning their cameras to the intruder as he forced his way through the crowd. "My good men!" he shouted, waving a pamphlet of paper. "I bring wonderful news!"
"*Wonderful*," Jefferson echoed sarcastically. Madison made a sound that may have been a laugh.
"Alexander," Adams greeted, ignoring the glare he got from the younger man. "What's the news?"
Alexander Hamilton tossed the pamphlet at him. John caught it with a distinct lack of grace and unfolded it to see the words *Playbill* and *Hamilton*.
"They've written poetry about me!" Hamilton said. "Singing odes to my talents! Look!" He gestured to the silhouette on the cover, his grin as wide as the sky as he said his next words. "I'm *famous*!"
Adams stared at the playbill, then up at the clouds. "God help us all," he said. | Once word got out that the founding fathers had miraculously risen from the dead, every news outlet in the country wanted first dibs on the story. A spokesman for the founding fathers had announced publicly that they had all risen from the dead about two years ago, but were kept in secret to undergo routine medical checkups among other things. Included in that time-frame was some much needed education on technology, culture and all of the history that has passed since their death.
&nbsp;
At the press release reporters gathered and stared in awe as the founding fathers stood on stage wearing, perhaps not surprisingly, the garb of their century. "We would like to begin this meeting with questions from the press. Undoubtedly you will all have some, so please be civil and we will address as many of you as time permits" announced the spokesman.
&nbsp;
Immediately hands went up all over the room and murmuring began. "Yes, you in the red sweater." said the spokesman.
&nbsp;
"Hello, my name is Ken. This question is for all of you. Are you proud of the way America has developed? Have we progressed about like you might have expected with respect to legal and political issues?"
&nbsp;
All of the founding fathers seemed to raise their brows, but the first to speak was Benjamin Franklin. "It seems to be, that man today is displeased with leadership that he himself has elected, yet does nothing to resolve the conflict. Long since passed is the sense of pride and duty to ones country in which men proudly voiced their concerns and rallied together to elect their representatives. In direct answer to your question, I find it unbearably saddening that we have failed you. The laws enacted by the fine men who stand here today were done so with the best interest of the future of this great nation. Perhaps the verbiage was all too unclear, and politicians have been unwilling or unable to make sound judgement in the addition or adjustment of amendments to the constitution. Furthermore, and I dare say most importantly, you, the American people have grown complacent. Entitled and lazy citizens have failed to move the country in the right direction by not taking part in the electoral process we so carefully and meticulously designed. At the time of our influence in legal matters we had not considered that men would grow so careless, so reckless and so willfully uneducated in matters of government, the very government that rules their every day lives. One could blame greed, or a thirst for power, but in the end the blame lies on every voter who did not know who represents him in office. Every man who votes only for a president, but cannot name his congressman, every man who fails to appear to vote, to personally and physically express what he feels is important. Government fails when the people fail their government. You have failed your government. Like a festering pot of stew left on the counter the government has spoiled. It was slow, and when you knew it was starting to turn you did nothing. Matters progressed until today; you find yourself constantly choosing 'the lesser of two evils' and failing to even consider, for once, that perhaps you deserve to elect the best of two greats. So Ken, I say that I am personally offended at the state of America. I did my best to arm the American people with the tools needed to govern their government and the system we designed was not as successful as I had hoped."
&nbsp;
The spokesman stepped up. "Unfortunately I have just been informed that the founding fathers have time for only one more question.' The room grew loud as reporters shouted their questions to the panel in hopes of grabbing their attention. "You, there, lady with the blue suit. What is your question."
&nbsp;
"What about assault rifles? You may have heard that we now have some pretty serious weapons that weren't around when the 2nd amendment was created. Should citizens be allowed to carry assault rifles?"
&nbsp;
Thomas Jefferson stepped up to the microphone to answer. "The very fact that this amendment is called into question strikes fear in the very fabric of my being. No man should be forced to give up his arms, not now, not when the second amendment was drafted and not ever. You should recall that these laws were written to allow man to arm himself against his government. Any weapon his government can use against its people, the people should be able to use to protect themselves against their government. The day a government aims to arm itself with higher power arms than its citizens is a frightening day indeed. This tells us one thing: that they want the ability to overpower you, and you to be powerless against it. Even good intentions lead to disastrous outcomes when man is given too much power. Today it seems trivial, tomorrow you elect a tyrant and the next you're oppressed and defenseless against the government you let run away from you. So in answer to that question I shall say: be careful what liberties you give your government. Think fully of the possible outcomes of that action years, decades or centuries into the future. Times will change, freedoms will disappear but once taken they will never be given back."
&nbsp;
As he finished his response the secret service began ushering the men off the stage. Photos flashed as reporters shouted more questions thy knew wouldn't get answered.
"Okay guys, thank you! That's all the time we have for now."
With that, the founding fathers were off.
"If you want more information, they will be making appearance on several late night talk shows over the coming weeks." the spokesman said as he wrapped up the meeting. | 2016-10-17T11:50:20 | 2016-10-17T11:29:27 | 427 | 115 |
[WP]Aliens attack earth.They have weapon superiority, a vehicle advantage, and a technological lead. Unknowingly humanity is the only race in the universe which self-sabotages any technical advancements with computer viruses.The aliens are moments away from hooking up to earth’s internet network… | "We are almost connected, sir!" The technician said, triumphantly. The captain of the massive fleet of ships smiled as he looked over the blue planet.
"Good. Soon we will know everything about this world." The captain said, foreseeing his victory. He looked to his General on Deck. "Prepare the DMC for firing. As soon as we know everything about this planet, fire that damn thing."
"What are they doing?" President Somme asked the Head of Technology, Samantha Rogers. She was busily talking on multiple cell phones. She lowered the one she was talking on to answer.
"They seem to be connecting to the global internet." She answered. "Just like the last ones." She then raised the phone back up to her ear and continued to talk.
"Excellent. Prepare the redirection." She said as he turned to the wide window where he could see the mothership, and the rest of the fleet. He smiled, remembering the massive victory last time this happened. The wreck of the mothership still lay in the Pacific Ocean.
"Sir! Connection in 30 seconds!" Samantha said, stressed out over all the phone calls.
"Send the redirection as soon as they connect!"
Silence filled the Oval Office for a brief moment, that seemed to last for an eternity.
"They're in!" Samantha exclaimed.
"Initiate the redirection!" Somme responded, an excited grin overcoming his face. Samantha yelled an order through the phone, then hung up.
"It's done." She confirmed. "It'll take action momentarily."
"Good." The president said, opening his window and taking a deep breath. "This is my favourite part!" He said, grinning like a madman.
"We have connected!" The technician said! Before the captain could answer, a link plugged itself into the Google search. "Captain, something's happening!"
The captain walked over quickly. He notices that the search is moving by itself. "What's happening?" He asked, demandingly.
"I don't know! I'm not touching it!" The technician said, flustered with his arms in the air. As soon as the webpage opened, an unnamed file downloaded itself.
"Stop it! Cancel the download!" The captain ordered, panicking.
The technician tried to move the mouse, but couldn't. "I can't sir!" The file completed its download, and immediately opened, with one thing in it:
Dont_Mess_With_Earth.bmp
The .bmp immediately ran itself, and after a couple lines of code ran down the screen, it went black. The entire ships power seemed to turn off.
"What is this?" The captain asked, bewildered. The technician gave no answer.
Then, a deafeningly loud noise came over the announcer, forcing everyone on board to cover their ears. The captain felt the ship plummet towards Earth and began to fall towards the front of the ship.
The president looked at the mothership plummet towards the Ocean, still grinning. He heard the noise, and giggled like a school girl and began dancing.
Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you dooowwwnn... | It was deadly silent, and every piece of technology in the NORAD eastern command center was turned off, except for one computer with a lone man in front of it. Though there was no noise, the air in the room seemed to scream. 150 employees, generals, privates, and politicians sat in breathless silence, as equals for the first time. The mothership must have just started to extend their odd tethers into our computer mainframe, as the building began to rumble. No vision outside today, all cameras were ruptured by alien tech. Now all we can do is play the waiting game.
The computer blinked, and every soul in the room flinched.
It had begun.
The architect of our plan the man on the computer, and I'll never forget when he turned over his shoulder and gave everyone a somber thumbs up.
We waited as the last humans alive as they downloaded all of our data.
A loading bar appeared on the screen, and our timer began.
We all knew that what happens here decides our fate, if the bug isn't successful. I turned and looked at the cute receptionist, hannah. If we get through this I swear this will be the day I ask her out.
Everyone gasped.
The loading bar was full. Now we wait..
The vivid landscape on classic windows desktop backgrounds loaded, and we watched as a silent phantom moved the computers mouse, to Mozilla Firefox. It single clicked the icon.
A long moment passed, and nothing appeared. It then triple clicked the icon.
Slow internet speed caused it to take longer to load, and it began to hyper click the icon. In a flash, a hundred Mozilla firefoxes loaded up on the the desktop. We cheered as a million bings loaded on the main browser webpage. The first sign of success!
We've made it this far! Could it be over?
Like a swipe from fate, some incredible alien technology was successfully able to exit all the web pages.
Jesus Christ they're smarter than we thought.
Ever pair of eyes followed the mouse pointer like a cat with a laser pointer. It expertly went to Mozilla, and double clicked.
One time.
Jesus Christ it's learning!
It loaded up the page, and clicked on the search bar. Now is the moment. Just like in New York, they're downloading our weaknesses off our private communications. We didn't begin to communicate through Pinterest for no good reason. The alien on the other side typed in googles web address, such fools! You don't need to do such a thing?!
It typed in p, and that's when it happened. The drop down bar loaded Pug pictures as a result, and the typing ceased for a moment.
The pointer clicked on it, and ET began exploring the online word of pug.
Fuck! It was supposed to go to our Pinterest!
FUCK!
The screen shot out, and sparks flew into the face of the architect. He flew back from his chair screaming, as smoke billowed from his eyes. The electricity went haywire, and light began to come back on, as the main tv screen in front of them activated.
Static. Static was all they saw for a moment, as they savored their last breaths.
A small figure began to appear through the static. As it slowly melted through the static a pug in a spaceship appeared before them.
"Ball?" | 2016-10-28T14:42:50 | 2016-10-28T14:36:29 | 70 | 30 |
[WP] internet goes down. An emergency public broadcast on the television plays "STAY INDOORS AND DO NOT LOOK OUTSIDE." The radio simultaneously broadcasts the message "EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY, GET TO HIGH GROUND." | “But we have no food here! No running water!”
“Dad the internet’s down.”
“When will we know what’s going on?!”
I lifted my flashlight up over the man’s shoulder, the pale faces of his family squinted and cowered from the glare. I saw the familiar yellow glow reflecting on the walls of the hallway, emitted from the family’s TV.
The man continued to speak as I fumbled on my belt for assistance. I knew I was making them feel uneasy; I hadn’t once looked them in the eye.
“You can’t lock us up indoors like this! It’s barbaric! The police said you were coming with supplies and information but frankly you’ve done fuck-all!”
“Jerry please don’t-“ His wife protested.
“You’re not locking us up in our own home! You’re our soldiers you’re here to serve US!”
He spoke with an entitled tone, a misplaced authority as if he alone could handle the responsibility of his country’s well-being and security. A headmaster or a manager I thought, uneasy with orders from a grunt like me. Somewhat like my old man.
Things could not get hostile, there was no time.
“Listen to the TV sir, just stay inside, stay down, and stay quiet.” The words came out like a recited song lyric, I was starting to build a rhythm with the sentence.
A soft voice came from the back; “Look at the TV… what’s it telling you?”
I glanced up, catching sight of a young girl crouching down with a child. The boy looked back at the broadcast, his face lit by the yellow screen.
“Please stay indoors”
“and…”
“Don’t look outside.”
“That’s why we’re closing your curtains. We’re all safe here together. Together we’re a unit.”
The child nodded with uncertainty.
“My kids are scared! I’M scared! You’re not telling us anything!” Once again I was faced with the father.
“Look after your family. Stay inside, stay down, and stay quiet.”
I turned to leave but the old man was not satisfied with my orders.
“YOU CAN’T-“
A sudden wash of white noise drowned out the scene, followed by a croaky and calm voice emitted from my belt; the signal scarred by feedback.
"Evacuate immediately! Get to high ground! No civilians."
My radio fell silent.
I glanced up, the man's eyes became wide and his grip on my arm tightened. I could see it coming together for him, the cogs turning, working out the situation.
My hand was on my gun before he could say a word, the bullet deep in his chest before he could move any closer. My ears rung loudly as his body fell back into his family’s arms as though crashing into deep water. In a swift motion I reached forward, pulling back the front door to wipe away the terrible scene in front of me, just in time to muffle the shriek of his beloved.
I paused.
With a march, I stepped forward towards the front garden gate. What lay behind me fell into the past, no guilt, no shame.
They would all be gone soon. A clean slate.
------------
This is my first attempt at this! I think I may have missed the party but any critique is welcome!
| The message on the screen read "STAY INDOORS AND DO NOT LOOK OUTSIDE." as my radio told me. "EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY, GET TO HIGH GROUND." Lucky for me, I fell asleep watching the television the night before which gave me time to cover the windows on both sides and the front before I accidently took in the beautiful morning as I usually do. Otherwise I might have been in trouble.
The lack of internet and phone service was disconcerting as I tried to get more info about whatever disaster was going on outside but wasn't all that abnormal for someone like me. Finally stumbling upon the radio stations giving the nearly impossible opposite order.
I pondered for a moment about what could be happening and what I should do and then I laughed, fortunately for me I'm one of the few people who doesn't have to make a choice. I felt bad for all the people who did, they must be terrified.
I plugged in my security camera and stuck it between the folds of the blankets I had hung up to cover the front window and used that to get past not looking outside directly. What I saw confused me... There were two people within view outside... one walking continuously into a tree and the other a short plump woman standing perfectly still seeming like she was struggling just to keep her balance.
"Okay that's weird." I said out loud. Talking to myself is my way of coping when things get a bit beyond my comprehension.
Looks like whatever is happening might be happening here too... I promptly prepared for my departure taking stock of my remaining food and water and making sure my kitchen knives were at the ready in case I needed them... Hated myself for not being a hunter at this moment, being without a gun made me suddenly feel remarkably vulnerable...
I turned the key in the ignition, I knew this was going to get hairy driving a camper with nothing but a security camera to guide my path but better than sticking around here... I had enough food to last me a while if I got stuck but I didn't want to get stuck in a danger zone.
I started heading up the path slowly working my way through abandoned cars heading slowly further up the mountain road. Occasionally hitting and having to nudge cars out of the way I carefully made my way as best I could. seeing the occasional person wandering aimlessly and several laying flat on the ground.
At one point I waited almost three hours for some random wandering person to get out of my way, he didn't pay any attention as I lay on my horn... further increasing my wariness of the situation. He didn't even seem fazed.
Fortunately as I headed up the drive got easier fewer and fewer abandoned cars and random people filling the streets till eventually I didn't see anyone or thing at all other than the open and curvy road. I knew I was running out of viable road that led up soon though and I wondered if I had reached a safe altitude...
I pulled into the next campsite, little place that looked like it was meant for dirt biking and climbers heading farther up the mountain. I parked as best I could in the center to get the best views with my windows moving my camera to get a lay of the land. There were some Campers and the main office building but from what I could tell... no people, no movement.
I sat for a while pondering my next move... wondering if I could go outside, so much to think about and no idea which choice was best. Listening to the broadcast over and over while the screen on my T.V. ever displayed the same message over and over never changing. When suddenly after what felt like hours, I heard a knock.
| 2017-01-27T04:28:55 | 2017-01-27T04:05:35 | 89 | 53 |
[WP] internet goes down. An emergency public broadcast on the television plays "STAY INDOORS AND DO NOT LOOK OUTSIDE." The radio simultaneously broadcasts the message "EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY, GET TO HIGH GROUND." | “But we have no food here! No running water!”
“Dad the internet’s down.”
“When will we know what’s going on?!”
I lifted my flashlight up over the man’s shoulder, the pale faces of his family squinted and cowered from the glare. I saw the familiar yellow glow reflecting on the walls of the hallway, emitted from the family’s TV.
The man continued to speak as I fumbled on my belt for assistance. I knew I was making them feel uneasy; I hadn’t once looked them in the eye.
“You can’t lock us up indoors like this! It’s barbaric! The police said you were coming with supplies and information but frankly you’ve done fuck-all!”
“Jerry please don’t-“ His wife protested.
“You’re not locking us up in our own home! You’re our soldiers you’re here to serve US!”
He spoke with an entitled tone, a misplaced authority as if he alone could handle the responsibility of his country’s well-being and security. A headmaster or a manager I thought, uneasy with orders from a grunt like me. Somewhat like my old man.
Things could not get hostile, there was no time.
“Listen to the TV sir, just stay inside, stay down, and stay quiet.” The words came out like a recited song lyric, I was starting to build a rhythm with the sentence.
A soft voice came from the back; “Look at the TV… what’s it telling you?”
I glanced up, catching sight of a young girl crouching down with a child. The boy looked back at the broadcast, his face lit by the yellow screen.
“Please stay indoors”
“and…”
“Don’t look outside.”
“That’s why we’re closing your curtains. We’re all safe here together. Together we’re a unit.”
The child nodded with uncertainty.
“My kids are scared! I’M scared! You’re not telling us anything!” Once again I was faced with the father.
“Look after your family. Stay inside, stay down, and stay quiet.”
I turned to leave but the old man was not satisfied with my orders.
“YOU CAN’T-“
A sudden wash of white noise drowned out the scene, followed by a croaky and calm voice emitted from my belt; the signal scarred by feedback.
"Evacuate immediately! Get to high ground! No civilians."
My radio fell silent.
I glanced up, the man's eyes became wide and his grip on my arm tightened. I could see it coming together for him, the cogs turning, working out the situation.
My hand was on my gun before he could say a word, the bullet deep in his chest before he could move any closer. My ears rung loudly as his body fell back into his family’s arms as though crashing into deep water. In a swift motion I reached forward, pulling back the front door to wipe away the terrible scene in front of me, just in time to muffle the shriek of his beloved.
I paused.
With a march, I stepped forward towards the front garden gate. What lay behind me fell into the past, no guilt, no shame.
They would all be gone soon. A clean slate.
------------
This is my first attempt at this! I think I may have missed the party but any critique is welcome!
| WELL....WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN?
....I don't know, Janet, I heard-
DO WE STAY IN OR GO OUT?
...I DON'T-
This is a joke right, Tim? Right?
...
RIGHT?
Shut UP! I'm trying to THINK!
How can we stay indoors and evacuate to high ground without looking outside?
...I....I....
Tim......say something....
This has to be a prank or something! Some kind of...
"STAY INDOORS AND DO NOT LOOK OUTSIDE! WE REPEAT, STAY INDOORS..."
"EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY, GET TO HIGH GROUND"
Who the HELL is sending this?...Tim, I'm freaking the FUCK out. This doesn't SOUND like a joke.
Okay, I'll look outside and see wh-
NO YOU FUCKING WON'T! NO WAY! The TV said DONT look outside. If we do ANYTHING we do it together. We STICK TOGETHER! Okay?....Tim?
You're right...go down together, in flames or glory.
Tim. This is NOT the time for your asshole theatrics. We could be fucking dying...
OR....we could be subject to a social experiment...or a hidden camera show...or Darrel is being a dick...or-
OR WE COULD BE ABOUT TO DIE!
Or we could be about to die...
You're an asshole, you know that right?
I know.
Good.
So, Jan, what do you think?
I think if you call me Jan again then you DEFINITELY won't be getting out alive.
Soz.
Fuck you... ...I think that you're right, nothing has happened yet...at all. For the minute we're safe.
But that could change...
It could.....
....what the fuck is going on?
I think I asked you that first...
Yeah...
"STAY INDOORS AND DO NOT LOOK OUTSIDE"
"EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY, GET TO HIGH GROUND, YOU DO NOT HAVE MUCH TIME"
Okay Jan....et, this is really freaking me out. I think we should stay in. If we die at least we won't see it coming. Whatever...IT is.
I....I was just thinking we should...leave.
Oh balls...
Well there's Carsons Hill like a quarter mile away, we could be up there in about 25 minutes.
We have to stay together. We have to choose.
Sooo.....flip a coin?
You're going to potentially let our lives hang in the balance of a coin toss?
......um.....yeah?
......
.....
Well, I can't think of anything else to do. It's been nice knowing yah, Janet.
Heads we leave, tails we stay....
WAIT!
What?!...wha-
Best of three or....
Fuck OFF, Tim. One coin toss. One decision. One outcome. One....really annoying boyfriend.
RIGHT......I have a silver dollar...I'll use that...HEADS IT IS! ....who was heads again?
THAT MEANS WE'RE LEAVING THE FUCKING HOUSE, TIMOTHY!
Yeah...that sounds....adventurous.
It does doesn't it?
Not really.
Grow a pair. Seriously.
Jan, whatever happens, know that I love you. Like, all of you.
I love you too, and don't ever call me Jan again.
.....
See Tim, there's nothing to be-
OH SHI-
--FIN-- | 2017-01-27T04:28:55 | 2017-01-26T22:44:53 | 89 | 25 |
[WP] After witnessing a death, a young girl falls in love with the Grim Reaper. She becomes a serial killer just to see him more often. | "Jesus *FUCK*!" If I could gag, I would. A dead body, torn and ribboned like a frayed cloth doll dipped in scarlet lay discarded in a cheap motel room.
A woman steps out of a shower, her hair up in a towel and no other apparent form of modesty, save for the steam that rises from her skin. I, out of a shame that she didn't seeming have herself, didn't look, not that I had to- I knew who she was.
And by God, what an utter hatter she is. This one included, she's killed 32 people, each one getting more and more... exotic. Now, I have tried- I did- I tried to be the tall, scary, stoic Death that people tend to think of, but this is just horrific. Genuinely, as a man (or... whatever) who roams the fields of war and stalks the hospital wards, I have never seen such *undoing* done with such attention to detail.
"Do.. You like It? I worked Very Hard to Make this Special for Us." She said. She came around me, gently gliding her finger across my black robe, pushing in slightly to feel the contours of my bones.
"Wha- If I may be *so bold* as to ask, WHY?"
"Well, I just Wanted to See You again." She said, just barely above a whisper.
"This is too far. You know you're going to Hell for this?"
"I was going to hell anyways. But I don't have to go just yet. We can just stay here... for tonight." I try to reply but she cuts me off before I can. "Every time I see you, you only show up for a second and wander off with some poor soul!"
"Yeah, because you killed them! Because that's my job!"
She gives me a pout and pulls herself closer to me.
"Well, can't you take a break from your job for once?" She protests. "I thought Love was supposed to be able to conquer Death! For one night, can't it just be you and me?"
I look down at her for the first time tonight and shake my head.
"Why do you think I'm here to begin with?" As I point to her body, torn and ribboned on the bed. | The dead white walls seemed to hum with excitement along with her. Tonight is the night. She trekked from room to room, waiting on nightfall. It wasn't required, but it just seemed fitting. The cart she pushed from room to room squeaked quietly along in front her. She seemed not to notice the front right wheels resistance to her every move. She was effervescent.
The fluorescent tubes in the ceiling did a poor job of illuminating anything at all, and she was grateful for the darkness. Most of them were asleep already, and it wouldn't be a hard sell to anyone that they had stayed that way.
Finally she arrived. This is the one. She was smiling ear to ear as she pushed her cart into Mr. Johnson's room and shut the door behind her. The shades on the only window were drawn, and the room descended back into darkness with the small click of the lock. Small red numbers flashed on the screen of the machine attached to Mr. Johnson. She crept slowly to his bedside. His eyes were closed peacefully, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
She went back to the cart, and grabbed the prepped needle from the bag resting on top of it. This was the worst part. She held the needle in front of her as she stepped forward.
One prick is all it takes.
To her dismay, the man started.
"What are you doing to me?" he breathed in alarm.
"Shh, Mr. Jonson." She looked up at his eyes, now wide. "I was trying not to wake you, but you need your shot."
The man seemed to relax a bit, but he still looked confused. "Oh." he replied uncertainly. "What are you putting in me?" he asked, with a slight smile.
She hesitated, looking back down at the needle. "Potassium." she replied, almost nonchalantly.
"Couldn't have just given me a bana..." the man started to trail off.
There.
"This is more like a thousand bananas." she whispered as she watched the light in his old eyes shine for the last time. The last carbon Dioxide the Mr. Johnson would ever produce seeped from his lungs unwillingly, and it was done.
She turned away. All that was left was to wait.
___
The room danced in the light of several candles. Orange light fought the shadows back into their corners, and then was fought back in turn. She watched their struggle silently, sitting on the uncomfortable chair.
Suddenly the light lost ground. There was a chill in the air. She knew that he was near.
She stood just in time to see him.
___
/r/Periapoapsis | 2017-09-28T15:20:16 | 2017-06-07T17:27:32 | 153 | 48 |
[WP] After witnessing a death, a young girl falls in love with the Grim Reaper. She becomes a serial killer just to see him more often. | "Sally, we really need to talk about our relationship."
Me and my girlfriend were standing in the middle of a bloody crime scene. She just murdered a old ww2 veteran in his home by poisoning his tea.
I have to admit, she was getting better and better with the killings. The poison she used would soon dissolve in the blood of the victim and the tea, making his death look like a normal cardiac arrest. Something normal for a 90 year old.
Her first kill was really clumsy. She ambushed a middle aged office worker in his apartment. The struggle which ensued took several minutes, alamred the neighbours and left a mountain of evidence. She barely escaped.
It was like watching a toddler making his first steps.
But at that day when we first saw each other, we knew we were destined to be together. So I helped cover her trails and showed taught her the skills of a master assassin I reaped years ago.
And now we were standing here, while I held her in my arms.
"What about it?"
"Darling, I love you and I really wish to spend more time with you. But the killings are getting a little bit overboard. I mean, this guy didnt deserved to die, neither did his time actually come. With this you are creating more unnecessary work for me."
"But thats the only way I can see you. You are always working and have close to zero free time."
She was right.
Many people think that the Grim Reaper is a single person, living since the begin of time. In reality we are a line of different persons. Each one of us was chosen by special criterias. And once we took the job we would work almost non stop for decades till we retired with the riches we "confiscated" from people who didnt need it anymore.
I was stroking trough her long blonde hair when I had an idea.
"Sally, how about you only kill those guys who are creating more unnecessary work for me?"
"You mean bad girls like me?"
"Exactly, serial killers, hitmen, mob bosses and their members. The scum of society nobody really needs. With this I could actually spend more time with you."
She smiled.
"Sounds good, but I will have to travel alot for this my sweet Reaper."
"Dont worry, I got this covered. Just see it as a opportunity to travel around the world with me." | The dead white walls seemed to hum with excitement along with her. Tonight is the night. She trekked from room to room, waiting on nightfall. It wasn't required, but it just seemed fitting. The cart she pushed from room to room squeaked quietly along in front her. She seemed not to notice the front right wheels resistance to her every move. She was effervescent.
The fluorescent tubes in the ceiling did a poor job of illuminating anything at all, and she was grateful for the darkness. Most of them were asleep already, and it wouldn't be a hard sell to anyone that they had stayed that way.
Finally she arrived. This is the one. She was smiling ear to ear as she pushed her cart into Mr. Johnson's room and shut the door behind her. The shades on the only window were drawn, and the room descended back into darkness with the small click of the lock. Small red numbers flashed on the screen of the machine attached to Mr. Johnson. She crept slowly to his bedside. His eyes were closed peacefully, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
She went back to the cart, and grabbed the prepped needle from the bag resting on top of it. This was the worst part. She held the needle in front of her as she stepped forward.
One prick is all it takes.
To her dismay, the man started.
"What are you doing to me?" he breathed in alarm.
"Shh, Mr. Jonson." She looked up at his eyes, now wide. "I was trying not to wake you, but you need your shot."
The man seemed to relax a bit, but he still looked confused. "Oh." he replied uncertainly. "What are you putting in me?" he asked, with a slight smile.
She hesitated, looking back down at the needle. "Potassium." she replied, almost nonchalantly.
"Couldn't have just given me a bana..." the man started to trail off.
There.
"This is more like a thousand bananas." she whispered as she watched the light in his old eyes shine for the last time. The last carbon Dioxide the Mr. Johnson would ever produce seeped from his lungs unwillingly, and it was done.
She turned away. All that was left was to wait.
___
The room danced in the light of several candles. Orange light fought the shadows back into their corners, and then was fought back in turn. She watched their struggle silently, sitting on the uncomfortable chair.
Suddenly the light lost ground. There was a chill in the air. She knew that he was near.
She stood just in time to see him.
___
/r/Periapoapsis | 2017-06-07T18:59:16 | 2017-06-07T17:27:32 | 80 | 48 |
[WP] In a world where DnD, video games, and anime have all been outlawed, the most feared and dangerous criminals are the nerds. You are America's most wanted, and you will not be stopped. | “Tonight on Cops, we explore the violent, dark underworld that is known as Dungeons and Dragons. A satanic cult that is known for its evil witchcraft and turning fifteen year old boys into vicious deviants. Law enforcement has all but expelled these dark lairs of evil, but still the danger lurks in secluded basements throughout small town America!”
“We have an exciting live broadcast for you tonight as Sergeant Mox and his highly trained SWAT team raid the layer of America’s Most Wanted Dungeon Master Dirty Breath McGee.”
The host raises a finger to his ear and nods to someone off screen, “We have just received word that the team is preparing for entry to Dirty Breath McGee secret lair!”
The scene switches instantly to a small suburban community. White homes engulfed in the blackness of night create the backdrop. The camera’s focus centers on the SWAT team from the side as they prepare for a blast entry into a single story home. Nothing ominous made the home stick out.
“Go, go, go!” Mox yells. He was the third man in the group of five.
His instruction encourages a loud boom seconds later, blowing the door of its hinges. The team moves bravely through the smoke and disappears inside the home. The camera shakes wildly as it follows behind.
It takes a moment for the camera to adjust, but dark shapes glide into different rooms with the fluid motion of panthers. “All Clear!” was passed several times over the audio system until eventually the team reemerged near a plain wooden door.
“This is it, the door to hell!” Sergeant Mox said, speaking to the camera now. The man had quite the air about him. It was easy to tell that he enjoyed the limelight and the chance to bring down the elusive Dirty Breath. “This -bleep- will not escape this time. You see, dungeon lords, or whatever they like to be referred as, conduct their dark ceremonies in treacherous labyrinths. I’m positive we will find the same here behind this gateway.” He pointed to the wooden door. It was plain, slightly dirty. It certainly did not deserve the overly dramatic adjectives.
The sergeant twisted away tapped the front man of the group. The man kicked the door opened to reveal a descending wooden stairwell reaching into a dimly lit basement. A pile of discarded clothes was visible at the bottom of the landing.
“Careful boys, we could be up against anything down there.” Mox spoke in a hushed voiced.
The team drew out each step for television ratings sake, but eventually they made it to the bottom. In that instance, shouts rose up and gunfire rang out. The screen shook again as the cameraman tried to rush to capture the evolving picture.
The smoke cleared to reveal a dimly lit table with four cardboard cutouts. The faces of pimply teenagers pasted on the cardboard, each with their own bullet hole through the forehead. A single light swayed overhead, pulling shadows back and forth. The heads nodded back and forth with the light, laughing at the failed police attempt. Bags of Doritos and Mt. Dew sat discarded on the table. Characters sheets and other papers settled back to the ground after the hail of gunfire.
“What the hell is this,” Mox said approaching the table in obvious confusion. There was an electronic tablet awaiting his approach, a head covered in a black hood sat behind this new screen.
“Hello, Sergeant Mox, your team finds itself trapped in the Dark Dungeon of Blackdawn Castle. The way you came is blocked and only forward through the darkness will you find your escape. What will you do next?” The faceless figure says from the tablet.
“Go fuck yourself you little shit.”
The sound of dice rattling reverberates from the device. After several moments the rattle stops.
“Sir, do you smell that?” A member of the SWAT team ask from behind. Mox waved him off, his attention on the tablet.
“It seems your team has run into a slight problem. Whoever made this dungeon struck a natural gas vent and forgot to inform the castle Lord. Please make a reflex save.”
Mox could smell it now. He dropped the tablet back to the table and turned to run, “Get out of here!” He yelled, pushing at anyone who was near as he moved for the stairs.
“I’m afraid your roll fails.” The voice said sadly.
The television camera caught the initial blast of the flames. The blast pushed the SWAT team off screen and the whole scene went black in an instant. It shifted to a stunned host who stared at the camera. He clearing was not expecting this scenario.
“Uhm, we will, uh, we apologize this, uh, time as it seems we are having technically difficulties.”
---
Find more of my writing at www.halljournal.com
| Marvin quickly pushed his glasses up his nose and let his pencil hover lazily over a sheet of paper. In a voice too high for a 25 year old male, much less one weighing over 200 pounds, he squeaked, "Roll for initiative." I looked at the dice in my hand for what seemed like an eternity but was only a few seconds; would this lunatic let the world come down upon us just because I didn't roll correctly? The police outside answered for me as a controlled detonation somewhere downstairs knocked me off my feet and the dice out of my hand. Frantically scrambling, I saw I had only rolled a seven. In a panic, I attempted to flip the dice to my favor but Marvin saw it first. "A seven? that will buy you some time, but you will have to do better than that for both of us to make it out of here alive."
With a slight shuffle of the papers strewn across his desk Marvin hit a switch on a console under his desk. Suddenly, a door opened to his left. "Follow me please, and try to hurry, I think I hear some footsteps coming this way." What Marvin did not count on, however, was the speed in which I ran when my own mortality stared me in the eyes. With a push off that sent quite a few Collector's Editions of famous videogames flying I sprinted down the hallway. Marvin, nonplussed, waddled behind me. The hallway was dark and in my hurry I tripped over what seemed to be a brick. Marvin, chuckling slightly pulled a light switch and closed the door behind him. Now with the lights on, I could see the collector's edition in the hallway with what appeared to be burn marks and tears along the edges, unlike the mint condition of the other games in the previous room, the title was still clear however: No Man's Sky. Marvin, for the first time since I had known him, seemed genuinely upset and quickly turned the light back off. "I don't have many regrets in life, but I believe that counts as quite a few." He rather firmly pushed me along into the next room.
Instead of turning on the lights in this room, Marvin quickly clapped twice and a barrage of what can only be described as an 80's skating rink greeted me. The floor was a disco, and the colors alternating were only interrupted by a large arcade copy of Dance Dance Revolution in the middle of the floor. Marvin seemingly faster than light was onto the machine and inserted four quarters in. "You don't talk much do you? Well, let's see if you can dance, if so I might let you go." Now at least I had a physical advantage over Marvin, and for the first time thought I might live. I clambered unto the board and waited for Marvin to start the game. Unfortunately, it was at this moment the police barged into the room and drew their weapons, it seems Marvin was so distracted by No Man's Sky he forgot to close the door all the way.
"Hands in the Air now!" They yelled with their guns in the air.
"If you insist," Marvin proclaimed and Word Up by Cameo blasted over the speakers. Whispering to me he said, "might want to start dancing the floor has magnets strong enough to stop the bullets, but is powered by this pad."
Not needing to be told twice I quickly looked at the screen and followed along.
*And you know just what to do*
The police opened fire
*Wave your hands in the air like you don't care*
Marvin gleefully waved as the bullets were pulled into the floor
*Glide by the people as they start to look and stare*
Marvin danced with more grace and talent than should be humanely possible.
*Do your dance, do your dance, do your dance quick mamma*
The police lifted their weapons as high over their heads as possible to try and get more distance out of the bullets, but their efforts were in vain. Frustrated by the constant song and the furious dancing of Marvin they rushed the pad. Marvin simply tapped a button on the screen and the floor turned blue and arced with electricity.
"What the he-" was the only thing that came out of any of the police before he hit the ground.
With another slight press Marvin jumped from the platform and turned towards the policeman
"As you can see, they did not have the spirit of dance. You didn't either to be honest, but seeing as you at least tried I'll let you go."
A door opened on the far wall and I sprinted towards it, happy to be away from this madman.
"Now what did we learn?" Marvin questioned
"Don't torrent anime without a proper VPN and stay the hell away from anyone who claims to provide sanctuary from the police that you met on Craigslist"
Silent no longer, I flew out the door.
Marvin, alone at last to watch One Piece Man in peace after he dealt with the pesky police suddenly said out loud: "Oh no, I forgot to introduce him to my waifu!"
| 2017-07-03T10:10:54 | 2017-07-03T09:16:32 | 66 | 14 |
[WP] In the future, romantic attraction is literal: each person is fitted with an electromagnetic bracelet which, they claim, will pull you to your soulmate. It's the day they turn the magnets on, and you're waiting. | My anxiety was climbing through Cupid’s roof, and I was hoping his arrow wouldn’t shoot me down. At the time, I didn’t know what would happen. For all I knew, I’d be attracted to someone across the globe, and our slowly colliding bracelets would never quite pull us together, hindered by, you know, a massive fucking ocean.
That wasn’t the issue that I had to be concerned about, however.
The minutes drew nearer, yet somehow extended towards infinity, taunting me with the concept of love, but no real closeness. That would end soon enough.
In my distressed state, I phoned my best friend since primary school, Jake, and felt no more comfort, as he was in exactly the same restless state as I was.
The countdown on the television grew louder, and minutes turned into seconds, although, through my anxiety, I couldn’t tell any difference.
**00:00:00**
Instantly, my arm rose from my side, and I felt myself being magnetised and forcefully pulled towards my bedroom wall. I resisted the magnetism, told Jake I’d see him soon, and escaped through my front door, before walking in the correct direction.
Within a few minutes, I had reached my town centre, and the electromagnet of love grew stronger. I stared down at my wrist, with the neatly coiled bracelet resting so elegantly, yet controlling me so boisterously.
Before I knew it, another wrist appeared, and it stuck to mine with a soft *click*. I was attached to my soulmate. When I looked up, my life would change forever.
And so I did. I looked up, and what I saw still daunts me. The eyes which I gazed into were that of Jake’s girlfriend.
Goodbye, bro code. | I waited. Because I figured the chicks would fly to my charm faster than I to them. But after my phone flooded with Instagram date updates, I still as solitary as a loner during prom. No one on my radar. I checked over and over again, verifying the legitimacy of the bracelet. It worked fine. But...no soulmate? I called the authorities to see if this was normal. It wasn't. I knew soulmates were an assigned thing, a similarity check given by the Gods above. But my magnetic strength was switched on, and no one was coming.
It was 4 days later. Many were married by now, some even on the way to having kids. And me? Still at home, eating junk food and waiting for the one moment where someone would come for me. *Pull me,* I told the circlet of metal around my wrist, *even if she's ugly. I need companionship!* But metal has no ears and no feelings, so alone I stayed. I wondered if the Gods of love accidentally left me as the extra one in an odd-numbered population, but the Gods said the population at the time of the magnet activation would never be odd. Never.
But...the papers said the number was odd. For the first time.
And for the first time I looked at my bracelet and noticed something...off. The red glowed a sinister dark, almost a menacing beckon. The metal shone dully and it produced a hollow sound. Around me, I could feel muscles tensing, cameras moving and people watching. The realization struck as I looked at the circlet again, a sentence beginning to form.
*Henry Abacroft, the odd one out.*
And before the gunshots began, I was off. To where, I didn't know. But as the dogs of Hell lapped at my ankles, I was determined to outrun them until Death thought it time. For I, the odd one out, would find my match.
_________________________________________________________________
More over at r/Whale62!
Edit: [Part 2!](https://redd.it/6pglk1) | 2017-07-25T09:28:08 | 2017-07-25T07:35:55 | 48 | 16 |
[WP]Every person on earth recieves a message. If nobody is killed by another person for 24 hours everyone will recieve 1 million dollars. However if somebody is killed the killer will recieve 100 million but their name and photo will be made public. | * English it not my native language, sorry in advance.
We had gone 23 hours without killing anybody. I don't know how we got this far but we did. The streets were dead-silent; the whole world was waiting and watching the news. Finally, peace. I turned up the music and started playing games. It was almost time. I was so hungry and just waiting for the moment.
I wasn't the only hungry one in the house. Rex looked at me.
"Come on, not now." Rex continued to look at me with sad puppy eyes. I lost the game.
"You won this time.." I scratched Rex's head and got his food.
"Your world is gonna get so different after this is over, Rex." I filled up his bowl and got my phone out. I had to call my parents, what would they think of all this?
"Lucas, have you heard the news? It's crazy isn't it? The last time I felt like this was when you were about to be born. I was so nervous. Oh, dad wanted to talk to you. I'm so glad you called, how are you?"
"I'm really great, I just got a new job." Not true. I just wanted my ma to be happy.
"I'm so happy for you! Dad really wants to speak to you now. Love you!"
"Did I see you at the hospital yesterday?" My dad was trying to whisper for some reason.
"Is everything okay?" He genuinely sounded worried.
"Yeah I'm okay dad, thanks. Just got a new job. Rex seems to miss you."
"Are you sure? And tell him I miss him too." My dad really missed having Rex around.
"Yep, and will do." I barked at Rex. He happily barked back and sat in front of me.
"I'm gonna watch the news now, bye dad!"
"See ya, make sure you eat enough."
Economists were saying it would destroy us and add nothing to our lives if nobody got killed. I guess they were true. My life would be as shitty as it always was. Everyone's would be. There was a big countdown clock on the tv now, only one minute to go. I had to do this. I had to be the one to do it. Countdown at 10.
"I'm sorry, Rex," I said and I pulled the trigger. The last thing I felt was falling on the floor in slow-motion. | Less than two seconds.
That’s as long as it took for the lucky winner to claim his 100 million. He didn’t get to enjoy it very long. The few surviving historians estimate that the violence in the following week caused a greater loss of life than all wars in recorded human history combined.
The first 24 hours were the worst. People will tell you all day long that they would never hurt another person unless threatened themselves, but those people probably have never had 100 million offered to them either. It’s estimated that approximately 1 out of every 37 people killed another person within the first hour. No one realized that the winner wouldn’t be announced until the end of the 24 hour period, so most thought they still had a chance to win the 100 million. They justified it to themselves, thinking that there was no way humanity could last 24 hours, that someone would take the 100 million, so it might as well be them.
Others, drunk, high, or just not too bright, misunderstood the message, thinking they would get 100 million for every person they killed. Still others thought that any number of people could claim the 100 million dollar prize. Most of these people still killed someone, they just debated about it for a while before doing it. Some of these people got off “easy”, being able to legitimately justify their killing calling it self defense in the chaos that followed the worldwide announcement.
The violence didn’t stop after the 24 hour period either. More like it was the spark that ignited the powder keg. As the 24 hours came to an end, and people realized that they would receive no money, they lashed out in anger. Most had already killed at least one person. What is a few more going to matter? It’s not like there would be repercussions. The police had been overwhelmed with calls and cases within 30 minutes. Those who had lost friends and family in the chaos attacked those responsible. People fought each other. Families killed other families. Nations, seeing opportunities to attack did so.
Now, a decade later we are still trying to recover. It will probably never happen. For one thing, the population has been significantly reduced. I estimate there are fewer than 10 million people surviving on earth. Good news for global warming I guess. The cities that survived the wars unscathed are falling into disrepair. Government is largely non-existent. It seems like we are falling back in time, regressing. Working technology is growing more scarce. Electricity is a luxury that few outside of the ruling warlords can enjoy.
As for myself, I managed to survive. I found a little place out in the middle of nowhere, where I take care of myself, and will hopefully live out the rest of my life in some sort of peace. | 2017-07-30T12:54:33 | 2017-07-30T12:51:58 | 53 | 14 |
[WP] Death gave you immortality with the plan that you'd realize how awful it is and beg him to let you die. 50,000 years later he's getting annoyed as you continue to have fun and live a wonderful life. | The Thief sat in a bar. It wasn’t a nice bar; it wasn’t a *clean* bar; it was dank and shadowy and grim. Just like the Immortal Thief himself.
So long ago, the Thief had stolen immortality and as a curse, Death let him have it. Well, that backfired spectacularly. The Thief enjoyed himself, enormously. He had stolen the heart of one of Death’s daughters right after and Fate was a kind and generous soul to the Thief. She was beautiful and funny and loving to him. And after he had proven himself by stealing his own immortal nature, she left with him.
Two Ages later, and the Thief was still thieving, still plotting, still wanting more. So, like the thief he was, he took that too. Fate had delivered on her promise that she would make sure that he never died of boredom. He had lived a good life, but Death still periodically came.
Just. Like. *Now.*
“Son,” cried Death, greeting him with joviality and cheer. The old man really did like his son-in-law, much more than some of his other relations. The Thief smiled, a little sad this time. “I have a proposition this time!”
The elder immortal smiled hopefully at the younger. “How would you like my job?” | The room gets colder, and my papers flutter to the floor. I know he is behind me without turning around. "Hey, Death!" I say, pasting a huge smile on my face, "Has it really been 5,000 years already?"
The faceless demon nods slowly as I continue. "Man, what is this, the 10th time you've visited me? Don't worry, I didn't forget," I laugh brightly. I walk to my fridge and pull out a beautifully decorated cake. "Happy Anniversary!"
If Death had eyes, they would be rolling. His irritation brings me joy, more than I have felt in years. He thunders,
"MORTAL! Now is your chance! Come with me and find rest from life! I KNOW you must be growing weary by now!"
I shrug my shoulders. "Eh, not really. Life is pretty sweet. I mean, I've gotta at LEAST hold out for space travel, right? Then I'll have the whole universe to explore! I'l never get bored!"
Death hangs his head. I know he regrets granting me immortality, resents me for besting him. Before I can say more, he vanishes in a cloud of black smoke.
I look around my empty apartment, and my strength deserts me. I wish I could cry, but I know that the capacity to feel left me long ago. I wonder if I should have asked Death to take me with him. Anything would be better than this.
But spite is a powerful tool, and pride will keep my body alive long after my soul has deserted me. | 2017-12-01T11:49:56 | 2017-11-29T19:01:23 | 2,040 | 539 |
[WP] Death gave you immortality with the plan that you'd realize how awful it is and beg him to let you die. 50,000 years later he's getting annoyed as you continue to have fun and live a wonderful life. | The Thief sat in a bar. It wasn’t a nice bar; it wasn’t a *clean* bar; it was dank and shadowy and grim. Just like the Immortal Thief himself.
So long ago, the Thief had stolen immortality and as a curse, Death let him have it. Well, that backfired spectacularly. The Thief enjoyed himself, enormously. He had stolen the heart of one of Death’s daughters right after and Fate was a kind and generous soul to the Thief. She was beautiful and funny and loving to him. And after he had proven himself by stealing his own immortal nature, she left with him.
Two Ages later, and the Thief was still thieving, still plotting, still wanting more. So, like the thief he was, he took that too. Fate had delivered on her promise that she would make sure that he never died of boredom. He had lived a good life, but Death still periodically came.
Just. Like. *Now.*
“Son,” cried Death, greeting him with joviality and cheer. The old man really did like his son-in-law, much more than some of his other relations. The Thief smiled, a little sad this time. “I have a proposition this time!”
The elder immortal smiled hopefully at the younger. “How would you like my job?” | "Greetings Bobby, getting tired yet?"
Bobby turned to see the now very familiar cloaked form of Death and grinned as he inadvertently ignored the question entirely, "Dude, did you hear?! A new model of starscreamer came out! This thing can pull .04 c! And an acceleration of thirty gravities to get there! I've got a race organized through the asteroid belt with ten other pilots, it's going to-"
Death put its skeletal hand over its face as it interrupted Bobby, "Listen, Bobby, it's great you are having a blast, but don't you think that you are going to want to rest at some point? You know, take a nap, kick back, GET BORED?!"
"How could I get bored dude? I'm living in the future! I get to fly a spaceship, go meet aliens, see new planets, come on Death, live a little!"
Death couldn't believe it. This moral should have been ready to pass on centuries, millennia ago!
"Plus they've got a new solar jumper that can make it through the chromosphere! Imagine skimming the surface of a giant ball of plasma dude! Thank God I made some good investments when you gave me this immortality so I can afford all these neat toys." Bobby said, slapping Death on the back.
Death sighed. Would this mortal ever get tired?
"Sure I can't convince you to join in? Come on, at least some zero-g lazer tag, I bet you'd be awesome at it!"
"Goodbye mortal. I shall return." Death knew it now. He'd never get rid of this guy. | 2017-12-01T11:49:56 | 2017-11-28T15:17:00 | 2,040 | 14 |
[WP] Death gave you immortality with the plan that you'd realize how awful it is and beg him to let you die. 50,000 years later he's getting annoyed as you continue to have fun and live a wonderful life. | "Are you sure?"
"Yes I am. I got accepted into that new University in Delhi."
"You want to go to school again?"
"Yeah, its a new field... memeology is what they are calling it. Study of internet culture and changes within it." I replied back to the black mass in a pinstripe suit. This time he looks like an old funeral home director, a man who had seen so many dead bodies that he looks more like one than living.
"It's been 50,000 years. You've learned just about everything. All the degrees from at least every school accredited, enough certifications to fund an entire country in enough fields that you could build an island and have a better GDP than any other country." Death replied. It wasn't as cold this time he was here "Why don't you just die."
"You said I couldn't. Never in the past 50,000 years have I thought I could. I want to learn everything first."
"You want to learn what comes after death?" Death asked, smiling
"I'll learn that when I know everything there is to know in life." I replied, standing up from the cafe table, my drink gone, and the flower wilting. Touching it, it unwilts slightly "I'm learning more than you could imagine." | "Greetings Bobby, getting tired yet?"
Bobby turned to see the now very familiar cloaked form of Death and grinned as he inadvertently ignored the question entirely, "Dude, did you hear?! A new model of starscreamer came out! This thing can pull .04 c! And an acceleration of thirty gravities to get there! I've got a race organized through the asteroid belt with ten other pilots, it's going to-"
Death put its skeletal hand over its face as it interrupted Bobby, "Listen, Bobby, it's great you are having a blast, but don't you think that you are going to want to rest at some point? You know, take a nap, kick back, GET BORED?!"
"How could I get bored dude? I'm living in the future! I get to fly a spaceship, go meet aliens, see new planets, come on Death, live a little!"
Death couldn't believe it. This moral should have been ready to pass on centuries, millennia ago!
"Plus they've got a new solar jumper that can make it through the chromosphere! Imagine skimming the surface of a giant ball of plasma dude! Thank God I made some good investments when you gave me this immortality so I can afford all these neat toys." Bobby said, slapping Death on the back.
Death sighed. Would this mortal ever get tired?
"Sure I can't convince you to join in? Come on, at least some zero-g lazer tag, I bet you'd be awesome at it!"
"Goodbye mortal. I shall return." Death knew it now. He'd never get rid of this guy. | 2017-11-29T08:24:55 | 2017-11-28T15:17:00 | 935 | 14 |
[WP] Death gave you immortality with the plan that you'd realize how awful it is and beg him to let you die. 50,000 years later he's getting annoyed as you continue to have fun and live a wonderful life. | "Are you sure?"
"Yes I am. I got accepted into that new University in Delhi."
"You want to go to school again?"
"Yeah, its a new field... memeology is what they are calling it. Study of internet culture and changes within it." I replied back to the black mass in a pinstripe suit. This time he looks like an old funeral home director, a man who had seen so many dead bodies that he looks more like one than living.
"It's been 50,000 years. You've learned just about everything. All the degrees from at least every school accredited, enough certifications to fund an entire country in enough fields that you could build an island and have a better GDP than any other country." Death replied. It wasn't as cold this time he was here "Why don't you just die."
"You said I couldn't. Never in the past 50,000 years have I thought I could. I want to learn everything first."
"You want to learn what comes after death?" Death asked, smiling
"I'll learn that when I know everything there is to know in life." I replied, standing up from the cafe table, my drink gone, and the flower wilting. Touching it, it unwilts slightly "I'm learning more than you could imagine." | "......Tristan, would you please just die already?" Death said to me with obvious annoyance behind me.
"Oh come on, you know I don't want to. Especially when-" I immediately turn around to quickly remove Death's hood.
"H-hey! Do you want to die?!" Death, whose hood has been taken off, has her beautiful face shown in full glory.
Who would have thought that Death was such a beauty? I first saw her face around 2000 after I was cursed with immortality after a strong wind blew her hood. During that time I was just about to beg for my death, then I saw her face for the first time. It was beautiful, but her eyes were lifeless. It was then that I realized that she's been at it longer than I have, and I decided to make the most of my curse, for both myself and herself.
Now fast forward 48000 years later, and here we are. Humanity has advanced so much. Space travel, colonization of other planets. Oh, and we finally found alien life.
But that's humanity as a whole. As for my current problem....
"Why are you so stubborn?! Just die already!"
"I don't want to leave you behind."
"Wha- Just die!" She said as she ran away, leaving her scythe behind.
"Hey! You dropped your scythe!" I picked it up and ran after her.
Oh well, I've got an eternity to make her change her mind about rejecting my proposal. At the very least, her eyes aren't lifeless anymore. | 2017-11-29T08:24:55 | 2017-11-28T16:54:33 | 935 | 11 |
[WP] Death gave you immortality with the plan that you'd realize how awful it is and beg him to let you die. 50,000 years later he's getting annoyed as you continue to have fun and live a wonderful life. | The room gets colder, and my papers flutter to the floor. I know he is behind me without turning around. "Hey, Death!" I say, pasting a huge smile on my face, "Has it really been 5,000 years already?"
The faceless demon nods slowly as I continue. "Man, what is this, the 10th time you've visited me? Don't worry, I didn't forget," I laugh brightly. I walk to my fridge and pull out a beautifully decorated cake. "Happy Anniversary!"
If Death had eyes, they would be rolling. His irritation brings me joy, more than I have felt in years. He thunders,
"MORTAL! Now is your chance! Come with me and find rest from life! I KNOW you must be growing weary by now!"
I shrug my shoulders. "Eh, not really. Life is pretty sweet. I mean, I've gotta at LEAST hold out for space travel, right? Then I'll have the whole universe to explore! I'l never get bored!"
Death hangs his head. I know he regrets granting me immortality, resents me for besting him. Before I can say more, he vanishes in a cloud of black smoke.
I look around my empty apartment, and my strength deserts me. I wish I could cry, but I know that the capacity to feel left me long ago. I wonder if I should have asked Death to take me with him. Anything would be better than this.
But spite is a powerful tool, and pride will keep my body alive long after my soul has deserted me. | "Death, my existence has turned into suffering," I said. "My very bones ache, my skin is weathered. My body became nothing but a green leaf shriveling in autumn's time."
Death chuckled like a five year old, hiting his ball joint as he crouched slightly. "Immortality, a game only a few can play Darren," he said. "If you please, I can end your suffering with a single swing of my scythe."
I grabbed him by the clavicle, "Death, I have something to confess."
He cocked his skull, "are you afraid of the pain my scythe will provoke to your soul?"
I shook my head, "no, it's much worse."
He clinked his fingers against his mandible, as if thinking. "Are you afraid of Hell? You know it doesn't exist, right?"
"I'm not afraid of those mundane things Death, I'm not afraid at all," I said, locking my gaze in his hollowness. "I love you Death."
He hesitated, words dying on his trachea. "Y-you lo-love me?" he stammered.
I nodded, "as deeply as the void of your existence."
"Darren, I swear, together we can make eternity bareable," Death said with a grin and hugged me.
I burst into laughter, "did you believe me, you pervert? What is this called, humanphilia?"
Death hesitated once again, "what are you implying Darren? You weren't lying I smelled the scent of your soul, it was pure!"
"Death, it's been 50000 years. I know all your secrets, maybe you should learn what April fools day is," I said and patted his spine. "You are weird old friend but you blessed me. I will be in Bora Bora if you need anything."
"Motherf—"
-------------------------------------------
/r/therobertfall for more not so great stories | 2017-11-29T19:01:23 | 2017-11-29T12:47:04 | 539 | 149 |
[WP] Death gave you immortality with the plan that you'd realize how awful it is and beg him to let you die. 50,000 years later he's getting annoyed as you continue to have fun and live a wonderful life. | The room gets colder, and my papers flutter to the floor. I know he is behind me without turning around. "Hey, Death!" I say, pasting a huge smile on my face, "Has it really been 5,000 years already?"
The faceless demon nods slowly as I continue. "Man, what is this, the 10th time you've visited me? Don't worry, I didn't forget," I laugh brightly. I walk to my fridge and pull out a beautifully decorated cake. "Happy Anniversary!"
If Death had eyes, they would be rolling. His irritation brings me joy, more than I have felt in years. He thunders,
"MORTAL! Now is your chance! Come with me and find rest from life! I KNOW you must be growing weary by now!"
I shrug my shoulders. "Eh, not really. Life is pretty sweet. I mean, I've gotta at LEAST hold out for space travel, right? Then I'll have the whole universe to explore! I'l never get bored!"
Death hangs his head. I know he regrets granting me immortality, resents me for besting him. Before I can say more, he vanishes in a cloud of black smoke.
I look around my empty apartment, and my strength deserts me. I wish I could cry, but I know that the capacity to feel left me long ago. I wonder if I should have asked Death to take me with him. Anything would be better than this.
But spite is a powerful tool, and pride will keep my body alive long after my soul has deserted me. | The longer I observe his life...The angrier I seem. 50,000 years ago I tried to perform a little experiment, I would turn a mortal immortal, and allow him to see first hand the suffering immortality brings you- I was eagerly anticipating seeing him break down as he lives longer than all his friends- as he watches his children die of old age in front of him, seeing him snap until he comes to me and begs for my sweet embrace. Yet today he is still happy, he has another family and is constantly surprised by all of the new inventions he's able to see humankind create. For the past 1,000..or was it 10,000? It's been so long I have trouble keeping track of time, time begins to lose meaning when you've been alive for so long. What was I saying again? Ah yes- I stopped paying attention to him for the past 10,000 years, I got too envious. How could this man still be happy?! He's witnessed generations of his family die out, he's witnessed thousands of friends die. Although...This might not be too bad, this man may be the perfect candidate for my replacement. A thousand years after I was offered immortality a long time ago by the Death of my era, I came begging to him for release so we made a deal, I would serve as the new Death but I can choose when to move on as long as I find a suitable replacement. If this fool still enjoys his immortality, he may like this job a lot more than I do- After all I've been doing this for far too long. I don't even remember what it feels like to be mortal. Lets see if this fool still enjoys immortality after he becomes the Grim Reaper. Maybe I'll finally be able to laugh at him from beyond the grave as he realizes what a mistake he made. (First time doing this, I hope I did OK.) | 2017-11-29T19:01:23 | 2017-11-28T15:48:47 | 539 | 12 |
[WP] Death gave you immortality with the plan that you'd realize how awful it is and beg him to let you die. 50,000 years later he's getting annoyed as you continue to have fun and live a wonderful life. | The old man sat alone and waited for Death.
It always came this time of year; just before spring, in the last days of long nights and long shadows. There was no fanfare to his arrival. Death simply was where it once wasn't - namely, at the seat across from the old man.
"Are you ready?"
Death's voice was, much like its owner, just there, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Every year, you ask, friend, and every year I say no. You know why. Why don't you just come back when my duty's done?"
"Duty, is it now," Death responded casually. "Last year it was your joy."
The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. The old man fiddled with a toy.
"Come on, Nick," Death said, breaking the silence. "You aren't needed here anymore. They'll manage without you. Just take my hand."
"No," said the old man, and Death was gone.
Saint Nicholas put down the now completed toy. He looked around his tiny cottage, searching the walls for a name without a check.
"Suzy Hope," he muttered, addressed the toy, and started a new one.l
| "......Tristan, would you please just die already?" Death said to me with obvious annoyance behind me.
"Oh come on, you know I don't want to. Especially when-" I immediately turn around to quickly remove Death's hood.
"H-hey! Do you want to die?!" Death, whose hood has been taken off, has her beautiful face shown in full glory.
Who would have thought that Death was such a beauty? I first saw her face around 2000 after I was cursed with immortality after a strong wind blew her hood. During that time I was just about to beg for my death, then I saw her face for the first time. It was beautiful, but her eyes were lifeless. It was then that I realized that she's been at it longer than I have, and I decided to make the most of my curse, for both myself and herself.
Now fast forward 48000 years later, and here we are. Humanity has advanced so much. Space travel, colonization of other planets. Oh, and we finally found alien life.
But that's humanity as a whole. As for my current problem....
"Why are you so stubborn?! Just die already!"
"I don't want to leave you behind."
"Wha- Just die!" She said as she ran away, leaving her scythe behind.
"Hey! You dropped your scythe!" I picked it up and ran after her.
Oh well, I've got an eternity to make her change her mind about rejecting my proposal. At the very least, her eyes aren't lifeless anymore. | 2017-11-28T17:24:04 | 2017-11-28T16:54:33 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] She looks entirely human from the outside, but scans show she's older than pangea and incredibly dense for her size. | The doctors in their white coats looked over the uncanny human being. Or, what appeared to be a human being. X-rays, thermal scans, etc. all showed something incredible. This girl was as dense as rock.
It was ironic, because when she woke up...
She was as dense as a rock.
The doctors tried communicating with her, but she only gave them a bewildered look. Several weeks passed of this until one of the doctors brought in his twelve year old son to meet the strange girl.
When Micheal, the doctor's son, walked into the room. The girl instantly hopped off the examination table and stood face to face with him.
"You don't stink like they do."
Micheal blinked and looked up to his father. "I thought you said she couldn't talk."
The father could only gape in awe.
"My name is Gaia." she said, "I woke up because I felt the world shudder."
"Like an earthquake?" the boy asked.
"No, like in the days of Sodom and Gomorrah."
"I-ve never heard of... those."
She looked genuinely surprised, she looked up to the father, "do you not read the bible to your child? This is worse than I thought."
"Worse?"
She looked to the child, "In the days of Noah," she began, "the whole earth was full of sin. So much so that God baptized me and cleansed me of sin. Those days pale in comparison to today. The whole earth is filled with sin, so much so that even those who claim to follow god truly follow the devil."
The kid gave her a blank stare. "Who are you?"
Gaia rubbed her temples, "I'm Gaia, you know, mother earth?"
"Wait, if you're the earth, then how are we standing on you?"
"This body is a personification of myself, it's not-"
"So could you cause an earthquake right now?"
"Yes, but-"
"Then could you sink California into the ocean?!"
She paused, "that's actually not a bad idea."
"And, and what about-"
"Okay, okay, hold on. I'm not here to show off to you, I'm here to send a warning to everyone of you parasites that's living on me."
She glanced at the man who had been recording them the whole time.
"If the whole world does not repent and turn to the Lord, then I'm going to go all Pompeii on everyone."
"Pompeii?" the kid asked, "What's that?"
Frustrated she stomped her foot, "Okay! California just sunk into the ocean! Got it!? Imma kill you all unless you all stop being stupid."
---
Six months later.
Gaia sat at the screen of a computer watching herself on youtube. The title was 'Earth-chan's cut rant'. There were remixes and memes and vines...
"F*** it." She said and flipped the table, simultaneously setting off the largest chain of volcanic eruptions ever.
Everyone died.
The end. | A monochrome X-ray scan lies flat on the fluorescent lighting table.
At first glance, it has the outlines, a figure of a human being.
But, the shape itself, it is only black, with no greyed out shapes.
So it struck me with anxiety, that this X-ray scan is my first job to assess as an intern for this hospital's radiography unit.
And I didn't neglect my studies, this ain't normal!
I obviously know how X-rays would work: they pass through materials, expending some of their energy depending on the material's density, and finally it strikes a photosensitive film.
The school's image stock of various human scans never failed to instill in my mind that a
*normal*
human body
**does not**
have anything so dense it even blocks X-rays.
So....
I'll just dismiss it as a mere prank,and I already have an inkling of an idea who would do this overly and overtly technical pranks.Its that simple to realize.After all . . . the name
**EARTH-CHAN**
won't be as convincing as a legitimate patient name.
*Man, I'm tired. I guess I'll grab a cup of coffee.*
I leave the scan to where it is,and head towards the door.As I open the door, a girl was standing directly ahead.
>Oh, hi, mister!
>>Uh...Hi there as well.
Man, she's quite cheery, for a girl dressed in white hospital gown.I, as an aspiring medical professional, should not forget to reciprocate such a smile.But there is a hesitation.
The hesitation comes from the look of the hairdo.It is blue with stripes of green, and it bears an uncanny resemblance of an *internet meme.*
>Mister, is my X-ray scan results here?
>>Which?
>It bears the name "Earth-chan" at the top.
>>...Are you...
>Yes, please call me "Earth-chan". So tell me, is my X-ray scan here?
>>...Yes, it is here but you are not all---
>**DIE**
*Eh? Did she say -*
*~crack~*
>Ugh...!
She punched me, in my solar plexus.I coughed blood.I fell into the ground and I writhed in pain.I wanted to scream, but for some reason I was gasping for air, as if my lungs constricted due to pain as well.
*This is crazy*
>Hmph. I never thought I would be exposed of as an *inhuman* being by X-ray. What a pain. I guess I'll kill you here
>>???!!
*Run!*
But my feet... it was numb, and my brain is occupied with making me feel so much pain, and thus it never followed my will.
*Why is it so dark.Wait, there is something on my face. Ah!*
Her foot was crushing my eyes.I couldn't see the look on her face.What gesture she would make while I am suffering this torture?
>Goodbye,mister!
Those words would soon be the last I will hear.
*WAIT!NOOO---*
| 2018-01-20T05:28:19 | 2018-01-20T05:18:47 | 20 | 14 |
[WP] You are Death, but in a post-apocaliptic world. Only a few survivors remain, and you're doing everything you can to help them because if the last human dies, you die as well. The survivors can't see you, but they feel your presence and noticed your effort. They started to call you Life. | I held her in my bony grip. "Elizabeth," I whispered through the ether, "Hold on."
"What's going on?" she screamed, half in horror, hanging from the cliff seemingly suspended by nothing, "Let me go! I want to die!"
Deep below her there lay jagged metal spikes, the remains of an insurance building mostly destroyed by a nearby atomic blast.
"Lizzie," I said, using the term I knew her mother had used before she succumbed to radiation sickness, "You're not alone. There are others. Trust me, keep walking, and you'll reach the settlement soon."
"I'm crazy," she cried, tears falling from her eyes while trying to wriggle from my grip, I was limited in what I could do. If she wanted to die then I couldn't really stop her. I found out that I could change their minds though.
"Elizabeth Darlene Simmons," I growled, cheating by using her mother's own voice, "Did I wander the wastelands for you to kill yourself? Did I fight off those mutants for you to just waste your life?"
"M-mom?" she said, her struggle lessening, "I want to be with you, mom."
"You can," I continued using the voice as I slowly began pulling her up, only because she was letting me, "But not now, Lizzie. You have to live. You have to find the others - fight, live, raise a family. Mankind must continue."
"Why, momma?" she asked and the question struck me like a fist.
"Because," I said with her voice, then I switched back to mine as I answered truthfully, "Death sucks. There is nothing beyond. Only darkness and nothing. I should know for I guide the souls to the door and have seen nothing beyond."
"Who are you, really?" she asked, and to my surprise she allowed me to pull her to the top of the cliff fully.
"Death, child," I said, "I am the personification of Death. I am... afraid."
"Don't worry," Lizzie said, her eyes narrowing as she held my hand tighter now, "I won't let go. Not as long as I have a friend."
I relaxed and held her hand. Together we walked across the barren landscape toward the waiting settlement. For some reason I wasn't afraid anymore. | I roamed the scorched, torn apart streets. The vestiges of what once were great buildings lay scattered in the path. The silence, which I used to find comforting, now made my bones quiver. I missed the bustle of the crowds, and their awful jokes. I missed the smell of food, and the fresh scent of spring. I missed their tales, and I missed so much more.
So far, I had found a single family alive. I hadn't searched too much, for I had focused my efforts on taking them to safety.
They called me Life, and it suited me. They couldn't see me, nor hear me, but I had guided them with a path of stones to a cave in the mountains, where I left them with enough food for two weeks. Then, I came back to the city, seeking for life.
Six days had gone by, and all I had found was wreckage, dry blood, and the thick reek of radioactivity. There had to be more survivors. I had heard the rattling of those weirds creatures hunting.
I sighed, and sat atop a pile of broken boulders. The night was deep, and the moon shied away behind thunderclouds.
Something tugged the back my robe. It must have gotten trapped inside a crack. It happened a lot, for it loved to billow. I pulled it free, without success. I turned.
A woman stood there. Her skin was jaundiced and she had no hair. Her jowls were sunken, and her extremities were extremely thin.
"Help me," she said. Her voice was soft and fragile.
I froze in place. She could see me? How? She was still alive. I couldn't taste her soul.
I placed my scythe atop her head, and it shimmered iridescent. The countless colors bathed her in a gleaming shower of light, and once it faded, her skin had recovered her natural tone, pale-white.
"Is there anyone else contaminated?" I asked.
She shook her head.
"How did you survive alone for so long?"
"I don't know," she said, mouth quivering. "I don't know what is happening. I-I just woke up. Am I dead?
That didn't make any sense. Had she been asleep for an entire year? Why didn't the radioactivity kill her?
"No, you are not. Follow me," I said. "I will take you with the others."
The rattling of approaching steps resounded in the distance. The creatures were coming.
----------------------------------------------------------
/r/therobertfall - For more stories. I might continue this later!
| 2018-05-04T11:15:53 | 2018-05-04T11:11:58 | 146 | 25 |
[WP] “How many people would have been better off had I not been born?” The genie snaps and a few numbers appear in the air and form 7,592. “Okay, how many people would benefit from my existence?” With the flip of a wrist the numbers spin to a whopping 137 trillion. “Okay.... how?” | "What, are you serious?"
"Yeah," I said. "How can I possibly help 137 trillion people? Earth's population is only what, 7 billion?"
"Oh gosh, I didn't realize you were so dumb." The genie flicked his wrist and the number dropped to 100 billion.
"Hey!"
"Don't feel bad. That's still way more people than your existence harms."
"So how are there even a hundred billion people?"
"The choices you make can have long-lasting effects impacting generations upon generations of the yet to be born. Just, you know, maybe not as many people as someone a little brighter."
"What choices could I possibly make that has that big an impact?" I asked. "I'm nobody."
The genie stared at me for a long uncomfortable moment. "You. Have. A. Genie." | "don't get me wrong, you won't be a hero foretold in legends or a scientist that found the cure for cancer, but you will shape humanity with mundane clumsiness"
"mundane clumsiness?! That's not much of a super power is it?"
"well you did kind of broke that middle eastern lamp you found at a yard sale and were forced to buy it and it contained me. Soo yeah..."
"oke fair enough, but still how do i oops my way to saving humanity?"
" in 8 months you, a server at Starbucks will knock over a tray of coffee on a young man. That young man is an aspiring oil executive. He's on his way to a job interview at a small oil company. It's not much but it sends him in a path to become the world largest oil influence and he will lobby for fossil fuel. This will destroy every last chance for the world to recover. Because of you he didn't get the job. Because of your mundane clumsiness ethan, he will fail. "
" but what about the 7592, is there anything i can do to prevent that? "
" thats the one percent ethan, i suggest you don't" | 2018-08-15T04:55:10 | 2018-08-15T03:47:40 | 5,641 | 186 |
[WP] “How many people would have been better off had I not been born?” The genie snaps and a few numbers appear in the air and form 7,592. “Okay, how many people would benefit from my existence?” With the flip of a wrist the numbers spin to a whopping 137 trillion. “Okay.... how?” | "What, are you serious?"
"Yeah," I said. "How can I possibly help 137 trillion people? Earth's population is only what, 7 billion?"
"Oh gosh, I didn't realize you were so dumb." The genie flicked his wrist and the number dropped to 100 billion.
"Hey!"
"Don't feel bad. That's still way more people than your existence harms."
"So how are there even a hundred billion people?"
"The choices you make can have long-lasting effects impacting generations upon generations of the yet to be born. Just, you know, maybe not as many people as someone a little brighter."
"What choices could I possibly make that has that big an impact?" I asked. "I'm nobody."
The genie stared at me for a long uncomfortable moment. "You. Have. A. Genie." | Do cure cancer?
The genie shakes his head.
Do I end the fighting in the middle East?
The genie laughs and again shakes his head.
Now visibly angry the man asks
Well, what did I do then?
The genie smiles and snaps his fingers.
An acorn appears in front of the man.
"You planted this, a decade ago"
The man racks his brain. 10 years ago he had been on a middle school field trip in his old home town, a trip to the local park to learn a little about ecology.
On that day he had planted an acorn in the dirt. It was such an insignificant moment that he had totally forgot about it.
Confusion strikes across his face.
"But, how did this help 137 trillion people"
The genie smiles again.
"This one tree seed is now a towering oak, as nature takes it's course, this one oak will create dozens more. Because of this one small act a decade ago, you reduced the total carbon in the atmosphere by tripple what you produced in your life time. That is why they were better off"...
| 2018-08-15T04:55:10 | 2018-08-15T04:27:11 | 5,641 | 124 |
[WP] “How many people would have been better off had I not been born?” The genie snaps and a few numbers appear in the air and form 7,592. “Okay, how many people would benefit from my existence?” With the flip of a wrist the numbers spin to a whopping 137 trillion. “Okay.... how?” | The genie laughs and blurts out with elation:
"**By doing nothing of course!"**
"What do you mean '*by doing nothing?*' and what do you mean '*of course!'*?"
**"What did you expect me to say? Did you expect one good deed? One invention?"**
"Well...kinda. Maybe hundreds of good deeds?"
**"Tell me, which human do you know of that has done a good deed such as, oh I don't know, donating their clothes to a charity shop let's say; and made a grand difference?"**
"Ha! I would have expected something a little less innocuous than that. You know like, solve world hunger, or, create something that purifies water."
**"I can see why you would think that would help a lot of people. And it would. But, you did see that said** ***TRILLION*** .**..right? Not million or billion."**
"Well billion is pretty good!"
**"About a thousand times fewer people than you** ***will*** **help though. Look, you could create something that purifies all water, sure. You would ease suffering for millions. But is it not the nature of humankind to find problems to solve?"**
"I mean, I suppose. Not exclusively, but, yeh I guess."
**"So you purify all water. Now what is the next problem? People still suffer because now they can stop focusing on water but focus shifts to no food. Let's say you solved world hunger too! Now they argue over land and property, women, and fight for justice. Justice basically born out of the wish that people would stop arguing and doing harm to each other."**
"What so I should skip solving the problems, and instead treat the symptoms by just becoming a lawyer or a politician?"
**"There was a trillion on the end of that 137 remember."**
"I don't understand how I can help so many by doing nothing!"
**"That was the point! Everyone until now has always looked for a way to solve other people's problems. But look how destructive humanity has been in the search to solve other people's problems! It's like your old proverb, where the monkey reaches into the river to grab the fish, exclaiming as he does so:** ***'dear fish! kindly let me help you or you'll drown!'*** **and placed it safely up a tree."**
"How have we...But look at all we have achieved!"
**"Achieved? Let me paint a picture of humanity's achievements with the example of solving the problem of no light at night, by creating electricity. Ok, great we can see at night. Now how do you get the energy to maintain the electricity? You destroy the environment. Ruin it for others. See you cannot have something without taking it from someone or something else. The rainforests are destroyed for the wood to burn or oil to rub on your faces; the water is poisoned to get gas to pump into your flashy cooker; your -"**
"- OK! I get it. Don't preach. I understand what you're getting at. Yin Yang and all that right?"
**"Close."**
"Can you tell me how I change the world for 137 '*TRILLION REMEMBER'* people, by doing nothing?"
**"No."**
"Why didn't you say that in the beginning?!"
**"How can I tell you how to** ***do*** **nothing? That - literally - doesn't make sense."**
"YOU SAID IT! You said, and I quote: *By doing nothing of course!*"
**"And my responses have been questions have they not?"**
"Yes."
**"What you seek does not come from** ***knowing*** **the answer. There is no real quick-fix in life, they are all postponements of the truth. What you seek comes from the journey of discovery. You must learn what it is, to be."** | The genie took his time to answer.
“I can only give you partial answers, and you have a limited amount of questions. Choose your words carefully.”
The teenager paused, thinking. His eyes were looking in the direction of the genie, who was hovering a mere inch above the ground. But he wasn't seeing him. He had already burnt four questions out of five. He was ready to shoot his ultimate interrogation, but something bothered him. He had asked if he'd ever be rich and expected a simple yes or no answer. A number would have been nice, to see how bright his future would be. Instead, he wasn't even sure he understood the genie's answer.
“From most people's perspective, you will be immensely rich. But from the definition you will yourself craft from your experience, you will always miss something.”
As profound as this might be, it was so enigmatic that it almost made no sense. And this thought kept coming back, when he should be asking something else. He already knew he had the potential to alter countless lives. Well, not countless, since it was that many trillions. But yet... It was so obvious. The next step was to know how he could help all those people in the future. So... Why couldn't he utter the word out loud?
Finally, something clicked in him. If he asked how he was supposed to help all those people, he would get another cryptic answer. If he wasn't careful, he'd find himself with incomplete, useless piece of information. He didn't need to know how to help these people. He needed to know something else, and from that, he could form a plan to answer the how question. Raising his head to face the genie, he spoke.
“Why-why... Why will all those people need my help?”
The genie stared back at him, plunging his dark eyes deep into the young man's soul. He started talking like an old professor popularising a philosophy lesson.
“Everyone feels good at home, but what home is varies for everyone. Everyone cares for their home, but everyone cannot act to take care of it. Everyone loves their home, but everyone cannot stay home forever.”
The genie's stance softened slightly, a smile beginning to form on his lips.
“And do not forget. Everything you know helps you change what will happen.”
“But... Wait!”
It was too late. He was alone again. He looked at the old book laying on the floor. He had found it in this library, where he could get as many educational reads as he wanted without spending to much. But this... this was unhoped for. He had asked if he would ever be rich, and the answer was yes. Sort of. When he wanted to know if he'd be famous, he only learnt that some men are born to be more famous than others. Well... At least he knew that he would be of good influence. But that last answer... Everyone can't stay home forever... What did that mean? Was he supposed to leave his home? His country?
Of course, he knew he couldn't stay in South Africa forever. He had already planned to go to Canada for his studies. Surely, the genie knew that, and wouldn't tell him something he already knew...
What if... What if it didn't apply to him? Then... Who would have to leave their home?
Then again, something clicked in him. The answer was in the sentence.
*Everyone*.
“So... You told us this project can see the light in the next seven years. And if anyone can do it, it's you.”
The man, less young now, snapped out of his thoughts. The interviewer was obviously amazed, leaning towards him. In this reminiscence, not even a second had passed.
“So I'm just going to ask again... You dream with a level of complexity nobody saw since the likes of Nikola Tesla, and that's no coincidence. Then you execute your vision with so much tenacity. Elon... where does all this motivation come from?”
Not before a smile went through his face, Elon Musk breathed in, preparing his answer.
---
*[r/MimiStories](https://www.reddit.com/r/MimiStories/)*
*edited for typos*
| 2018-08-15T02:53:07 | 2018-08-15T01:58:00 | 164 | 43 |
[WP] A VR service exists where the super rich can use the poor as Avatars to live out their wildest fantasies. You're broke and you just signed your first Avatar contract. | “You don’t have to do this, you know,” her face full of concern as she reached out for my hand. “I know, but little Hank or Ruthie deserves a good life.” She rolled her eyes and huffed, “we are not naming our baby after a baseball player!” “But those names are so full of hope, the baby deserves that at least.” “Then let’s name it Hope if it’s a girl.” “Ugh, that’s so obvious.”
“Mr. Delancy?” I looked up and saw the nurse, standing outside the just opened door, looking for me.
“I’m up hon, gotta go.”
“No, I’m coming with you,” she stood up from her chair and started to walk with me toward the nurse.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Delancy, I only have you on the register today, is this your wife?” The nurse looking skeptical at Mary as we approach.
“No, um, I’m his, um, we’re not married yet,” Mary stammered.
“Everything is going to be ok, he’ll be right as rain tomorrow when you come pick him up. I am assuming that it’s you that will come and retrieve him, yes?”
“Yes, well, ok.” Mary turns to me, “it’s not too late, you can come home with me, we’ll figure this out together.” Her eyes well with tears, I can tell she’s trying so hard to hold them back.
“It’ll be ok, I’ll see you tomorrow.” I lean in for a kiss and she plops her head on my chest. Then she looks up and I kiss her before she goes.
“So, nurse,” “Call me Nancy”. “Ok nurse Nancy, what happens now?” “Just follow me.”
I follow down the corridor and for the first time, I notice the opulence of this joint. Fancy brass (or is that gold?) fixtures, real art (I think its real art, not like mass produced Walmart art normal doctor’s offices have).
“So, nurse Nancy, you got any tiny giraffes around here?” “Pardon me?” Nancy seemed confused. “Never mind,” I mumble
We turn into the exam room, there’s a table in the center and some kind of a mech suit in the corner. “Sweet! Do I get to wear that?”
“Not exactly Mr. Delancy, you’ll see soon enough. That’s the HBVRC.” “HBVRC?” “Yes, Mr. Delancy, the Human Body Virtual Reality Converter. Once inside, it transforms your body into a receiver so that the client can inhabit your body for the VRVRE.” “VRVRE?” “Very Real Virtual Reality Experience.”“You guys need better names.”
“Mr. Delancy,” she sits down at the opposite side of the table with a book of some sort. “here is the contract.”
“Oh boy, I didn’t realize the contract would be so long.”
“You’re welcome to take it with you to have it reviewed by a lawyer and come back, our next availability is in six months.”
I squeeze my forehead between my middle finger and my thumb. Mary is due in three months, we’re behind on rent. Diapers, food, medical bills, this is all starting to pile up. Not to mention college, how are we ever going to send little Hank to college?
“Ok, let’s do this, how much is the payout?” “We’ll pay you an initial deposit of $10,000 today and then payment thereafter will be dependent on the transaction type.” “So, like, what types of transactions?”
“They’re all listed in the contract, but for instance, petting a dog would pay at a rate of $10/hr, hiking in the mountains would have a rate of $15/hr.” “Why would anyone want to jump in to pet a dog or go for a hike, isn’t the, um, VRVRE, supposed to be fantasies?” “Well, Mr. Delancy, many of our clients are bed-ridden or homebound and unable to have these experiences and so they appreciate the simple joy of being able to pet a dog.”
I signed the contract.
“Great! I’ll just go get the doctor now, he’ll take things from here.”
| Draco. The sound of the new name filled the man’s mind. It dug like a worm into his subconscious, erasing the name that had been before. The sensation was that of a sharp pain, yet the man could not articulate it. Of course, his muteness mattered not; he had agreed to such indecencies.
The man’s body lurched, spinning about without his command. His placid face betrayed none of his inner turmoil, rejecting the countless emotions rising within. His uncolored eyes blinked in a steady rhythm, however, there was nothing to see. Not yet.
As his body continued to morph, the man thought of what had been before, of the life he had lived by another name in another place. Soon, it too would be gone. For the duration of the contract, he would be Draco, and his life would be of his benefactor’s making.
Pain flared again, new muscles rising from his pale flesh. An instant later, Draco’s body contorted again, the ground growing further away. New, foreign hair fell before his eyes only to be swept away by an invisible hand. His face buzzed as a hundred differently styled beards were cycled through.
The man wondered if something was wrong as his lips, nose, and ears began to blur. It had been his understanding that the Avatar procedure would shut down his consciousness. That it would be as if he was in a deep sleep. That he would simply *awaken* once the contract had completed.
*I’m not supposed to remember this,* the man thought as the features landscape shifted before him.
Gone were the white walls. In their place was an endless stretch of gold carpet framed by priceless paintings in intricate frames. A mirror formed opposite him, its image bringing forth shock. He no longer recognized his own reflection. Gone was the man he had been before.
There was only Draco.
*No. That is not your name!* The thought came from a great distance. The man realized that the conscious part of his being was resisting. *Accepting that name will mean losing yourself forever.*
*Then, who am I?* the man posed uncertainly. *I do not want to be a passenger within my own mind!*
But the voice of his inner-self was silent.
Then, another man stood beside him, short with graying hair. Draco’s head turned and examined the well-dressed stranger. The Passenger could only watch.
“I am Thomas. Are your features to your liking, Sir?” the serving man asked.
Draco nodded, a callous laugh escaping from his full lips. “It is not so hard after the first dozen times.”
Thomas smiled. “Ah, an experienced player … I should have known. There are not many who create such *perfection*. Of course, you will want to acquaint yourself with your new avatar before rejoining Society. There are several beneficial tutorials that can be completed in no time at all.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Draco replied. “Take me to the entrance, Thomas.”
The serving man bowed. “As you command.”
Draco walked gracefully down the regal hallway, careful that his long strides did not overtake the shorter guide. As he went, a suit of tailored clothing affixed itself to his frame. Draco took no notice to the seemingly supernatural, tilting the brim of an appearing hat low over his eyes.
Helpless, the Passenger's mind raced. *Why am I still awake? This shouldn’t be happening!*
A moment later, Draco arrived at a heavy oaken door. The serving man halted in the space beside him, outstretched hand on the golden knob.
“It is my responsibility to remind you of the penalty for the death of your Avatar,” Thomas said with formality. “If the body is deemed irrecoverable, you will be required to pay the agreed upon penalty to the next of kin.”
*My … death?*
The Passenger tried to shout in protest, only to remember that he had no control. Had such a provision actually been in the contract? It had been hundreds of pages; the sort of thing no one ever truly read. The agency had confirmed that it was the standard Avatar agreement. Everyone signed it!
Draco waved his hand with indifference. “I’m well aware of the rules, Thomas. Just as you are aware that money is of no concern to me. Good day.”
With that, Draco and his passenger crossed the threshold and entered Society...
&nbsp;
[r/creatorcorvin](https://www.reddit.com/r/creatorcorvin/)
| 2018-09-05T17:39:16 | 2018-09-05T17:13:12 | 16 | 10 |
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