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[WP] You and your immortal friends amuse yourselves with practical jokes. Since you're immortal, some of your joke setups take centuries, or even millenia, to execute. | So about 7,000 years ago Ollie dropped a boulder on my head. We were hunter-gatherers then, and he convinced me that there was a herd of red deer in a canyon near our camp. When I went there to check it out, he was on top of the ridge and rolled the boulder off onto me. It took a week for me to claw my way out.
Okay Ollie, funny prank. Ha fuggin' ha. But the thing is, he wouldn't shut up about it. As we progressed through the neolithic era, the bronze age, the iron age, when we were Roman senators, he would bring it up every single time we met.
Maybe it was kinda funny at the time, but not funny enough that I enjoyed hearing about it every week for 5,000 years straight. When our friend Hallie tricked our other friend Marko into being in Pompeii when Mt. Vesuvius erupted it was legitimately hilarious, and even they knew to shut up about it after a few centuries.
When the Renaissance and Enlightenment started in Europe, I finally figured out a way to get back at Ollie. As you can probably guess, being an immortal gets pretty boring. But the Enlightenment was a genuinely exciting time to be alive. I started making friendships with all the scientists and innovators: Newton, Galileo, Bayes, Kepler, Laplace. It was the first time something interesting had happened for me in thousands of years, and I immersed myself in it. When my astronomer buddy Giuseppe Piazzi up in Naples told me about his discovery of asteroids, I knew what to do.
Fast-forward 250 years. NASA's [Asteroid Redirect Mission](https://www.nasa.gov/content/what-is-nasa-s-asteroid-redirect-mission) is nearing completion, and an asteroid plucked from the asteroid belt is on its way to be put in orbit around the moon for further study.
Too bad the mission was doomed to failure from the start. The asteroid wouldn't achieve a stable orbit around the moon and would strike Earth instead. Their calculations for the orbital dynamics were the tiniest infinitesimal fraction of a percent wrong, and they had no way of knowing that. Why not? Guess who has two thumbs and has been subtly introducing tiny errors into every branch of science since its outset ... this immortal!
And, guess who was standing exactly where the asteroid struck, staring up like a dumbass while an asteroid hit him in the face?
Your move, Ollie. | Execution, that is the key to any good practical joke. When you're immortal, you're allotted all of the time in the world to develop a scheme so devious yet harmless that can make an impact on one of your friend's eternal lives. Yet it is so rare that our lives are affected by our friend's practical jokes. How is it so?
Memory. Something that is a mere hundred years for mortals expands into eons for us. Our brains simply do not have the capacity to hold all the small details that accompany these practical jokes. Many meticulously planned out jokes that had extreme potential such as "The Million Birthday Prank" a dozen millennia ago have been failures due to my friend forgetting key interactions.
I still remember it as I mapped out the plan for decades. Each step had to be followed perfectly in order to succeed. It was an operation that I was determined to succeed in. The first step took place on Serena's millionth birthday.
As usual, I arranged a cake for her. As cheesy as it may have sounded, she was my best friend for over 900,000 years and I still throw annual birthday parties for her. We use special kinds of candles,each representing a different multiple of 10. This one was a simple million candle, unlike last year's mess of 9 hundred thousand candles, 9 ten thousand candles, 9 thousand candles, well... you get the picture.
For each year following the millionth birthday, I arranged the other candles in familiar patterns, ones that I thought Serena would remember. The candles were dotted in our secret code, and knowing her, she should have cracked them and eagerly waited for her next birthday. The last coded message was given out on her 1,000,286th birthday.
1,000,287. This was the day that the final step will be executed. Inside, I was nervous. In my mind, I knew that she would arrive at the correct location, but I didn't specify a time. I was perfectly capable of waiting 24 hours though, we both knew that time didn't matter to immortals. That was my mistake, assuming that she would recognize my code when in reality it was forgotten long ago.
Over the next several centuries, I desperately thought of ways that I could make up for the failure of the previous practical joke. There was nothing so elaborately planned as that prank, I even took the time to program thousands of machines to carry out the prank on that last day. It took me time, but I finally thought of something, exactly in time for Serena's birthday.
"Happy Birthday Serena" I said as I slammed her face into the cake. As she recovered from the dive and started wiping frosting off her hair she sighed. "What was it this time, the 1,000,554th birthday?" I giggled. "Just came up with it today. Sometimes, you just have to act spontaneously" | 2017-06-23T00:57:11 | 2017-06-22T19:51:25 | 220 | 104 |
[WP] You and your immortal friends amuse yourselves with practical jokes. Since you're immortal, some of your joke setups take centuries, or even millenia, to execute. | So about 7,000 years ago Ollie dropped a boulder on my head. We were hunter-gatherers then, and he convinced me that there was a herd of red deer in a canyon near our camp. When I went there to check it out, he was on top of the ridge and rolled the boulder off onto me. It took a week for me to claw my way out.
Okay Ollie, funny prank. Ha fuggin' ha. But the thing is, he wouldn't shut up about it. As we progressed through the neolithic era, the bronze age, the iron age, when we were Roman senators, he would bring it up every single time we met.
Maybe it was kinda funny at the time, but not funny enough that I enjoyed hearing about it every week for 5,000 years straight. When our friend Hallie tricked our other friend Marko into being in Pompeii when Mt. Vesuvius erupted it was legitimately hilarious, and even they knew to shut up about it after a few centuries.
When the Renaissance and Enlightenment started in Europe, I finally figured out a way to get back at Ollie. As you can probably guess, being an immortal gets pretty boring. But the Enlightenment was a genuinely exciting time to be alive. I started making friendships with all the scientists and innovators: Newton, Galileo, Bayes, Kepler, Laplace. It was the first time something interesting had happened for me in thousands of years, and I immersed myself in it. When my astronomer buddy Giuseppe Piazzi up in Naples told me about his discovery of asteroids, I knew what to do.
Fast-forward 250 years. NASA's [Asteroid Redirect Mission](https://www.nasa.gov/content/what-is-nasa-s-asteroid-redirect-mission) is nearing completion, and an asteroid plucked from the asteroid belt is on its way to be put in orbit around the moon for further study.
Too bad the mission was doomed to failure from the start. The asteroid wouldn't achieve a stable orbit around the moon and would strike Earth instead. Their calculations for the orbital dynamics were the tiniest infinitesimal fraction of a percent wrong, and they had no way of knowing that. Why not? Guess who has two thumbs and has been subtly introducing tiny errors into every branch of science since its outset ... this immortal!
And, guess who was standing exactly where the asteroid struck, staring up like a dumbass while an asteroid hit him in the face?
Your move, Ollie. | They say history repeats it's self but what if the same event was conducted by the same people? In 1884 twins were born and in 1904 both their mother and father had passed at the ages of 42 and 47 from a fatal heart disease that they were both diagnosed with, the brothers thought they would soon die of this same disease but it was already 1993 when they realized that they were both alive and well with the physical health and appearance of 30 year old men. Having fought in both world wars they had many stories to tell, but they kept to themselves. The boys were named Arnold and Dillan, both American.
Arnold and Dillan had nothing to do with their gift, so they spent countless hours at the gym, getting buff and having massive muscles, but knowing that people would catch on that the same people were going to the same gym for 10+ years withouit changing. They decided to travel the world, getting fat and then working all the fat off to crown themselves and break the records for strongest men/largest muscles.
They would fake their deaths under the pretenses of a accident or the same heart disease the killed their parents. But Arnold was always stronger and larger than Dillan. By that time it was 2944 and Arnold had over 300 awards. Dillan decides to investigate why Arnold always has the advantage and he confronts Arnold and asks him "Why is it that you are always just a small bit above me, whether you can lift heavier or your muscles are just a bit larger, why? What makes you and I so different if we have the same schedule and the same diets and the same everything?" Arnold replies quickly with "maybe it's something with our bodies and the chemicals and proteins and such." Dillan comes to terms with Arnold reasoning after a few days and decides to copy Arnold and shadow him perfectly. Another 200 years pass and Arnold still had the edge over Dillan. Confused, Dillan confronts Arnold once again asking the same question and Arnold thought it was time to tell Dillan the truth.
Arnold told Dillan the truth "For the past 2,000 years, after all the things we have done, I have been giving you weights 10 pounds less than mine, ever since the beginning." Dillan was furious and made Arnold swear to never make his weights 10 pounds lighter ever again. Arnold swore on his father's honor. Dillan could trust his brother again,and because Dillian's forgiving nature he didn't hold a grudge or try to enact some sort of revenge.
Arnold thought to himself after this ordeal, questioning if what he did was right. Arnold then remembered what he had swore. Arnold then had the brilliant idea. For the next 3,000 years, Arnold made Dillan's weights 20 pounds lighter.
| 2017-06-23T00:57:11 | 2017-06-22T23:11:36 | 220 | 58 |
[WP] "humans don't appear to be to advanced, they haven't even discovered intergalactic travel, should be a simple invasion." Said the alien cleaning his musket.
Edit: Seems someone has already written a piece perfect for this. Check it out, would highly recommend.
https://eyeofmidas.com/scifi/Turtledove_RoadNotTaken.pdf
Edit 2: Thank you all so much for your stories! im going to read all of them :) | "Agent Carter? Sir?" Agent Carter looked up from the mound of work on his desk to see Clark standing behind is desk.
"What is it?" Carter had a tone of depression in his voice, as if he had heard this hundreds of times before. He had heard this thousands of times before.
"Sir, A UFO has entered our atmosphere. Destination: New York" Clark swallowed as he said this, visibly nervous for the reaction. Surprisingly, Carter remained calm.
"OK, scramble jets, mobilise the military and have the Navy on standby. We're going to shut them down as soon as possible."
-- --
Being part of the second line was nervy. In the first line, you could just be mad, and fire at will madly, but in the second line, you had to read the terrain and find the chink in the armour in about 5 seconds.
FN-2187 was the best second liner the corps had ever seen. He ranked in the 95th percentile for accuracy, 98th percentile for agility and 99.7th percentile for pattern recognition. He had joined 2 years before the rest of his age group started the 4-year training course. Some said he had been from a sieged Empire and wanted to serve his new leaders faithfully. They used it as propaganda on recently settled planets.
The call came, and the first wave set off towards the Earth. I hoped they would be successful, mostly for my sake. If they did well, there was less chance of injury. The light came on, and I stepped forward to beam into the war zone. It was chaos.
The first thing I heard was the crackle of gunfire, which was bad. We were ordered not to shoot on civilians. It was setting a bad example. Most likely it was the planet's minimal forces fighting hopelessly back. Then I saw the bodies, and panicked. This was worse than any invasion we had EVER seen.
I ran straight to cover, in the form of a shop front. There were 6 humans cowering inside - it would be easy to force them out. There were bullets firing all around me - I barely survived. Then I heard a scream, and saw FN-2187 scream out, falling to the ground.
Stick to the mission, I told myself. I kept on running, but was unable to think of anything except the body. They had killed our best easily - how could we possibly win? I walked into the shop, pointing musket at a cowering female. I opened my mouth, but didn't need to. In some foreign tongue, I heard shouts and screams, and 5 ran out. I looked around for the 6th human, then saw the gun he was holding.
How was this possible? They hadn't even discovered intergalactic travel, yet their civilian weapons were far more advanced than our high-tech military ones.
Then I heard the loud crack, and everything went dark.
Thanks for reading, please give feedback.
| "Humans don't appear to be to advanced, they haven't even discovered intergalactic travel, should be a simple invasion." Said the alien cleaning his musket.
The gnarled general gave him a look halfway between amusement and disbelief.
His ears twitched before settling back into their wavy slow pattern.
"You know this how? From the couple of days we've spent here?" the old man asked.
Djerza held the barrel of his musket up, eying the line of its smooth surface for any warps or bends. Ignoring the question.
"Fools, all of you. I thought the Zanta failure would have taught you not to underestimate our enemies."
At this, Djerza sat up and sighed. The quick flash of ears pulling back betraying his anger at the remark.
"The Zanta had help. In any case, this is not a discussion general. We leave tomorrow, have the troops ready."
The general nodded slowly. "I do admire his spirit though, what was it again he said?"
"It is easy for me to die, but difficult to let you pass" Djerza said smiling, his sharp teeth black as night.
-------------------------------------------------
Guns flashed and thundered all around him. The ground itself shaking as pieces of mud flew past him.
Djerza ignored it. The cannons were interesting, primitive but powerful nonetheless. He quickly approached the line of enemy soldiers.
He'd started running after their last volley. With too few soldiers left for staggered shots, he'd have more than enough time to close the distance.
His own musket spent, he charged ahead with the bayonet at head hight. A few steps before impact, he saw the fear spread across their faces.
Fear not just of war and death, but fear of him. Fear of this thing that was barreling towards them and that was decidedly not of their own species.
He howled and lost himself in the bloodlust.
Twelve hours laters, three thousand had fallen. Men, women and children. Even the animals had been killed.
His clothes were dark with earth and soot and clung to his skin where blood had soaked the fabric.
Of course none of his own had fallen. Well at least none of those truly his own. Technically their side had suffered losses, but that was to be expected. He did not really care if these humans died. But they had entertained him well. This passion for killing, he'd not encountered it for a long time.
He heard the general walk up before he saw him. Demon of Dongnae the human soldiers had started calling him. Djerza felt a stab of envy.
But then again, he'd taken Song's head himself, that was no small feat considering the weapons they'd been forced to fight with.
The general finally spoke "It was a good battle my Lord. I assume we will be staying longer?"
They were young and obviously lacking in finesse, but they had so much potential. Humans fought and died with so much vigor. The Hunt would be glorious if they'd just grow up a bit, and his clan would hold the rights.
Djerza twitched his ears in pleasure. "Yes, yes general. I think we will.". | 2017-08-08T08:42:45 | 2017-08-08T07:55:11 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number. | "What the fuck" I thought to myself. This job was supposed to be boring, given my... powers. This wasn't supposed to happen.
See, I was a bouncer at a bar. I wasn't the most imposing person but I had a unique trait. I could tell anyone's age without seeing a license. The numbers just kind of floated above their heads. I realized I was special at a young age when I asked my fourth grade teacher, mrs. Jimenez, why the new boy was three years older than all of us. We had to have a special meeting with the counselor and my parents. It freaked them out pretty bad when I was able to tell the counselor that I knew she was seven years older than she said (looking back I think she was trying to start a relationship with one of the younger teachers). It took a couple of years to learn to not notice and just live life but I managed to find a way to use it to my advantage when I got this job.
I streamlined the front door, no wasting time carding people, usually I just stood next to Big Jake (he was a left tackle at the local college and an absolute mountain of a man) and told the underage kids to leave before they wasted our time.
Tonight was terrifying though. We expected a rough crowd once a month when we hosted fight night. It was common practice in rural Midwestern towns, usually one or two bars would set up a ring and let local fighters put on the nights entertainment. Typically fight night made us sell out of pbr and bud light, with exactly the crowd you'd expect. We always had to break up two or three extra curricular fights but it was no big deal to me, I never did the dirty work, I protected our liquor license.
This man terrified me though, four digits were hovering over his head. I leaned into Jake and whispered "something's wrong, ask that guy for I.d." The man didn't look strange, except his hair was straight out of the 80's, mutton chop sideburns and all. He wore a leather jacket over jeans.
The expression on Jakes face was pure confusion. He asked the man and he pulled out a Canadian passport, which was strange. It said he was in his 50s, which was also strange because he didn't look a day over 32. I didn't know what to do so we let him in.
He caused no problems, he came to fight and ended up winning two matches and pocketed 200 bucks, drank two beers and left. He barely said a word. The next day I tried to put him out of my mind. By a week later I had gotten past the shock of it and tried to move on, but the next day life got really strange.
I was home for dinner with my parents when the doorbell rang. They answered and several minutes later my mother shouted for me to come into the sitting room. An old man in a wheelchair was sitting there and behind him stood five people, on of whom was the 1000 year old fighter. I was shaken as the old man began to speak, "hello James, my name is Charles Xavier. I believe you've already met my companion Logan..." | **July 12, 1994**
Um what the fuck?! That man couldn't have been 1056 years old, there's just no way; the i.d. couldn't have been a fake and he looked exactly like his photo. Man... maybe all this drinking is catching up to me.. drowning out what brains I do got, I definitely should try to lay off the liquor for a while.
But what if I wasn't wrong? I had to be though. A 1056 year old wouldn't be getting drunk in that seedy shit hole, surely not. Jesus Christ, I'm an alcoholic aren't I? Instead of the shakes I'm just going fucking insane. I mean, a 1056 year old couldn't possibly exist and here I am trying to justify normal behaviors for a dude over ten centuries old. wonderful, I really am a psychotic freak of nature.
**July 28, 1994**
There it was again! That same 1056. I know it's the same one, the numbers have the same psychic texture as the last one, I know, I *know* it's the same 1056. And I'm sober, or at least I've been mostly sober the past two weeks, I really am trying hard. But jukov viell hell, the ancient freak was a little girl this time, not a slicked back 30 year old like in the club. And ve' saw me looking at her, it's like her eyes locked into mine with a laser and it was terrifying. I swear I couldn't move for what seemed like an hour though I'm sure it was just a few seconds. I don't know what the hell is going on, but I'm getting the fuck out. I'm leaving tomorrow and I'm not going to tell anyone why or where I'm going.
**August 5, 1994**
I'm settling here into Dallas just fine, even already got two jobs so I'm bouncing bars every night. It feels gulock vol shien over and already have my feet on the ground. I don't know what that thing was, but I ain't seen any thousand year old crypt keepers walking around here. I think it's buvok l'ie that I just forget that man and little girl and pretend it never happened. Volpp shon die! Ha
**August 9, 1994**
I'm vol niectien javhol. There's no way around it. I'm thryyka insane vol. In the bathroom this sunnatal 987 flickered above my head like a light with a wire shorting out. Da! I've never seen a nuvon above my head and never thought anything about it. But 987. It was in epileptic strobe, but unmistakable, 987 with it's own unizall textovu, my own psychic fingerprint, I guess. I don't know whether I should drink until I can't see straight enough to notice the flickering number apparating above my head, check myself in a psych hoklinta, or keep pretending that it doesn't effect me just like that thousand year old freak back in Philoxxanta. Fuckin hell...
**September 8, 2106**
Vien dol mal shinne. Va kra sel na vien talova! Herein je ve' sien. 1056 hai raj volkina buvo! Home! At last hommili! | 2022-05-25T21:41:20 | 2017-09-01T20:21:47 | 1,321 | 13 |
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number. | I stood outside the bar, hearing laughter and chatting from the warm interior. I looked down the line of people waiting for entry and started looking down the line muttering under my breath, "Twenty-two, twenty-five, Thirty, Twenty-nine, and... a twenty year old."
I sighed and I could see my breath within the cold night air. "Alright guys!" I gestured to the front of the line, "Come on in!" As the first four passed me, I held up my hand to block the entrance for the twenty year old, a tall black-haired boy who *might* have been able to enter as he looked to be at least twenty-three to any other outside viewer. Unluckily for him however, I have an exceptionally rare ability to see the age of any individual floating above their heads.
The boy looked at me confidently and smiled, "Is there a problem, sir?"
"May I see your ID please?"
The boy looked surprised and took out his wallet. "Alright, just give me a second here...". The boy gave an elaborate shuffling through his wallet for a good thirty seconds before he finally said, "I think I might have left my ID at home or something. Can you make an exception please? My friends drove me and one of them just went in, I mean we are literally the same age. Just ask him!"
I nudged him out of the line and said, "Sorry kid, no ID no entry."
The boy's previous friendly face slowly contorted into one of utter anger. He looked as if he were going to punch me until he stopped himself. Still clenching his fist with knuckles pale as ice, he stormed off without saying another word.
I sighed and looked at the next one in line. He looks definitely like a kid. I'd guess... ten years old. I used my ability and his age appeared above him displaying... **FOUR DIGITS**. WHAT PERSON IS 7300 YEARS OLD? He looks like a kid too!
He had auburn hair and was looking at me with wide eyes. I quickly blinked a few times to mask my loss of composure. "Uh... So, how old are you?"
The boy gave a huge grin and yelled in an ear-piercing voice, "Seven, three, zero, zero years old!"
I raised an eyebrow and knelt down. In a soft voice I asked, "Are you lost kid? Where's your mom?"
The boy scowled and yelled even louder in a tantrum impatiently, "I am **seven, three, zero, zero years old!**"
There is no way this kid is immortal or something. As far as I know, immortality and reincarnation or anything of the sort is nonexistent. I quickly pat his head gently and said, "Let's go find your mom, okay?"
The kid started sniffling and pointed inside the bar, "But my mom is inside!" I gently grabbed the kid's hand and guided him inside with me saying, "Come on kid. I'll find your mother."
We walked inside the bar with lots of people chattering and hearing the clinks of wine glasses. I grabbed the kid and held him up by the shoulders. I said in a loud booming voice, "WHOSE KID IS THIS?"
A thirty one year old whom I assumed to be the mother quickly ran to the kid and hugged him closely saying, "I am so, so sorry Alan. I thought you were asleep!"
I shook my head, "Listen, next time. Watch him closely and don't leave him alone by himself. *Ever*."
She glanced at me and softly said, "Alright."
I put a hand on the kid's shoulder and glanced at the mother, "By the way, how old is he anyways?"
The mother sniffled and wiped her tears with the sleeve of her shirt. She said, "He's only ten years old."
"Then why does he call himself a 7300 year old?"
The mother gave a hint of a smile, "It's just his way of adding up to 10 years old. The two extra zeroes are just to make him seem smarter with math." She ruffled Alan's hair, "Aren't you smart?"
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| They all questioned it. Why would you want to be a bouncer? I can't blame my friends for thinking that way, of course. It seemed like a tedious job, with little reward. And it was tedious, but it was possibly the easiest job I could have.
Checking IDs was just a formality. the numbers floating above everyone's heads were what really have them away. It took me a while to figure out what they were. I remember when I did though. Standing in front of the mirror on the day of my eighth birthday, as the number above my head morphed from a 7 into an 8.
My ‘gift’, if you want to call it that, made this job stupidly easy. I didn't have to pay much attention to the contents of IDs. The numbers gave them all away. I'd earned a bit of a reputation with the high schoolers, at least I’d heard. None of them had slipped past me yet. And they probably wouldn't.
After a while the monotony did begin to get annoying. I'd taken to drinking a little bit, just to make the day more enjoyable. It didn't affect my ability at all, as long as I could make out the numbers.
On yet another night of turning away underaged kids, I was getting bored. Some of the same faces, some new. And then one that was new, but had to be old. That number couldn't be right. 9999. Was the alcohol affecting me? No, that wouldn't make any sense. It never has before.
Below that number, all alone, was a stunning blonde. There were some real model types that came here but, this one, she was something else. As my jaw dropped slightly, I saw a quick smile as she looked away. Glancing back at her ID it said she was 23. I was beyond confused. I mean she was old enough to be in here but, no, that can't be right. After taking way too long, I let her in.
It stuck with me, the whole night. Not one more person had such an outrageous number. I definitely wasn't experiencing some alcohol induced hallucinations. But I had to figure this out.
On my break I looked around the club. She was nowhere to be seen. Glancing at the somewhat empty bar, I spotted a flash of golden hair. That was her, still all alone, somehow. I couldn't help myself. I had to talk to her. I sat beside her and asked for a drink from Barry, the bartender. She glanced over at me and smiled. It was now or never.
“ So, uh, this may sound weird but, your ID said you're 23, and, I uh, you look a bit older, ah, yeah.” Spoken like a true gentleman. I was kicking myself mentally.
“Really,” she asked inquisitively, “and how old do I look?” She didn't sound the least bit offended.
“I mean, like at least, uh, 26?” I stammered out.
And then in a laughing tone, “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment”
I couldn't believe she hadn't asked me to leave yet. But that 9999 above her head still had me puzzled. “There's something I’d like to ask you”, I began.
She looked at me seductively and quietly said, “Yes. Let's go to my apartment.”
I was dumbfounded. I had not expected anything like this but before I knew it she was leading me out of the club and into a taxi.
The ride there was a blur, I was too confused, and she was to stunning not to be focused on. When we finally got to get apartment, she dragged me inside into the living room. And without realizing I was on her sofa with this jaw-dropping woman next to me. Gnawing at the back of my mind was still that number. She leaned in closer to me and whispered in my ear, “ I need you to do something for me”
Barely comprehending I replied, “Anything”
She leaned closer, her mouth right at my ear, “I need about tree-fiddy”
I pulled away, staring back at her, when I realized, I was sitting right next to a building sized crustacean from the Paleozoic era. Stunned, it came to me, that that God damned Loch Ness Monster tricked me again.
*Thanks for reading this! I’ve never commented here before, but this ending came to me as soon as I read the prompt. Hope you enjoyed, and tell me what could be better!* | 2018-02-12T22:42:59 | 2017-09-02T01:10:06 | 223 | 13 |
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number. | One knows when they're in the presence of something ancient. A turn of phrase, the way their gaze meets yours, the way the air around them hangs, as though to communicate an unspoken form of reverence. Or fear. Simple folk like to trade their wives tales, attempts at justifying the things that exist just outside their conceptions. Makes them feel better.
I wonder what they'd say about me.
But my gift, a paltry glimpse into the age of those who cross my path, is nothing compared to the man- er, woman? Hard to tell after so many years. Anyway. Is nothing compared to the figure who comes, every eight months like clockwork, to visit our humble distillery. The first time I met them I thought, sure. Someone's slipped me something. Just because I can see the age of things doesn't make me immune to tampering. And I've been at this for a few decades.
All this to say, the first time I met the man (at the time) who saved my life, I had difficulty believing he was nearly four-thousand years old.
"Been around a while, then?"
"Oh, I dread to think."
"What brings you 'round the Juicy Jailer then?"
"It really wasn't my decision. Just passing through, I suppose."
"Not much inside worth your time, I'd think."
"Well. You'd be surprised what I find when I'm not looking."
Turned out he was right, as later that evening we learned the distillery had been housing an underground warehouse what took people and stuffed 'em into tin suits. Sy-buh whatitsorsomething' he called them. Made this dreadful, monotonous speech about "upgrading" everyone. But quick as a flash, this man had done them in and cleared out just as quickly as he'd come. I asked for his name, but he gave me his vocation instead. Weird bloke.
But you never can tell with Time Lords, can you?
| He watched, bored as people streamed in the bar, only stopping the ones underage, and occasionally a few just over to keep suspicions low. His kind was uncommon, and people
hunted for his power. It seemed like an odd thing to want, most just wanted it to make them feel *special*. At least, those that knew about it. Sometimes age didn't match up to looks, but he kept to his own, unless they were underage of course. But then *she* came along. As soon as the girl passed, his eyes flickered to the space above, knowing what he would see. The girl was likely 16, or 17, as was the guy with her. But she wasn't. 1000 was her age, the one with her was 1001. This wasn't possible, but yet, that's what it said. Maybe it was wrong? But he'd NEVER been wrong before. As they passed he realized his mouth had been hanging open and he shut it reluctantly. A tap on his shoulder made him jump, but it was only the guy taking over next shift. Perfect. Making his way through the crowd he saw the girl heading into a storage room with a 18year old, different from whom she came with. He shook his head, about to leave when a silvery glint caught his eye. The boy was nearby, a knife in his hand. The girl disappeared, the other following suit. Breath catching, he hurried over, sure he would be greeted with a bloodbath. The door shut behind him and he looked around. In the darkness he saw the pair fighting the young man, backing him against the wall.
"Jonathan, will you do the honour?"
He laughed in reply and stepped up, twirling a silver bladed dagger in his fingers. He laughed and drove the blade straight through the heart. Black blood flowed from the wound and the boy seemingly folded in on himself, disappearing all except for the puddle of black on the ground.
"Welcome to the world of the lightbringers, young one. We have long searched for one with a gift like yours, it will be quite useful. That is, if you don't mind joining us. Hunting demons is much better with more people involved, especially with talent like this. Let's get started, shall we?" | 2017-09-01T23:22:02 | 2017-09-01T21:45:33 | 62 | 25 |
[WP] Create the most Overpowered, god-mode character ever. Then kill him in the most idiotic way. | I stepped into the wilderness, clutching my pack to my chest. What little scraps of armor I had left barely clung on to me, my only redeeming factor being the slightly glowing jade sword I held. I had gotten it as a 1/1000 drop chance from a dungeon boss.
I slunk in behind the trees, carefully avoiding the known bandit hotspots and PvP trials. All I had to do was get in, get the quest item, and get out. I might even get enough experience from the quest to finally hit level 20, maybe even unlocking a new perk. That would be nice.
I heard the screams of another adventure in the far distance, watching in awe as a beam of fire spat from the sky, so hot that even I could feel it's impact. *Gods Almighty...* I thought. *How could anyone ever get that strong?*
I shrugged on, praying that one day I would have that kind of strength. The char-stained forest eventually started to dwindle, giving way to a small cave in that glowed ever so slightly from the inside. The cave of Grail. I dashed forward, slipping through the crack in the boulder, averting my gaze from a dead adventurer next to me, an arrow cracking out of her skull. I shuddered slightly.
The cave was dark inside, save for a small glowing light which I cautiously crept towards. It eventually grew larger, and I found my self staring face to face with the Golden Grail of Tribatha. I felt a rush of adrenaline, and I almost grabbed the grail on instinct, but I held myself back. Cautiously, I searched for traps, eventually finding a small wire that attached to the grail. I dismantled it. Thankfully I had leveled my trapping and tracking skill before I attempted this quest.
I reached for the grail, my hands clasping the glowing gauntlet as I gave a small whoop of glory.
Suddenly, the cave clasped open, revealing a knight standing amidst brilliant light. He had large wings on his back, and held a flaming sword, with a full set of gold ornate armor. Even the boot was worth more than I was.
"Sup noob," I heard him say. He looked at my sword. "Poor Pl3b. Whatever. That'll sell for a couple golds."
"Please!" I felt my mouth move. "Please I'm new. Please let me go."
"Stfu poor n00b," he responded, raising his flaming sword.
"Please!! I just want to try out the new glitch," I said.
He paused, his thirst for blood barely held back by his curiosity.
"What glitch?" He asked.
"The Item-Duping one," I said.
He pointed his sword to me. "Tell it to me or you die."
I put on a facade of panic, screaming "Okay, okay!".
"First, standing on the ground, holding this grail," I advised, as I held him the quest item.
"Then, bunny hop twice, then crouch, backspace, all chat." I said, and he complied.
"Finally, drop the grail and spam Alt +F4," I said.
He did so.
He stopped moving. I walked over, tentatively prodding him with my sword. Nothing happened. Heart racing, I quickly slayed his defenseless character, my heart bursting as his loot fell on the ground.
I was rich.
***
[r/ConlehWrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/ConlehWrites/) for more! | Bullets bounced off Nimbus' rock hard abs.
He pointed his finger at the Humvee and it exploded, killing most of the swat team. A few flaming, broken bodies writhed on the ground. Nimbus ignored them and turned to face the greater 'threat'.
A squad of capes. Most were class C, with two class B and a single class D.
Nimbus didn't smile. He thought attacking a larger city like Seattle would draw in the big boys, some of the class As who might actually land a hit on him. Oh well.
One of the capes shot his dubstep cannon, breaking all the windows in the area, and cracking the concrete beneath Nimbus' feet.
He walked casually towards the team, and backhanded the one in glowing crystal armor. The armor shattered, and she went flying. The class D ran after her. Probably the medic.
Nimbus felt a slight trickle from his nose. He wiped it off and tasted blood. The dubstep gun was more powerful than he had though. He pointed a finger.
There was a bang as the cannon exploded, and the boy holding it was sent sprawling. Nimbus leapt, and would have killed him, but the class B hit him with a surprisingly powerful telekinetic blast.
Nimbus swept his hand through his hair, making sure it was still perfect, then attacked the girl.
She was some kind of precog/telekinetic. She could move fast, but Nimbus was strong enough that her attacks did little more than tickle.
He caught her hand and broke her wrist, then threw her into a building. The building collapsed.
There was only one left. He was some kind of shapeshifter. His body stretched like wax as he tried to flow around Nimbus.
Nimbus sneezed.
The shapeshifter was shattered by the explosion that tore apart the street.
Nimbus turned his attention back to the dubstep kid. He was lying helpless in the street, having been thrown around by the explosions.
Just as he was about to reach him, the medic leapt on Nimbus' back. She had some kind of liquid she was controlling. It might have cut through a normal person, but Nimbus' skin was impenetrable.
He grabbed her by the hair and almost gently, he held her by it.
"That was a really stupid move." He said.
"I know." She said.
He pointed his finger at her. She blocked the explosion with the liquid, containing it around Nimbus' finger.
The explosion blew her from his grasp, tearing a lot of her hair. She lay, not quite unconscious next to the boy, her scorched lungs desperately sucking down air.
Nimbus smiled. They had at least put up a fight. He could respect that. He would end their pathetic existence quickly and painfully.
He made a fist.
There was a splat and he looked up. A pigeon flew away.
Nimbus felt the bird poop in his hair, and a feeling of dread began to spread. He tried to run, but it felt as though his legs were caught in concrete.
He was mortal once more.
The medic girl staggered to her feet. She pulled out a vial and threw it at Nimbus.
The ink dripped down his front.
She limped closer, placed a hand on his chest.
"You have something on your head."
The ink tore through Nimbus' skin, flowing through veins and arteries up into his head.
He tried to speak, but couldn't. All that happened was a gurgle.
She punched him in the face, and then pulled the ink forward.
As Nimbus fell forward, the last thing he heard was her whisper:
"It was pain." | 2017-09-04T13:05:47 | 2017-09-04T12:38:25 | 72 | 14 |
[WP] You've been using your new Self-Driving car for several years now without an issue. This morning, however, it refused to move, displaying the error message, "You may not fast travel when enemies are nearby." | This, I thought to myself, is what I got for buying a used 2032 Skyrim. Sighing, I marched up to my neighbor's door.
"Yes?" The man, whose name once again escaped me because I didn't really care to learn it, asked.
"Frank," I said, guessing.
"Fred," he corrected.
"Fred," I said, guessing, "we're good, right?"
"Well, Jake Sanders whose name I know because I actually make an attempt to learn my neighbors' names-"
"You can just call me Jake," I said, attempting friendliness.
"We are not good," Fred said.
"Okay," I said, "but we're not, like... _enemies_, right?"
"You steal my newspaper." Fred said.
"I do like to stay informed," I said, "but it's not like I steal your paper every day!"
"Actually, it's exactly like that," Fred said, "every single day. In fact, you're holding my paper in your hand right now, you picked it up before knocking on my door."
I looked at my hand, which was in fact holding the paper. "Mind if I take this?" I asked.
"Yes." Fred said.
"Thanks, pal. I'll bring it back. I mean, that has to count in my favor, right? I always bring the papers back!"
Fred frowned. "That's because you leave your trash bags on my porch."
"Right, because you're in charge of trash," I said.
"I'm the head of the neighborhood recycling initiative." Fred said.
"Right," I said.
There was another awkward pause.
"So, we're good, right?" I asked.
Fred closed the door.
"We're good," I said to myself.
`You may not fast travel when enemies are nearby`, the car said, unprompted.
Well, nothing to do at this point but kick the car into neutral and start pushing until there weren't any of my enemies around. I hadn't ticked off _that_ many people in the neighborhood, right? | I said my goodbyes to my sister in a hurry and went outside. She yelled after me, I didn’t quite hear what she said. It didn’t matter, anyway, that annoying bastard. Even if my mood is completely squandered, there’s always something waiting for me. Yes, yes, yes! It’s my phenomenal, super-awesome self-driving car!
I got this baby several years ago and it’s been amazing so far. Anywhere I wanted to go—this baby drove me there. Evading others cars and traffic like a pro! A true champion!
I entered the shiny, crimson red car and sat on the most comfortable seats. After admiring the car for a few minutes, like I always did, I pressed the ‘START ENGINE’ button. But there was a slight problem there.
“You may not fast travel when there are enemies nearby.” That’s what the car’s info screen showed. More accurately, the TV screen in which I watch my favourite shows whenever this baby drives.
This wasn’t an unknown problem to me. Oh, yeah, this happened many times. My mortal enemy was nearby. To be exact, I have a few of those mortal enemies. But this one was the most vicious. I could tell from the heavy air.
There was only one thing for a weakling such as myself to do. I’d have to pick up my weapon and fight this monster. Ahh! Just thinking about fighting against the monster was scaring the shit out of me.
I hate its large, long, and black hair. Reminds me of a devil, with the blackest hair imaginable. Its eyes were vicious and cold. Staring into those would suck anyone into the abyss of regret.
But I had no choice. I had to take on this monster. I took my weapon from the back of the car. It glowed with a deadly red colour. But this weapon was disadvantageous to me, too. Because of the fact that it could misfire. Well, that’s because I’m a klutz at times. One wrong move and I could get poisoned.
I exited the car and yelled for the monster to show itself. I steeled my legs for the unavoidable confrontation.
That’s when my sister exited the house and I gave her the rose. That is the weapon which could misfire. Good thing I had the weapon. She’s scary when she’s mad. And this car—it knows of my hate…
Saved once again. Those AI’s are too smart.
| 2017-10-23T11:45:39 | 2017-10-23T11:31:16 | 211 | 12 |
[WP] Every person has a tattoo only their soulmate can see. You see tattoos on everyone. | Yeah, I can see the tattoos. All the tattoos. Hell, I can see em through clothes! I thought I was weird or crazy. My mom just told me to ignore them and that it wasn't my business. Until that day in the grocery store.
Steve and Jenny. I still remember their names. I was 12. I saw the tattoos but this time it was special. It was the first time I saw two that MATCHED! I was a kid, I didn't know what it meant, just that it was special. I knew what to do even though I didn't understand. I mean, their tattoos were on their shoulder. How would they ever know they had the same tattoos if I didn't tell them.
Well, I just walked up to Jenny and took her hand. It was in the freezer section and her hand was pretty cold. I didn't say anything, I just kind of acted. She, strangely, didn't resist and just followed my lead. When I found Steve in the bread isle, things got really crazy.
I could feel the tattoos. Like two magnets pulling together. They couldn't feel it. Hell, nobody I have ever matched has felt it. Just me. Anyway, on that day, I learned the truth about myself. When I took Steve's hand, just intending to introduce them, it happened. The rush. Like the most intense orgasm you could ever experience. My body felt like it was going to explode. They even felt it, just not as intense but the connection was made. I explained their tattoos and in their euforia I knew they would be together forever.
That was the day it all clicked. February 14th. It didn't just signify my birthday. It signified that I was the earthly embodiment of Cupid himself. | Perhaps soulmate is too broad of a word.
When in the womb, modern humans are swirls of genetic matter and projections. We come nearly fully formed and planned into tombs designated for our fruition.
So they give us tattoos - probabilities, really. Specific percentages that designate how compatible we are with our fellow test tube babies.
And how desirable we are.
A test tube doesn't come with the chance of future genetic fuck ups, or with severe personality disorders. A test tube is always a safe choice, for partnership or childhood. They are always the best choice.
We can be identified by the small black numbers tattooed to our skin. The smaller the number, the better. And if it matches, a near perfect genetic offspring. To match with a test tube is to win the genetic lottery. They are the best parents, the best partners, and the best employees. They carry around their neck the perfection of humanity.
But my number matches with every person I can see.
I'm a freak, a fuck up, a mistake, an accident.
Someone who wants the best for all and cries at their misfortune.
A soulmate is a cliche.
Anyone in a genuine relationship can tell you the word is a fucking exaggeration. A perfect partner depends on the point of view of the person. What could be a total clusterfuck to one could be the perfect partner to another.
But I find my number engraved on the foreheads and wrists of every human I come across.
As artificial as I may come, this bond bears the sanctity of nature, the holiness of the bond of my fellow man. I do not seek the flesh out of lust, but for the sake of healing.
Those that bear my number are cursed with afflictions that only I can heal.
Though I may be a doctor, I can help and heal so much. What may be seen as a curse or gift by others, I see as an obligation.
Let there be light.
And yes, I can see.
I'll help all I can, with this perfect brain designed in a laboratory. Perhaps to save those that couldn't be designed.
I find all of it irrelevant.
I will save whomever I can.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
r/storiesfromapotato | 2017-11-13T03:54:33 | 2017-11-12T23:40:19 | 55 | 24 |
[WP] An old dog, knowing his time is near, wants nothing more than to help his family one last time. | Cookie had not noticed time slipping by; she had been too preoccupied with her naps, ball chasing, and cuddle times. Yet, time did not forget Cookie. Her once spritely young legs now creaked, and ached. She could only walk slowly now; jumping seemed like a far off memory. Yet, her family still loved her so.
She was laying in the garden, enjoying a sun beam when she heard it. A tiny, sad sound. Her ears twitched, it was a persistent noise. She rose slowly, putting all of her effort into the movement, and headed for the gate.
She looked back at the house; the family had gone inside, cleaning up after their barbecue.
The noise called to her again, so with all of her might, she propped up against the gate and nudged it open. The family had not put so much effort in security, not with Cookie being so still these days. Once it was open, she headed out into the back alley, off to find the noise.
"Hey, mum, where's Cookie?"
"Sleeping in the garden."
"No, she isn't"
What followed was sheer panic. This was only made worse by the discovery of the open gate.
The whole family was out in the streets, calling her, stopping cars, asking anyone if they had seen her.
They had just given up, and made their way home. They planned to call local animal shelters, make posters, do anything they could.
And then, they noticed a shaking at the gate. The noise of a paw, and they ran, to find Cookie. And a puppy.
She carried it by the scruff, like a mother dog.
They stared in shock. Dumbfounded by this development, unsure of how to feel. They took the puppy from her, cradling it between them. Cookie's tail wagged happily, almost like she understood.
Cookie had a while with the puppy, who they named Lucky, before she took a turn for the worse. Her slowness became something more. A staggering, an inability to move.
It was not long before they said their final goodbyes to Cookie; but the one who took it hardest of all, was the tiny Lucky, who owed her his life.
| I'm not sure Jake knows, but we don't have a lot of time left together. He doesn't want to play much anymore. When he was young, he was so full of energy. We would sneak downstairs in the early dawn hours to watch Mickey Mouse. We'd bundle up and go outside in the snow on the coldest winter days, only to come back in minutes later. But wow, how much he has changed.
The last 15 years have taken its toll. I watched him transform from a young scrappy thing to a noble and gentle soul. Mom would get so mad at him when he was little, tearing up all of her things. Those times came to an end, fortunately. However, like the bad times, the good ones end too.
I'm going to miss Jake. I'm going to miss curling up on his feet on a cold night. I'm going to miss sneaking into his bed. I'm going to miss snatching food off of the floor before anyone has a chance to pick it up. I'm going to miss crawling into his lap, secretly knowing I am much too large. I hope I will be missed too.
But who will do all of those things? Who will help Jake heal? My life is sinking into a warm autumn sunset, while his is still in the blinding sunrise. I am proud of the boy I helped raise. Even when I was neglected due to some new video game, some new girl, or some new job- I knew I was still loved. He keeps saying he is sorry, so so sorry. But he doesn't need to apologize.
I can only give him this one final gift. This one final act. I lap up the tears from his hand, the one stroking my fur. I want him to know I forgive him, unconditionally forever. He need not apologize. I loved him my entire life, and I know he loved me for mine. I am trying to wag my tail, but I am just so tired. I feel myself fading. But he keeps petting me. I want crawl into his lap, to make him feel better. I want to do what I've always done over the last 15 years. I want to be his best friend, like he has called me so many times. I am here for him. I struggle to raise my head. I don't think Jake knows we don't have a lot of time left together. I want to be there for him.
But I am getting so tired. I need to rest. | 2018-01-23T14:31:29 | 2018-01-23T13:59:54 | 44 | 21 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." | I wake to my phone buzzing on the night stand. I look at the clock next to it. The green numbers shine brightly: 3:14 AM.
'What the hell?' I think to myself. 'Why is anyone texting me at 3 in the morning?'
Before I can take a look, it starts buzzing again. And again. It won't stop. I grab the phone and mute it quickly but the notifications continue to pop up silently. "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." They're texts coming from my mother, my friends, my siblings, even some numbers I don't recognize.
An unfamiliar alarm blares on my phone. A new notification pops up on my phone, titled US Government Emergency Alert. It reads "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON."
'This is weird,' I think to myself, 'What the hell could be wrong with the moon?'
I walk to my window. I carefully open the curtains halfway so the moon is still covered. The sight is incredible.
Almost all of my neighbors are standing outside, phone in hand. They're staring upward in the direction of the moon. They're walking around talking to each other, pointing to the sky.
'I gotta see what the hell is going on.'
I walk outside and jog over next door, carefully keeping my eyes lowered. My neighbour is standing by his door. I'm about to call out to him when he interrupts me.
"Hey! Have you seen the moon tonight?" he asks.
"Listen man, something weird is going on. It's 3 in the morning, why are you outside right now? Why is half the neighbourhood outside?" I reply.
"You haven't looked yet, have you?" he laughs.
"Did you just ignore everything I said? Why are you outside? What's wrong with the moon?"
Without warning, my neighbor rushes up to me and places a hand on each side of my head. He violently turns my head toward the sky. "Just look!"
Oh. OH. I get it now. This is... incredible. It's impossible. There's no way this can be happening. It's... I don't even know. I have to tell someone about this.
I take out my phone and draft a message, addressed to everyone on my contact list. I slowly tap in the words "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside."
| I’m lying in a bed on a tuesday night.
And I’m having restless dreams.
And then I awake from a story where I’m rescuing a princess from a wheel of cheese. Because there’s a chainsaw on my nightstand.
A groggy hand reaches over and slaps it reluctantly. Is it morning...a alarm? Some long lost love looking for luscious life-experiences? But no… a text message. Is it my wife? Will she be late tonight?
“DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON”
So I make a curious eye sweep of the room. I pause at my window, where the forbidden object lies, and return my gaze in the opposite direction.
Nothing.
So, eyes squeezed shut, I walk over to the window. Just in case. I have a moment of panic when I trip on a errant pair of pants, but I right myself quickly. Then, in a fleeting, fluttering, futile gesture, I bravely bring down the blinds.
With that dangerous task complete, I sprint back to my bed, as if its covers will protect me from whatever has infested the sky.
Perhaps it’s just a joke, or the product of a overtaxed imagination. But somehow I know to be afraid.
Buzz.
Another a text? More instructions? Is there something else I’m not supposed to look at?
It’s from a old coworker. A good friend.
“It’s a beautiful night tonight. Look outside.”
I peek out from beneath my blanket bastion. A windows shuttered and silent. A door, barely open, with a crooked mouth along its length, mocking me.
Should I close it? No. Too dangerous. So I close my eyes and whisper.
“Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream.”
Buzz.
Another text message. Perhaps I shouldn’t…
“It’s a beautiful night tonight. Look outside.” from my best man.
Then a bing. A different app, I have so many.
“It’s a beautiful night tonight. Look outside.”
And then my phone begins to shake and chatter, with bings and chimes and whistles. Each one is like a stab in my stomach. What’s happening? What’s happening?
Then bit by bit, the phone sounds die out.
Then a new sound. A ringing. A bold, unique choice for a ringtone in this day and age, but I’ve always been a trend setter.
It’s my wife. Is she safe? Does she know what’s happening?
And before I can catch myself, I hit the answer button.
(Part 1? Sorry for a cliffhanger, it was getting long)
(r/StannisTheAmish)
| 2022-08-07T14:17:42 | 2022-05-11T14:02:28 | 712 | 314 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." | I wake to my phone buzzing on the night stand. I look at the clock next to it. The green numbers shine brightly: 3:14 AM.
'What the hell?' I think to myself. 'Why is anyone texting me at 3 in the morning?'
Before I can take a look, it starts buzzing again. And again. It won't stop. I grab the phone and mute it quickly but the notifications continue to pop up silently. "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." They're texts coming from my mother, my friends, my siblings, even some numbers I don't recognize.
An unfamiliar alarm blares on my phone. A new notification pops up on my phone, titled US Government Emergency Alert. It reads "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON."
'This is weird,' I think to myself, 'What the hell could be wrong with the moon?'
I walk to my window. I carefully open the curtains halfway so the moon is still covered. The sight is incredible.
Almost all of my neighbors are standing outside, phone in hand. They're staring upward in the direction of the moon. They're walking around talking to each other, pointing to the sky.
'I gotta see what the hell is going on.'
I walk outside and jog over next door, carefully keeping my eyes lowered. My neighbour is standing by his door. I'm about to call out to him when he interrupts me.
"Hey! Have you seen the moon tonight?" he asks.
"Listen man, something weird is going on. It's 3 in the morning, why are you outside right now? Why is half the neighbourhood outside?" I reply.
"You haven't looked yet, have you?" he laughs.
"Did you just ignore everything I said? Why are you outside? What's wrong with the moon?"
Without warning, my neighbor rushes up to me and places a hand on each side of my head. He violently turns my head toward the sky. "Just look!"
Oh. OH. I get it now. This is... incredible. It's impossible. There's no way this can be happening. It's... I don't even know. I have to tell someone about this.
I take out my phone and draft a message, addressed to everyone on my contact list. I slowly tap in the words "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside."
| I refused. It was hard, but I refused. Hundreds of notifications pouring in, telling me to look at the moon but I didn’t.
Something seemed weirdly off by the idea of hundreds telling me to look at a rock in the sky and I’ve never gotten this many notifications before so I simply refused to do what they said. Plus I’d gotten an alert to not look at the moon and I trusted my alert rather than whoever was sending me all these messages. I decided to keep my curtains closed and just went to bed.
The next morning my suspicions seemed correct. When I woke up there was no one around and the streets were completely empty, no kids playing even though it was Saturday, no one driving through the street, no one even outside.
I had no idea what was happening but I kept on going.
Eventually I arrived at work to find that no one was there either but I was a loyal employee and did my job anyway. I worked at a local fast food restaurant which was owned by my granddaddy before he passed and passed onto my father, he’s was on his last legs too though.
No one even came in so I just sat there in total isolation, I checked all my social media to find everyone was posting the same damn thing. “Look at the moon.”
I decided I might get answers at towns centre so I began driving there to find crashed cars everywhere but no bodies. There were other irregularities like smashed windows, crashed busses, upturned taxis, even an irregular amount of stray cats and dogs.
Eventually I arrived at the town centre where the clock tower was. What I saw was terrifying. Nearly the entire town was surrounding the tower staring up at the sky. I approached and tried to get one of the crowd member’s attention, I recognised him as he sometimes came into the restaurant with his son, I think his name was jack or John or something. I said his name and shook him a little bit he wouldn’t break eye contact with the moon. That’s when I realised, the moon must have made them catatonic.
I ran back to my car and turned on the radio, trying to think of what to do until I heard a radio transmission by some guy.
“Hello? Hello? If you are not hypnotised in what we here at the station are calling the ‘lunar effect.’ Then please come to these coordinates. We need to figure this out, as far as we can tell 90% of the population are under the influence of the ‘lunar effect.’”
Then it was followed by some coordinates. I turned on my gps and began driving. What was happening? | 2022-08-07T14:17:42 | 2018-04-06T22:11:18 | 712 | 12 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." | I’m lying in a bed on a tuesday night.
And I’m having restless dreams.
And then I awake from a story where I’m rescuing a princess from a wheel of cheese. Because there’s a chainsaw on my nightstand.
A groggy hand reaches over and slaps it reluctantly. Is it morning...a alarm? Some long lost love looking for luscious life-experiences? But no… a text message. Is it my wife? Will she be late tonight?
“DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON”
So I make a curious eye sweep of the room. I pause at my window, where the forbidden object lies, and return my gaze in the opposite direction.
Nothing.
So, eyes squeezed shut, I walk over to the window. Just in case. I have a moment of panic when I trip on a errant pair of pants, but I right myself quickly. Then, in a fleeting, fluttering, futile gesture, I bravely bring down the blinds.
With that dangerous task complete, I sprint back to my bed, as if its covers will protect me from whatever has infested the sky.
Perhaps it’s just a joke, or the product of a overtaxed imagination. But somehow I know to be afraid.
Buzz.
Another a text? More instructions? Is there something else I’m not supposed to look at?
It’s from a old coworker. A good friend.
“It’s a beautiful night tonight. Look outside.”
I peek out from beneath my blanket bastion. A windows shuttered and silent. A door, barely open, with a crooked mouth along its length, mocking me.
Should I close it? No. Too dangerous. So I close my eyes and whisper.
“Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream.”
Buzz.
Another text message. Perhaps I shouldn’t…
“It’s a beautiful night tonight. Look outside.” from my best man.
Then a bing. A different app, I have so many.
“It’s a beautiful night tonight. Look outside.”
And then my phone begins to shake and chatter, with bings and chimes and whistles. Each one is like a stab in my stomach. What’s happening? What’s happening?
Then bit by bit, the phone sounds die out.
Then a new sound. A ringing. A bold, unique choice for a ringtone in this day and age, but I’ve always been a trend setter.
It’s my wife. Is she safe? Does she know what’s happening?
And before I can catch myself, I hit the answer button.
(Part 1? Sorry for a cliffhanger, it was getting long)
(r/StannisTheAmish)
| DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON.
My eyes were barely open, bleary with sleep, but the incessant buzzing of the phone against the glossy black wood of the bedside table was just passing the point of ignorable. It took me a moment to register that the words were strange, holding their place at the top of the screen in bold, official letters, while the green icons of text messages scrolled beneath.
Do not look at the moon? What the hell kind of late April Fool’s joke was this? I scoffed quietly, glancing down over the stream of messages. Moon shit, moon shit, and… moon shit. Whatever. Had to be some kind of gag, and frankly, I didn’t have the goddamn time for it. Work came early in the morning, and I had… what, two hours left before I had to wake up in order to beat traffic?
Fuck this. I powered the phone off to quiet the buzzing, and dropped my hands down to rest on my chest, phone still resting beneath. And with the screen out of my line of sight, that was when I noticed her.
My wife was a beautiful woman-- The sort of beautiful that comes after a good decade of married life. That kind of beautiful with a few lines around the eyes, and a few strands of stray silver in her dark hair. Not that I could see them from where she was, standing silhouetted by the streaming moonlight pouring in the window, her hands resting lightly on the glass.
“Anna?” came my groggy mumble of a voice.
No response. She just stood there, staring upwards in the bath of silvery light. Was the moon always this bright? Or had I just never really noticed it before?
“Anna, c’mere,” I said a little louder, reaching out a heavy hand towards her and dropping it back down onto the sheets.
Nothing.
Concern slowly began to stir somewhere in my gut as I stared at her familiar outline. I could see the dust in the air, floating lazily in the shafts of moonlight that her body eclipsed. Her nightgown wasn’t sheer, but as awareness began to settle in on my suddenly very awake mind, I realized the light was shining straight through. That was far, far too bright for moonlight.
And that was when she turned her head, the movement just a little too slow, too smooth. In the perfect, bald light I could see her face. So familiar, with those smile lines around her lips, even with the neutral blank of her expression. Her dark brows lifted over eyes familiar in shape, even if the harsh shadows made them look like strange, blackened pits. And then she finally looked at me. I knew she looked at me. It was unmistakable with the way her pupils reflected the moonlight, like some nocturnal hunting cat.
Her lips parted and she whispered, her soft voice clear.
“The moon-- it’s beautiful tonight. Come look.
| 2022-05-11T14:02:28 | 2018-04-06T20:42:31 | 314 | 10 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." | I wake up to the sound of a familiar jingle coming from my phone. Groaning I turn over and turn it on. But then something grabs my interest, an official text, like the amber alerts you get sometimes, saying DO. NOT. LOOK.AT. THE. MOON. My screen then suddenly bursts up with hundreds of text messages saying the same thing, it’s a beautiful night tonight. Look outside.
I then see the time, 3:00 am. “Shit” I say, still half asleep, “ I have class at 7:30, ain’t nobody got time for trolls.” I then turn back over and have a wonderful nights rest and get to class just on time.
But no one is there. | I blearily attempted to focus my eyes on my phone as its notification sound went off repeatedly. I had just managed to get to a comfortable position and doze for a good hour before my phone decided to freak out, and I was none too happy.
One government alert that read "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON", followed by 600 messages from numbers I didn't recognize spouting some nonsense about how it was a beautiful night.
"Don't look at the moon", I said. "Good advice." I turned off my phone, rolled over, and drifted back to sleep.
The next day, I was stunned to discover the horrible truth of what those messages were really about: a guerilla marketing stunt by Sony Pictures for some stupid horror movie about a moon cult using cell phones to murder people. Unfortunately, it had caused a "War of the Worlds"-type panic, and the resulting lawsuits all but obliterated the studio. But on the plus side, the rights to Spider-Man defaulted over to Marvel Studios and now there could never be a Pixels 2, so it was all kind of a wash in the end. | 2022-06-27T10:58:59 | 2018-04-06T22:12:43 | 103 | 14 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." | Sweat decorated my face, my hands twitched, my personal signs of panic. I gripped my phone on one hand and on the other my bed sheets. A deafening silence filled my bed room.
"What the fuck?" I murmured to myself. I rose up to a sitting position, used the now dirty bed sheet to clean my face. "Sarah?" I called out to my wife. Only silence answered my question. I ripped the sheets from my form and lunged out of bed.
"Sarah!" I screamed. I ran out the bedroom, down the hall, and entered the living room. "Sarah?!" I yelled out once more. My eyes glanced about the room, scoutted the kitchen, peer to the old leathery couch but found nothing.
I fox walked in darkness using the surface floor to fix my location. "Sarah" I called out gently.
I clenched my eyes shut and attempted to steady my breath.
In and out.
In and out.
In and out.
The back yard. She has to be there, no? I gathered whatever wits I had, which wasn't much to begin with and slowly walked to the other side of the room. Pale white blinds decorated the door in front of me. I swallowed empty dread that filled my mouth.
I gently pull open the door.
Sarah stood outside, standing on the soft green grass. Her back faced me. She stood still and was currently looking at the sky.
I walked forward. "Sarah, you're scaring me" i softly whispered.
No answered came from her.
"Sarah, what the fuck are you looking-"
Words left my mouth. My hands shook and my breathing quickened.
The moon floated above. Far bigger then it should have. Markings scarred it's surface like crude cross hatched shading. The lines grew and within the crevasses poured out blood. I was paralyzed. I couldn't look away. Not when the blood finished covering it. Not when the latitudes and longitudes pulled away from the center and revealed what was hidden inside. A humanoid beast. Its skin paled skin matched that of the moon. It's arms pulled away from its legs and oriented itself upwards. Its face simply consisted of 7 eyes. The remains of the moon orbit around the beast. Faster and faster they moved, until they were blur. The beast opened its eyes and the pieces began to glow. Spears, they began to distort and change and took the forms of glowing spears.
Millions of miles away from Earth. Threw the empty void of space. The shafts of light flew.
Each Longinus struck true and with the impact millions of people were turned to their basic components. Primordial soup poured into valleys, flowed into rivers, flooded homes. Their souls however stayed where they once stood, whirled and moved and solidified into perfect red spheres.
The spheres shot up towards the sky and stopped once the swarm overlooked the Earth.
That day humanity vanished and the beast that screamed from the center of its egg feasted.
***
I'm very sorry for any errors. English is not my first language and past brain trauma certainly doesn't help.
Also I typed this out on my phone. So yeah. I would greatly appreciate any criticism. | That alarm. That damn alarm that everyone hates. So loud, blaring with such urgency that rouses anyone from their sleep. "God what, what is it now?" Isaiah questioned. The amber alert sound was still unending, and as he turned to unlock the phone and silence it, he was met with the brightness of the sun in the palm of his hand. "Augh dammit! Why are phones always so bright!?" He shouted with frustration. After a minute of struggling, he managed to turn off the text alarm. "Amber alerts, hmph. Like anyone is going to be a hero and run after little sally or something...hm what's... Do not look at the moon?" He talked to himself, like he always did at home. A simple quirk that helped him think. His alertness rose however, when he started scrolling through the hundreds of random numbers that texted him. It was 11:30.
Now he was fully awake. A couple lights turned on in his home revealed the pigsty that he lived in. With forward thinking, he turned off the living room light. As if on cue, there was a knock at his front door. Thoughts raced through Isaiah's head, some were pure panic, some were decisions on fight or flight. He lived alone, miles away from civilization. "It's a beautiful night tonight." The mysterious voice said. "You should come out and look, friend." Isaiah was a paranoid individual, and the panic button on his phone helped turn off all the lights in his house and double check that all doors and windows were locked. He sat on the edge of his bed, struggling to keep his hands and his nerves steady. In one hand was his phone, scouring the internet for any source of info as to what was happening. In his other hand, his pistol that he always kept close by. It was now 11:50.
"It's a beautiful night tonight." A now different voice said, in conjunction with the first. In stride, seventeen other voices said at the same time "You should come out and look, friend." It sounded like they were circling the house, chanting the same phrase and shuffling their feet. Isaiah retreated to his panic room. The cacophony of varying voices outside hadn't entered his house, but he wasn't about to give them the chance. The metal safety door slammed behind him, locking in place. The panic room immediately illuminated, various screens springing to life and giving him a view of the outside. Every single person outside stared at the cameras, knowing he was also looking at them. "What the hell is going on." He stated, almost insinuating that he wanted an answer from the mob outside. The soundproof room sheltered him from the horrifying phrase that followed his statement, but the movement of lips on screen already gave him his answer. He turned off the screens with haste, the clock on the wall reading 11:59.
The motion sensors on the wall were no longer activated. Isaiah breathed a sigh of relief, looking over at the dark camera screens and pushing buttons. "C'mon man, this has to be either a really cruel prank, or another one of my bad hallucin-" His sentence was cut short. Mouth agape, his pistol made a loud clanging sound against the metal ground as he walked backwards and trying to brace himself against anything. The camera monitors showed the grass around his home trampled on, but no mass of people. It was midnight, but outside was a brightly lit hue of colours. | 2022-09-27T16:50:27 | 2022-09-11T16:03:17 | 33 | 15 |
[WP] Your job as a researcher in the facility isn't too bad. The hours are shit and the coffee maker is broken, but at least the people are nice. And the job is easy: talk to the telepathic spider, run some tests on the witch, give the eldrich god his daily newspaper, basic stuff. Describe your day
Inspired by the SCP foundation | "Morning newbie."
Three years. I've been working here for three *fucking* years and Caleb was still calling me a *newbie*.
"Morning," I muttered to the unsmiling man behind his desk. "Is the coffee machine fixed yet?"
"Morning newbie," he said again.
I frowned and looked at Caleb, his eyes are unfocused. I wasn't sure if he heard me - it didn't matter. I moved on, passing by more desks and people with stone-cold expressions on their faces. They ignored me and I ignored them in kind.
It was the way shit had to be here. We had to be cold. Uncompromising.
'*F-food... Food!*'
*Shit.*
I make my way to section C-18. After a maze of pristine white corridors and elevators, I arrive at SCP-3912. A telepathic spider peered at me from behind the glass.
'*W-what... took... long... Hungry! Will... devour... you!'*
"Sorry," I think aloud to the scratchy voice in my head, then begin tapping away on a control module. "What do you want today? There's rat, chicken, rabbit or-"
'*H-human!*'
"Sorry O, but human isn't on the menu today - Oh. What's this? There's a fresh born goat, your favorite!"
'*Hmph... Fine.*'
O hmphed me, but began unfurling its seven-foot long, spindly legs from its nest. A giant-hulking spider crawled into view. I exhale, a breath of relief that there was a massive glass wall between us. O could make a grown man scream like a little girl without even trying.
A baby goat, still wet with fresh-born fluids and blood was dispensed from a hole in the ceiling, dropping onto the floor with a wet splatter.
"Fresh-born as promised," I say to the spider but she ignored me, too occupied with her exquisite meal.
I give myself a pat on my shoulders. Next, SCP-1418.
Suddenly, I get a ping. I pull out the standard SCP Tablet and check the message.
'*Caleb from Section C-1 has been compromised. Please proceed to SCP-0009*,' I read.
For a moment I lose myself, frozen in thought. I had just seen Caleb this morning and he seemed *fine.* But what worried me more was... SCP-0009. I shivered as I remembered the rumors I've heard about him. We called him, the Eldritch God. Why? I didn't know. All we knew was what he said about himself - a physical manifestation of calamity, a being that would bring an end to everything in existence and that he was a being far older than humanity, and probably even time itself.
Suddenly, the tablet vibrates in my hand. Another ping.
This time the message was short.
*'ASAP,'* it read.
------
-----
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/Em_pathy/comments/8eenri/the_eldritch_god_part_2/) complete! Check out my sub for more stories, /r/em_pathy
| Caleb is greeted by he usual drab sights as he is scanned into the barracks - painted cement block walls, dim incandescent lights, long corridors of marbled tile. It looked more like a prison than a research lab, but then again, it kind of was.
A tickling in his consciousness alerted him to the presence of Mondo, the resident telepathic spider. Why she had chosen the name Mondo for herself, Caleb had no idea, but she generally kept the place free of flies and other nuisance insects and was good company. Caleb had grown rather fond of her, so he wouldn't make her leave. Besides that, he almost never knew where she was lurking anyways, but that suited him just fine.
*"Good morning two-eyes."*
"G'mornin' Mondo," Caleb replies, stifling a yawn as he makes his way to the broken Keurig. At 5 AM he would really like a cup of coffee, but like every other day, an error message flashes that the burner unit is busted. Caleb sneers in irritation; he had filed reports with maintenance before, but they simply told him that the lab wasn't under their contractual obligation, so they wouldn't do any work in it.
*"Still no waking juice? You should try blood instead - quite a good pick-me-up."*
"Maybe when I grow eyes, legs, and fangs Mondo." Mondo was imbued with telepathy by Bordok, the writhing mass of darkness housed in the adjacent cell to the coffee room. Why Bordok didn't just leave, no one knew - a god of power such as his could easily have ruled the world if he wanted, yet he seemed content to sit around and read *Blondie* from the comics section.
A rumbling thought forced it's way around Caleb. "I could make the fangs happen. It might be funny." Bordok didn't speak in the conventional sense, but it was as close as he could get without obliterating everything around him.
"Fuck off Bordok," Caleb chuckled as he tossed a copy of the Wall Street Journal through the bars. Four tendrils of darkness caught the paper and unfurled it as Bordok began to read an article about the growth of the candied plum industry.
*"Do it, Bordok. This girl could use a laugh."*
Caleb shot a look at Bordok and said, "Do it and you'll be reading the *Springfield Gazette* for a month." He strolled off to the only high-tech equipment around, a large holding cell that crackled with electricity. Two thick steel rings braced the top and bottom of a charged glass bubble - within sat an elderly hag, sprawled across a twin mattress with a cauldron bubbling in the center of the chamber. She had never disclosed her name, but like Bordok she seemed content with her seclusion. After the incident with the ferret and the semi-truck, however, the government had decided that her containment measures should be a tad more comprehensive.
Caleb tossed in some items that she had requested the day before, carrots, beets, parsley, the like. The witch had shopping lists that really weren't all that unusual for normal people, except when she wanted an exhumed corpse or iguana tails.
Caleb settled in to observe this new stew that the witch was brewing, and reflected on what he might do today. Sixteen hour shifts could be hard to pass, but with the menagerie surrounding him, he usually managed just fine. | 2018-04-23T10:13:49 | 2018-04-23T08:32:54 | 419 | 84 |
[WP] At 12:01 AM Death stopped working. 2 years later, age and sickness haven't slowed. Hospitals become houses of pain for the dying but never dead. Births are outlawed. Immolation is the only way to end life. We think. You have been sent by the UN to find Death and figure out what happened. | ######[](#dropcap)
"Hello?" Kiara's voice echoed through the cave. "Is anyone there?"
Only the sound of dripping water answered her call. So she continued to press forward in the darkness, somehow knowing each twist and turn as she came to it, her footsteps sure.
It was moments later when she saw the first glimpse of light. Just a dot in the distance. Her footsteps became more rapid. It must be. So when people claimed they saw the light at the end of the tunnel, this was what they were talking about.
Pretty soon, she was running, her footsteps loud in her ears as she sprinted toward the exit--or entrance--whichever it was. She slowed down as she neared the edge, squinting her eyes.
The cave laid on the face of a mountain, and below her was luscious green. A valley that looked like it came from the garden of Eden, with trees that swayed in the breeze and the wind that whispered in her ear. Except something was missing.
There were no bird calls, no animal cries. No signs of life. The wind, too, was a lie, because when she tried to reach out her hand to feel the breeze, there was nothing. Yet the trees continued to sway. Kiara glanced down at the river that snaked through the mountains, towards the bright light that shone right in between the base of the two mountains. Somehow, she knew that was where she had to go.
The passage of time here was strange. Ticking quickly and slowly at once, the watch she wore on her wrist sometimes moved forwards, other times backwards, with no rhyme or reason to be found. She could feel it too in the air, the sense of loss. That something was missing. But what it was, she had no way of knowing.
She could only keep moving. The trees seemed to grow as she passed them, their boughs bending down toward her, the leaves attempting to caress her. In the wind, she could hear whispers of her name.
And suddenly, she was there. At the point where the two mountains met, there was simply a field of flowers, each bud blossoming brilliantly. And a soft crying sound from within the field.
She walked towards the sound.
When she reached it, she could finally see what it was. A small girl sat in a golden circle that had been etched into the ground, her face buried in her knees, sobbing.
"Are you okay?" Kiara's voice didn't seem like hers. There was an almost muted quality to it, as if she were speaking through water.
The girl lifted her head, and Kiara could finally see that the teardrops on her face came down golden, evaporating as soon as the droplets dripped from her chin. The girl's face was neither beautiful nor ugly, and she found she lacked the words to describe her image. The girl just...was.
"Who are you?" the girl asked.
"I'm Kiara. Who are you?"
"I'm Avana. Goddess of life," she said gently, and she slowly got to her feet. It was then that Kiara could see the small, golden ringlets that were tied to her ankles. Hovering between visibility and invisibility, they moved with her as she shifted her feet, and Kiara could see they were connected to the outer ring of the golden circle. "Did Ena send you? She normally sends Yrus..."
"Who's Ena?" Kiara asked.
Avana's lips pressed shut. Her eyes flashed. "Who are you? How did you get here?" Her gaze shot around, as if she were looking for something.
"I...I'm from Earth. Everyone's stopped dying, and I came to find out why."
"Oh." Avana seemed to deflate. Her gaze slid over Kiara as she sat back down, hugging her knees to her chest. "Go back to where you came from. I don't have the time to concern myself with mortal things right now. Things will return to normal once everything is settled here."
"What do you mean?"
"It means go back to your world," Ava snarled, and Kiara took a step back as the vision of a golden tiger replaced the little girl and flashed in her mind's eye. Then a second later, it was gone, and Avana sat before her once again. But now the little girl was panting slightly, a thin film of sweat over her forehead.
"I can't until I get some answers." Kiara found the stubbornness within her that her mother had always accused her of. "I won't leave."
Avana huffed. "Fine. You want some answers? Rasmir, who you know as the God of Death, is missing, okay? He's just gone, and Ena and the others have gone to search for him. There won't be death until he's back. Happy?"
"But how he could just be...gone?"
Avana looked away, then back at her, and this time she looked older. Like she was in her teens. "No one knows. That's why they've gone to find him. And they thought that I was too young"--she raised a foot and shook it gently so that the chains clinked together--"so they left me here."
Then her eyes lit up. "I know how to get out of here though. We can go find Rasmir, just the two of us! Will you help me?"
*****
Part 2 is below!
r/AlannaWu | Tressi walked through the valleys of the otherworld. The air was silent except for a faint echoing roar that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. Monochrome lifeless landscape surrounded her for as far as the eye could see, except for a glint of green at the foot of a jagged mountain directly before her. She’s been chasing this glint for days now, and finally she was close enough to see it was made up of trees.
She continued her march, thinking about the world she’d come from. For as long as history was recorded, man had searched for the elixir of life, the philosopher’s stone, the fountain of youth, the way to cheat death. In the last year, it wasn’t the alchemists, or the physicians, or the magi that brought the cure, but a strange incident with a little boy. He’d been crushed, falling into the gears of a grist\-mill, a tragic death for one so young and sinless, but he hadn’t died.
The boy had sat, broken, but alive, while the physicians and priests hovered over him, working and praying and marveling. Slowly, surely, the boy had healed. A certain death was miraculously reversed. Soon, other similar cases were appearing all over the land: a lady crushed by a cart lived to recover, a miller dragged under by his waterwheel still lived after 10 minutes below the flow, a constable stabbed 12 times by brigands and left bloodless coughed and sputtered his way back to the living.
At first people had rejoiced at these miracles, but soon came more disturbing occurrences. Consumptives stopped their death march, and instead of release found their suffering extended indefinitely, coughing up more and more of their insides as they writhed on beds in darkened houses. Men with the wasting sickness stopped dying, but continued to shed skin and limbs, remaining sitting in the gutters as they always had, partly alive and wholly dead.
Tressi approached the wood, verdant and glowing amidst the black rock and grey skies that dominated this place. She could hear birds chirping and the flow of water as she approached the glade. She pushed limbs and twigs aside, barely able to see feet in front of her, so thick was the growth. Finally, shifting the reaching tendrils of a wall of willows out of the way, she came to the bank of the river where two figures sat engaged in a game.
A figure wrought all in black, slender, with skeletal features and a circlet of dead flowers and animal bones sat hunched at one side of the board. At the other a rosy cheeked lad, garbed in cloths of un\-nameable colors sat, leaning back on his arms. At Tressi’s entrance, they turned and smiled before returning to their game.
“Are you,” Tressi looked between them, “are you Death, and Life?”
“Of course child,” the one wrapped in darkened silks said, voice a whisper, but comforting in some way.
“Why have you come?” The lad asked, considering the board, apparently unconcerned.
“I’ve been send by the magi of my people.” Tressi looked directly toward Death. “They want to know why you’ve left.”
The young boy let out a laugh, sharp in the stillness of the glen. He shot Tressi a mocking look, “Are they sure Death has left? Maybe I’ve just stayed longer?”
“I\-\-” Tressi looked confused for a second.
“Don’t mock her,” Death said softly, “of course I left.”
She turned to look at Tressi, “For years and decades and centuries and aeons, the people of your world have prayed for me to withdraw. They prayed to small gods, gods of rivers and gods of mountains and gods of the wind, so it had no effect on me for the longest time. But, given enough time, given enough prayer...” She shrugged softly, and turned to the game board, picking up a piece and setting it back down again with a slight frown.
“What a foolish thing to pray for,” Life said to no one in particular. He turned to Tressi, “are all people so stupid?”
It was clear Tressi didn’t know how to respond, so he continued. “What is it about life, that makes it worth enduring? What is it about feeling hunger, feeling pain, feeling sorrow, day by day growing older and weaker that makes it worthwhile? What is it that makes people hunt food, risk pain for pleasure, endure sorrow for joy, smile at age and relish in youth?”
He looked at her, a perplexed look on his face.
“Death.” Tressi said softly.
“That’s right, Death. There’s no meaning to those things without the constant promise of Death. Death is the flavor that makes youth and companionship sweet, sorrow and loneliness bitter, old age and wisdom savory. Without Death, it’s all just a meaningless chore.
“People make the mistake of thinking that I am a beautiful lie and Death is an ugly truth.” Life continued. “I think that’s wrong. I am an *ugly* lie and Death is a *beautiful* truth. Without the promise of Death, there's no reason for people to risk, to be bold, to struggle and to ascend. Without Death there's just,” he gestured down at the game board, "no point."
Tressi considered this a moment, not having thought about it before, but philosophy wasn't her mission today. “And how do we bring Death back?” She asked.
Death spoke. “Pray for a death worthy of life. Live a life worthy of death. Stop praying for me to leave, start embracing the importance and beauty of the temporariness of Life.”
Life moved a piece as the two turned back to the game board, and Tressi began to walk back the way she came. | 2018-05-17T19:52:57 | 2018-05-17T18:47:23 | 87 | 60 |
[WP] France is now illegal | "Hey, you. come here!"
"What?"
"Want to try something good?"
"Sure. what you got? crack? weed?"
"nah, I hot something better. I got pieces of France"
"France?!"
"Shhh! Keep it down!"
"Sorry. You seriously got some France?"
"Yeah, some nice rocks from Paris. High quality shit. Pure stuff. Want a taste?"
"Hell yeah."
.
..
....
"Hey man, this shit is cut!"
"Nah man, it's pure!"
"Nah, this ain't even from France! I've seen this shit before. Just a baguette cut with pieces of Paris, Idaho! You trying to scam me!"
"Fuck you! you have no idea what you're talking about! This is real quality France here!"
"You are lying to me, I don't like being lied to!"
"FUCK YOU!!!"
*BANG!*
*BANG!*
> 5 hours later
"Well Tony, looks like a simple case of a drug deal gone wrong."
"What drug was it?"
"Hmmm....looks like France"
"My god" | Damn baguettes.
I hate baguettes. They are so despicable.
Look at them, those baked goods make me so mad. I feel an anger boiling up inside me, welling up until I am fit to burst, fit to explode. The last time I was in a French bakery I got so angry that I shattered the window by kicking it with my full force, and unfortunately I got banned from the establishment.
Why would they ban me? Huh? I didn’t do anything illegal. These French fools, don’t even know the law.
Come on, who likes them? Who!? They are so irritating, so stupidly exhausting to witness and to be around.
I also hate art, what good is art!? None, I tell you, none at all.
And I hate those stupid hats, those stupid hats which look like aubergines, which all the stupid artists where and it just makes me so goddamn angry! So, so angry.
Did I mention I hate Paris? I hate that too. It’s so expensive and so cruelly monotonous and so terrible, it just slights me, it just insults me in every way and intrudes on my personal beliefs.
That’s why when I became president of Uzbekistan, I banned France.
Yay.
————————————————————
The author of this story loves baguettes, France, Paris, and those artisan hats. And art.
Disclaimer over. | 2018-07-27T10:16:58 | 2018-07-27T08:37:34 | 128 | 28 |
[WP] Domino's pizza has offered free pizza for life to anyone who tattoos their logo on their body. Now other food chains are following that idea, but with increasingly absurd requirements, and the poor have turned themselves into walking advertisements just so they can eat with each passing day. | "Welcome to Audi, sir. What car can I get you today?"
"I'd like a TT RS Coupé 2.5 please. Red."
"Ooh, nice! That'll be $135,728. And how will you be paying?"
"No need, Mr Salesperson. I have one of these."
"An Audi tattoo on both nipples. Fabulous. And you have the...ah good, penis too. Now, have you learned to sing the Audi Corporate Anthem?"
"Go, Audi, we are fast / Our ringly rings get folks half mast / Revvy revs then do the rest / Fuck you Tesla, we're the best"
“And backwards?”
"Og, idau, ew rah tsaf / Ylnig sgnir teg suh flah tsam / yvver sver neth od eth tser / Cuf ooy laset erew eth tseb"
"Very good. Well, I guess that just leaves..."
"Yep. Do you have a briefcase one?"
"Absolutely sir. Armed and set for detonation in 5 minutes. Now, if you manage to put it under a high-end Volvo today, we'll also throw in a set of extra floormats."
"Well...I do love floormats." | Fuck Mark. That’s his third crop basket this month. Fuck Whole Foods too, rectangle logo? Ridiculous. With six kids, Mark is fine.
Our Wilson’s tall, that’s good, but he isn’t big enough. We have two years. Maybe.
Since McDonalds shifted their promotion from a big meal six pack to a three, he’s not getting the calories he needs to gain weight. Mama said we need to get Wilson to add about 6% body fat to take meet the new logo size requirements.
Red tape.
Our smart pod’s nice enough. Louise got it for winning the back logo contest Tesla put out about five years back. That was when companies were competing with each other, bigger and bigger contests, looser size requirements, it was before the officially licensed artists too. You could get Costco on your finger for 20$ and have your whole family head to toe in Kirkland.
The golden years.
Something with the ink though, it made her sick. We got the smart pod, but the surgery after the infection wrecked our ability to conceive. Six kids. It’s a dream. There’s so much body space.
About three years ago the politicians were fighting about universal basic income. The suits came round and sang the praises of the beauty of money for nothing. No more tears, no more suffering and the like. Heaven on earth.
They almost won too. People were mad. Some folk just don’t want to work. Sure, times are hard, but we all got a body. We can all eat, we can all get housing, could you imagine higher taxes in this economy?
Six kids though. Goddamn. | 2018-09-08T14:19:51 | 2018-09-08T14:18:35 | 49 | 34 |
[WP] You're a supervillian. Your power? Making anybody and everybody nearby feel the same emotion you feel except 100x stronger. Mostly you've been using it to force people to donate absolutely all their life's savings into charities. Superheros aren't quite sure how to deal with you. | It’s a bit like picking a string on a harp, you make it vibrate, amplify it, make the resonance affect the world around it. Now anyone can jam on a harp and make an awful lot of noise but I like to think I’m better than that. I can take any old emotion that you happen to be feeling at that moment and make it vibrate, amplify it and allow it to make you change the world around you.
In the beginning I used it to bully people, a quick scare, turn it up to eleven and they just collapsed into a ball and whimpered, turn it up to twelve and they won’t sleep for a week, turn it up much more.... well, let’s say it’s not pretty and leave it at that. It did the trick but the things I did to those people wasn’t sitting well. So I started on a new method, I took the money I had made, lost the scary costume and put on a three piece suit.
I set up great charities that would help the needy and the poor, organize great charity balls and invited high society.
Of course only a few of them were actually charitable, I could feel what motivated them and more than half did not deserve even a tenth of their wealth. Luckily there was one emotion I could always exploit, pride. So once one of them put down a hundred dollar donation and made himself look better than the other, I kicked the envy of his peers up a notch, and then I kept upping the stakes until all their ill-gotten gains were now given to the charity. I skimmed of the top of course, a man needs to eat after all.
But then I messed up, I pushed one of them to far, investment banker, he had been one upping his peers since preschool and I pushed him too far, he grabbed a steak knife of the buffet and donated his organs right then and there. Of course this sort of bullshit gets the league of heroes interested. They were hesitant at first, after all I had donated most of my loot to charity, and they could scarcely prove I had forced anyone to donate that money.
But they deemed me too dangerous to be out and decided I should be locked away for the safety of all mankind.
This would not stand.
After a few days of sitting in a cell in their little base i decided it was time to leave, i took a breath and began screaming. You have to understand this about heroes, they’re compassionate. Dr. Laserface came around the corner and tried to give me a sedative I siezed the opportunity and stopped screaming, deadpanned him and spoke the sentence I spent months crafting; ‘My hovercraft is full of eels.’ His Face screwed up in confusion, I turned it all the way up, twisted it so far the metaphorical knob came of, and all that was left of the great Dr. laserface was a babbling idiot, who would fail to comprehend anything more complicated than breathing.
I never took more than I needed, I repented for my sins earlier in life, but the arrogant bastards who thought themselves gods, had not even given me the courtesy of a trial.
Now the heroes of this world will pay of their arrogance.
EDIT: someone gave gold, so now i feel obligated to make a second part | My father would often say that laughter is the greatest medicine. His lax yet affectionate round face, with eyes that would sparkle with honesty, would always comfort those around him. Father made it his duty to have those around him roar with pleasure, and on those rare occasions he did not succeed, he would at the very least be triumphant with bringing a sunny smile to the peoples faces.
Strangers may say that his joyful personality was only mirrored by his benevolent humanitarian ventures, opening up charities focused on entertainment to gift the young who were damned from the cruel and merciless diseases graciously gifted by fate. If destiny does have a sense of humour, it must have an unhealthy appetite to the dark ironies of life.
'Daniel, where are you? Come here son, let's play our favourite game!'
I repied with hesitation clinging to my voice 'Maybe next time daddy, I'm feeling a bit tired today, please?' I pleaded with near complete assurance that father would not take no for an answer. His stubborn temperament would not allow it.
'Nonsense!' he shouted. 'I've brought a companion to play with us, you don't expect me to turn him away now would you?' He said with a fake tone of indignation.
'Alright, I'm coming'
As I entered the spacious living room, I saw a young boy dressed in a white gown. He was maybe about two years younger than me, but definitely two inches taller. He was making noises at my dad, like one of those seals trying to show appreciation for an act. Of course, I soon realised, another one from dad's charity events.
'You see Daniel, this friend of ours is mute, it's very difficult for him to communicate, but he's a determined one, arent you?' He flicked his nose in a juvenille manner, introducing more muffled laughter from the mute boy.
'Now then Daniel, it's time to play our game!' He shouted with joy, glowing with a contagious smile that you could not help but in with. A smile I've always dreaded.
Father slowly unbuckled his gold tinted belt, more than likely a gift from a grateful, and definitely wealthy, 'friend', raised it high in the air as the artifical interior lighting reflected on the belt, and whipped it accross the mute boy.
Slash! Slash! Slash!
The boys muffling could be heard, his eyes seemed for scream for mercy, completely caught off guard from this sudden change.
My father roared with laughed, 'Laugh Daniel laugh, why aren't you laughing? Is this not fun?' He screamed in pleasure as he continued to whip the hopeless boy, 'Do I need to teach you how to laugh again, son?'
'No father, I will laugh father.' That is what I did: I laughed, and I laughed and I laughed. Every single time father brought a new friend, I would follow the same routine, I laughed.
And as time went by, slowly becoming older and acquiring some interesting abilties on the way, I would realise that father was right, laughter is the greatest medicine.
I begun my own charitable cause, visiting hospitals, running events all focused on entertaining the sick, helpless, innocent children; so that I could cure them, *cure them from this disease called life.*
​
​
Would just like to say this is my first ever writing prompt and I really enjoyed writing this. Sorry for any spelling or grammatical mistakes, hopefully this will improve as I continue to write more!! | 2018-12-17T14:50:10 | 2018-12-17T14:24:32 | 306 | 28 |
[WP] Due to overpopulation, a law was passed globally that requires everyone to hibernate for 100 years at a time after every 90 years. Today is Shutdown Day. As you finish getting tucked into your pod, you instantly notice eyes being shut all around you. But something is wrong. You are still awake.
This post was partially inspired by [this one.](https://www.reddit.com/r/morbidquestions/comments/aaeu8w/if_everyone_in_the_world_fell_asleep_at_the_exact/) | Eyes shutting around me. Friends, family, all of them drifting into a long sleep. 100 years shrunk into the blink of an eye.
Soon, the soft whirring of the cryogenic generators kick in. The whirring... wait, why am I still awake?
I looked around frantically, as those around me got frozen, stopping their body processes, effectively dead for a century. But this wasn't happening to me. As this began to sink in, the lights shut off. And I was alone.
I began pounding on the window of the pod, hoping that someone would hear me. I don't know who I thought would hear me, maybe a maintenance crew? I heard they have those.
I started feeling around, searching for something I could press, an emergency button, or something! I felt a long array of bumpy objects, but they did nothing when I tried to press them. What about this squishy thing? Is this a lever?
Eventually, I fell into silence. And I waited. Hours, days, years, I don't know (well probably not years).
And finally, something happened. The bottom of my pod suddenly dropped away and I started falling. I slid along rough metal, reminding me of a water slide (but more painful). And at last, I landed on hard ground.
I looked up and was immediately blinded by a bright white light. I covered my eyes and looked up. They looked... human? Is that a torch?
"Hey, sorry that took so long. Welcome to the maintenance team!" | What? What's going on? Why aren't I sleeping? The chamber should've immediately altered balance for sleep. I need to get attention.
I pound on the glass. "Hey! This chamber is defective!" Nothing. I do it again, louder. "Hey!! It's not working!" No one notices. The chamber lowers. I don't have much time. I use all my power to bust the glass. Nothing. Panic. What should I do? What *can* I do?
Breathe. No, wait- meant for sleeping, not hyperventilating. Limited supply. Can't do that. Stay calm. Adrenaline rushes won't help. Count to five, lower breathing manually. Just gotta stay calm.
Dark. The chamber's been lowered into the floor. Why aren't I sleeping? I need to be sleeping. Injury? Knock myself out? That could work. Three, two... wait, no. Blood loss. I'll be in here a while. Head injuries will kill me. Stay calm. Count to five, lower breath.
Wait. Wasn't there an emergency button? Can you tell me? That's right, you never answer me. Let me look around. It's too dark. I don't want to hit the wrong switch or button. Wasn't there a code for lights I could say? I think I remember that. I can't recall. "Emergency lights!" Nothing. "Lights on!" Still nothing. Can't you speak? Can you help? "No sleep!"
...Lights. A buzzer. That's my button. I press it. Is this it? What's going on? I feel myself raising. Finally, the surface. I can breathe calmly again, now that I'm back. Time to find a new pod. | 2018-12-29T02:06:11 | 2018-12-29T01:26:24 | 1,838 | 35 |
[WP] You've accepted a mysterious job offer with a salary of $30k a week, all you have to do is sit in a dark room for 8 hours a day. Today is your first day. | I walk into the poorly lit office in the back, still very confused about this whole thing. The guy never said why I was doing this, but hey, student loans are a b!tch; I gotta pay them somehow.
But as I sit at the desk, I notice the monitor is on and is displaying video footage, seemingly in real time of the rest of the building. I figure they are security cameras. "Oh, so when the guy said to sit here and do nothing, I guess I just have to watch the cameras. Am I allowed to be a security guard without some sorta license?"
As I very briefly mull over that (just out of boredom), I notice something strange. In the corner of one of the camera's view, there seemed to be a costume. I squint at it and look a little harder. That was *definitely* a full body fox suit.
Oh, **nuh uh**. "F!ck this. I'm out. I've played Fnaf before. You ain't getting me. Not today Satan!" And with that I bolt for the door, head out into human company once more, and never go back. You know, like a **sane** person. | \[Poem\]
​
Light, o fine mistress!
What sweet comfort in your bosom, what lovely tenderness in your arms!
Were that I was a younger man, that I may seek your love once more.
​
​
My mind grows cloudy amongst this dark setting.
I think it's over. The red numbers above the door read 'SIX HOURS'
Death seems preferable
​
I think about my loves, past and present.
Julia, my sweet, how I loved you so!
Taken to the arms of Jesus to quick they had said.
Better to be a rocket than a candle, I replied.
​
Cynthia, oh fiery maiden!
You always had a quick retort.
Mark is a happy man.
But happiness always has eluded you.
​
Damnable thoughts creep in my mind.
Treasonous, murderous.
I had never touched this corner of my mind before.
Only darkness can illuminate it.
​
My mouth waters for a drink.
Sweet whiskey, always loving, irrespective of what I am.
Not like mother, always with her opinion
I think I wish to die.
​
​
The buzzer sounds.
"See you tomorrow!" The PA screeches.
I return home and rest. | 2019-03-17T21:59:44 | 2019-03-17T19:23:45 | 53 | 11 |
[WP] You're a Satanist, recently deceased. You love all things dark and spooky, so imagine your surprise when you come across the pearly gates, with the sign "hell" clumsily hung over where Heaven was. Behind the gate are little cherubs in cheap devil costumes, trying their best for you. | "The f*** do you mean I went to heaven! Why the f*** can't I swear?!" I said shouting at Jesus Christ in red face paint. "Oh my gosh, this is- did I just say gosh? Gosh. GOSH!"
"You literally cannot swear or take the Lord's name in vain here." Jesus replied wiping the paint off his face immaculately.
"Right fine, but seriously what am I doing here? And why did you think these crappy costumes would work? I'm an a**hole not stupid." Jesus lead me down a Golden paved pathway with pumpkins and bats and other Halloween decorations that were honestly just offensive. I was a Satanist not a goth. You think they would know that considering they have omnipotence.
Jesus turned to me as we were walking, "right, about that. So, it turns out that you're not really an asshole."
"How come you can say it?!"
He just gave me a look that seemed almost disappointed. "Anyway, so as I was saying, you really aren't a bad person."
"How is that possible? I did a bunch of sins and stuff, I mean I worshipped Satan! Isn't he like your mortal enemy or something?"
"You do realize he was an angel at one point. He just broke the law one time, and ever since then he has been following it. He even realizes his mistake, but someone needs to be the ruler of hell."
"Still, I did a ton of bad stuff in my life."
"Like?"
"That time I tripped an old lady in the middle of the road and ran away." I smile snuggly knowing that only an a**hole would do something that bad.
"Well, that actually realigned her spine which not only allowed her to walk without a cane, but also ended up with her being able to hug her grandchildren once more."
I gave a confusing look, "Okay what about the time I stole a farmer's prized goat for a sacrifice?"
"The goat had an extremely infectious disease that had yet to spread to the rest of his flock. You saved his livelyhood by killing that goat before it killed the rest of them." Jesus grabbed a Pepsi out of thin air, popped the tab and began to drink.
"The time I sabotaged someone's skiis?"
"That guy fell face first into the mountainside and broke three ribs."
I looked a little surprised at that. "How is that a good thing?"
Jesus crushed the can against his head before it disappeared. "He did that 3 feet from a deadly cliff face."
"Gosh darn it!" I glared at him, "you know what I meant." How was I doing all these good things unintentionally?! "What about robbing the church that one time?"
"That money was embezzled and lead to prosecutors arresting the peoples who stole it in the first place."
"Indoctrinating that kid into our cult?"
"His family took notice and after he left the cult grew more attached to his family."
"Ran over someone's dog with my car?"
"That was a lawn ornament."
"Sold drugs?"
"You sold antidepressants to people with depression."
"I kicked the same dog every day on my way to work."
"Still a lawn ornament."
"I STOLE CANDY FROM A BABY."
"Do you know how unhealthy candy is for children. Thank God you got it out of his hands." Jesus smiled at me with the most smug expression I had ever seen on anyone.
I dropped to my knees, beaten. "Gosh darn it!! Why am I so good?!" | This wasn't right. No, this wasn't right at all. Where was the fire? The brimstone? The cries of the dammed? I usually consider myself a relatively open-minded person, but this was just...disappointing.
I sighed. May as well go in, I thought. The only thing behind and flanking me was the edge of the cloud I stood on, so the glowing, almost cliche pearly gates before me were the only place to go. But really, who was in charge of this? Who thought it was a good idea to write "HELL" in sharpie on a piece of cardboard and hang it on the gates?
This must be a joke, I reasoned with myself. Or I'm dreaming and my subconscious is suddenly a comedian. But no, I could feel the wind blowing around me, and pinching myself did nothing.
As I stood before the gates of heaven, trying to simply process it all, the thin string holding the "HELL" sign broke, and it fell away, revealing an engraved inscription: "Welcome to Heaven."
I began laughing at the absurdity of it all, and shaking my head, I began walking through the gates, which seemed to anticipate my steps and swing open for me.
After the odd welcome, I'm not sure what exactly I was expecting. I am sure, however, that it was not the tiny, fat angels in demon costumes that fluttered before me. I couldn't help but feel sorry for them. The costumes they wore looked as if they were bought from a budget Halloween store, and they were doing their best at what I can only assume we're demonic cackles. Poor little buddies were trying their hardest.
I shook my head. I slapped myself. I stopped in front of the cherub demons and began looking around, trying to find someone who could help me as the chemons didn't seem to speak English, or any language for that matter. I thought getting a sense of my surroundings would clear up my growing confusion, but the more I took in, the more my confusion grew. To my back was a great white wall, and it appeared to stretch to infinity in both directions. Along the wall at regular intervals were other pearly gates, like the one I had just stepped through. People were coming in, and what looked like salesmen were pointing them in the next direction, which was...a mass of people. Looking forward, all I could see were hills of people, with no apparent lines or organization.
I managed to catch the eye of one of the salesangels, and gestured him over. He rushed over, looking absolutely exhausted. His tie was all but undone, his hair was messy, and he had much more stubble than I had expected on an angel.
He stood before me, looking distracted. I opened my mouth to speak. "So..."
"So...?" he looked a bit annoyed now, but I realized that I had no idea what to say. I had to say something, didn't I?
"So...what the fuck man?"
"Sorry?" the sweaty mess before me blinked in part surprise, part confusion.
I gestured madly behind me. "What the fuck is this? Why are you putting on this show for me? What is happening? Why the hell am I not in hell?!"
The surprise in his face had returned to a sort of distracted look. He wasn't even looking at me, he was looking at the paper in the clipboard he was cradling.
"Hell's closed."
"Excuse me?" I had never been so confused.
He looked up. "Hell is closed."
"Why?" I was practically screaming by now.
He looked me dead in the eye, and without blinking, the angelic disaster of a salesman in front of me responded with two words and not a hint of humor.
"Budget cuts." | 2019-07-18T16:21:11 | 2019-07-18T14:09:55 | 106 | 65 |
[WP] "Welcome. You're dead. Congrats. Door to Heaven's on the left. Door to Hell is on the right. Go ahead and pick, but just know that the decision is final." The figure sitting at the desk spoke, stifling a yawn and not looking up from their book. | “Excuse me?” I said, “I’m what now?”
The man sighed and laid his book on the desk. He was tall, noticeable even while he was seated. His golden skin looked as if it would be warm to the touch. He was good-looking in a rugged sort of way, but his features were contorted into a grimace as he repeated his opening line.
“I said you’re dead, lady. Heaven on the left, Hell on the right. Pick one and pick wisely.”
“What do you mean *DEAD*?” I demanded, looking around in bewilderment.
It was then that I truly noticed my surroundings. I was standing in an area that was not quite a room, under a space that was not quite a sky. There was nothing but a vague mist behind and beside me, and nothing in front of me save the annoyed man at the desk and the nondescript doors.
I sighed. “How did I...well, how did it happen?”
“You remember,” was his response.
I began to protest, but then it all flashed before my eyes - leaving work late, driving down the road, honking at a car crossing the yellow line, trying to swerve. A look of comprehension must have crossed my face, because the man spoke again.
“Right. So. Choose a door.”
“This seems easy enough,” heading for the door on the left. “I mean, would anyone *really c*hoose the door to Hell?”
“Some do.”
I paused. Turned.
“Why?”
“Because they asked me the most important question.”
“Which is...?"
“You know,” he replied.
Again, I began to protest. But in that instance, I understood. How many times I said it when complaining about my job, my finances, and everything else? I chuckled at the irony.
“Will I remember this?” I asked, looking toward the door on the right.
“You won’t ever remember, but you’ll always know.”
With that, he smiled and returned to his reading. I had made my choice.
I stood there for a moment more, then walked up to the selected door. I placed my hand on the knob, took a deep breath, and turned. Heaven may have been just a few steps away, but it just wasn’t my time. I caught one last glimpse of the man at the desk as I stepped through the doorway and returned to the life that I would now love just a little bit more. | I stood in front of the blackened-bone desk, paralyzed by the power I held. One choice - one choice when I was raised on the idea of absolute judgement - determined my eternal afterlife.
The door on the left stood in a humble arch, yet it was carved of the most radiant crystal I’d ever see. Golden light, laughter, and a warm summer breeze drifted from the portal, and my hand instinctively reached toward it. Before I could touch the delicate knob, however, I restrained myself, my hand falling to my side.
How easy it would be to choose Heaven! How wonderful it would be to delight in the wonders I’d worked my entire life to be worthy of! Yet... was I truly worthy of it? I thought back to all the petty lies and curses I’d casually used throughout my life, all those moments of selfish weakness and impiety. No human is perfect... but the Holy Word declares that humanity has inherent evil among the good, that those moments are falling prey to the temptation bred by Original Sin. Surely one couldn’t just walk into Heaven without distinguishing so much as a monk from a murderer!
Sighing heavily, I turned my gaze to the other door. This one stood proud and imposing, made from a gleaming onyx frame studded with bloody spikes. The air wafting under the crack was acrid and stifling, and the only light to be found was dim and purple.
While demons and other, darker creatures of the world could be heard shrieking from the other side, at least there was no sinister cackling, no prophesied screams of tormented souls. Oh, but could I truly belong in Hell either? My mind swirled with visions of the hours I’d spent volunteering at the local homeless shelter, the chores I’d freely done for my neighbor while they recovered from spinal surgery, and the tender kindnesses I bestowed upon every pet I had. I mean, I never got a speeding ticket, much less committed a felony! Besides, we were created in God’s merciful image, so surely I didn’t deserve to send myself to Hell.
“You have five seconds left to decide,” droned the receptionist.
“What? No!”
“5...”
“That’s not enough!”
“4...”
“Please. Please!”
“3...”
“I can’t, I can’t.”
“2...”
“Heaven! No, Hell!”
“1...”
“No, Heaven! Maybe?”
“Your soul will now be recycled and cleansed of all defects, thank you for living, I don’t care. Next.”
“No, wait, I’ll choose!” I cried, running toward Heaven’s door and reaching for the knob with a fading, spectral hand. “Ple—“ | 2019-10-03T13:35:03 | 2019-10-03T13:09:34 | 183 | 84 |
[WP] You are a genie, and after thousands of years of existence, you have grown extremely bored. To combat this boredom, you give all 7 billion people on Earth three wishes - all at once. You don’t tell any of the humans that they have any wishes at all. | I've made a big mistake.
I've made a promise I can't possibly keep.
7 billion people. What was I thinking?? 7 billion seconds is almost 222 years! Even if I could give a wish every second, it would take me 666 years to fulfill 3 wishes for 7 billions people! I should have done the math, but here we are.
21 billion wishes...
My only choice is to slow down time, and the only way to slow down time is to move really, really fast.
Well, I'm certainly not bored anymore, what with the bending of the space-time continuum on a constant basis. I've even managed to break it on a couple occasions! Time just stopped! Twice!
The thing is, it's really starting to get to me, this constant level of go-go-go. Truth being, I'm starting to take it out on the humans with a little bit of malicious compliance.
Little Emily wished for a snow day from school for her birthday. Her entire town is currently covered in 3 feet of snow, and her friends won't be making it to her party. Sorry, Emily.
Angelica had been wanting a child for years. She finally wished that she were pregnant, and I answered her call! She's now pregnant with twins! One baby belongs to her husband, and the other to her lover! The men do not look alike.
Barry was having trouble with his temper, and wished to be more patient. Well, now he has plenty of time to be patient. Every time he goes to the doctor's office, his wait time is increased by an hour.
Herald sat beside his ailing wife, holding her hand and speaking softly to her. "I wish we had more time together." Yeah, I'm not horrible! She survived another 9 days. She had to be revived 3 times before Herald signed the DNR.
Everyone got what they wished for? | Long ago, when the Earth was resplendent with green verdure and crystal seas, all animals great and small lived under the rule of the Sky King Genis. Humans were still a smattering of scattered tribes, and though they were a crafty creature, oftentimes they not only suffered at the fangs of more powerful beasts but also the spears of each other. In the depths of their despair, humans would cry out for help and the Sky King Genis, hearing their prayers in his heart, took compassion on them.
The Sky King looked upon the humans with their tendency to venture from their homes, hearts filled with adventure, and saw that though they went forth with a brave face, at night they they would cry with none to hold them up. And so the Sky King resolved to create for humans a creature they could call friend. He saw how the humans huddled around their fires, cloaks wrapped tight around solitary frames, so he plucked hair from his own head to give his creature warm fur for cuddling.
The Sky King looked again upon the humans and saw that the hearts of man were never still, for they were replete with fear. During the day they would survey their lands for monsters, eyes darting back and forth continuously, and during the night their sleep was as restless as the spears they kept next to their sleeping mats, always ready for rival tribes. And so the Sky King gave his creature a piece from his own valiant heart so the creature could bark with a roar of a lion.
The Sky King looked once more upon the humans and frowned at the weeping of the women around their funeral pyres, grieving the wages of the bickering between tribes. He saw the hatred man had against man. The never ending cycles of vengeance and violence. And so he gave his creature a breath of his own benign spirit so the creature would forgive his master's trespasses with a lick of its tongue, and in doing so, the Sky King hoped, the creature could inspire peace.
The Sky King looked upon his newest creation and pet it on its head. The creature muzzled against the Sky King's hand before bounding off to find its humans, tail quivering with excitement. | 2020-03-14T08:46:36 | 2020-03-14T06:22:09 | 61 | 11 |
[WP] You are short, skinny and well below average intelligence. Yet, you've been hired by a group of elite soldiers to help with some of their most dangerous missions. Your superpower: sheer dumb luck. No matter how close to death you come, reality always follows the path to your ultimate survival. | Operation Code Red Tango Tango Bravo, despite its long winded name, was simple. Americans were being held hostage in the Tehran Embassy and the US government would very much like it if we got them out.
Colonel McAdams stood before the team assigned to the mission. He always avoided eye contact with me at these things.
You will hear me referred to as Potter. I'm 49. I used to be a city bus driver in DC. Lines 54 and 71 were mine for 13 years. Now it's hard to tell people what I do. Despite not passing a single portion of the physical, I'm a Green Beret of the US Army. I used to think metropolitan transport has some bad politics. You should see the brown nosing these Buzz Cuts got going with the Colonel.
"Attennnn..... HUT!"
The Buzz Cuts straightened their posture and saluted ever so perfectly, eyes straight ahead. McCadams paced in front of us and spoke.
"Gentlemen, the lives of 18 Americans are in your hands. The 10 of you have been uniquely selected for your military skills to handle this hostage crisis. Failure... is not an option."
I wondered if he was intentionally referencing Apollo 13 or wanted us to think he came up with that.
"Before I begin to debrief the mission, and we'll go over its name in a second, I want to tell you all that you're here for a reason. You're brave men and you're the best we got. Never forget that."
And not to toot my own horn or anything, but I was probably the best solider out of all of them. I'm uniquely talented in my ability to not die. I know you might think you're pretty good since you're reading this right now, but allow me to explain.
The US Army first got wind of me after an incident on my line 71 route a few years back. During an evening commute, my bus had lost its brakes completely. I was going 65mph heading down a hill on I-395 with zero ability to stop. The bus only increased in speed. I swerved to the shoulder, trying to aim for a patch of grass that might slow us down just a little. As I swerved, a gust came in. A fierce gust. So fierce that the semi truck a few hundred yards ahead actually tipped to the side some. As the truck became lopsided, its back door began to open. The contents of the truck began to fall out. Mattresses. The mattresses came out like a conveyor belt and stacked themselves vertically in an orderly fashion behind the truck. I aimed my bus at this mass of cushiony softness and we came to a gentle hault.
That's just the one time my heroics were at the stage to get out to the public like that. I've been avoiding death all my life in far less glamorous ways. I ate a pail of paint when I was 7 and the doctors discovered I had a rare condition where lead was actually beneficial to me. I slipped off a cliff while hiking and apparently spaced out that I was going base jumping that day because I had a parachute handy.
So when the army needs something to get done, they need someone who won't die while getting that thing done. They need Potter - 49 years old and driver of busses. America's hero. | “Soldier!’ shouts an authoritative voice “you will refer to me as Colonel X. I will be the lead on your first deployment.” The man, middle-aged and of a towering build, looks down at me with a piercing gaze. Placing his pillar of an arm on my shoulder, the impact of which I just about withstand, he tells me “Report to HQ, and gather your equipment. I’ll be taking a good luck at this touted skillset of yours.” Oblivious as to where that is, I look up to him and reply “Cool.”. With an air of distaste about him, the Colonel with his impeccable posture turns and marches away. “Perhaps I should’ve asked him where I’m supposed to go.” I say to myself “Oh well, I guess I’ll get there anyway.”
With an indifferent shrug, I decide to go in the direction the Colonel went. I look on in fascination at the flavourlessness of this place. A winding path, with hues of white everywhere. White doors that pop up every few footsteps, an over-arching white ceiling that looks to long have given up on life, and a countless number of unneeded blinding white lights. Is this the Heaven that Momma had told me about? I wasn’t too impressed; my apartment was much cooler.
I hadn’t seen many people here. It was just as the postman had told me; the strange postman who had given me his business card, and proceeded to get run over by a lorry as he walked off. I owed it to his memory to follow up on the offer and, besides, he told me I’d get paid well enough to afford my own candy castle. Lost in these thoughts, that were oh-so frequent, and paying no attention to my surroundings now, I suddenly stopped: as though a matter of impulse.
I raised my head upwards, and found ahead of me, at the breadth of a fingertip or two, a man with a crooked nose and a steely edge to his face. “You clearly don’t belong here,” came his voice “what’s a scrawny bugger like you doing here?” Not much of what he had said had made it through to me, for I was still thinking of how I’d assort all the candy in my candy castle. “I think I was supposed to go to HQ, that’s what Mr Colonel Man told me.” The man raised his eyebrows, with an appearance of interest carved onto his forehead, and slowly placed an arm behind his back. Tired by now, I bend my head back to let out a relieving yawn. Thud. I look up to find a knife lodged into the wall, right above me. “Do you know where that knife came for?” I ask the man.
The man, with a smirk, remarks “So, you’re the newbie assigned to the S-Rank Missions. HQ is just up ahead. Big white door, can’t miss it.” I thank him, as any courteous man would, and make my way. I come across a door to my left and decide to enter it, oblivious as to the black plaque with the word HQ emboldened on it. The room that opened up was, surprisingly, devoid of any shades of white. It had a big table running down its middle, and a big screen with even bigger words behind it. The seats at the table were all occupied, bar one. I remain standing. All the people, of different races and hairstyles and suits, look at me with a uniform expression, that of shock. I hear a voice “This is the squad member you want to send in to stage the coup in Liberia?”. | 2020-04-18T07:08:13 | 2020-04-18T07:00:04 | 450 | 70 |
[WP] On your deathbed, the Grim Reaper himself comes to pay you a visit. You expect him to collect your soul, until he asks where and how you have hidden it. | Where did i put it? Where did I put it?
I searched in my drawers, and upended all my clothes onto the floor. My spirit ... my being. My essence.
I had painted a picture a few days ago. It wasn't finished yet. There it was in the art room ... half-coloured in. It was meant to be a grand painting, but I had lost interest in it. Of two lovers, in deep embrace. I had only painted one lover, and the other, the female, was still in pencil. I had tried to put my soul into it ... but it turned out looking very technical. Bland. Dead. Certainly my soul was not in it.
I had written a poem a few weeks ago. Where was it? Somewhere in the depths of my folders. Something about ... God? Ascension? I can't remember anymore. I had stopped half-way ... I had gotten bored. Perhaps my soul wasn't in there, either.
But where could it be?
I sat down on the floor, in exasperation, and tried to remember back. To retrace my steps.
Last Friday. Last week. Last month. No, last year.
I had broken up with a girl ... she had called me dead. Soulless. That I had no feelings. That wasn't true. At least ... I don't think it is. I think I liked her. I did feel pleasure when I was with her. Was that love? I'm not sure. Love is just the effect of endorphins on your body. It's when your brain floods with oxytocin, and produces pleasurable feelings. Do I believe in 'love'? I'm not sure.
5 years back. My boss had asked me where I see myself in five years time. I told him, I had no goals in particular. That did not sit well with him. He told me I needed to have vision, ambition.
My only ambition was to earn enough to have a comfortable retirement.
Ah ... 12 years back. I was still in school. I had just come back from school, and gone straight to my bedroom. It was my sibling's birthday. But I didn't care. I was tired. No one cared about birthdays in my family, anyway. Just another year closer to death.
Death ... DEATH. He was standing right here, expecting an answer, before me.
He looked at me in the eye ... through that eyeless hood ... and yet, I could feel him staring at me. Straight into my 'soul'?
'Your soul,' he said. 'Where is it?'
'I'm afraid I don't know,' I replied. 'Is it not there?'
He rummaged about in the drawers, and then in the cupboard. I had looked there already. And then at a photo on the wall.
It was of me, and my mother. It was my mother's birthday. I was ten. I had baked her a cake. It wasn't a very good one. All I could see was the look of disappointment on my mother's face ... immortalized forever in that photo.
I remember now! I had put all my heart and soul into that cake! And it was thrown out. 'Disgusting,' she had said. She was right. What was I thinking? I felt disgusting, just like the cake. So I threw my soul out into the bin, with the cake.
I had been dead for a very long time, and I never noticed.
Death took the photo down from the wall.
'I will take my leave now,' he said. | The beeping of the machines melded in and out of consciousness, sometimes drowned out by the roaring in my ears, sometimes piercing through the silence bladelike and vicious. Everything else swam in and out of blurred vision. Everything except that slow, baleful beeping.
**beep. beep. beep.**
*"Margery! Don't play in the road! It isn't safe!"*
Faces swam into sight occasionally. A round-faced woman, Germanic and stern, and somehow more comforting because of the sternness, as if she were a captain in these rough seas and I could trust her. She would stare down at me, moving my arms about, poking and prodding and listening carefully.
**beep. beep. beep.**
*"MARGERY!"*
A younger face, brown hair, and brown eyes that stared out from behind squared lenses. I couldn't tell if they blurred because of me of because of her. I hated those eyes, whenever I saw them my entire body screamed in a sickened sort of pain, some kind of existential failure. But whenever they were gone, they were all I thought of and I stayed, treading water, waiting desperately for them to come back so I could feel that pain just one more time.
**beep. beep. beep.**
*::Screech:: ::Thud::*
An even younger face. This one mostly curious. It would look at the brown eyes and receive a nod. Then would speak some words, or tell some story, or show some pictures, while the brown eyes looked down at my crippled form, and then looked away, then back again. I couldn't hear anything except the
**beep. beep.**
*"Oh god! Margery go back to the house! Dave, are you okay?"*
An old face. So old. So pale. It stared down at me with expressionless eyes. It stared around the room. A dark storm in the sea, looming over the little girl in her little ship, staring balefully at the German nurse with a strange familiarity. The white whale staring at Ahab, and Ahab staring back, both knowing how the story ends.
**beep. beep.**
*"I'm calling an ambulance. Don't... Oh god... Dave, don't worry, you're going to be... you're going to be fine."*
*"I didn't even see her! Why was she in the street?... Are those his..."*
"Where is it?" the pale face rasped as he leaned over my ship, the dark clouds threatening to capsize me.
"He's not looking too good today." The nurse said as she leaned over the other side, blue flecked eyes examining a needle before inserting it into a sac dangling above me.
**beep. beep.**
"Where's what?" I asked death, my lips fluttering softly, soundlessly as I squinted with all my effort into the corner hunting desperately for her, hunting desperately for those eyes.
**beep.**
"Your soul. Where has it gone?" death asked, eyes roving all about the room.
The hazel eyes stared back at me, comforting and heartwrending at once.
**beep.**
Suddenly, a slight breeze in the seas, a little ray of light as Margery, my little Margery, walked in. Confused in her infancy, holding some roughly picked flowers in grubby hands, staring up at my hospital bed in confusion and slight discomfort as beams of sunlight slowly drifted off her like some strange fire.
**beep.**
"I'm afraid I've lost it somewhere," I chuckle softly before coughing weakly, eyes unable to focus anymore, the roaring filling my ears again before going silent.
"Ah," said death, turning to regard my daughter, "I see."
**beeeeeeee--** | 2020-04-22T23:18:44 | 2020-04-22T23:16:32 | 78 | 28 |
[WP] You take a DNA test on your 21st birthday to determine your heritage. Your family tree results come back and show that you have 20 direct descendants...and an 89 year old son.
[deleted] | "Hello, Bureau of DNA Testing. How may I direct your call?"
"Yeah, my results came back, and I am pretty sure they are wrong."
"Please hold while I transfer you."
-shitty hold music-
"Hello, customer service department. Can I get your name and the 15 digit test ID at the top left of your results form?"
"John Smith, 54359-86212-36798"
"Thank you. I see the problem already. We sent you the results for the wrong John Smith. I will get the correct documents mailed out ASAP. Is there anything else I can help you with today?"
"No, that's it, thanks"
"Have a nice day" | [POEM] I Must Be a Time Traveller
Oh how i remember the time i was 21,
And on that day i realised i was younger than my son
How could it be
My child is older then me ?
I must be a time traveller
I must be a time traveller!
So right there and then,
I decided to write my son Ben
And tell him i was younger than he!
My only worry was would he believe?
I must be a time traveller
I must be a time traveller!
My worries and doubts,
Came at me like shouts
I knew i would have to meet
And show the DNA sheet
I must be a time traveller
i must be a time traveller!
With The DNA test in hand,
I set across the land
To find my 89 year old son
To do what must be done.
I must be a time traveller
I must be a time traveller!
When we finally did meet
He knew it was me
He told me my secret ways
Ill never forget those days
For i am a Time Traveller!! | 2020-11-18T01:45:42 | 2020-11-18T00:46:20 | 287 | 68 |
[WP] People often attribute your success as a superhero to your power. However the truth is the power itself sucks, you just learnt how to use it well despite its limitations over the years, as one power stealing villain painfully learnt | Assimilation, a fairly new villain with a copy-cat power, looked at me with pure disgust.
"Your power is-"
"Yep," I responded, sparing him the embarrassment of saying my power. "Kinda gross, isnt it?"
Assimilation looked at his hand, which he used to copy my power, before frantically trying to wipe it clean on his cape. He then turned back to me. "How does that even work!?"
I shrugged. "Kinda like soap. I telekinetically control it, so if its all over my body I can simulate strength, speed, and flight."
The villain was just stunned, and reasonably so. The public opinion of what my power is tends to be those base things rolled up into one, but thats only because of how creatively I've learned to use my powers.
"So Mister Vitality's true power is..." Assimilation couldn't finish the sentence without gagging.
I zipped over to him using my specific telekinesis, and quickly rocketed my fist into his face.
"Semen control, yes," I finished his sentence.
Man I need a shower. | Ugh, well it’s been a while since I’ve talked about this, but having the “superpower” of acid spit gets incredibly crappy after awhile. You’d think fending off bad guys would be an easy task, but nope, here I am in public running up to the bastard who just stole a ladies purse trying to get into the best possible position for me to hit him with my acidic spit. Also, take into account that despite being acidic, my spit still has the consistency of normal human spit, talk about half measures. DONT even get me started on eating, I cannot give my tastebuds any time to acknowledge whats being put upon them, instead I have to chew my food as fast as possible before the acidic spit turns it into a smoothie.
Of course, there’s always perks to having acidic spit but it’s very very limited. Can I break through most metals with it? Yes. Can I melt an entire human face to its skeleton with it? Yes. Can I kiss my own wife and kids? Absolutely not. People romanticize having any superpower, but believe me, acid spit is 3 shades away from useless. Anyways, that’s all I’ve got for now, it’s not often I get to talk about my essentially futile superpower, my success basically came entirely from my common sense. I guess you could consider that one a superpower since so many people lack it. | 2020-12-02T07:41:01 | 2020-12-02T07:06:24 | 102 | 38 |
[WP] You realize you cant die, no matter what happens, no matter how mortal the wound, nothing kills you, you later find out, its because you got a restraining order on Death when Death was a human, and now death; bound by the law, can not get close to you | He couldn't stay here forever, he knew that. He knew he would have to step out of the room and down the halls and back into his life.
He knew that.
He also knew that if he stayed by this girl's side a little longer, he could give her parents what he had never gotten. So he crouched down by her bed and held her hand is his. She gave a little squeeze. He rubbed his thumb soothingly over her knuckles.
Finally, two people rushed into the room. A blonde with tears cascading down her face and brunette with his face twisted in agony. Moving out of the way, the parents crowded the girl. The doctor that followed them in stood at the back of the room with him, watching.
"Will she goes after you leave the room?"
"Yeah." He had caught a glimpse of his ex when the girl came in. He knew they were just waiting now.
"Your a good man, Mateo," Dr Vixon said. "Go, there are other families in need of time to say goodbye."
Mateo nodded and took at a glimpse of the girl before leaving. It was never easy and there was always the sting in his heart that followed. A mixture of envy and sadness bloomed in his chest.
He wished he could have said good by to his own child.
"Mateo," a raspy voice called out. Looking up, he saw the face of his ex. Colorless eyes blinker back at him.
"Death," he responded, "they'll never be ready, but it's best not to drag it out." He turned to walk out the hall, a sigh building in his chest.
"Mateo," death called to him, "there's a girl on the second floor. Her grandfather is on the way. He just needs a few more minutes to get here."
Mateo nodded before rubbing his eyes. He let the sigh escape and headed to the stairs. | “I am not going to leave you.”
“I am glad you are here before I pass on.”
“I won’t let that happen, it won’t as long as I am around.”
“Don’t be silly dear, everyone has to die, its part of the natural order.”
“How long did the doctors say you have?”
“A couple days.”
“Well when you are alive for three you will know I was right.”
“You seem really certain.”
“I am.”
“I am glad to have a grandson that cares so much, you have grown up so well” an old hand covered younger, calloused hands. “I am so proud of the things you have been able to do.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“Why don’t you tell me one then?”
Francis took a deep breath and told his grandmother the story of how he dove into a lake to save a friend. Francis didn’t mention he went to the base of the lake, and not being able to drown.
“Such a brave young man! How is your friend doing?”
“He is doing well, we stay in touch and he fulfilled his dream of becoming a firefighter.”
“Too bad you aren’t fire-proof or I am sure you would pull his rear out of the fires he gets himself into too!” Francis’ grandmother smiled and Francis returned a weak smile. *I actually have done that*.
A doctor entered the room “Excuse me Mr. Wellesley, we have to run some routine check-ups.”
Francis turned to the doctor. “Mind if I stay in the room. I want to be here for… When she is meant to leave.”
“Of course, just have a seat nearby.”
“Thank you.”
Francis watched as the doctor and a small group of nurses came in and tended to his beloved grandmother. Francis sat and hoped.
The next day his grandmother was far weaker and spoke little. Francis stayed by her side and told her stories of his life. She drifted further and further away.
“Its time.”
Francis turned to see a familiar figure in the doorway.
“Rebecca Wellesley I have co-”
Red eyes glowed fiercely at Francis.
“YOU!”
“That’s right, now get the hell away Death, you don’t want to be caught red-handed breaking your restraining order!” | 2021-03-27T03:14:55 | 2021-03-27T02:07:59 | 22 | 14 |
[WP]Humans are reverse Kryptonians. They are weak on their home planet but strong everywhere else. No one knew this until Earth was attacked and humanity was taken off of earth to be enslaved. | No one expected us to be this strong, especially the Xitain. They didn't put in their research about the physical forces upon our planet, specifically gravitational and frictional forces. The gravitational constant on Earth is 9.81 m/s^(2), whereas the gravitational constant on Xitain is only about 7.59 m/s^(2). Most other worlds have a lower constant than Earth.
At first, it was hard for us to do things without breaking our surroundings. People adapted to it by only using a small portion of their strength and training together when we were allowed rest. We worked for five years mining theta crystals- an important part of their technology and power generation; however, they are extremely fragile.
We also learned more about our captors. They are cold-blooded insect-like creatures with a hard shell, known as an axa, used to keep in warmth and protect their fragile digestive systems.
I started planning our escape on day 1830. All of us agreed to rise up on day 1900 and show them our true strength within.
Day 1900- there was a harsh orange sunrise at our backs as they led us into the theta crystal mines. Once we got to our stations, we attacked the guards with our pickaxes, breaking axas and antennae until we heard a cry we had never heard before from those we spared; "Mutavao", which meant mercy.
We forced those we spared to hand over their ships. Some returned to a desolate Earth to rebuild, some sought out other worlds to show off their strength, and some stayed to rule Xitain with the aliens as their slaves.
Me? I took a ship in search for a world with tougher allies. Those little bugs are easily squished- not good enough for an empire. | We sat amongst the wild flame, enchanted by its dance. Its arms reaching out offering us reassurance and comfort amongst the cold, but we could not grasp and embrace it. It's rhythm told us stories of enchanting wonder, but we could not understand it. So we watched it with a feverish sense of longing, and as it gave way to its children of embers we looked up to see many other great wild flames. All of them so beautiful and enticing, but we could not touch them - we could only watch with wetted lips, howling stomachs, and parched throats.
When the Angels found us, we were battered and bruised, beaten by our own fists. Our nature has gotten the best of us, our paradise now a hell. The prisoners in turn became their own jailers in time. We watched as they descended upon us with eagerness and bated breath. Much as the flame offered us comfort, so did the Angels promise too. Our fields were too burnt they said, our water too impure, but there was a place amongst the great wild fires in the void which we could find happiness once more. We eagerly drank from their mystery in the promise of guidance from their illumination - any burden or hardship would be greater than this.
But what we had forgotten, so too did the Angels. That prison was our home for a reason. To create something in ones own image is the ultimate form of hubris. Only in the moments as our fingers dug into his flesh, as our teeth gnawed at his bones, did he realize our true nature. Ravenous monsters, violent apes, who looked towards the stars with empty stomachs, parched throats, and wetted lips, all eager to consume. We were his punishment, and ours was a forgotten garden.
So when the Angels came, and shackled us once more in cold iron, they did not know we in turn would be their punishment for slavery and pride.
​
\--
Had an idea, ran with it. Was a lot of fun, thank you! I might jot this idea down for the future and try to expand on it. | 2021-05-18T07:32:07 | 2021-05-18T07:30:00 | 68 | 47 |
[WP] Last names are assigned at birth by an oracle, and 90% of people find themselves in a related profession. For instance "Miller" or "Baker." Your last name, "World-Ender," has made life rather difficult. | "I'm sorry, but we can't approve you for a home loan, ma'am."
"Why?"
"Due to the implications of your...name, our insurance won't cover you should you...you know."
"If I ended the world from the house I wanna buy with this loan, your insurance wouldn't really matter, would it?"
"No, but...think of it as preventative."
"Oh, so you're stopping me from ending the world by denying me a home loan? I see. Your name must be World Saver then."
"Ah...no, it's-
"Banks, yeah. I can see the name plate." She scoffed, standing and taking her coat. She stomped out, leaving the door open as she shouted for all to hear. "AND BY THE WAY, I AM A COMIC BOOK WRITER AND ARTIST. THE WORLDS I END ARE *FICTIONAL*!!" | It seemed quite innocent at first, and despite the name given to their son, the burdenbearers were always a, optimistic but harrowed couple.
Yet, despite their pedigree, they remained positive about how this would turn out. Their son would turn out.
“Shame is truly, your only companion”, the tyke said to his mother’s enthusiastic but unpalatable sister.
That was the weight of his name. It wasn’t apocalyptic, but he ended worlds with innocent words.
At a very young age he learned to form sentences together. For the most of it he was a normal kid. The first incident though, would always terrify them.
A friend who was a pilot, Icarus Airfarer, was visiting the Burdenbearers. It was a simple goodbye over breakfast. On learning what Icarus does for a living, in an almost sing-song voice the little boy said, “that seems worthless, do the people even care about you”.
These words fell sharp. The cacophony of thought they produced in Icarus - you would’ve thought the boy had powers.
“They will care now!”
He took the entire plane along with him. Right in to a cliff face. | 2021-06-19T23:03:38 | 2021-06-19T22:00:06 | 36 | 11 |
[WP] Every time you are late, you dodge an otherwise-fatal bullet. Miss a plane and it will crash, every time. Miss a job interview, the place will burn down. Today, despite leaving unfathomably early, you get stuck in gridlock on the way to your wedding. You begin to panic. | The traffic was horrible. That was an awful sign.
I wasn't late by much - I'd probably still get there about 5 minutes late - but that didn't matter, because if I arrive late, it's always to protect me from some disaster. I shouldn't have made that wish 10 years ago, but to be fair, I thought it was a joke. How was I supposed to know that "I wish to always be on time, unless being on time would put me in danger" would backfire?
But today of all days... I just hoped and prayed it wasn't a big disaster this time. Maybe it would be like that time I might have stepped on a nail if I'd been early, or when I got to a party late and they found out someone spiked the punch way to hard. Hopefully this one wasn't like the plane crash.
Because today I was going to marry the woman of my dreams. If she was still alive when I got there. If the church was still standing.
*Positive thoughts*, I admonished myself. *There's a car crash you missed. That's why you couldn't get in the first taxi.* That didn't make sense though. I'd missed three taxis.
Eliana would be furious. She was mad when I got home late from work - there was a five-car pile-up that I probably would have been in, but I didn't explain that to her - and mad when I mixed up orders at the grocery store. This time, she had a good reason to be mad, but I didn't relish having to explain that I missed three separate cabs and make up for it with flowers and fancy dinners.
My worry continued even as we got to the church - which looked just like it always did. Nothing amiss. I was fighting not to bite my fingers as I made my way through the halls, said "Sorry" to my best man and my father, and entered the chapel through the side door.
Everyone was still there. Seated. Pastor Harris was still waiting near the altar. They all looked up expectantly as I walked in, and someone - I don't remember who - stood up to explain that my fiancee had just left in tears, saying she could never marry someone who couldn't be bothered to show up at the wedding on time.
The whole day I was worried, as I drank more alcohol than any normal person should, reached her voice mail countless times, cancelled honeymoon reservations. It wasn't worth it. I wish I'd just been there on time, no matter the consequences. She wasn't answering. She wouldn't answer for the next four months, and then only to tell me that she hoped I found someone I *actually* loved.
\-----
It's been about ten years since that incident. I'm married to Jane now - I met her about two years after the failed wedding, and swore I would never fall in love with her. Her smile and her adventurous spirit slowly convinced me I was wrong. We have a kid and two dogs.
I often wonder what bullet I dodged that day. I wonder if I would have been killed by an axe murderer, or blown up in a gas explosion, or choked on one of those hard pastry things we ordered for the banquet after the wedding. I wonder if I would have tripped going down the stairs and broke a bone, or maybe even stubbed my toe somewhere on the honeymoon.
But when I'm with Jane - when I hear her laugh, when I see the way she plays with sweet Matthew, when I hold her close - I wonder if the bullet I dodged that day was not nearly so literal. Maybe it was more emotional. More romantic. As the years go by, I think back on that day and I realize the truth.
I was saved from marrying the wrong person. | at first i thought these happenings were coincidences. house fires, plane crashes, things happen yknow?
but then it became too much to chalk it up to chance.
eventually i made a habit of showing up to things early. my quality of life improved, even if my friends sometimes made fun of me for it.
i don't blame them.
still, sometimes i was late anyways, as no matter how many precautions we make. there is always something out of our control.
this looked like it would be one of those times.
i don't know how long i have been here, but i have been trapped in my car for more than i can handle. my anxiety is rising and i worry i wont make it. i check my watch.
**2 hours left**
"fuck it" i think. i can probably make it on foot. i exit the car and make a run for it. the car doesn't matter, the love of my life is on the line.
**1 hour left**
my legs hurt like hell, my heart is pounding, every fibre in my body is telling me to stop, but i wont let it, not today. i've ran longer and faster than i ever have in my entire life, and i dont plan to stop. i know i'm getting close, the church is nearby, i can already see the town.
**30 minutes left**
i never knew walking through a town would be so tough, multiple people stopped me for multiple things, petitions, sales, and even just strangers wanting to chat with me, apparently there's a harvest festival going on, she always loved that sort of stuff.
**10 minutes left**
men in priests robes, they said that i wasn't going anywhere. they blocked the path. i kept going anyways. one of the men raised his hands, and launched a bolt of light at me, it hit me straight in the chest. i felt a sharp pain throughout my body, and i would have fallen down, but i didn't. i didn't know why, but i was able to keep going, i was able to push past their spells, even through flame and lightning alike.
**1 minute left**
exhausted and wounded, i could barely hold on for longer. i saw it, this is where the wedding spot, right in the middle of the festival. i went as fast as my injured body could take me, and there she was.
**out of time**
i was there, just on time, i could barely stand, and i would have collapsed if not for the sight of her. she was practically glowing, and she approached me, with a look of... sadness?
"i am sorry i didn't tell you this earlier, but i am not a human, but rather a spirit. i blessed you with all the magic i could muster to keep you safe on your journey, but it was almost not enough"
"honey, it doesn't matter what you are, i'll still love you"
my words were strained and soft, as i did not have much voice left
"i know that, but our love is forbidden, they knew that i would fall for you, so they cursed you"
things suddenly made sense, it got worse when i was with her, and there were more things that would try to make me late when we went on dates
i looked up at her, i didn't care about anything else then, only about her, but as she spoke my heart sank.
"i am sorry but, i cannot stay, they may curse you with things i would never wish upon you"
i almost couldn't believe it, above anything i didn't want to believe it, but this was no joke, as she continued to say those words which broke my heart.
"we cannot be together, but i will still love you, i shall cure your curse with the last of my magic, and i will never forget you."
she hugged me, her embrace being the last time we would do anything together, i could feel the warmth, and i knew how much i would miss it. she faded away, and i fell to the floor, weeping.
while i did not arrive late, she had to leave me early. | 2021-10-22T08:18:47 | 2021-10-22T04:18:07 | 152 | 51 |
[WP] Your immortality isn’t the result of any curse, or blessing, for that matter. No, it’s just that you pissed off the God of Death so much he can’t stand the sight of you. | My skin hangs loose off my tattered bones, and I strain with the effort of holding myself upright. “O great one,” I beg, voice hoarse, the last whiskers of my beard coating the floor below, “Please release me from this curse.”
The God of Death, on his throne of skin, holds a hand to his chin in sullen contemplation, before answering my plea
“**Mmm…no. Not gonna happen.**”
“Oh, *come on!*” This was not entirely unpredicted. That does not make it less annoying.”
“**Ohhh, what’s the matter?” mocks Death. “Does that *inconvenience* you? Is the gift of life no longer *oh so precious-***”
“How many times do I have to say I’m so-“
“**-to you? Because I seem to remember me *offering* you death-**”
“I was nineteen!”
“**I remember breaking every bone in your fraile little body, but, by *some miracle,* brave little Johnny was able to make a FULL RECOVERY! It would sure be a *shame* if I was to take your life away from you now, wouldn’t it? You’ve worked *so hard* for it!**”
It‘s been approximately 2000 years since I survived a freak car accident that, as Death has constantly reminded me, had a 99.7% chance of resulting in my demise.
He still hasn’t gotten over it.
“Look,” I say, “literally everyone I know and love is dead. The earth is some 50 years away from facing oblivion. It’s become impossible to find any sort of food. Don’t you think I’ve learned my goddamn lesson?”
“**I don’t know. I pity you, sure, but you shouldn’t have any trouble surviving such hardships. *You managed to get through worse!!!!***”
“I didn’t *ask* to survive!” I yell.
“**And yet, here you-**”
“For the love of *god,* man! Maybe I wanted a couple extra years at the time, but do you honestly think I wanted *this*? Look at me. Does it seem like I’ve derived any pleasure from my victory over you?”
I fall to my knees, feeling my bones snap. “Please. You’ve had your revenge. Just end it.”
Once again, Death ponders my request - this time, he seems a bit more conflicted. Finally, he rises from his seat, scythe in hand.
“**….Fine.**”
I collapse in relief. “*Thank* you,” I gasp - I would be sobbing, but my tear ducts dried up some hundred years back-
“**On one condition.**”
“What?”
And the last thing I hear is the sound of a thousand car engines racing towards me. | I had taken a seat with a drink in my hand whilst taking a deep breath. There we were again. Of course.
My friend, who had turned 90 over the weekend, had died a calm death. And here I was on my own again. Sometimes I hated it here. But on the other days, I was fine. I took a look down at my arms and legs. The scarred tissue was still there, hurting a bit and reminding me of the fact that I wouldn't die anytime soon.
How I ended up in that weird position in life? Well, I'm glad you asked. It had been a couple of years ago, when I got into an accident. It wasn't even my fault! Really not! But yeah, anyways.
I got into that accident and ended up in hospital, my skin was burnt and painful, I laid in hospital for a good amount of weeks. When I recovered, I heard about the horrendous amount of blood I lost and wondered about how I could survive that.
Well. Apparently not only I was asking myself that but also the God of Death.
He had decided for me to end that way, after he had already tried beforehand. When I was a toddler, he tried to end me over having me choke on food. Then later in life he tried to end me by crashing my car and by food poisoning. So yeah. And now he totaled my car again. Big time.
When I got out of the hospital after a couple of weeks, there was this major thunderstorm. I took a look up in the air and there I saw this... figure. He leaned over the clouds and had me in his focus whilst shaking his head. I stood there in absolute shock that there actually was someone.
"You are no longer allowed to pass on!" His voice filled the whole room, at least I felt that way, when it shook me to the core. What did he mean by that? Before I could ask that, he was already gone.
And now, I passed my 110th birthday already and whilst I knew that some people could reach that age naturally, I was not one of them. No one in my family was able to do so, my health wasn't the greatest, the doctors were always so surprised when seeing me. How could someone like me survive this long?! I actually wasn't. I just wasn't allowed to die.
"Hey, God of Death.", I raised my voice at the heaven whilst taking another sip of my drink. "Why exactly am I not allowed to pass on?" I realized I never truly asked this and I was curious. When I was already thinking, he'd avoid answering me, he actually turned up.
"Thank HIM." His voice shook my body once again whilst I turned to the side he pointed me at. There was another person - after a couple of seconds I realized, it was Jupiter. He giggled a bit before shrugging his shoulders.
"Hey, listen. I just did what the Almighty God himself called me upon, making sure that you're lucky.",Jupiter said. Whilst he was talking, the God of Death turned around again towards him.
"But not when it comes to dying!!" | 2021-12-06T02:30:05 | 2021-12-06T02:00:12 | 24 | 11 |
[WP] The prophecy said that the king would meet his end, not by an enemy or uprising, but by his own child. Having heard enough of these stories, the king raises all of his kids as well as he can and decides to see how the fates play this one out | Many years ago, a herald rang out the glorious announcement
"Young Queen Hannah has given birth to a son! They have called his name, Samuel. May King Fredrick and Queen Hannah live forever!"
An older gentleman in a cloak mumbled to himself. "Fool! No one lives forever. No one!" As the king and queen themselves passed by, he shouted out:
*"Not by wars, not by chariots. Not by uprising or the sword. Not by the waves of sea or the heat of day will you meet your end. But instead, by one you hold dear. Your end will be met by your very own child!"*
The young queen gasped and held little Samuel tighter. Fredrick simply nodded and said "That is enough. Thank you."
He had heard enough of these stories! Too many kings ruined their own kingdoms and came to drastic ends fearing such nonsense. He would not be one.
His advisor next to him did not look so sure, "But your majesty. That was not any random old fool! That was Melkchezdeck. It was he who foresaw the death of your grandfather to the waves, your Uncle by the sword, and even your father at the hand of your cousin. Don't you think we should..."
"Do what, Jude?" The king grew serious. "My uncle heard he would die by the sword. So what did he do? He banned all swords. Our people could no longer defend themselves. Made them angry enough that they formed their own sword to kill him with. My grandfather decided he would never set foot in a boat. He missed out on the Great Exploration, yet managed to die after an earthquake caused too many waves in a bathtub! I do not have to begin to tell you how my father tried to kill all of his nephews before they could kill him. Only my cousin Ezra escaped, with vengeance in his heart! I refuse to be like my father. I refuse to do wrong out of fear. I will not let my children suffer because of the fears of their father! Hannah, at this moment I resolve. I am going to raise Samuel and any other children we are blessed with as well as I can. Only time can tell the rest!"
Jude looked over at Hannah for help, but the young queen was beaming. "Count me in! I also resolve to raise Samuel and all of our children the best way I know how. No matter what!" Hannah was not the weak woman Jude took her to be. There was fire in her eyes, and there was no turning back.
Now, many years had past. Young King Fredrick was now Old King Fredrick the Beloved, adored and respected by his entire kingdom. He was most beloved, however, by his family. Samuel was all grown up now, as was his brother Mark and sister Hannah. Fredrick did his best to be active in every part of their lives, as well as love them and support them through it. He was not perfect of course. No parent is. However, together with Hannah, he raised all three of them the best that he could, loving them every step of the way. They all knew this and loved for it.
One day, there was a glorious feast in the castle. All the children were gazing at Fredrick, for the feast was in his honor. He was turning one hundred years old. His beloved Queen Hannah was sitting at his right, and on his left hand sat Samuel. Next to him was Mark, and Hannah was at the end. They began swapping stories of their favorite memories of Fredrick, when Hannah got up to play the guitar. It was his favorite song.
With the sound of the laughter of his children around him, and the music played so expertly by his wife, Old King Fredrick smiled. Suddenly, he collapsed on Samuel. Everyone froze.
"Father?! Father?!" Samuel cried. Hannah rushed over, but it had been too late. King Fredrick had died. He did not die by wars or chariots. He did not die by an uprising or a sword. He didn't even die by the waves of sea or the heat of the day. He met his end sitting next to one he held dear. He met his end in peace, by his child.
Edit: Typos
Edit 2: more typos | Over fifteen years had passed since the decisive battle against the tribal nations in the south. It was a tumultuous campaign that lasted nearly twice as long as the peace we have enjoyed since then.
I was merely a captain then, but I was there when the King had spoke with the Matriarch of the tribes. She had prophesized that the King would fall to one of his children due to his conquest spilling the blood of many children in his wake.
The King was not considered bad in any light among his people and even among some foes he had once faced. The campaign to conquer the southern tribes was necessary as they practiced dangerous magicks.
Despite being a good and moral man, the King thought long and hard about the Matriarchs words and decided to end his campaign of conquest and focus on being more father than ruler. He spent the days since then rearing the children himself, teaching them and playing with them in all manner of sorts.
By this time, I had ascended to Guardia Elite assigned directly to a unit whose sole purpose was the protection of the royal family. The king had taken a liking to me and recommended my promotion himself. I watched over the years as they grew and all of his children had admiration, respect, and love for their parents.
The King was kind and often allowed some of the guard to dine with him and the royal family. Perhaps the Matriarchs prophecy would never come to pass. Or so I thought.
An alarm rang out as a commotion erupted at the gates to the castle below. The sound of steel clashing against steel rung out through the halls as soldiers had engaged in battle.
"My King!" I cried out directing he and the royal family to stay behind the guard. My elite comrades were already in formation, each one assigned to protect a respective family member. "Are we under attack?" I said aloud as the ruckus drew closer to the royal hall.
Suddenly, the commotion ceased. There was naught but silence. I gave the command to encircle the royal family and to ready ourselves. Some of the servants were directed to seal the windows and secure the doors. However, just as the last window was being secured, a cloaked figure burst in, severing the servants throat in the process.
A fierce battle ensued between the assailant and the guard that ended as I had expected. The cloaked assassin was subdued and brought before the King. "What is the meaning of this!?" He roared furiously.
He pulled the cloaked from the assailants face to reveal a young woman who looked strikingly familiar. Most concerning was the King's reaction. "Execute her immediately!" He ordered. The guard prepared their weapons, all except me as I rushed forth to cease their advance.
"Wait!" I cried, appealing to the King. "She looks familiar? Who is she?" The King's furor grew at my intervention to which he pushed me aside. "I gave you an order soldier! Kill her now!" I looked at the young girl whom returned my gaze.
I looked at her and then to the King, and then back to her once more. "She looks just like you." I uttered. The King was mortified by my revelation, stunning the other guards in the process. "You are right... soldier. I am his daughter." The assassin muttered, exhausted from her attempt on his life.
"Long ago, he conquered and laid waste to my homeland and took the queen as his own." She explained. Her words just enraged the King further, pulling a sword from the sheath of a nearby guard. Her eyes locked onto mine still.
"Please, my King, I understand your scorn for her attempt, but she deserves a trial!" I pleaded. The King ignored my words and approached the woman still subdued by the guard. Yet she continued. "My mother... she gave birth to me after he grew bored of our lands and died shortly after." She said as tears began to stream down her cheeks.
"Enough of this!" The King growled as he raised his hand overhead, poised for the final blow. "Before my mother died... she said I had a twin brother who I came here to find." She said softly, giving me a warm smile.
Before I knew it, a loud clash of metal rung out amidst the great hall. My saber drawn, impeding the blade of the King. The guard collectively let out a gasp for what they witnessed next. I had plunged my blade through the heart of the King, felling him in one blow. | 2022-01-28T16:49:22 | 2022-01-28T13:59:55 | 366 | 42 |
[WP] You were abandoned by your parents as a baby. An eldritch being sees you and adopts you. You are taught about higher dimensions and arcane magic. But things change when your eldritch parent insists you go to a human school to experience a normal life. | I kept telling Troy not to bully me.
I was the smallest kid in 7th grade, and he was the second smallest. He started the very first day of school; I think he was thrilled when he realized there was actually another boy smaller than him in school that year.
I was an empathetic kid. I knew that his bullying was a sign of his lousy home life, and that he wasn't saying anything to me that was probably as bad as what his drunken dad and his odious older brother said to him. I knew that most likely, he was not going to "kick my ass from here to Robertsdale," which was his most persistent threat. I knew that with my powers (which he was totally unaware of, of course), if he ever did try to kick my ass from here to Robertsdale, I could stop him with a wave of my hand and just a few well-chosen words.
Intellectually, I knew all of these things. Emotionally, though, I was still only a 7th grader and could still behave as such.
So when he standing at his open locker one day after school - a day in which he had repeatedly harassed me and threatened me and belittled me in front of our classmates - and no one else was around, I finally decided to take corrective action.
"Troy," I said, "are you going to continue to belittle me for the rest of the year?"
He turned and grinned his predatory grin. "I don't know what 'belittle' means, but I will kick your ass from here to Robertsdale."
I said three words. I waved my hand. And he shrunk. He shrunk, slowly shrunk, until he was a foot tall, with his predatory grin replaced by a mask of sheer terror.
I picked him up and stuffed him in his locker. I slammed the door. And through the slits in the metal, I said "I will let you out tomorrow morning, although of course you will need to tell me your combination. I'll even be nice and reverse what I did to you, after you have had tonight to think about your actions."
I paused, then added, "And also - now you know what 'belittle' means. You're welcome." | "Going to sleep with the fishes again, Barnacle Boy?" Frederick asked as he sneered at the boy walking down the hallway.
Kai came to a stop. "You should at least try to be accurate with the insults," he replied in a bored tone. There aren't any barnacles where I come from."
Frederick scowled at Kai's lack of response. There were a lot of things about Kai that he didn't like. Like the fact that his skin was all wrinkly and had a weird bluish tint if you looked at it under the right light. Or that he barely seemed to express any emotion and said the most nonsensical stuff about his childhood. Or that he always seemed to carry around the faint smell of fish. But what really ticked Frederick more than anything was something that he would never admit to anybody. The truth was that Kai gave him the creeps. Whenever he was alone with him, he always felt this gnawing sense of unease like he was in danger. Which was stupid because Kai was a skinny runt, but knowing that just ticked Frederick off even more.
"Fine. Where are you going, Fish Smell Boy?"
"I really admire your creativity," Kai said in a deadpan voice. "But to answer your question, I'm just going back home to the underwater dimension of Aquarius."
"You really expect me to believe something stupid like that?"
Kai shrugged. "Believe me or not, I don't care. I would show it to you myself, but I imagine a coward like you wouldn't be able to cope with the sight."
Frederick snarled. "What the hell did you just call me, freak?!" He threw a punch at Kai's face, only to find his fist hitting the brick wall. "Oww!" he screamed as blood poured from his knuckles.
"You're lucky I'm so nice, Frederick," Kai said, somehow appearing several steps behind him. "If we were to actually fight, I'm not sure you would survive." He waved goodbye as he resumed walking down the hallway. "Well, see you. I have to go help my mom with a sea lice infestation."
Frederick glared at him as Kai walked down the hallway. Who did this idiot think he was? Always saying stupid stuff about arcane magic and hidden dimensions. He felt himself seething in hatred as he came to a decision. He was going to follow Kai home. And then he would prove to everyone that Kai was just a delusional freak who belonged in a nuthouse. | 2022-04-08T08:35:24 | 2022-04-08T07:16:44 | 231 | 146 |
[WP] "You are a villain who got beaten by a magical girl. You prepare for the worst when she bonks you on the head with her staff. "There! Now don't do bad things anymore!"" | I blinked twice, my brow furrowing as I considered what exactly it was I was feeling. Was it confusion? No. That seemed like not enough somehow. Baffled was more like it. "What?'
"Don't do bad things anymore!" Was all she'd said before... well... leaving me alone in the ruins of what had once been a pretty nice lair. That was hours ago. This whole time, I'd just been standing there, trying to figure out what the *hell* had just happened.
"That's IT?" I shouted into emptiness, pulling chunks of hair from the sides of my head. Maybe this was the real punishment for my crimes; the total destruction of everything that I'd built and loved and a simple 'don't do bad things anymore'. I'd been mentally prepared for a few different outcomes- imprisonment, maiming, even death- but this? I think this was gonna be the thing to break me. | After she left, I, just didn't have it in me to continue fighting. I didn't send my minions after her, not that it would have done much good. My Lieutenant asked for orders and, I just couldn't find what I actually wanted done next. I left my throne room, and went to bed.
The next morning I was greeted by my annoyingly loyal Lieutenant again, "Sir, shall I take a group of our elite mega soldiers to capture those meddling heroes?" And, I looked at him for a moment and replied, "Deathjaw, why are we doing this?"
He looked quite taken aback, it took a moment for him to come up with a reply.
"Sir, your great goal of galactic domination of course. We with to aid in conquering these foolish planets and enstating the Murder-Violence Empire. Its for your great dream."
I nodded as he spoke and looked at him with a realization, thunked into me by the Hopelight Staff that interloper held.
"I'm not sure I want that anymore Lieutanant."
And my loyal to a fault Lieutenant Deathjaw realized that we both no longer had a purpose. | 2022-12-26T17:08:27 | 2022-12-26T15:09:10 | 186 | 46 |
[WP] Everyone is born with an "expiration date" on the back of their necks. It is taboo to tell someone their date. | I loved her from the day she was born. My little girl was my life, my everything. I would have done anything for her. She was 3 when she asked me about the numbers on the back of my neck. I explained to her that those were when someone was going to go away for a long time. I explained to her that it wasn't nice to tell people what the numbers were, no matter how mad you get. It led to a longer conversation where I explained life and death to her for the first time. She began to cry, knowing that we only have a limited time here on Earth. I held her close and told her that death is what made life special. Every little moment we had shared and were going to share was going to be even more special when you realize that it has to end. She was 6 when her numbers came. I think back to that moment, and as I cry to myself, I whisper to the empty void hoping that she can hear me, "I hope I made your time here special, because you made mine the best anyone could ask for." | "Keep your chin up," said the stranger as he walked away. John looked down at the one hundred dollar bill the man had dropped in his begging cup with confusion.
He stood up from his street corner and walked into the local liquor store. Placing a handle of expensive rum on the counter, the clerk looked distrustingly at him. John placed the hundred beside his liquor and turned to grab a snickers bar. When he looked back the cashier told him to just take the alcohol. John smiled brightly at him and retook the money and drink.
He stepped outside the store, "what good luck," He thought as he opened his bottle. The alcohol was delicious, way better than those 10 dollar vodka handles he was used to. Smiling and drunk, John stumbled back to his corner and sat down. The people walking past barely gave a glance and the ones who did quickly looked away, a typical tuesday scene.
He fell asleep on the corner after drinking most of the bottle until he was rudely awakened by another homeless man. "Phil get the fuck out of here you know this is my corner," John yelled at him drunkenly. "Thats a nice bottle of rum there John, how about you give me some of it?" John looked at Phil through hazy squinted eyes and blatantly said "Fuck off, Phil." He noticed too late the knife in Phil's hand. | 2014-09-25T20:56:24 | 2014-09-25T19:50:43 | 30 | 21 |
[WP] You live in a village in the dessert. One day it is raided by terrorists and all village members are killed, except for you. You lost most of your memories and now wander through the dessert, thinking you are the last of your species.
Second time posting this, yay... fucking tags mate *cough* Well anyways, i didnt go into a lot of detail in the title, because i wanted to keep it as short as possible. So, a lot is kept to your imagination. How much and what do you remember ? Will you die in the dessert ? Why do you think you are the last of your species ? Will you find other of your species ? etc,etc... Really, so much to write.
So i come back and i see this...1063 likes WTF! This was my first prompt ever, im still amazed. I want to thank everyone that submitted a story and all the people that still will :D | Time is passing - it must be near noon. I still remember vividly the smell, the strong sweet smell of burning sugar everywhere.
It was the torch that changed this land. It used to be a soft sea of soft peachy crème in an ever changing configuration of dunes, with our people happily swimming and living in it. The land gave us everything we needed: lair, joy and sustenance. Our hunger satisfied with sporadic bites, here and there, of sweet sugary substance.
Then the torch came and reshaped our world to a ruthless wasteland. It burnt - how it burned! A flickering blue demon, hardening the peachy dunes to glassy crust, transforming everything in browned blotches with minute spots here and there - my fallen brethren carbonized into oblivion.
As I walk these vast plains, hunger now controls my mind. I have lost count of the many times I've traveled between the arching porcelain walls that surround it. I cannot climb them, there is no foothold. They stand there, impervious, mocking my helplessness.
Too long I've stumbled here. I repeatedly pound and stomp this land unsuccessfully, longing for a minute drop of its sweetness. I feel it; it is there, underneath this tough sugary barrier, a few millimeters down. So near, so far.
The light has suddenly darkened. An elliptical shape hides the sun. At last, redemption of my suffering has arrived. It has the shape of a metallic elliptic monster, cracking the surface in arching blows. The repeated, syncopation harmony of destruction. My time has come.
I can smell the crème floating again, seeping through the cracks. I reach it and bathe again into it's richness and warmth. The monster is now on top of me. Just one more swing and everything's over.
**Edit**: my first Reddit gold! thanks a lot to all readers. Been lurking for a while on /r/writingprompts, and even though English is not my first language, it has given me courage to post more attempts. Thanks again! | Cheesecake Town was the best town before the Dentist Nation attacked. Led by members of the **I**nternational **D**ental **C**avity **I**ntercept **L**egion, or **IDCIL**, they showed no mercy.
They tore chubby children from their mother's arms and disemboweled them with daggers etched with IDCIL's singular mission statement: *mortem ad placentam apponerentur*: death to cake eaters.
Black and red twizzlers spilled out of their tiny tubby tummies as they screamed in pain. The mothers barely had time to watch the life drain out of their children's precious gumdrop eyes before their own throats were opened.
I saw the Chocolate Man, Enzo, who made the most delicious fudge, get shot in the face. His head exploded like a firework, spraying the area with his brown and red juices. One of the IDCIL soldiers laughed, dipping his finger in the brownish muck and popping it in his mouth.
"Mmm! Chocolate strawberry!"
The rest of them laughed. Then they saw me, cowering under a wagon. I was pulled out, kicking and screaming, tears streaming down my face. I tried to be brave, I tried.
One of them swung a dagger at my neck, but it pinged away, harmlessly. He was dumbfounded. Another tried, aiming at my heart. He thrust with all his strength, but it was ineffective. Another ping. His dagger was chipped.
One of the men drew his gun, pointed it at my head, and fired. The world shook, I fell down. I couldn't hear anything, just a ringing noise in my ears. I felt other impacts, they were shooting me, then stabbing me, then shooting again.
I felt everything but the pain.
When I woke up, they were leaving. My clothes were ruined. The town was on fire, the smell of burning sugar filled my nose. Everyone was dead.
I grabbed a cloak and some water, then marched into the ***desert***, away from Cheesecake Town. Now I am alone. The sole survivor. Who am I, you ask, that I should survive the brutality of IDCIL and emerge unscathed?
I am **Hard Candy**.
Dentists, beware. | 2014-12-17T00:31:27 | 2014-12-16T23:53:26 | 369 | 67 |
[WP] Bruce Wayne as a child falls into a cave and lands amongst a swarm of spiders. In an alternate universe, Peter Parker is bitten by a radioactive bat. | Sometimes, in the dark of the night or the stillness of his lair, Bruce would close his eyes and lie still.
Each and every time, he could still feel the featherlight touch of their tiny feet creeping over his skin, sublime and awful. Inescapable.
He did not sleep unclothed, but it had been years since he had slept beneath bedcovers. The feeling of them shifting over his skin, even through the fabric of his nightclothes, sent him thrashing into wakefulness.
Ephemeral yet inescapable was the spider. The web builder. The silent hunter. Never far but rarely seen.
The harbinger of ancient fear.
Sometimes, on the rooftops of his city or the balcony of his apartment, Peter would open his ears and let the city deafen him.
Each and every time, he could still feel the sharpness of that panicked bite, stinging first, burning second.
He always listened, but it had been years since he had begun to swaddle his ears in innocuity. Excuses came naturally now. The earplugs and the headphones were expected.
The bat sang and the walls sang back. Insects still fled the shadow of the night flier.
The shape of keen vigilance. | Drifting silently through the sky the dark figure watched as the purple clad man slowly began to understand his position. Like the male spider this vigilante of Gotham let the winds blow the course he would take; letting the villains of the city slowly consume his economic empire. There the similarities ended, like the female of the species he was deadly in his traps. Lured by wealth and power the former denizens of Arkham asylum would take the bait and enter his web. From above always drifting he would watch, with eight sets of legs doing his bidding there was no escape. The green haired man from below released a howl. It was soulful but empty of fear. The echoes ended long before the last octothrope blade had severed his everlasting smile.
___________________________________________________________
Peter had work to do. Today was the shortest day of the year and by default his longest. He could smell the flowers all those miles off, in a few months it would be time to pollinate the Agave tequilana. He stretched his shoulders and let fall his impressive wings. He could hear Mary retch across the city. Perhaps those extraordinary crops in these past few years were causing more harm than good.
Peter sneezed. Every day it was worse. The infection had spread from the bridge of his nose down to the bottom of his philtrum. If he hadn't borrowed that foundation he probably would already be in a hospital. But tonight he could not fall to the whim of doctors. The city needed Murcielago-Hombre-rojo. Tonight he would fly.
edit: no but | 2015-03-05T22:17:46 | 2015-03-05T19:48:54 | 47 | 12 |
[WP] As a young child you made an innocent wish to be granted a power that in hindsight was just whimsical and silly. Now you have grown up but you still have the power - how do you use it now as an adult? | It was hard, learning to communicate again. Part of the process of learning to write – and I could not, I was only five when I made the wish – is already being able to speak. But I figured it out, even with the challenge of my new, weird, clawed hands. Now I've got custom keyboards, of course. I can afford pretty much anything.
I was lucky that my parents called the news when they saw me, and not the police. Maybe it was because I was only a few feet tall at the time. Maybe they saw something of my old self in my new body. Regardless, I quickly became a national sensation – "the boy who became a dinosaur!" The government couldn't vanish me now.
It wasn't as hard growing up as you might expect. Everyone wants to be friends with a dinosaur. Dinosaurs are *cool.* The challenge came with puberty. Velociraptors may be awesome, but they're certainly not sexy. Well, not to most people, and those who *are* interested tend to have an… unrealistic expectation of reptile penises. But I figured it out. Married a nice asexual woman. Hired a Thai masseuse. Yes, my wife's aware. She's very understanding.
But seriously, being a velociraptor is pretty awesome. | John's eyelids flutter and he slowly comes to. At first the man is groggy and doesn't take notice of his surrounding - the white walls, the smell of medicine and the beeping of a heart rate monitor. But after a few seconds pass, he realizes where and why he is.
*Fuck* he mutters to himself quiet as not to wake up his mother who is sleeping on the chair by his bed, all snuggled up under her coat.
The clock on the wall shows that it just past midnight and in a way that gives John relief. *At least the worst day of my life is over.*
It started out like such a regular day. Wake up at seven. Go to work at eight. Leave work at five. Up until that point the worst thing that happened was overhearing a fat joke about himself, but he was used to those because he was overweight and had been since his childhood. And then he got home. His wife started to cry and scream and called him a fat fuck, told him that she couldn't stand him no more and was having an affair, and was leaving. This part gets a little fuzzy. John recalls running after her on the street... The dark street, and then impact.
His stomach rumbles.
John removes his covers with the hand that isn't in a cast and glances at his hospital pajamas. The bottoms have pockets.
He takes something out of one of the pockets. After quietly unwrapping the paper, John is chowing down on the chocolate, teary-eyed.
*Fucking Mars bars,* he mutters. | 2015-03-07T04:14:18 | 2015-03-07T01:52:00 | 59 | 11 |
[WP] On Judgement Day, every single person is left behind and you're the only one who is saved, because you believed something no one else did. | *Hello kazakiii, welcome to heaven*
"Why am I the only one here? What did
I do?"
*Remember that program winrar? that was a test I set for you humans. You are the only one who had paid for it*
"Where's everyone else?!"
*They have been judged just like you have, enjoy your stay*
(sorry for shitty formatting and stuff, I am a highschooler) | It took me a while to figure it out. I have always had a great deal of contempt for the God described to me in scripture. I never wanted to have anything to do with such a God, and that was the problem. Someone asked me a long time ago what if you were spared and your loved ones left behind during the rapture, what would you do? I said with a great deal of confidence I would insist on being sent back to burn with the rest. And I meant it. It would be torture to spend eternity with such a horrible judgmental God who murdered my loved ones.
And that's the problem. You see I wasn't spared. I'm trapped for eternity in Heaven with an all-powerful lunatic. | 2015-05-28T11:46:35 | 2015-05-28T10:37:40 | 55 | 28 |
[WP] In music, changing a song to a minor key is a small change that makes the song sound much creepier or sadder. Write a happy story, and then its counterpart in a minor key.
Edit: Wow! Thank you to everyone for all the great stories. This will definitely keep me reading for a while. | Lights in the sky and a cloud plume on the horizon. I can see the airplane roaring overhead, and all I can think about is what those people must be thinking up there. Are they really that different from me? The thought brings a tear to my eye as the hot air coats my skin. - Lawton, Oklahoma, 1913
---
Lights in the sky and a cloud plume on the horizon. I can see the airplane roaring overhead, and all I can think about is what those people must be thinking up there. Are they really that different from me? The thought brings a tear to my eye as the hot air coats my skin. - Hiroshima, Japan, 1945 | I love the way the moonlight shines off his dark hair. How is eyes can be just the perfect shade of green. He is Adonis. And has the face, the mind and the body of a god.
As far as first dates go, this couldn't have been any better. I took him to the lake, where we sat on the beach and I fed him ice cream while he just stared at the water. I talked to him about my deepest secrets and just felt so safe with him in my arms. And he would stay quiet the whole time, just letting me talk.
At the end of the night, I was a perfect gentleman and helped him into the car.
"I think this is going to be something great," I said as I kissed his cheek and gently closed the door.
_________
..."I think this is going to be something great," I said as I kissed his cheek and gently closed the trunk. | 2015-07-14T01:05:09 | 2015-07-13T23:39:31 | 70 | 43 |
[WP] Write the letter that you always wanted to, but never did.
Most of the writing prompts I see on here are for fictional stories, but this is only one small corner of the larger art of writing. In this prompt, I'd like you to consider writing something a little more personal, and in a form that you might not have otherwise considered... Letters.
Perhaps you'd like to write a letter confessing your love to a long forgotten crush? A letter to your boss telling them exactly what you think of them? A letter to your school bully? Maybe a letter to your childhood hero telling them how much you were inspired by their career?
Be creative, be inventive, but most of all - be expressive. :D | Dear me:
That boy isn’t going to text back, it’s Saturday and he saw your message on Thursday. You always do this, you said you weren’t going to get attached, you barely have feelings for him. You don’t want anything but companionship from him, you say to yourself. But you know you want the whole thing: you want him to look at you the way you like, you want him to compliment on your hair, you want him to ask you how your day is going. But you also know he’s not your romeo. Nobody is. you are alone and you refuse to feel lonely. You love yourself but you found that you’ve always craved another part of you since when you were little. But you crossed seven seas, only to get desperate because he is not here, there, or anywhere.
Sincerely,
a hopeless romantic | To my best friend.
I used to write to you all the time in the early days. Perhaps it was selfish of me, to use you as an outlet for my emotions. I haven't written to you in such a while, and I'm sorry. Life got in the way, I guess. I owe you this last one.
I don't know how, but slowly things changed. They got better, and I felt guilty at first, that things were able to improve for me. Eventually the guilt faded, and now I can just be happy. It's funny that you used to be what happiness meant to me, yet ten years on I can have happiness whilst you are just a distant memory.
Who knows what could've been. For years I held on to our idealist childhood dream. Please understand that I didn't want it to fade. I didn't want to forget, that's just what time does to you. I did love you. Once. Perhaps, I do still.
I'm happy now. It's time to let you go. We were only children when you died, but even after death you helped me to become the woman I am today, and for that I will always be grateful. Goodbye, best friend.
Yours,
madziepan | 2015-12-05T14:46:28 | 2015-12-05T13:54:55 | 158 | 24 |
[WP] Write the letter that you always wanted to, but never did.
Most of the writing prompts I see on here are for fictional stories, but this is only one small corner of the larger art of writing. In this prompt, I'd like you to consider writing something a little more personal, and in a form that you might not have otherwise considered... Letters.
Perhaps you'd like to write a letter confessing your love to a long forgotten crush? A letter to your boss telling them exactly what you think of them? A letter to your school bully? Maybe a letter to your childhood hero telling them how much you were inspired by their career?
Be creative, be inventive, but most of all - be expressive. :D | I am writing this with tears in my eyes and 15 years of wishing i did this sooner.
Dear Dude who molested me when I was a child,
You ruined my life. It has been a long time since you molested me and those 3 other kids, and I hope you are rotting in that cell.
Ever since what you have done, I have battled severe depression and extreme psychosis. Do you know what its like being a 10 year old boy huddled in a corner thinking the shadows are going to get him while the voices in his head scream at him in unintelligible words? Do you know what it's like for a 12 year old to contemplate suicide just to get the voices to stop. You probably think I deserve it because my testimony put you in prison for 50 years.
Thanks to you, I have had 24 days in my life where i have held pills to my lips, or a knife to my throat, or held a gun in my hands, all because it would "be easier" than living.
Thanks to you, my career in the Navy was cut short because i was to unstable and had to spend a week in a mental hospital.
Thanks to you, I have spent the last 5 years of my life wasting away because I didnt think there was anything left for me.
But you probably don't care.
Thankfully, though, I have found a girl who loves me. I have found a therapist who tells me it isn't my fault. I have a life I have now built that I love and wouldnt trade for the world. Now i have 2 cats and a dog. Now i have an apartment that I can call home. Now....I have a life, one I don't want to end because it would "be easy".
~One of the boys you raped so long ago. | Dear Natalie.
So here I am. Funny how things work, right? Never thought I'd end up penning this letter, but I guess something prompted me to do it.
I know. I've known ever since it happened what your real motivations were, and you never had me fooled for a second. After you apologized, and said that you were just messing around and didn't mean anything by what do guys did, I knew that was bullshit. I looked you right in the eyes and I didn't want to look away, I saw exactly what you were thinking, because I was thinking it too.
Don't treat me like I'm naive, I never was even in my deepest innocence. I haven't forgiven you and I don't think I ever will, I trusted you. I didn't know Dave, but I fucking trusted you. I love you to pieces, but you betrayed me in a way no one ever has, and now no one ever can again.
You know what it felt like, lying on that couch, feeling an empty void in my stomach sucking away everything. I felt unclean, I felt violated.
I was violated.
You did it. You both did it. I've never felt so emasculated, so small. I tower over both of you, I exercise, I work out, I play rugby. I try to embody the ideal man, but I didn't do anything, I was locked in my own body, bound with shock. I felt worthless afterwards.
Some sickening part of me hopes that you two stay together, despite the shit he's done to you, and despite the pain you've caused me, and despite how much I care for you. I want you to explain to your kids that the day mommy and daddy got together they did something dark and terrible. I want to be your fucking family secret.
Because then I'll have something. Anything. Other than a story to share with strangers while I talk away my problems. Other than that thing that was "oh so me". Something to go with the whole "hopeless romantic" thing I have going. Something to hold on to at night.
With all the love that I can muster and more, your friend, Redrum. | 2015-12-05T15:55:07 | 2015-12-05T14:43:55 | 61 | 26 |
[WP] Write the letter that you always wanted to, but never did.
Most of the writing prompts I see on here are for fictional stories, but this is only one small corner of the larger art of writing. In this prompt, I'd like you to consider writing something a little more personal, and in a form that you might not have otherwise considered... Letters.
Perhaps you'd like to write a letter confessing your love to a long forgotten crush? A letter to your boss telling them exactly what you think of them? A letter to your school bully? Maybe a letter to your childhood hero telling them how much you were inspired by their career?
Be creative, be inventive, but most of all - be expressive. :D | Dear dad,
I fucking miss you. You died too quickly and I never got to hear your last words. I know though, I know you'd tell me you're proud of me and that you love me. I know this, but goddammit, i wish I could have heard you say it. I'll be the man you always knew I could be. I promise you that, and i will continue to promise that until the day my time comes as well.
I love you, pops. | Dear Teacher,
This is letter that will try to explain my frustration. My constant frustration. You are an unkind human being of ~~average~~ below average intelligence. You are also sexist. I am not going to overstate my intelligence, but it exists. I am scared of you destroying my future because you can not comprehend that just because one kid is a boy who interrupts you every second and I don't that does not mean he deserves all As and I deserve Cs and Ds. You also seem to ignore students who put their hand up, which makes no sense. Multiple times someone has been first in line and you serve the people behind them, which is just rude. I wish that students had the option to say this without punishment, but at this point, dammit, I'll take it.
From your angry student,
EFoxeden
| 2015-12-05T15:43:07 | 2015-12-05T13:38:34 | 45 | 24 |
[WP] Kaiju routinely attack the city. You cannot get anyone to listen to your sensible, practical plan to stop them because they all want to build giant robots. | Lieutenant James knew he was right. He just knew it.
He had to tell the Chief Scientist Ogilvy, but he wasn't responding to any of his telematics, and the Intelligence leadership were secluded in the Ops One complex - so he couldn't just walk in to see him. There was a grade 5 due in two days, large enough to wipe out half of the Western Brit defences. He knew he had to let the scientist know. So he burned his bridges.
Through shadows, hacking, the betrayal of friends and file, and the sliced throat of two guards, he managed to find his way to ChiefSci's vault door.
Hammering, it slid open.
'Who, what?' James slid his hand over the old man's mouth and forced him quickly back inside.
'Shut up, I don't have much time, listen...'
And so he hurriedly explained his concept.
'...so, as you see, a blade across their entry portal would immediately slice them in two as they crossed into our dimension... Instant kills every time, check the maths!'
Chief Scientist Ogilvy studiously looked at papers the young solider had passed him.
'And, lieutenant, who have you told about this idea?'
'Just yourself Chief... Imagine, no more need for robots, no more genocide, no more... What's that?'
Ogilvy had picked up a light blue chromatic tube.
He looked up briefly and said,'...and not let Xenu return? We have been waiting too long for that, Lieutenant.'
The scientist turned a small dial, and the acrid smell of burning flesh filled his quarters. | "Remember the old joke, how do you stop a rhino from charging?" I looked around at the council. "You take aways its credit card. Its the same principal with these kaiju. We alter their planner, we change their routine, they won't come back"
I looked at the sea of faces. All of then blank.
"Nah say," started Bruce. "Is this some kai nah joke?"
"I... think it is," answerer April. "She did say it after a joke."
"I don't like the joke!" called Morris, to a murmur of agreement.
"What, no," I stammered. "Dr. Maganawi already confirmed that when he built the kaiju, he added a scheduler. They are more bio-robot than beast."
"I heard more and I heard robots!" Morris beamed.
"Please can we..." I started but it was too late.
*5 months later*
I had to admit that the robot was pretty badass. It had been given the full Gundam treatment. Kaiju Tyson was due to arrive today, as per his schedule. A rumbling started at 10.11am, as it did every 3rd Friday of the month (except if it had rained in the past 2 days). Tyson would peak over the hill in 3... 2... 1...
"NOW!!" Bin-bin called, activating Robot's Kaiju Stomp subroutine. Robot moved faster than the eye could follow, pulling out a sword as he went towards Tyson. Tyson roared as Robot made contact and... shattered. Robot broke into a million pieces on first contact.
*2 days later*
"Well," I addressed the council. "We are lucky that the residents mostly evacuated. Eight thousand lives is just a statistic, right?"
No one answered.
"Cost, durabilty, and size." I continued. "Pick 2". | 2016-01-11T14:02:06 | 2016-01-11T11:31:47 | 62 | 24 |
[WP] In the near future, the secret to time travel has been discovered - in order to travel back into the past there needs to be a 'receiving station' at the other end - explaining why nobody from the future has been observed up 'til now. The first such 'station' is about to be completed.
This prompt was spurred by a remark by Stephen Fry in the BBC series QI, in which he mentioned this concept. I like the idea of the first 'receiving station' being completed, thereby marking the earliest point in time it'll ever be possible to travel back to. I like the idea of people gathering round the machine as the 'on' switch is thrown, waiting to see who or what will emerge. | Hundreds gathered around the titanium pentagon shaped object. Looming 20 feet high, the receiver was the brain child of a joint-research team composed of top scientists and physicist around the world.
John, one of the chief designers flipped the on switch. There was a deep whir and a mechanical hum.
"So...now we just wait?" Victor looking at his watch.
"Yea, I think that's it..." John unsure what he expected, pausing to look back at the team.
"Maybe we got it wrong, are you sure the wave calibrator was set righ--" Victor stopped, cut off from a loud buzzing from the receiver. A moment of silence and then a loud bang and bright flash filled the entire room.
Everyone stands in suspense, staring intently at the opening. A bright white light emanating from inside and muffled voices can be heard from deep within. Black silhouettes appear, pin drop silence from the entire team in this historic moment. The silhouette up in front takes a step out into the platform, the room silent in suspense.
The lead silhouette still looking back can be heard speaking to those in the back, "Okay, gather around everybody. Form a line and follow me down the path"
The man emerges wearing flip flops, and Hawaiian shirt. Followed by a large group holding cameras and luggage bags. The leader marches down the steps approaching John, whose mouth hangs gaping open.
"Hey, Mathias from Millennium Tours! Ah...which way to the resort. These guys back here get real antsy if they don't get unpacked and ready before the program begins. I usually like to give them an hour to themselves."
"W-What?.." John looks at Mathias, then at the group, then back at Mathias.
"The resort man! We made a booking - I've got a group of 30 back here. We're looking at 15 rooms. Check under the name Millennium"
"I- uh...sorry what?" John stammering, still trying to get his thought together.
"Millennium Tours...are you new here?"
John stares blankly at Mathias.
"You have no idea what I'm talking about do you?"
John shakes his head slowly.
"Listen, what year is this?" Mathias waving in the general direction of the crowd.
"Uh..its.. 2020"
"God Dammit!" Mathias turns back to the crowd and screams "Raj! Did you enter the co-ordinates I gave you!?"
An young Indian looking man in the back shouts back "No! I thought they were the same as the old ones!"
"No! They're not the same! Thats why I gave you new co-ordinates. Because they're new!"
"But we've been using the same ones for past few months! What changed?!"
"Were you not paying attention during last week's meeting! The TTC was scheduled to do maintenance on temporal route 235!"
"Listen you don't pay me enough to pay attention! I only put up with your shit because I need to pay for my ridiculous tuition at Mars University!"
"Oh god dammit! We're gonna be fined again! This a the third time now Raj! Third time in five fucking weeks!"
"Hey! Fuck you! Maybe if you gave a promotion I would give a shit! You know how much Musk industries pays for this type of work! This is why your company is going down the shitter!"
"uh..." is all John can come up with, as everyone stares at the exchange back and forth.
Mathias sighs and turns to John "Listen uuh...name?" Mathias points at John gesturing.
John replies, "John."
"Listen John, this is all a big misunderstanding. Clearly some mistakes were made by Raj--"
"Hey fuck you Mathias!" Raj screaming from the back
"And maybe me as well. Um - listen when the TTC comes can you keep this whole situation on the down low. I would really appreciate it, I'm bleeding out here. I really need this."
"TTC?" John mumbles
"Oh yea, Time Travel Commission. Anyways listen we're gonna get out of here. Can you cover for me?"
"...Okay?"
"Thanks bud! Okay everybody, sorry just a quick detour! We're gonna get back in the Temporal Tunnel and we'll be on our way shortly... Ah Mr. Lee, no feeding the locals, it's part of the tour rules!"
An old Asian man holding out a bag of crisps to some scientists in the back.
"Everybody back in! Lets go! Mr. Lee what did I tell you, don't touch that. Oh god! that's at least a 5000 credit fine. Come on wrap it up." Mathias turning back to the scientists, "Listen real sorry for the misunderstanding. John, like we agreed. If not... I know when you lived!... Just joking! Don't take that seriously, and don't tell them I said that either. That is uh...serious jail time. But seriously...ah...I'm gonna get outta here."
And just like that with a loud bang and a flash the first instance of time travel history was over, but a few seconds later the second was about to begin.
With a flash and a bang, a man dressed head to toe in aluminum, with antennas taped to his head comes running down the ramp. "Hey! Is this 2020! Where the Women at?! Let's get primitive up in here!"
| Today will be remembered throughout history. At multiple points in history, to be accurate. The first ever time machine, affectionately being dubbed “Einstein” around the office, will finally be completed on this date. I am going to be the first person to ever use it, and I’d be lying if I wasn’t nervous. My whole life has led to this. I have spent months preparing, undergoing all sorts of agonizing tests to ensure that I am prepared. Waiting in this sterile room room outside of the facility is agonizing. As soon as they call my name, years of work will be put to the test.
“Einstein is ready, let’s get going!” I hear shouted from outside the room. A technician runs in, hurriedly checking my gear to make sure it is all working properly. My gear was so bulky and clunky, I hated wearing it. Inevitable, given the circumstances I suppose.
I walk out into the facility and see Einstein. I have grown rather close to the machine, despite it’s somewhat bland appearance. It’s also quite loud. It’s just a metal dome, nothing flashy like what I am used to. Even this facility is more advanced and aesthetically pleasing, but I suppose that makes sense given the machine’s origin. I am motioned to enter the machine, to begin the calibration process. My suit calibrates the machine and myself to the other machine in the other timeline; this is why only one person can activate the machine at a time.
What had felt like a lifetime away a few hours ago was rapidly approaching. All of the adjustments had been made and the countdown had started. My anxiety now paled in comparison to earlier. I take a deep breath as I hear the numbers approaching zero. As the final number is reached, I suddenly feel the air change. There is a person in front of me, wearing a suit exactly like mine. He blinked a few times, staring at me, not saying anything. Before I said anything, the dome slowly began to retract, revealing a bright, sunny cityscape around me.
“Welcome to the year 2025, time traveler!” I heard, before the dome had fully unfolded.
I chuckled a bit at the corny greeting. I begin to hear the gasps as the dome reveals my appearance. In my timeline, their future, an alien race known as the Kurbians landed on Earth. They were attracted to the planet’s desolate state. These beings were able to help us save the Earth, in exchange for allowing them to remain on the planet. For some time Humans and Kurbians remained apart, but eventually, the two species began to intermingle. In my time, Human/Kurbian hybrids are more common that single species people.
I am a hybrid. We are humanoid, but posses I wide arrange of skin colors, have scales, and have tentacles as well as arms for appendages. Naturally, we knew this would be a bit jarring for these onlookers, but we had hoped it wouldn’t be too big of an obstacle.
“Hello Washington!” I began “I am one of you, from your future. We have known for some time when you would complete your end of the beacon, and come with important information for your survival!” The individual in the time suit stepped aside, stunned, as an official looking man walked up to me, motioning for me to walk with him, away from the crowd. From our records I believe this to be the current president of the United States, although his name had escaped me. Who he was wasn’t that important.
“I am eager to hear about the future.” He said, flanked by two serious looking men with weapons, most likely body guards. Was this the “secret service” I read about? Not so secret to me.
“And I am eager to tell you, I must guide you on how to proceed on some events that will occur soon. If you don’t, my timeline will not exist.” As I begin to speak again, another individual materializes on the platform. This was not known to us.
“Stop! You cannot listen to that … thing.” A much more human looking individual was standing on the platform, pointing at me. We did not know this was going to happen, this must be someone meddling with the timeline. How did they get access to Einstein?
“We are part of a rebellion against the Hybrids, who have enslaved humanity and destroyed our home!” Destroyed? They saved it! The traitor continued: “You can’t listen to him! Kill him! The president begins to look shocked and confused. His guards step in front of him, weapons drawn, concerned about how this situation has evolved. I rebut the rebel scum’s ridiculous claims: “Surely you do not believe terrorists Mr. President, these rebels simply want control.” Before anyone can respond, another individual materializes.
“I am from their future.” He began. He wore some sort of cloak, so I could not make out his appearance. “You must not listen to either of these fools. The hybrid is misguided, and will encourage you to doom this planet. The rebel is short-sighted, killing the hybrid will pollute the timeline, and encourage more meddling.” I don’t say anything, I’m still trying to read the situation.
“You must transfer all your authority to me, so that I might lead this planet into a better future.” He says, walking closer to the president. The rebel does the same. The three of us now stand in front of him, waiting for him to make the next move.
The president stares back at us, as we stare at him. I have no weapons, we had no knowledge these events would occur. We though Einstein and the facility were secure. And there is no telling how far into the future the hooded traveler is from. All of our fates are not in the hands of this frightened, confused man. If only he had more time. | 2016-02-01T08:03:33 | 2016-02-01T07:59:56 | 48 | 22 |
[WP] Everyone is born with a superpower, but the strength of that superpower is determined by how late in the year someone was born. Two twins are born on New Years Eve and New Years Day respectively. | Everyone has powers and the strength of them depends on how late in the year you were born.
One of the main things that resulted in this was everyone being very friendly towards one another when meeting eachother for the first time. Very polite and genuine interactions. Why? Because you didn't know the other persons birthday yet, so you didn't know how strong their power was and more importantly, if it was stronger than yours or not.
While being friendly on the outside, both parties would secretly try to discover what day the other party was born on, whilst also keeping their own birthday a secret. Its simple enough to understand really. As long as your birthday is unknown, the other person has to be cautious because there is still the risk that your birthday falls on a later day than theirs. Untill you know exactly how strong someone is, you're very carefull in making sure you don't offend or harm them in any way.
It was a threat that hung above your head untill you discovered what their birthday was, in which case one of two things happened. If theirs is before yours, great. You're stronger than them, and you can pretty much treat them like garbage. Or option B, your birthday comes first, in which case, tough luck, you're probably the one to be treated like garbage unless of course they havent figured out your birthday yet.
Even then, there was still the risk of the person who was born on the first of January to have a friend, brother, parent who was born in half December so its still not a foolproof method.
Now that I've explained all this you can probably understand why I was enormly confused when the young man in front of me introduced himself as Fred, born on the first of January. I was flabbergasted. I'm far from lateborn myself (5th of May, if you were wondering) but this guy had literally the weakest possible power and he was very forward about it.
I introduced myself as well. Didnt mention my own birthday: the young man might be a weakling but he could have been sent by someone who holds a grudge against me that doesn't know my birthday yet. Wouldnt be the first time someone had employed spies or worse to discover a birthday.
"I'm sorry for asking, but why are you so upfront about your birthday? You're at a point in life where you should know the risk and danger that comes from people knowing your birthday, so why tell me, someone you just met? I could have very bad intentions and now I know that you are the complete opposite of a threat to me."
He smiled. 'Well funny thing. I'm part of a twin you see, we were born just a few minutes apart. My older brother, George, was born just before me on new years eve.'
For the second time since meeting him I was shocked. He had one of the weakest possible powers but his twin brother apparently had the strongest one possible. There was much discussion on wether or not the hour at which you were born had an influence on power level or if it was just the day but his brother was undoubtedly one of the most powerfull people in the planet if what he said was true.
And then, right when I was about to ask him more about this brother, I saw him. A red haired boy casually walking towards us. Completely identical to the boy already sitting in front of me. The twin brother he spoke off. I recovered a bit and wanted to ask Fred if he knew that he was in a very dangerous position. If somebody wanted to exert pressure on his brother all they would have to do was kidnap and threaten his much weaker little brother, but I was interrupted.
"Hey George, who's the new friend?" He walked up to me and extended his hand for a handshake. I was too confused to realize it so he just awkardly dropped his hand. " I see you've met my older brother George, I'm Fred" he said. I looked to him and back to the other one. He said his name was Fred, but now the other one claimed to be Fred.
And suddenly it clicked. The reason he could just go around and tell people his birthday willy nilly, and then casually mention that his twin brother who happened to look identical was born just before him. Its ok to tell people that you are the weakest person on the planet if the most powerfull person on the planet looks just like you. | "Do you mind?" Ash said, gesturing to his feet, which hovered slightly off the ground. "It's just that I met a cute flyer girl, and she wants--"
"Nah, go ahead." Lee (their parents were too cutesy for anyone's good) waved his twin brother off. "You know I'd be right behind you."
"I'll see you!" Ash shot up into the air, vanishing into the swarm of other levitators while Lee craned his neck, trying to peer over the crowd on the ground for a glimpse of this girl. Most of the time, it wasn't bad--he usually passed himself off as a density-increaser, an almost completely impractical power, so no one ever called him on it. But it sucked when Ash went flying without him. Especially with a cute girl.
Lee's wristlet (he refused to use the term "smartwatch", damn it, and he'd invented it first) beeped at him. Distress call on the other end of the concert ground; it had been activated nine times in the past thirty seconds. He hesitated a moment, then tapped the screen, on the blue button labelled "Ash". It would automatically text his brother, "Running errands," their personal euphemism.
From his backpack, he pulled a folded-down thing that looked like a miniature skateboard, with straps to hold his feet on. By concentrating, he could hover an inch or two above the ground, just enough room to eliminate friction for the hoverboard. The crowd of concert-goers broke and seamlessly merged around him, paying Lee no more attention than a river would a rock in the riverbed. He inhaled, exhaled, floated into the air, and zoomed across the grounds.
The concert had a system of cheap wristbands that consisted of a button and a tracker. After some incidents in previous years, the Safe-T Bands were now mandatory, although an entire cult had grown around making fun of the tacky brand name. Lee's slightly-unauthorized link into the computer network alerted him whenever one of the distress buttons was pressed more than three times in succession (a good indicator of severe distress), and his wristlet navigated him to where the tracker was. There were security staff, but they were spread thin, and his data showed it took an average of seven minutes for them to reach any single distressed tracker. This, to make it worse, was in a remote section of the grounds used for loading and unloading.
"Hello?" he said, leaning into the turn as he skidded around a corner to where his wristlet said the tracker was. Two men turned to face him: one, pinned against the brick wall, had weak flames flickering at the tips of his fingers. Born very late in the year. The other was standing on tell-tale concrete, cracked and almost beginning to sag underneath his feet; Lee regretted saying anything disparaging about density-increasers.
"Uh, sir--"
"Get lost, kid," Mr. Dense said.
"What are you doing?" he pressed. "Because that doesn't look like it's completely legal, you know? And while I agree that evil flamethrowers can be kind of terrifying, it's probably not justified to beat a decent-looking guy up just for that."
"Help! I'm being robb--" the flamethrower began, but Mr. Dense loomed ominously, concrete sinking even more, and he shut up.
Lee gently drifted his hoverboard down until the wheels rested on the ground (it was also a functioning skateboard, he was very proud of that). From one pocket, he pulled a small black rectangle about the size of a deck of cards, with a blue arrow on the top that he surreptitiously made sure was facing Mr. Dense. "I really think you should reconsider--" and then he interrupted himself to fire the mini-Taser at the man, who dropped like a rock, if rocks twitched slightly.
Lee grinned. No one ever expected the attack to come during *his* monologue.
"You okay there?" he called.
"Yeah?" the flamethrower squeaked, voice cracking. It had probably been a traumatic day.
"You should stay here until security locates your tracker, and they'll take him away," Lee said, nodding at the prone form of Mr. Dense as he floated back up.
"Okay," the flamethrower said, eyes still very wide. "Wait, you aren't security?"
"Nah. I gotta go, though, I have a band to catch and a jetpack to finish designing. Promised my brother someday I'd go flying with him." | 2016-03-30T09:42:45 | 2016-03-30T07:59:03 | 99 | 44 |
[Wp] It is the year 2032. Due to increasing obesity, fast food joints have been banned entirely. Tell us the tale of bootlegging and speakeasies in this troubled time of prohibition. | Melons and pineapples worked best. We bought huge quantities of both. Ma and my little brother would spend nights hollowing them out, carving and chucking away the useless innards.
Me and Pa were the chefs. We cooked a hundred or so burgers every night. Of course, getting the fat--and it *had* to be fat--was a mission in itself. That came courtesy of Thin Tony, of Tony's Lipo Clinic. In exchange for two litres of fresh fat nightly, we gave him all the fries and burgers he could eat. He had a freakin' good thing going on; stuffing himself one day, emptying himself out the next. Plus, our services to the community gave him a shit ton of extra business.
So where was I? Ah yeah, the burgers. So we had the fat and we got the meat easy enough, seeing as fresh beef wasn't prohibited. 'Course, fresh meat doesn't have quite the right taste so we ah... we had to blend it up with a lil' gristle, liver, water and sugar. Once the mixture was *just* right, then we turned them into patties. We did big burgers - bigger the better, you know what I mean? That's what we were known for.
The sugar, I am proud to say, was homegrown. We grew sugar canes in our basement using those freakin' bright artificial light things. Yeah, if we were ever caught we knew that *that* alone would be enough to send us down for the rest of our lives, but there was no way we were going to serve our customers that Splenda shit.
So we grew the sugar canes, removed the impurities (anything *not* sugar) and Bob's your uncle--99.9% sucrose white sugar. We mixed this with flour and eggs and a proverbial ton of salt, and we had us some very sweet, highly addictive buns. Our customers always came back for more. Relish was just tomatoes, oil and garlic mushed up with sugar.
Next bit was easy. We packed the burgers (and fries-- yeah, we did fries too) into the hollow fruits. We then glues them back up before taking them to the mornings "health market". Our stall was the most popular, as you can imagine. Everyone knew what we were doin'--seriously, *everyone*. Even the local cops were on to it, but a few donuts now and then kept them sweet.
Hell it was a golden age. Until the federal investigation got us, that is. Still can't believe we got done for tax evasion in the end. But you know what they say, everyone's got a price. We greased up the top brass, as it were, and got ourselves out of some real *merda*.
Anyways, you ever wan't a burger -- I mean a *real* burger, like in the good old days, you know where to find us. Here, take this Melon, sample the goods why don'cha.
| It's not the *dogs* that are the problem at the border, unless you're careless they'll never find a thing. No, it's those damn Algorhythmic Sensorial System Programatical Robotic Omni-Bionic Examiners that you have to be wary about. Those suckers can get right up and into your business and before you know it they've found your stash of trans-fats and you're up against a wall with your arms spread.
The speakeasies don't employ me because it's easy to get food through the border though, they employ me because I get the results and not many folk can these days. Last month I brought in nearly 400 Kgs of fried chicken, burgers and pork products and still that didn't meet demand, so i'm upping my game, increasing my loads and expanding my business.
The best route, as with so much smuggled into the country, is across the border from Mexico. The cartels try to bring over in tunnels, ships, even airplanes, but I have a simpler route. I use the one thing that can mask the smell and at the same time be almost completely ignored by the border patrol - drunk white frat boys.
They flood back and forth across the border, heading out to take advantage of the hookers, drugs, booze and, of course, the fast food. Mexico lures them over by having huge signs up near the border, vast illuminated Wendy statues, towering hundreds of feet into the air, with enough lighting to be seen from Oklahoma City. Since they won the second Mexican-America War and annexed Texas they don't even pretend to be afraid when we threaten them with sanctions for these huge adverts, they don't care anymore.
The Mexican's love the frat boys, as they flood into the old US cities, living it up on the weekends, before creeping back over the border on Monday morning, hung over and greasy. That's when I make a deal with them. Carry a few Kgs of good in a scent proof bag and get a bit of money to make up fr all the cash they just blew. Hundreds take the deal.
They stumble through the border and the guards watch them, repulsed by the smell of stale beer and vomit. Only the Algorhythmic Sensorial System Programatical Robotic Omni-Bionic Examiners is a threat to me and even if it catches a few of them, dragging them off into custody - caught with their pants down - there are enough that make it through for it to be worth it for me.
I watch them stumble through the border, a few being dragged off, but most make it and meet up with me in a nearby alley, giving me the goods, taking their cash and looking around warily before scurrying off, back to their schools, where they will be late for classes. It was a good night, enough for fifty portions, once I have cut it with a bit of soy and reprocessed corn to bulk it out anyway.
Tonight I deliver to Chicago, where my middlemen will split it up and send some north to the big buyers, like Wisconsin and then I will head back, over the border to make a purchase and find more mules to carry my product. Life is good for me right now - long may prohibition last. | 2016-07-25T06:22:09 | 2016-07-25T06:20:50 | 283 | 58 |
[WP] Your T.V. suddenly turns on by itself mid-lunch and a message from the local weather warning system , normally accompanied with a loud alarm but oddly silent this time around, reads "For the safety and well-being of all local citizens this warning will be broadcasted silently..." | It was a typical summer week day; warm with a slight breeze, a few big puffy clouds hung in the sky, slowly and silently moving eastward. I had just left a drive-thru, my lunch cooling in the passenger seat as I pulled into my driveway. Once inside, I dropped the food on the coffee table and hurried into the bathroom to relieve myself.
I washed up, returning to the couch for a few minutes of mindless TV while I crammed the greasy lunch into my face. I turned the set on, but rather than a random commercial for adult diapers or Viagra, I was greeted with a message that read, "For the safety and well-being of all local citizens this warning will be broadcasted silently." It was white text on a blue background, and true to it's word, there was no audio at all. Assuming this was some weird new ad campaign, I switched channels. It had the same message. I tried a few more, but they were all the same.
As the reality of the message began to sink in, a new message appeared on-screen, "Remain silent and remain calm. National Security sources have identified a threat that seems to be targeting loud noises. The threat is of an unknown origin and assumed to be omnipresent. Shelter in place and await further instructions."
My burger fell, untouched, to the coffee table below. What the fuck? I've never seen or even heard of anything like this. My mind began racing. What was going on? Who is this threat? How are they everywhere? And what exactly happens if you make enough noise to get their attention?
I stood and approached the front window, wondering if I could see anything. Looking out, the day was just as normal looking as it had been before. Then I watched as the neighbor across the street, old Ms. Kaufman, practically threw her little yippy terrier out the front door. I was shocked at the display; Ms. Kaufman was one of the sweetest people I'd ever met! But then, I understood all too clearly. As soon as her door closed, the terrier, Porkpie, got up and ran to the door yipping it's little head off hoping that she would let it back in.
I stood, watching and waiting for what felt like a half hour, but nothing happened. I glanced at the TV, but the message hadn't changed. I shook my head to myself, thinking, "What the hell is going on?"
Getting restless, I decided to grab a beer from the fridge and make the best of the situation. If I was gonna die today, at least I'd get one last beer in. I entered the kitchen, opened the fridge, and after retrieving the cold brew, realized that Porkpie must've stopped yipping finally. Or the old lady felt bad and let it back in. Returning to the window, I knew it wasn't the latter. What I saw still mortifies me.
Somehow in the space of 30 seconds something had come and, for lack of a better word, disassembled poor little Porkpie. There were three neat little piles; bones in one, organs in another, and it's skin sort of laid out like a bearskin rug.
This was where I lost it. My knees buckled, dropping me to the ground. My heart was racing, but unfortunately my mind just blanked. I didn't know what was going on and I certainly didn't know what I should do next. All I knew was that I had to be silent. | > Im not a writer or anything, just a guy wanting to try this out, no hate, don't expect grammar to be on point or detail
It's 4:57 AM, I wake up, wondering what woke me up I look around and notice the T.V switched on, irritated at the fact that I don't have money to get a good T.V and annoyed by the fact that my T.V always makes a stupidly annoying static noise upon being switched on I look at the T.V to see what happened and see a message placed on the screen...
"For the safety and well-being of all local citizens this warning will be broadcasted silently! Do not be alarmed"
As I assume most people are freaked out by this message, I look at the top of the screen and it says "Weather Warning", why would a weather warning need to be broadcasted silently?
I decide to go back to sleep but I turn off all the lights and hide under my blanket, "Why am I doing this? I'm a 27 year old man not a child!" but despite that I still decide to sleep under the thin blanket.
I wake up, look at my clock and it reads 10:29 AM, I get up and go downstairs, before going downstairs I decide to look out my window, looking around I can't see anything strange and just go onto my normal life. On my way downstairs I heard the T.V switch on again and go back up the stairs to check if there is any update and it said "Warning, take this warning seriously, all citizens need to remain silent and cannot leave their homes or they are at danger, we will be back soon with updates".
"Why do I need to be silent? Stay in my house? Does this mean I miss work?!"
Excited at the idea I don't need to go to work I am still perplexed by the idea a weather warning system would broadcast a warning telling everybody to stay silent...
I decide to rebel the system and stand outside in my garden to look around and see if I can spot anything and I see a think fog moving towards me (I think its fog not mist I don't know. Back to the story anyway), curious why we have to stay silent during a fog confuses me however I listen to the report and go back inside locking my door.
I look out the window and see the fog pass straight by the window, however something was different, I could see figures inside the fog, weird looking shapes moving along with it. I have no idea what it could be, maybe a flock of birds but I decide to stay silent, not even move because I'm scared whatever it is will hear me...
I look at the window staring at the fog and I hear a cry, "Is that from the fog?" but it was far from it, it was a young child scared crying in his house with sounds of the mother crying from next door. I'm curious how I can hear from that far away but that's because their window is open, being able to hear something so vividly makes me assume they are being loud. I am scared, wondering what will happen to them and all of a sudden, I see the figure in the fog move against the flow and go towards the house. It then goes through the window and I hear screaming and windows breaking then I see a flow of red fly straight out of the opened window then the figure come out. Now he is coated in red it is much easier to see, however I don't think about it too long and try to hide, scared it will come for me. I go to my room, the T.V switches on causing the loud static noise.
I hear a window break...
> I never really tried doing this ever and im no good writer, so likely errors and grammar mistakes but please don't be too harsh x) would appreciate feedback and things I could improve on :D | 2016-08-10T08:10:11 | 2016-08-10T07:40:10 | 29 | 16 |
[WP] You are an immortal serial killer. You were caught and sentenced to life in prison. The prison is starting to get suspicious of why you won't age. | The newspapers had written about her. Killing for her had been as simple as walking past a man and filling his nostrils with her flowery perfume. Her thick red hair was as if the blood of her victims had stained her soul, putting a permanent mark on her long, murderous past.
But now she was here, in this cell. She never really said anything. Just sat, ate, went back to her cell, and sat again. When she had arrived twelve years ago the headlines had been loud about her deeds, but now they had all but forgotten. Old newspaper clippings had been taken down from the walls in news agencies and police stations around the country, to be put in a box and stored in the archives where time chewed away at the remembrance of her deeds.
"Hey Red!"
She looked up. In the cell across the hall was the new inmate, in just weeks earlier for trying to hold up a grocery store and shooting a kid in the kidney in a fit of rage. The kid had survived but just barely. The parents made sure that if the would-be killer were to breathe air on the outside again, it wouldn't be until their son had graduated college.
"Fuck you!"
Red gave a penetrating look at the angry inmate across the hall as if she was looking right through her eyes and at the wall behind her. Everyone knew that newcomers tried to assert dominance, but this one went overboard. No one dared to talk to Red, let alone fuck with her. Not even the ones with (what they thought) higher kill count.
The next morning the guards found the newcomer in Red's cell, behind the locked door. She was sat on the bed, blood covering the floor as if she'd spent the entire night puking up every single drop of blood in her body. Her mouth was filled with shards of glass, trailing all the way down her throat into her stomach. There was nothing to be done, the newcomer had been dead for hours before the guards had even woken up that morning. In the newcomer's cell was Red, staring at the wall without a trace of anything, had it not been for the fact that she was in the newcomer's cell it was as if nothing had happened that night. She was put in solitary confinement for a year straight after the incident, regardless of the protests from human rights groups about the illegality of doing such a thing, but when she later returned to the regular prison, she sat down on her bed where the newcomer had been found a year earlier as if not even five seconds had passed. And after that no one fucked with Red. | It's been a while seeing these grey walls. About 45 years. Or maybe it has been fifty. I can't recall. I was sentenced for a lifetime here since I was on a killing spree back in the days. I was sort of a Robin Hood you see, killing criminals just like me. I actually call myself Charlie Catastrophe if you ever wonder if I have a name for myself. Back to the story, I've killed rapists, petty thieves, hired killers, drug lords (which is my favorite since they say that they cause poverty in this city), and a former politician. I remembered during my killing spree that I've killed about thirty criminals in total within a week and half. Maybe an additional thirty for colateral damage. Maybe more. I lost count for seeing these blank walls all the time. I started this madness since my father was killed when I was a teenager. He was accused of -- I can't remember. I think he was accused of selling drugs or raping a non-existent girl or that he's a member of a notorious gang or maybe all of it. Some say that a government official orderd his death. I can't really recall. These walls really makes my memory blank. All I can remember is the day I got caught.
It was a perfect sunny day so I went for a cup of coffee. Of course I brought my .45 caliber that I always use and a swiss knife of sorts for unexpected occasions. I also brought yesterday's newspaper for, you know, being less suspicious since it headlined "Fifty killed within a week". I was drinking my daily coffee at my favorite café when I heard that there will be a rally in favor of this corrupt official at the city plaza. I think he was the one that caused my father's death. This is the moment I've been waiting for. I went there quickly and to my surprise, he was looking for volunteers to ask him a question. I quickly ran up to the stage and luckily, I was picked to ask the question. I said to the mic, "Why?" and then I shot him in his chest. I come up close to him to stab him and he said that I will rot in jail for what I have done. The police came and you know what happened next.
I've told this to countless inmates and prison guards whenever I had the chance to tell them my inspiring story. Not countless but maybe around a hundred in total. Sometimes I hear the guards telling that maybe death penalty should be implemented for psychos like me. I guess I have to wait a little longer.
And here I am, still in jail. Thanks to my lovely city for not having death penalty. You know what I learned from the story? Corrupt politicians always lie, even in their last breath.
I guess it's also a lie that I'll rot in jail.
--
*Sorry if it's not in the guards' perspective*
EDIT: minor change to typos and some parallelism | 2016-10-15T09:06:23 | 2016-10-15T08:27:16 | 35 | 14 |
[WP]As the axe murderer at a teenage campout in the woods, you had expected them to split up. You didn't expect them to band together to hunt you down. | I saw the clearing up ahead lit up by a roaring camp fire. They were drinking and laughing. I breathed heavily in anticipation as I felt my blood begin to boil marvellously. But this was weird, I had been looking for them for the last hour since I took their friend Cindy...I'm no expert on the sane mind, but I'm pretty sure they should, like care that their friend was captured right? Maybe be afraid..I moved quietly between the trees to get a closer look.
The petite blonde girl began crying as the men ran towards the lake leaving her alone. This was more like it. I heaved the bloody axe to rest on my leather shoulder pad as I walked through the tree line out into the clearing and let out a maniacal laugh. The petite girl Rebecca spun round and let out a scream of pure terror as she fell back off the log in shock.
"That's right little girl, let me savour those last moments of candid terror before I chop that pretty little face up!" I declared cheerfully
I begun to revel in the moment, swinging my axe down into the log as I pulled her by the hair onto the log, chopping block style. But suddenly I heard quick crashes through the trees, wheeling around I spotted the two men dash back into the clearing brandishing makeshift spears. I looked down at Rebecca, her hair still clutched roughly in my hand. The bitch was laughing her fucking ass off. I stepped back disturbed by the turn of events.
"Ah good, we're not too late! Couldn't have you starting the party before we got our weapons ready!" said their leader Chuck with a defiant smirk on his face. I backed up some more as Rebecca got up and caught a knife from Chuck and joined the others in a semi circle on the other side of the fire.
"Hehehe you crazy kids have saved me the effort of finding you all one by one. Its like a 3 for 1 deal!" I bluffed triumphantly
I yanked my axe out of the log and spun it deftly around my fingers in anticipation. That's when I heard more crashes from behind me, I hopped to one side and searched for the source of the noise frantically. Holy shit, it was Cindy. She was covered in blood and breathing heavily.
"How did you get out of the basement!?" I yelled in frustration
"Sorry I'm late guys, the fucker used a cowboy bowline knot on me. Took a while to wriggle free without breaking my damn neck" she said in a steady, deadpan tone
I looked back at Chuck who gave me a 'women am I right' shrug of the shoulders. I looked at the group as they begun tending to Cindy's injuries like I wasn't there.
I surveyed the scene in bewilderment for a few long moments.
"I'm sorry but what the fuck is happening here? Why aren't you panicking at all?" I said in a flustered, defeated tone
"Sorry Chief, this isn't our first rodeo. You're our third murderer this year" Chuck explained nonchalantly.
"What have we got this time anyways Rebecca?" Cindy asked rubbing her neck wound
Rebecca eyed me up and down and turned back to her friend "Another axe murderer, looks like he has some sort of disfigurement under his mask. Likely due to some childhood trauma that led him onto the path of mania" she explained like you would the weather forecast for the week
"Ugh how cliche', alright freak lets dance!" Cindy challenged as she smashed a beer bottle on a log.
My heart begun racing as I eyed the 4 teens converging on me with an array of weapons, without the slightest ounce of fear. I turned round and begun running through the vegetation, "fuck this you kids aren't right in the head, help!" I yelled breaking out in a cold sweat. So this is what it was like to be the victim.
| "What do you mean they haven't split up?"
[Muffled and incoherent speech]
"Take the mask off, you idiot."
"Sorry. I mean they haven't split up. They remain intact. As a group, they are. I don't know to explain this any further to you."
"Well did you try doing some spooky stuff?"
"I tried all the spooky stuff. All of it. Name something spooky. Standing statue-like at the top of a dark road. Leaving dead animals behind. Writing stuff in blood on the walls. Done it all."
"That is a lot of spooky stuff."
"It's the spookiest. Nobody is spookier than me."
"I'm pretty spooky, though."
"Yeah, you're pretty spooky but what I'm saying is: I'm the spookiest. I'm number one. We're a team. I get that we're a team, don't get me wrong. But I'm number one."
"Well, I feel like I'm not getting you wrong, but you couldn't get them to split up. Listen, let's not get in to that."
"Let's have a Spook-Off. Right now."
"Right now?"
"I'll spook the fuck out of you."
"OK, well let me open this up. Get a load of this slow yet menacingly fast walk."
"Holy shit. Look how slowly you appear to be walking yet you're clearly at sprinting speed. I'm not kidding when I say from the bottom of my heart: consider me spooked."
"Thanks. It's like Michael Myers but not too much like Michael Myers where people think "That's just Michael Myers in a different mask."
"I dig that. I can totally dig on that. Did I mention I'm digging on it? OK, I'm up. Check this out."
"Check what out? Wait, where are you?"
"I'm over here now."
"Well fucking hell. That was insanely spooky."
"Got my should be definitely impossible teleportation down. One second you see me outside your classroom with nowhere to hide, a second later I'm knife deep in your blonde best friend."
"Feel my arm. Feel my arm, right now. R.L. Stine would be proud of those goosebumps."
"Sick reference. Just a sick horror literature reference."
"Thanks."
"You're up."
"OK, well listen to this. I do this while I stalk my prey for effect: [Chh-chh-chh-haa-haa-haa](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2FKudboRRMU)"
"That's spooky as fuck but it sounds a lot like the noise Jason makes."
"It kind of is but I've got my own spin on it where it's not just some sort of weird 'I want to kill my Mum' undertone thing. Mines more of a "What the fuck is that noise? Why would someone even make that noise unless they wanted to kill me with a sweet bowie knife" vibe."
"Oooohhh, OK. OK. Let me have a go: "Chh-Chh-Khaa-Khaa-Khaaa""
"No, see, you're doing it all wrong. Nowhere near enough 'Chh' and it's a 'Haa', not a 'Khaaa'. You think someone is going to be scared by a 'Khaaa?' Come on.”
Another man appeared at a nearby shrubbery and stood eyes glazed, tilting his head and removing his mask as he listened in.
"Are you two fucking serious?"
The two men looked towards the tall, shadowed figure. "Ah, shit. I'm sorry, it's my fault. I couldn't get them to split up."
“I don't believe this. We let a ripe group of victims just drive off so you two can discuss who is the spookiest in our team? I am hands down the spookiest out of us three. Look how shadowed I am by this shrubbery. Do you see how shadowed I am?”
****
I write shitty, silly stories on /r/BillMurrayMovies. Feel free to come along, not laugh at any of them and leave some judgement. | 2016-11-01T12:39:17 | 2016-11-01T12:01:48 | 283 | 120 |
[WP] A friendship between a time traveler and an immortal. Wherever the time traveler ends up, the immortal is there to catch him up to speed. | ”Okay, here we go,” June said, spinning the wheels on her mechanical glove, which sent her on a dizzying ride through space and time.
She landed in a pub buzzing with activity, colorful bottles lined the wall behind the bar and yellow light radiated through heaps of stacked cups. Women in long dresses and updos danced to the live tunes of a jazz band, while the bartender idly polished the counter.
June made her way through the thick vapors of cigar smoke towards one of the quieter corners of the pub. A man in a black suit and hat sat alone in a booth, swiveling cubes of ice in what undoubtedly was a glass of scotch.
“Fashionable as ever,” he noted, raising his glass unenthusiastically at June.
“Well, it’s not like I had time to change,” June said, looking down at her wrinkly renaissance dress.
“Time, sure.” He pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his chest pocket. “Want a smoke?”
“Come on, Roman,” June said. “You know I don’t smoke, and besides, we’ve got important things to do.”
“Important, right.” He said, inhaling deeply. “Ah, that’s the stuff.”
“Why don’t you start by giving me an update?”
Roman leaned back, regarding her with an amused look. “Why don’t you start by sitting down for a moment, Sweetheart?”
June felt like kicking him. This was why she hated the fifties. Roman basically turned into a Philip Marlowe with an impossible reluctance to cooperate.
“Fine,” she said, with a resigned sigh. “Buy me a drink.”
“Buy your own drinks,” Roman said, yawning.
“You know, I like you way better in the seventies.”
“It’s the hair, isn’t it?” he said, winking.
“Tell me one thing, Roman,” June said, snatching away the cigarette he was just about to light. “If I were one of those dainty women over there – one of those swooning helpless things, without a hint of independence – would you help me if I came running to you?”
“Swooning, huh?” He emptied his scotch. “If I remember correctly, back in the 16th century–”
“Yeah, yeah, I couldn’t handle the corsets, whatever,” she said, rolling her eyes. “What would it take for you to give me the damn update?”
“How about you get out of that moldy old dress and get the next round?” Roman said, nodding at his empty glass. “I haven’t seen those lovely butt cheeks since Leonardo painted Mona.”
“Why did I marry you back in the Antiques, I simply don’t see it,” June said.
“I think it was the hair.”
“You know, I was going to give you the night of your life, but I guess you’ll have to wait until Zeppelin releases their first album, I mean, it’s only another twenty years.”
“I’m sure it’ll be worth the wait,” Roman said and got up. “Until then there are some swooning ladies by the bar, who appear to be in need of my immediate help.”
June cursed through her teeth and watched him strut over to the dance floor. Be that way, she thought and spun the wheel on her glove again.
| Eric enjoyed reading in the sun room as of late. He'd collected many a manuscript over the years but always seemed too busy to get to them. Now that the war was over he had a bit of down time to clear his backlog.
He rested on the love seat Donna had convinced him to buy. She was a girl of her time, obsessed with tie-dye and flowers, peace and hallucinogens. The love seat was shitty, but the way she saw it it built character, and who was he to argue? Squirming to get comfortable, he opened up to the page he'd marked, but stopped when a low rumbling filled the quiet air. Light bulbs flickered. The chandelier shook in an increasingly violent fashion.
Eric rolled his eyes. *Not now...*
A flash--a clap of thunder--and in a shower of sparks stood Dario the Traveler. This time he was wearing disheveled Victorian garb, a bowler hat askew on his shaggy head. Same shit-eating grin, though. "Hey buddy!!" he said.
"I'm busy," Eric groaned. "Gimme a year or two."
"Nah," Dario laughed, looking around. "Where the fuck are we?"
"Los Angeles," Eric replied. "1973."
"No shit? I was aiming for the sixties." Dario wandered to the window and looked out on the Pacific, eyes wide. "Pretty, but didn't all the good shit happen in the sixties?"
Eric put down his book; he wouldn't be getting back to Chaucer anytime soon. "That depends who you ask, I guess," he said, standing. "Where did you come from this time?"
"Did a little rough ridin' with this dude named Teddy." Dario looked back with a wink. "Said he knew you."
"Ugh. Roosevelt was a twat," Eric said. "Incredibly pompous. And he never let us eat Mexican food."
"Yeah, he was kinda racist." Dario thought for a second, then snapped his fingers. "Ooh, but I know this president in a few decades who's--"
"I don't want to know," Eric snapped.
Dario shrugged and looked back to the ocean. "Suit yourself."
Eric joined him at the window, smiling in spite of himself. He never anticipated Dario's visits but he was glad they were still happening. After WWII, the last time they'd seen each other, Dario had pledged to save the dinosaurs. He didn't, obviously, but Eric was glad he'd survived to come back.
"Were you aiming for California?" he asked his old friend. Dario shrugged again.
"Hawaii, actually," the traveler said. "Apparently there was this crazy eruption but I think I'm off a decade or so."
"Probably for the best."
"Eh."
Chuckling, Eric headed from the sun room. "Well, if you're no busy, my girlfriend's having a friend over."
Dario turned, eyebrow raised. "I thought you were..."
"In the barracks, yeah. Out here? Not as popular lately."
"It will be."
"Then I'll be gay then. Donna's great, anyway."
Dario followed Eric into the kitchen, where he grabbed some beers from the fridge. "What's her last name?" he ventured. Eric smirked.
"Summer," he said.
"What's her friend's name?"
"Goldie."
Eric's smirk became a grin watching Dario realize where he'd landed. "Oh, this is gonna be a fun fucking weekend!" he said.
"Damn right," the immortal replied, and they clinked bottles. | 2022-05-07T07:51:43 | 2016-11-10T14:49:30 | 2,588 | 22 |
[WP] You buy a special camera at the pawn shop. Every photo you take, it shows a snapshot of 10 years ago. You take a picture of your dog and it shows him 10 years ago when he was a puppy. Everything is all fun and games, until you decide to take a picture of your bedroom one night. | 'Shit' The Polaroid camera slipped from my hand, hitting the floor with a solid thunk. Just my luck, I find something magical, something which defies explanation, and I drop the bloody thing and probably break it straight away.
I'd found it nestled in the back of the pawn shop on my way home, struggled to find a few dollars to buy the darned thing, but I thought it worth it: I've always loved photography. And then when I took the photo of Terry, the most peculiar thing happened. The picture in front of me was of a puppy, youthful and energetic, smiling up at the camera with tail wagging eagerly. And yet the dog in front of me was nothing of the sort. The real Terry lay in front of me, weary. His front left paw raised every so slightly off the ground, his attempt to alleviate the pain of old age. His fur greying, his tail limp, this was not the dog in my photo. Maybe it might've been ten years ago.
And then I realised, in every photo I took the world was different. My camera was more than that, it was a portal into the past. Ten years into the past.
After making my discovery, I eagerly hurried home, ready to stow it away and do some research. And that's where I am now, looking at my newfound possession on the floor.
Examining it in my hands, I notice no immediate damage. Instead, it whirs softly, and a new photo emerges.
Out of habit, rather then necessity, I shake it to see what my crystal ball will reveal.
Two people. A man and a woman. He's holding her hand, reaching out to grab her as she turns away. There's a suitcase on the floor, packed full of clothes. I can't see much of the rest of the room, or the scene, due to the camera being dropped at an odd angle and shooting as it hit the floor. I don't need to have a picture to recognise this scene though.
Martha was standing right there when I got home, a suitcase on the bed. It didn't click at first, I couldn't compute. She didn't look up at me, just kept packing clothes. I asked her what was up, there was no response. I touched her shoulder, she recoiled. It started to set in, a realisation dawning on me.
'No.. no..' I stammer out. She says nothing, she keeps packing. I try to stop her, but she ignores me. My vision gets blurry as my body starts to shake with sobs. I grab her hand just as she pulls away again.
Ten years had past, and the wounds were as fresh as ever.
Ten years ago, Terry had been a bright eyed, bushy tailed pup. And ten years ago, I'd been happy.
A lot can change in ten years.
| Warmth flushed their cheeks as Rob and Rachel took a picture of their beloved Husky and the photo of him laying on the floor on his back, attentively looking up at his masters, tongue lazily hanging out of his mouth... he was such a cute puppy.
The twins tried to get creative. They took photos of relatively new cemeteries, out of morbid curiosity, former forests that had been developed into housing and strip malls... their town had changed a lot in the past ten years.
"What about our house?" Rob exclaimed.
"What about it?" Rachel asked quizzically.
"We can find out where we were and what we were doing 10 years ago!"
"Rob, we were still in the womb ten years ago, what are you expecting to find out?"
"Oh... right," Rob sheepishly responded. "Aren't you curious at all about what our room was used for before we were born?"
Rachel drew her eyebrows together and looked off to the side as she pondered the idea.
"I never thought of that... I am quite curious, now that you mention it."
"Should we aim it from the door or the opposite corner by the windows?" Rob wondered.
"Windows, looking into the room. Does it really make a difference if we capture the weather from a decade ago?" Rachel replied snobbishly.
"Jesus, what's your problem?"
"You're asking so many dumb questions, just take the damn picture!" Rachel snapped.
"Oooooh you swore, I'm telling mom!"
Rachel blocked him from reaching the door and punched him in the shoulder. The camera clicked. Rob had hit the button by accident... and then the "Polaroid" camera ejected the photo and the twins waited while the picture came into focus. Their eyes widened and they simultaneously gasped.
There stood a woman holding a large serrated knife, the blade covered in blood, with her back to the camera. An arm-less man laid on the floor, his stubs that were once his limbs drawn in to him and his face forever petrified in photographic form of agony and terror...
Rob dropped the camera and it shattered on the floor and he threw the photo in almost a pushing motion as if to get the disgusting image away from him.
"Rob...where am I in this photo?" Rachel eeked out, her voice high and strained.
They picked it up again and looked closer. The woman had a tattoo that circled her left wrist and her dress hung funnily over her body. And then right when that detail sparked something in their memory, they noticed a face in the dark doorway. A man-sized figure, his eyes squinted but glowing white as his teeth in a sadistic smile.
Their mother walked in the bedroom then. "What are you two doing...? Seriously, you broke your new camera already? What the hell is wrong with you two, you've barely had it a day!"
That's when the twins noticed their mother wasn't wearing her characteristic bracelets on her left arm. And there it was. The dawning realization of who the woman was in the photo.
It was the same tattoo. And she had been pregnant... with them. | 2016-12-22T03:53:52 | 2016-12-22T03:34:12 | 36 | 25 |
[WP] While browsing on your parent's computer you recieve an email notification addressed to them. It's from an advanced robotics corporation, informing them that the warranty on [your name] expires in 30 days. | My WARRANTY is EXPIRING?! I can't believe what I'm reading. It's... it's just unbelievable. I call up my best friend, J.R., and tell him about the email I just found on my father's computer. He can't believe it either.
"Did you know?" He asks
"No!"
"Do they no you know now?"
"No... there's no way they could know."
"When was the email sent?"
*oh my god!* I had forgotten my father never checks his email. I rush back to the computer, too hurried to even turn on the lights, to check the date it was sent... 30 days ago exactly. I stand there, completely motionless in the dark room lit only by the glow of the computer screen. The lights come on and I turn to see who is there. I hadn't heard anyone come in.
"HAPPY WARRANTY DAY!" shouted the crowd of friends and family, J.R. standing in the front between my parents holding a present.
"Mom unit, Dad Unit... why didn't you tell me?" I asked, trying to sound offended. I think my excitement showed through though.
"We wanted to throw you a real surprise party. It's been one year since they installed your software and we wanted to give your hard drive a party to remember," Mom Unit replied.
Dad Unit stepped forward. "Congratulations, Son Unit XSR164926...8592749SSHDKVE43749...FG53." I hated when he used my full name. It always took so long. | It was like one of those click bait advertisements that grabs your attention out of nowhere offering to help you last longer in bed or hook you up with a local Russian in the area. It was different this time though, the message had my name in there and not just my first name, my first middle and last name! This was not the kind of behaviour that settled me as I scanned through my parents financial accounts.
I couldn't get it out of my head. I had read about Google tracking the users of its search engine and how they were able to amply advertise to you based on your previous search history, where you looked on the screen during your sessions, who you spoke to and most importantly for them what products your were browsing. But this, this was way past the mark. My thoughts for a long time afterwards were that Google's AI was being hacked into and utilised by third party advertising companies to draw in customers with click bait banners. They must have got my details from a web form my dad filled out, yeah that must be it.
It wasn't until a month later when I knock on the door lead me to an interaction with the long-haired, headphone wearing postman who held a package for my mum. I opened the package. What I saw next wasn't something I had seen before. It was skin colour, smooth and funny looking. I checked the instruction manual out, crossing my fingers that it wasn't some elaborate dildo my mum had ordered. It explained that this was a component, a TB-659. I read further and further and further until I confirmed the initial conclusion my mind came to. That this was somehow linked that message I had seen just over a month ago. It was a silicon tail bone, I opened it up to find a neatly organised array of wires folded and packaged ready to be connected. I dropped it and ran to the nearest mirror. | 2017-01-14T06:08:46 | 2017-01-14T04:39:26 | 142 | 19 |
[WP] Your Spouse goes into the bathroom only to come running out 15 seconds later. Clutching you close they tell you they fell into another dimension and what felt like seconds to you was a 1,000 years to them. They now want you to follow them back because they have built a life for you there. | "Touchdown!" exclaimed my wife Cindy. From the corner of my eyes, I saw that she glanced over in my direction to look for my approval.
"We're watching basketball," I sighed.
Undeterred from her failure, she replied, "I know, just testing you." She returned her attention to the TV and eagerly awaited for another basket to be made by any team. She doesn't know which is which but she just knows that I'm rooting for the "blue guys". Sure enough, one of the blue guys made a jumpshot. Without hesitation, Cindy pounced on top of me and yells, "GOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAL!!!!"
I smacked my palm to my face while shaking my head, but my mouth betrayed me as it curled up into a smile. Out of nowhere, a deafening fart erupted and drowned out the sound of the game. Shell shocked, I was unable to react.
"Spot...!! That's nasty!" exclaimed Cindy.
"Spot is upstairs! Get your nasty ass off me!" I laughed in disgust as I pushed my wife off of me.
"How dare you blame me," said Cindy with a smirk. "On an unrelated note, be right back, I have to use the bathroom." Cindy vaulted off the couch and scurried to the bathroom. Finally, I could watch the game in peace. Fifteen seconds left on the clock, my team was down by two, and we had the ball. Our star player brings it down the court. Ten seconds left. He gets double teamed and picks up his dribble. Seven seconds. He manages to pass it to his teammate while being smothered by the defense. Five seconds left. He frees himself from the double team, runs to an open spot, and demands the ball back. Three seconds. He gets the ball, and heaves up an off balance shot from the three point line. The buzzer sounds. And the shot is...
"BABY!" screeched Cindy. Her outburst made me tear my eyes away from the game before I could catch what happened. As I was about to yell at Cindy, she tackled me and nearly crushed my ribs with a hug. She had tears streaming down her face.
"Baby..? What.. what happened in there? See this is why I told you not to eat the leftover burrito that's been sitting out since last week."
"No, it's not that! You'll never believe what happened!"
"What was it?" I asked.
"The bathroom... I went in and I didn't see a bathroom!"
"What did you see then?"
"A new world! But instead of people everyone was puppets!" My concern immediately vanished, and instead I felt embarrassed to have fell for another one of my wife's stupid jokes.
"Ha ha okay you got me. Very funny," I said. "You need to cut that out though, you made me miss the end of the game. Next time you do that, I'll fart in your face." With a surprising amount of force, Cindy grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me.
"I'm not joking! I've been gone for years! I finally found a way back thanks to some puppet scientists, but the wormhole they created is going to disappear in one minute!"
"You always keep your jokes going for too long, dumbass. It wasn't even funny at all in the first place!" I laughed.
"NO! LISTEN! They love me there! I'm like a celebrity! They gave me everything I could ever want! A puppet mansion! Puppet luxury cars! Puppet court side tickets to watch puppet basketball!"
"Cool." I turned back to the TV.
"Please! I know you don't believe me, but come with me to the bathroom! We can live like royalty there! Please, the wormhole is closing!" My concern slowly crept back into me. I had never seen Cindy act like this before. The panic, the hysteria. Maybe... maybe she's not lying?
"Come on!" yelled Cindy as she grabbed my hands. I don't know what came over me, but I started to believe her. I shot up from the couch, and ran with her to the bathroom.
"We only have a few more seconds left! Go!" yelled Cindy. My heart was racing as we neared the bathroom door. I reached for the door knob, turned it, and ran into the darkness. I was not sure what was in store for me, but I was excited to live in this new, strange world with my wife. I heard the door slam behind me, and my nostrils were overwhelmed with a foul, rancid smell.
"You are probably the biggest idiot I have ever met in my life" said Cindy from the other side of the door. I turned on the lights and was surprised see our bathroom. Looking down at the toilet, I saw a brown, unflushed swamp.
"Cindy, you fucker, let me out!" I tried opening the door, but Cindy was pushing back with all her might.
"Enjoy my present!" yelled Cindy. "And as they say in basketball, I just hit a home run on you!"
| The musky smell of sweat covered him as he pulled me into the bathroom. I had never seen his eyes so filled with life in the eons that had passed.
"It's right there honey, come follow me." He pointed at the mirror. I decided to take the bait, wondering what prank awaited me this time. He touched the mirror, and to my surprise his hand dipped through. He started to walk through it holding my hand. I let out a scream. Either he was serious for once or the budget for his prank would ruin us financially.
I opened my eyes to a new world, clean water shimmered down fertile banks with birds breaking out in heavenly song as a yellow sphere of gas warmed us. Fauna: lush, robust and vibrant walked the grounds in hues I had never thought possible in life.
I turned to him shocked. "You did all of this?"
He was almost bursting with pride. "Yes I did, and there's more." He held my hands, and guided me to the East. In the distance I saw structures, similar to what we had. There was a city. It's inhabitants were exactly like us. They filled their cities with our images and when I closed my eyes, I heard it: Prayer. The beautiful dedication and supplication that fueled me, and it came in an ocean strengthening me, making me soar higher and higher until I radiated with the life force that oozed as sparks in the air.
"How did you?"
"I just found it here and got to work." he said. He took me to my temple where my pre-made throne of silver sat. Then he vanished to our home to gather the rest of our things.
It must have been months of madness before the first loose string appeared. In the month of harvest a barn was set on fire. At first we thought it petty rivalry, but then a circle with 4 lines etched across made us think otherwise. It was a group. A group with a symbol, was a group with a belief.
I was promised it would be taken care of, and sure enough it never happened again. Until it did. 5 months later a building in the city was set on fire. This time he wasn't there, the reports came to me.
"Who is this?" I inquired. The answers did not come as I wanted, so I waited until night to conduct my own search. I floated through the city streets, through the outskirts, finally, in a back alley at the limits of the city wall I found it. A door with the same circle etched on it. It was so faint many would have missed it, but for me it glowed with belief of those inside. I didn't materialize, instead waited until the people inside would walk out.
It was almost dawn when the first figures walked away. Some shifted their gaze around making sure they weren't seen as they walked their way home. Something about them looked odd, I couldn't pinpoint it, maybe it was their noses or eyebrows. They didn't belong.
I followed one to his home, a small hut in the outskirts. Materializing in his home I nearly killed him with fright when he saw me appear.
"Who are you?"
"Oh my Great Realis!" He scampered around looking for something. Probably a blade. I pinned him to the ground, and raised a stick to his eye.
"Who do you worship?" I asked.
"I follow Revi," he said bravely. I could sense his resolve. He followed Revi with all his heart. It had been a long time since Revi was mentioned in the celestial circles.
"Why would you follow Revi? Have we not provided you with everything?" If the god was trying to create a name here after all our work, he would have another thing coming.
"You? You left us to die, killed us, called it a cleansing so that you could take everything that Revi had done."
It was my turn to be confused. "Revi? You believe Revi did this 1000 years ago?"
"No 2000 years ago before you came along and took everything, I am not afraid to die, I will finally see my maker."
I decided to let go of him. He stood up, adjusted his collar and gave me a defiant look.
"So what do you believe happened?"
"Not believe, know."
"How can you know?"
"because we have the truth, from the old books that we hid." For a minute man and god stared at each other.
"Show me." I said.
"What?"
"I said show me."
"What is there to show? How can you not know? Are you not Realis?"
"I do not know tell me."
He started to dig beneath his bed. "Revi made this world, but other gods, jealous of his work they stole this world of his and try to destroy everything. Only a few of us survive. Only a few of us know." He produced tattered parchment but even I could see the glow of the supernatural that held it together. It is written in our text. The true text of history, and the true story of this world and us, how we had our parents and older siblings killed to be adopted by barren assassins.
One look at the page and I disappeared from his site. I'd need more than a warm heart to argue with the image on it. It showed Revi in a fight with my husband and afterwards the destruction that the god of water had brought.
I'd wait for my husband. Noah had a lot of explaining to do.
***
/r/pagefighter
| 2017-02-20T22:12:04 | 2017-02-20T20:51:41 | 114 | 59 |
[WP] Your Spouse goes into the bathroom only to come running out 15 seconds later. Clutching you close they tell you they fell into another dimension and what felt like seconds to you was a 1,000 years to them. They now want you to follow them back because they have built a life for you there. | "Touchdown!" exclaimed my wife Cindy. From the corner of my eyes, I saw that she glanced over in my direction to look for my approval.
"We're watching basketball," I sighed.
Undeterred from her failure, she replied, "I know, just testing you." She returned her attention to the TV and eagerly awaited for another basket to be made by any team. She doesn't know which is which but she just knows that I'm rooting for the "blue guys". Sure enough, one of the blue guys made a jumpshot. Without hesitation, Cindy pounced on top of me and yells, "GOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAL!!!!"
I smacked my palm to my face while shaking my head, but my mouth betrayed me as it curled up into a smile. Out of nowhere, a deafening fart erupted and drowned out the sound of the game. Shell shocked, I was unable to react.
"Spot...!! That's nasty!" exclaimed Cindy.
"Spot is upstairs! Get your nasty ass off me!" I laughed in disgust as I pushed my wife off of me.
"How dare you blame me," said Cindy with a smirk. "On an unrelated note, be right back, I have to use the bathroom." Cindy vaulted off the couch and scurried to the bathroom. Finally, I could watch the game in peace. Fifteen seconds left on the clock, my team was down by two, and we had the ball. Our star player brings it down the court. Ten seconds left. He gets double teamed and picks up his dribble. Seven seconds. He manages to pass it to his teammate while being smothered by the defense. Five seconds left. He frees himself from the double team, runs to an open spot, and demands the ball back. Three seconds. He gets the ball, and heaves up an off balance shot from the three point line. The buzzer sounds. And the shot is...
"BABY!" screeched Cindy. Her outburst made me tear my eyes away from the game before I could catch what happened. As I was about to yell at Cindy, she tackled me and nearly crushed my ribs with a hug. She had tears streaming down her face.
"Baby..? What.. what happened in there? See this is why I told you not to eat the leftover burrito that's been sitting out since last week."
"No, it's not that! You'll never believe what happened!"
"What was it?" I asked.
"The bathroom... I went in and I didn't see a bathroom!"
"What did you see then?"
"A new world! But instead of people everyone was puppets!" My concern immediately vanished, and instead I felt embarrassed to have fell for another one of my wife's stupid jokes.
"Ha ha okay you got me. Very funny," I said. "You need to cut that out though, you made me miss the end of the game. Next time you do that, I'll fart in your face." With a surprising amount of force, Cindy grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me.
"I'm not joking! I've been gone for years! I finally found a way back thanks to some puppet scientists, but the wormhole they created is going to disappear in one minute!"
"You always keep your jokes going for too long, dumbass. It wasn't even funny at all in the first place!" I laughed.
"NO! LISTEN! They love me there! I'm like a celebrity! They gave me everything I could ever want! A puppet mansion! Puppet luxury cars! Puppet court side tickets to watch puppet basketball!"
"Cool." I turned back to the TV.
"Please! I know you don't believe me, but come with me to the bathroom! We can live like royalty there! Please, the wormhole is closing!" My concern slowly crept back into me. I had never seen Cindy act like this before. The panic, the hysteria. Maybe... maybe she's not lying?
"Come on!" yelled Cindy as she grabbed my hands. I don't know what came over me, but I started to believe her. I shot up from the couch, and ran with her to the bathroom.
"We only have a few more seconds left! Go!" yelled Cindy. My heart was racing as we neared the bathroom door. I reached for the door knob, turned it, and ran into the darkness. I was not sure what was in store for me, but I was excited to live in this new, strange world with my wife. I heard the door slam behind me, and my nostrils were overwhelmed with a foul, rancid smell.
"You are probably the biggest idiot I have ever met in my life" said Cindy from the other side of the door. I turned on the lights and was surprised see our bathroom. Looking down at the toilet, I saw a brown, unflushed swamp.
"Cindy, you fucker, let me out!" I tried opening the door, but Cindy was pushing back with all her might.
"Enjoy my present!" yelled Cindy. "And as they say in basketball, I just hit a home run on you!"
| **February 22:**
So my LOVING wife Lauren won’t stop with this “bathroom dimension” shit. Today I went in again and nothing happened (surprise), but she keeps telling me every time she goes in it’s like a thousand years passes in some other world. I don’t know if the kids and I can stay. I mean, she’s obviously going off the deep end. Maybe it’s just a phase? I set up an appointment with a psychiatrist today, and she said we could come in tomorrow. God, I hope my wife isn’t going crazy.
**February 23:**
The psychiatrist said Lauren needs to be hospitalized. I’m making the arrangements now and hope this will all be over soon. She’s getting crazier every day. Just a few minutes ago, she came out of the bathroom very upset. When I asked what happened she got really angry and tried to punch me. Her eyes…they were different. Cold or lifeless or something. I woke up a few times in the middle of the night and she was just sitting in the chair next to our bed staring at me. Her breathing has definitely changed too. It's like raspy now. I think she's dangerous. I’m not letting her near the kids without me. She's definitely sick or something.
**February 25:**
Couldn’t write yesterday, because Lauren locked me and the kids in the bathroom! She was threatening to “burn the house down to end it all.” She finally let us out when the doctors came today. She held a knife to my throat while I spoke through the intercom telling the doctors it was all a practical joke. They seemed to believe me and now I don’t know what to do. I thought she was going to kill me. And, my God, the kids…I have to get them out of here. She’s watching us all the time. Noah keeps asking why mommy’s mad at him. And I don't think Mary's done any thing but cry since we left the bathroom.
Can’t get the kids out tonight. She’s walking around the house with that knife. HOW COULD LAUREN DO THIS???
**February 26:**
I’m going to kill her. Tonight. With my baseball bat.
**March 2:**
Mary didn’t pull through.
When I went to kill Lauren, she was walking in circles in the kitchen, but as soon as she saw me it was like she knew my intentions. She ran—like some convulsing, hellcat creature of the damned—to the light switch, and the next thing I knew I couldn’t see anything. Bumping into furniture, all I could hear was the sound of her running around the room. Tears pouring down my face, I swung my bat and connected, but it didn’t stop the sound of running. I swung again, nothing. I remember a sharp pain in my left arm and then having to hold the bat with my other hand. Lauren knocked me over and I was just on the floor there thinking I was going to die. Even then I wasn’t sure I could do it. But I did. I had lost my bat, but I managed to get on top of her and strangle her. I watched as the life left her body. Her blouse was wet with my tears. I don't know how long I was there just holding her body. It wasn’t until I found the light switch that I realized what I had hit first.
**Edit**
*AUTHOR’S NOTE:
If you are reading this for the first time and feel satisfied by the original ending (above), then perhaps you should stop reading. For all the fucks that like never-ending stories, continue at your own peril. This magic school-bus is about to go down a dark road and it won't be coming back.*
**March 3?**
It’s real. I had just gotten back from the hospital and needed a shower. Was it another dimension? I guess, but I don’t know. Physically I’m fine, but my mind is another story. All I know is I was there for a long time like Lauren described. God, Lauren! I’m so sorry!
There are things there. Tall and grey skinned. Sometimes they look like Lauren, or at least I think they do. I can’t really remember what she looked like, it’s been so long. Every time they are around me I smell burnt motor oil. Hell, the whole place smells like a garage or something. It’s not like Earth. Not at all.
Matte black surfaces are all around, and there is literally nothing to do but imagine. I’m convinced that my imagination shapes the area around me, though, because I’m almost always thinking of the kids or Lauren and I’ll see them pass by me or something. But it’s hard to tell. I mean, when everything gets dark, are the things I see in my mind or in that place?
I have to go back. I have to understand.
**???????? April May June June June June. June. MARCH.**
This isn’t Noah. It can’t be. I just left him, after all. He was there in the dark place with Lauren and Mary. Inside the walls I can walk on. Can’t go back anymore. Why not? I don’t know why. Must be his fault. That little fucker! I’ll figure it out. I’m not going to let this THING keep me from going back to my family.
Blood!!! The wonderful whelps wrought by what? Me? Yes! I’m going back, baby! That thing can’t keep me out now. I’ll feast on his flesh and throw his bones in the bathroom with me. All of him will finally allow me to go back.
| 2017-02-20T22:12:04 | 2017-02-20T21:14:47 | 114 | 20 |
[WP] In your world, your physical appearance reflects the kind of person you are - you do good, you look good. One day on the news you see that the police is looking for somebody who allegedly murdered 15 people. They show a picture of the most beautiful woman you've ever seen in your life. | She glanced up and gave me a genuine smile, a smile that sent shivers down my spine. If I hadn't known I was sitting on the other side of the table from a woman that had killed *at least* 15 people, possibly even more, it would have been a nice smile to look at and have offered to you. Amy Kentridge *was* also undeniably very attractive as well; that's part of what had taken us so long to finally pin her down.
We'd been looking for a hag until Amy had finally been caught red handed, not a near supermodel.
"I have to ask." I cocked an eyebrow, Amy glancing up at me and nodding expectantly. "How have you fooled your body like you have?"
She tilted her head and an almost bemused smirk crossed her face before she replied. "Oh, yes. You mean the outer beauty, right? The fact that I'm not hideous after all the atrocities I've committed?"
"Yes. Obviously." I sipped on my now lukewarm coffee, waiting for her reply. Normally, our job was easy as police- an ugly soul always manifested outwardly into an ugly body, and the worse the crimes, the quicker the body degraded, but depravity always showed itself in the end. The room filled with an uncomfortable silence that settled in for several seconds before she finally replied.
"I'm not sure you'd believe me if I told you." She cleared her throat and stared right into my eyes. "But I'm sure you can figure it out if I tell you to start digging into the backgrounds of the people I've killed. *Really* dig."
We *had* noticed that some of her victims were in various states of bodily decay, as we liked to call it, but most of them had looked like normal, good people that you'd wave to if you came across them on the street. I frowned and returned her gaze. "I will give you that a few of them had started to degenerate-"
"It's the ones that *didn't* start to degenerate that should concern you, Officer Milson." Her hazel eyes were boring into my soul. "The ones that didn't *believe* that what they were doing was wrong or bad." Amy frowned and shook her head. "I have not changed, I believe, because I killed those ugly on the *inside* that managed to avoid the consequences of their actions- those that deserved it."
"But...how did they not change, either?"
"Because in *their* minds, they did no wrong." | Eve couldn’t decide whether she wanted to walk free or get the electric chair. For days, the lawyers argued, the jurors mumbled, and the judge screamed. This was the most publicized court case to date and her, the most beautiful woman in the world. Even during the opening arguments, the cameramen found themselves panning over to Eve.
“She’s innocent!” her lawyer, Mr. Natas, told the jury. “I mean, just look at her! Do you think a woman of such beauty can commit those crimes without getting even a single wrinkle?”
It always came down to beauty. That’s all the world saw in her and now, that’s what would either kill her or save her. Eve sighed. Was that really all she was worth?
“We have evidence!” the prosecutor, Adam, cried. “Fingerprints on the murder weapons. DNA at the crime scene. She has no alibi and video footage places her at the scene at the time of the murders.”
“I understand,” Mr. Natas said. “But I return to my original contention. She is beautiful. Are you suggesting that there is a way to commit such atrocities without begetting a single wrinkle?”
Adam went silent. The outcome of this case hinged on a single word, but one he could not say. For decades, society had been built on the phenomenon of beautification. It had happened nearly overnight and they were soon to notice that the better the person acted, the more beautiful they looked. Using this as evidence, they had prosecuted countless criminals and by now admitting to any exceptions to the rule, every criminal prosecuted in the last decade would need a re-trial or would walk free.
Eve stared at Adam with glistening eyes and a swell of air rising through her chest. She wanted to be damned. She wanted the world to see her as more than just a pretty face, even if it was as a killer. All her life, no matter what she did, she only became more beautiful. She had confessed before, but people only assumed her to be lying for someone else's sake. How else could they explain her beauty?
So she went out to prove her own ugliness with the most heinous sin she could think of--murder. Now, she needed just a single word for the world to truly see her.
“No,” Adam said—the wrong word. “Nobody is beyond the phenomenon.”
Mr. Natas grinned. Eve cried. And Adam hid his face from the jury. It was an open-and-shut case. Eve was far too beautiful to have committed crimes so horrendous.
“Then I rest my case,” Mr. Natas told the judge, the jury, and God Himself.
---
---
/r/jraywang for daily WP stories, continuations by popular demand, and more! | 2017-06-12T07:22:05 | 2017-06-12T06:51:36 | 1,426 | 55 |
[WP] You find Satan hiding in your closet shaking, you ask him what happened and he replies: "Dave dethroned me. " | "Who?" I tried to suppress my annoyance but I could still hear the venom of my voice.
"Dave! That new guy at work, I told you about him yesterday." Satan breathed through his nose, trying to summon his snot back into his nose as tears flew down his red cheeks. I looked down at the hardwood floor so I wouldn't vomit. I thought back to a time when Satan used to be fun. Only a few weeks ago, if I came home from work and I found him in my closet, he would have brought champagne and maybe some coke. But lately, it's just been...this.
But maybe this was a good thing. Maybe being kicked off the throne would make him see that this had gone on long enough and that it was time we break up. I've been trying to end it for a while but it's a bit hard to delicately break up with the increasingly clingly devil. "Well maybe you've been spending too much time up here, babe. Why don't you-"
Before I could finish my thought, Satan jumped up, his tall figure casting a shadow over me. He took my small hands in his large red ones and said, "Nicole, no. You are the one thing I have in this world. You're my sun, my stars, my everything!" He kissed the top of my forehead and I could practically feel the love in his lips. He gazed at me adoringly, "The throne means nothing without you."
There's no way to break up with someone after that. Even though it might affect the whole of the human afterlife or whatever, I couldn't bring myself to tell him to go to hell. Just not tonight. | It was a usual day for Jacob. He'd planned order Chinese while watching Simpsons reruns on the telly. However, those plans were quickly foiled when he discovered his former roommate shivering in his closet.
"What? Lucy? What the hell are you doing there? Come out of the closet!"
Satan answered with a resounding "No!"
"Come one man. What happened?" Jacob asked, more confused than ever.
"Dave... Dave dethroned me." Lucy said with a sigh.
*What?!? Is* **Dave** *the new dark lord of hell?*
"Satan, come sit here and let us take this from the beginning"
Once again, Satan answered with a shrill "No!"
Jacob tried to not sound annoyed when he replied
"Alright... But atleast tell me what happened."
"Well. It all happened so fast. I didn't know what I was getting myself into by saying yes to that..."
Satan breaks down crying.
"What?? Dave tricked **Satan** how'd he manage to do that?"
"I... don't know. It hurts so bad."
"Don't worry, buddy. We'll get it back." Jacob said, sounding less reassuring than he wanted to be.
"What? I don't think that's possible, Jacob." He cries out.
"Why wouldn't that be possible? Just dethrone him like he did to you. We can do it!"
Satan wipes his tears away, almost looking like his old self.
"Ah so it's revenge... Sounds good. Hehe"
*Has he lost it?*
"Uh... Yeah... Come sit over here. We need to go over what to do."
"What? No! I can't sit there. It hurts! I wanna stay in the closet."
*Come on you big crybaby.*
"I know it hurts losing your kingdom, but just come on over here."
Satan looks confused.
"What? My kingdom? No, Jacob, my **butthole** hurts"
| 2017-06-13T19:17:13 | 2017-06-13T18:12:19 | 44 | 23 |
[WP] When you die you have two options: Be born again, but without knowledge of your previous life or stay dead, but be able to retain your memories. You choose the first option, except there's a glitch in the system. You're born knowing everything you knew in the previous life. | Warm. Safe. Happy.
For a moment those were the only things I felt, the only things I could remember feeling. There was a gentle tug of something not being quite right, but it was easily pushed aside. The moment was perfect.
Being held close was wonderful. I had instantly recognized the woman who had me in her arms. No, not exactly recognize. But I knew her voice, the rhythm of her heartbeat, even her smell. She was comfort, safety, joy.
Mother.
The word snuck into my mind and took me by surprise. I squirmed and let out a small cry as I tried to understand how I knew that word. How I knew anything more than feelings and moments.
Suddenly a wave of memories crashed into me. I could feel tears welling in my eyes with each one. The woman holding me tried comforting me, her voice growing desperate and afraid as I began screaming.
There it was. There it all was. Linda in her wedding dress. My daughters' running through the backyard. The smell of coffee and pancakes on a lazy Sunday morning. And the gunshots, echoing in my ears. The smell of smoke as the house burned around me. My own voice, pleading with the firemen not to carry me out.
I wished so hard that I could die. Die and be with my family. But it doesn't work that way. Death, with all of the memories yet completely alone. Or birth, a fresh start.
They promised I would remember nothing.
Through my tear filled eyes, I could see the hospital ceiling rolling past. The nurses were rushing me down the hall. Their voices hinted at fear.
They think something is wrong with me. I remember that sound when I laid in the hospital the last time. The nurses who talked in calm whispers while my body tried to heal from the burns. Maybe they're right. Maybe I'm dying again.
I hope I am. | For the first few days of my life, I screamed. Well, my second life, I might say. Either way, it wasn't cause for worry because babies cry. When I was older my parents would tell stories about how I cried for days straight and they thought something was wrong.
I couldn't see right, my hearing was dull and moving was difficult. Forming words to ask what was wrong with me was impossible. It was worse than dying, being trapped in that meaty prison. One thing it did do, was give me time to think.
They don't know, not really. Everyone can tell there's *something* extraordinary happening but I think their jealousy stops them from seeing that I broke the system. I hadn't been a genius in my first life, but most people would have considered me learned. A high paying, somewhat ruthless job at a law firm had been my living. It had also gotten me killed.
I wouldn't make the mistakes of that other person who only exists in old news articles and my memories. As I grew, I spent the years learning things that I hadn't known in my past life. Getting the materials got easier as I became slightly older. More than once had my parents laughed when they saw me "pretending" to read about physics or history on a tablet.
I passed tests and maintained a normal life, flying under a radar that probably wasn't even on. Two hundred million people in America on the day I was born. By the time I had finished high school, there were another twenty million. No one was looking at me, then.
It was a few years later, when the investments that I had been planning to make for decades came to fruition on my twenty second birthday. I would be fed forever by the Apple tree and knowing exactly when to buy and sell made me a very wealthy young man very quickly. It had been a small hobby of mine to look back on investments I could have made when I had first been alive, pathetic as I was.
"Luckiest man alive" the newspapers had called me. I bit my tongue and let them speak. I let everyone speak and explain my "luck" for themselves. The only lucky thing that happened was that I had been born as myself, the rest was all me. | 2017-08-12T16:33:59 | 2017-08-12T15:44:13 | 46 | 22 |
[WP] In an alternate reality JK Rowling died writing The Deathly Hallows and requested George RR Martin finish the book. He accepted and takes over at the Battle of Hogwarts with no instruction on how it's supposed to end. | George shifted in his chair, raised his hands over his head and stretched, letting out a grunt of satisfaction as his spine unlocked.
It was done. In the end, it had been a welcome distraction. The ominous pile of notes on White Walkers, dragons and incest glowered at him from the corner of the room. He knew he would have to return to it at some point, but for the time being he could bask in the glow of completion of at least one popular series.
Jo had left extensive notes, and to the most part he had kept to them. True, he had added a couple of crucial revenge scenes, and a smattering of sex, but there had only really been one major alteration. Even George R. R. Martin knew when too far was too far, and the note titled, ‘death of Fred Weasley’ had definitely been too far.
| Harry awakens from his feigned death, and thinks this is his chance to strike out against the Lord.
Lord Voldemort strikes swift and wordless against the scarred, startled face of the former Harry Potter.
A silence falls once more, deeper this time. "Chosen one, was it?" he asked softly, to Neville who now stood before him. "Did you believe that nonsense too, Longbottom? Like you hope to see your parents again, one day?" He smiled a terrible smile at Neville's flinching expression.
Before he could answer, the Lord continued. "It's not too late, you know. It's not too late to save them, from where they remain." He started to step forward.
"If you join me, I can help you bring them back" he claimed, growing loud and growing close.
Neville looked down at Harry's lifeless corpse. "All you are is death" he said levelly, with barely a quiver in his tone, dashed forth and swung the tip of his fucking sword at Voldemorts wand hand.
The blade connected with the wood, and the entire scene was tastefully engulfed in a whiteness. A strangely satisfying, ambiguous white. | 2017-09-03T07:42:10 | 2017-09-03T07:11:06 | 491 | 90 |
[WP] In an alternate reality JK Rowling died writing The Deathly Hallows and requested George RR Martin finish the book. He accepted and takes over at the Battle of Hogwarts with no instruction on how it's supposed to end. | George shrugged off sleep and stared blankly at his computer. He knew who was going to die, he knew what was going to happen, and he had planned the secret reveal of the true threat that loomed just north of Hogwart's walls. No matter how hard he tried, though, he just couldn't find the words. Maybe it was the success of his own TV series pulling him away, or his constant appearances at conventions across the nation, but George could not, for the life of him, finish this damned book.
Mrs. Rowling had passed 4 years ago. 4 years of angry fans, hate mail, and blank pages. The movie studios went ahead and finished the film, adding a subplot about Harry and Luna's intimate relationship.
"Damnit," Martin had thought, "It totally was my idea to have the dark haired hero get with the blonde... Now I'll have to do something different in the book to appease the angry 'lit' fans.
Lit fans were a subculture that arose around the Harry Potter novels. They refused to watch the films, preferring instead to wait in vain for the book. These fans were often obnoxious about their "pure way of enjoying the story" and their "ability to read". These fans hated the films and everything to do with them. They hated the subtle plot differences, the actors that "look nothing like the characters", and the more sensationalist feel of the film.
Rowling had already killed off Hedwig before passing. She had George (Weasley) loose an ear and Dobby pass away (Martin had cleverly added a quick aside regarding dobby's name and the act of dobbing). That only left a few fan favorite characters to choose from, and George couldn't figure out who to kill.
He looked down and started falling asleep again. He had eaten a large pot roast, with blackberry jam, nutmeg, and pecans sprinkled over it. The roast was a golden brown, and paired well with the merlot he had been gifted by a friend. The heat of the meal sat in his stomach and made his eyes heavy.
"Well," he thought, "maybe I'll get around to writing a few pages tomorrow."
George fell asleep, slumped in front of his computer, knowing that he would never be able to finish a series. | Harry, followed at a distance by Hagrid, is sprinting towards exit of the school. In the distance thunder rings ominously. Desperation loom on their faces as their feet push them furiously, closer and closer, to the large doors of the school and into the courtyard.
Hagrid stumbles shortly before the exit, stumbles, and regains his composure. Harry stands at the far end of the court yard as Hagrid slams the large oaken doors closed and bars them. A loud thud blasts the opposite side of the door almost immediately.
"GO, NOW!", Hagrid roars as he adds his weight to the door, holding back the creatures behind.
Harry cries out, tears streaking his face as the wind tears at him, "What are you doing?! We need to go now."
Hagrid grunts as cold icy hands begin to break through the doors and tear at his clothing. "GO, I WILL HOLD THE DOOR..."
Harry blinks, hesitating for a moment, and turns away, moving towards the bridge at the far end of the courtyard. The doors shatter and hoards of maddened witches and wizard pour through. Hagrid falls to his knees as they pull at his flesh. His voices echoes shrilly, softens, and then silence fills the courtyard. Harry turns back to look, the courtyard now packed with Wizards and Witches. Silent, unmoving, eyes glowing blue, eerily in the silence of the evening.
A part slowly forms down the middle and Voldemort appears atop an icy stallion. He moves slowly through the crowd and stops at the front. He dismounts, pulls a long, ragged wand from his cloak. It blazes coldy -- a deep icy blue. He lifts it and points it at Harry. A dull gleam fills the tip. Harry pulls his own -- a 9 inch Valeryian steel wand with an immaculate carved bear head at the hilt, eyes black.
Voldemort, eyes fixed upon Harry, juts his wand forward, a purple jet of lightening cracks from the tip, casting it's shadow over the cold night. The wizards and witches filling the court yard open their mouths and let out a piercing cry that fills the emptiness and rings across the countryside.
In the distance, a tired phoenix lands on the branch of a tree. Shudders, lights afire, and the disappears into a cloud of ash. From the ash rises an old man, wizened from years of experience fighting the dark lords. Mister Graybeard watches the battle from afar. Scene fades to black. Find out what happens in the next book. The Winds of Wizards, coming soon, 2025. | 2017-09-03T08:30:57 | 2017-09-03T08:10:59 | 28 | 11 |
[WP] You're a ferocious demon king. You're surprised one day to find that a young woman has been left at your door. Only to later find out her father, the king, is using you as bait to find a knight worthy of marrying his daughter. | I am losing my patience with these humans. Sure I'm immortal, otherworldly, and visually frightening, but that doesn't make me evil.
First it was just farmboys seeking to make a name for themselves by ending a non-existent threat to their pitiful kingdoms. Then came the wizards trying to banish me back to "the pit from whence I came". I could tolerate those, in fact the resulting battles proved to be mildly entertaining diversions from the monotony of protecting their ungrateful hides from the real evils that lurked beneath the castle.
But I refuse to be used as a matchmaking service.
"So, how long do you think you will be staying?"
"Father says I should wait at least two months before escaping. It's a shame, I shall have to miss mother's birthday ball unless I am rescued soon. He means to use the ball to make my absence more apparent, but mother deserves to be able to enjoy her own celebration without his dramatics."
The 15 year old girl sitting across from me is Maribel, the only princess of a neighboring kingdom sent by the king to lure some hero or another to rescue her. Apparently he's getting desperate for a son-in-law so he doesn't have to leave the kingdom in the hands of a woman. I may not be malicious but I still have my pride, I refuse to be manipulated this way.
"Well, since we have some time we might as well make use of it. What do you know about ruling a kingdom?"
"Nothing, my education consists solely of appearing ladylike for public events. My future husband is meant to manage the kingdom."
"Well then you have a lot to learn, so let's get started."
"I don't understand."
"You aren't getting rescued. I'm an immortal sorcerer who has beaten thousands of would-be-heroes who confuse darkness with evil, no one who comes for you will defeat me. Instead I'm going to teach you how to rule a kingdom so when your father dies you can rule in his stead."
The look of confusion on Maribel's face turned into a mischievous grin. She didn't want to be here anymore than I wanted her here, so she loved the idea of turning her father's scheming against him.
Over the years and between the half planned rescue attempts, we covered everything from economics to foreign policy to military tactics. In that time she grew from a girl to a woman, and I grew to be more of a father to her than the king ever was. It's funny to think I wanted nothing more than to be rid of her, but now it breaks my heart to see her go. But the king's health is falling, and if she doesn't leave now someone else will have taken her throne before she reaches it.
"Are you sure I'm ready? I would hate for my people to suffer because I ended my studies early."
"Maribel, the simple fact that you don't want your people to suffer means you are better suited for that throne than anyone else who has ever sat upon it. You will be a wonderful queen. But not if the king dies before you get back, so you need to leave."
"What about you? I hate the idea of you being locked alone in this fortress again. Please come with me."
"You know as well as I do that can't happen. To the outside world I am the Demon King, they would never let you take the crown if I accompanied you. Besides, if I leave who would guard the pit? We can't have real demons breaking out into the world and ruining your coronation. Now go before it's too late."
She gives me one last hug and climbs aboard her horse, which I send through a portal to the edge of what soon will be her kingdom. There's no sense it making her travel the whole way, and it stops both of us from turning back for yet another goodbye.
When I'm alone again the silence is deafening, I find myself wishing someone else had been chosen for this job once again. But one look at the burning portal in the basement reminds me why I'm here and Maribel isn't.
I'm still bored out of my mind though. Hopefully someone tries to kill me again soon, that could be fun. | *Can continue this if people like it.*
---
"I want him! And him! And him! And him!" Pearl said.
She stood in the centre of the dining room table, no higher than 4 feet, with a small bouquet of flowers in her hand and wearing a wedding dress with the veil. Whoever had given the seven-year-old the dress would soon lose their head. In the meantime, I slapped a palm to my forehead and groaned.
"Pearl Luna Ida, get down this instant."
Pearl spun toward me, her crystal blue eyes cold with anger. "Make me!"
The Knights around the table started laughing. There were thirteen of them in total, all of my best men, with their helmets hung over the back of their chairs and a feast worthy of thirteen Kings spread out before them.
I had the chef prepare chicken, pork, beef, duck, and undead potatoes. Roasted vegetables filled trays and pots of gravy steamed from various ends of the table. Jugs of wine covered the remaining empty spaces and piping hot bread buns were brought out by the dozen.
Somehow, amongst all the chatter and food, Pearl had climbed onto the table and chosen the three Knight's she wished to marry. It just so happened that she, as usual, became my problem.
I stood, pushing my stone chair away, and sending shudders through the floor below. The men gripped the table.
"What are you doing out of your room, young lady?"
Pearl jabbed the bouquet at me. "You might scare them, but not me."
"We're talking business."
"Well, I'm not waiting till I'm a thousand and three to get married." She placed her hands on her hips, and stalked across the table, stepping past each platter and jug.
The men were in fits of laughter now. If my skin hadn't turned dark grey over the years, they would have seen the blush creeping up my neck and across my cheeks. To think a seven-year-old girl could argue with the Death King. I wouldn't have any of it.
"To your room." I reached out and plucked her up between my fingers. "And I'm a thousand and nine, not three."
When I next looked, the veil remained and the girl had gone. I opened my hand, making sure I hadn't squashed her by mistake. That would be a tradegy, especially after all this time. Pearl had made the last seven years feel like several hundred.
Something stung my leg. I yelped and glanced down. Pearl stood with a big grin on her face, dusting her hands together. A fork jutted out from above my ankle, my weak spot.
"You mad girl!"
Pearl giggled. The men hooted and cheered now, calling out for Pearl to hit me where the sun doesn't shine.
She darted under the table. I swiped, catching her at the hem of the dress, and lifting her up. Pearl swung her arms in the air. "Let me go, you big meanie."
"Dorian!" I called.
The side door opened and the skeleton butler entered the room. He wobbled his way over to the head of the table, his bones clacking with each step.
"Escort our guest back to her quarters."
"Bone brains," Pearl said.
Dorian pulled her by the hand. "C-come O-on N-now, M-mrs. P-pearl."
When the door slammed shut, the laughter stopped. The hall returned to its silent, serious demeanour, and my smile felt out of place. Many of the men asked why I kept the King's brat around, especially after he'd forced her upon me. They didn't understand that while every part of my being willed me to cursh the twerp, having Pearl around reminded me of what sunshine used to feel like.
The men continued with their eating. And I dug into my food. I would walk past and check on her later. But knowing Pearl, she'd have Dorian tied up like a sack of bones in no time.
----
/r/cassidylilly
| 2017-10-06T07:14:34 | 2017-10-06T07:10:01 | 621 | 139 |
[WP] You're a ferocious demon king. You're surprised one day to find that a young woman has been left at your door. Only to later find out her father, the king, is using you as bait to find a knight worthy of marrying his daughter. | "Another one of your boys came by today," I said, setting the dish on the table. "Red hair, good with an axe. He might've been a good match."
Alara sighed, but let out a slight laugh. "How much longer until you think the old man gets the hint that this isn't working?" She set the plates and silverware down in our usual places around the table.
"I think he's been getting more desperate, I've captured about one every other week now." Alara's father had sent her to me nearly 10 months ago. Some ploy to find the bravest suitor in the land to rescue her from me, Desdelcus, the "Demon King" and marry her off. Truth was I was nothing more than a 4000 year old cannibalistic Dark Mage who was a remnant of the Great Storm Wars who's really good at regenerating himself, and occasionally feeds on anyone trespassing. Not a demon. Not a king.
"I'm so done with all of this," Alara said again, leaning against the banister. I was planning on eating her when she had first arrived, but I decided to instead use her as bait to attract more meals. My condition required I eat at least one human a month. Not ideal, but hey? It takes a lot to live forever.
Overtime, I realized I decently liked Alara. We weren't lovers, no. But friends. I imagine that if I had ever had a daughter, or perhaps a younger sister, she would have been like Alara.
She had been upset that her father had dumped her off here for quite some time. King Dronius had 9 daughters, and Alara was his youngest. He and I had never gotten along, what with his "expel the Demon King!" mentality and my "I'm seriously just a guy who needs to feed on humans" mentality.
I opened my mouth to respond to Alara, but nothing came out. After almost a year of living together, I was still not used to actually BEING with someone.
"Ugh, the blasted meat is undercooked again," she threw the plate down in the table, upset with herself. "Can't you just heat it up with your magic like you normally do?"
I grabbed the plate and recited the Incantation of Flame. A small flame appeared in my palm and I held it near the meal. The meat grew darker in the heat. Alara looked at the flame in her usual awe, but turned away when she saw me smiling at her.
"Alara..." I stammered. "You know, I...I could teach you."
"What?" She looked confused. "Teach me how to make good chicken? What is that supposed to mean?"
"No, no. Teach you what I know." I ignited a small flame like I just had done. "Dark Magic."
She watched the fire dance along my fingertips. I could see it in her eyes, she followed the embers as they sparked up, gleefully. She met my gaze and smiled.
"When can we start?" | **"I shall not help you!"**
The mighty Orlak was very unhappy. He stared at the young human dressed in nothing but a white gown shivering in the winter cold in front of his castle door. The more he pondered on the audacity of the king beyond the mountain the more he bubbled with fury. What the king did was more than an insult. It was an act of war.
“What are you doing, stupid human.” Orlak roared. “Go home.”
The winter brought with it the soft anger of snow. The trees were covered in blankets of ice and small mounds soon became snowy mountains. Constant blizzards made it hard to see clearly. It was enough to fell even Orlak himself if he wasn’t careful. Yet, the women in front of his castle door wore nothing but a flimsy gown. She held her knees tightly and wrapped her hands around her shoulders. Slowly freezing to death.
“Where are your clothes?” Orlak continued to say, “Fool, you will freeze.”
“It seems like I just might.” She replied.
Orlak snorted. He closed the wooden door behind him with a loud thud. His strength shuddering the stone walls. He paced around the entrance of his warm cosy castle. He remembered how he crushed the previous king who had built this fine castle. Theodore the brave they had called him and now Theodore was the name of the bones that held up his toilet paper. Humans were pathetic disgusting creatures. Not a single mustard seed of good in any of them. Not even a weight of a hair. They should all just die. Especially the one outside his door. He convinced himself.
Suddenly Orlak heard a loud crash outside his door. He rushed quickly and threw the door open in a hurry his heart beating quickly. He rushed outside with his sword in hand. He looked around his snowy land searching for danger.
“It was a pile of snow that fell from that tree.” The lady in white said, “You should go back inside.”
“Stupid women, I am the mighty Orlak” He said, “Why would I listen to you?”
“Because you’ll catch a cold.”
Orlak wanted to say something. His mouth moved to insult her again but he somehow couldn’t find his voice. He watched her shiver terribly in the cold. Her father must be a very cruel man indeed. He puffed once again and trudged back into his castle. His conscience weighing heavier with every step until the door closed firmly behind him.
The droplets of water froze and softened before falling down upon the land in multitudes. Each snowflake the same yet no snowflake was alike. One, in particular, fluttered down from the heavens and buffeted in the cold wind until it landed softly on the hand of a frozen woman buried in the snow.
The castle door opened and a demon king rushed out. He held a torch in his hand and searched around him for something important. He ran around the snow calling out insults at the person he'd left behind. He had desperation etched into his face.
He saw her bluish hand buried in the snow and he cried out in relief. He lifted her on his back and brought her inside his castle closing the door behind him.
“Silly women.” He said, “Come inside."
| 2017-10-06T08:21:17 | 2017-10-06T06:23:28 | 199 | 135 |
[WP] A super hero fights evil by wiping memories of both the villian and everyone who knew of them so that they can be reintroduced into society safely. Today, as you were combing through old newspapers, you discover that you were once the world's most powerful supervillain. | "Do you believe in destiny, Liz?"
"Don't call me that!" I snarled. "My friends call me Liz, people who care about me call me Liz."
Robert put his palms up as if to pacify me. "I understand you're upset, Liz," he said as he moved closer to rest his arm on me. I flinched away, scowling. He needed contact to wipe my memories.
"You're a fucked up person, you know that?" I said. "What kind of sicko wipes someone's memories and then takes advantage of them!" I shook my head. "When I woke up in that bed, alone, confused, not remembering anything - you were there, but..."
"It was either that or kill you, Liz, and I couldn't have bared to kill you," he said, his eyes were watery and he sounded sincere, but he had looked sincere when I'd woken up without memories, and he'd been holding my hand. "Even if I knew this would happen..." he said and sighed.
I gave a short bark of laughter. "No, I'm pretty sure you didn't, Rob," I said. "Pretty sure you wanted to keep me ignorant of my past forever, and have me be your lovely little wife till the end of time."
Robert shook his head. "No...I knew how you would react if you did. There's something...more about me and you, people in general, than just memories. Call it destiny, genetics, whatever. You can wipe out their memories, but they make the same mistakes again and again. You don't see the potential in a new start, but anger over the past. You become the same person all over again, no matter how many times I try."
My eyes widened. "What do you mean by no matter how many times I try?"
Suddenly Robert moved, impossibly fast and pressed his thumb against my wrist. I didn't even have time to scream. A strangely familiar numbness began to spread through me. I couldn't recoil as Robert kissed me and caressed my cheeks. The last thing I heard sent chills down my spine, even as I faded.
"Destiny or not, Liz, I will keep trying, no matter how long it takes."
***
if you enjoyed, check out [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/) | Another day in hell. Another day like each in the past 34 years. Getting up, heading to work, waiting for my boss to leave to play some Grand Theft Auto, going home and spending my last free hours in Just Cause.
"Still playing those childish games at your age?" isn't rare.
Well, I don't really care. There's just this certain... thing about destruction that I can't find the right words for. Something I just can't explain using just words. A feeling deep embeded in my soul. Something I would never get rid of even when seeing death with my very own eyes.
Sadly I can't make it reality. Humankind rejects destruction for what they call progression. I can't stand it. Where's the point in living that life?
"So? what are YOU gonna change? Exactly. Nothing" he said. It's the only thing I remember from that day. He told me I happened to be in a car accident. Hit my head; got a scar across my left eye; all that stuff. To summarize: I lost my memory.
I don't remember my childhood, my parents, not even my name. In that case I thought why not name yourself James Light. Yeah that James Light. The one, who singlehandedly brought chaos and destruction to the states. The person I adored each and every day. Born a genious, rising from absolutely nothing to the person everyone feared the most. He's what you could call perfection.
To bad everyone rejected my name. Now they call me Steve May. I hate it.
Well, I should get going. My shift is over and no way in hell am I spending more time here than I absolutely need to. At least the roads are almost empty. While I would complain that I feel watched, it's been like that every day so I guess it's just me being paranoid.
I fall to the ground
"S-s-sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going", she stumbled.
I looked at the paper she dropped.
**18 Nov. 2009 - James Light reveals face!**
Why'd anyone use a paper these days? You've got the Internet, don't you?
"I guess nothing happen-", I try to say before recoiling.
They come running from every possible place. Try to hide it but it's too late. I always wondered why something broke down the moment I looked at his face. They've been watching.
Now I remember.
"Should we start the last Phase, James?", she asked smiling.
"We're 19 seconds ahead. Too bad that I expected this", I said with a grin.
| 2017-12-30T08:13:37 | 2017-12-30T08:03:06 | 621 | 29 |
[WP] You’re taking a road trip in a five seater car. Each seat is filled with you, but at various points in your life. One of you strikes up a conversation. | I was 8. I was 17. I was 32. I was 40. I was 64. And I was driving.
We were all lost in our own heads for the first hour or so. None of us really knew what to make of the situation. After all, how often do you get to talk to yourself? I couldn't really remember what I was like when I was 8, and how the hell was I supposed to know what 64 year old me was into?
8 spoke up first.
"Hey guys," he cocked his head to the side. "Did you see the new Star Wars?"
17 replied.
"Yeah, it fucking sucked."
40, with a stern look in his eye warning 17.
"Language," he said with all the enthusiasm of a recently divorced father of three.
8 piped up.
"What do you mean?" He listed the movie's attributes rapid fire. "It had battle droids, and pod racing, and a double lightsaber, and, and, and, and the Naboo star fighter!" He waved his hands around, acting out a space battle. "It's the best movie ever! Meesa thinks youssa dumb." he said in his best Jar-Jar Binks impression.
17 looked at him confused.
"Are you taking about the Phantom Menace?" He chuckled. "God, what was wrong with me..."
8 shot back.
"Uhh duh, what other new Star Wars is there?"
17 rolled his eyes.
"It's called The Last Jedi, and do yourself a favor, don't bother pre-ordering tickets, your seats are gonna suck anyway."
32, the young dad, finally spoke up.
"Quit being so mean to your little bro-...uhh...to him. Wait, me?" He scratched his head. "Well whatever, just don't be a dick. Besides," he said with a grin,"I think you'll really appreciate The Last Jedi a lot more when Star Wars Episode IX: the Rise of the Senate puts it all into perspective for you. Anyway, I can't wait for the next trilogy to come out."
40 rolled his eyes.
"Don't hold your breath. It's been in development hell for the last six years."
"I've seen it," said 64.
"And?" we said.
64 looked very flustered.
"It completely tarnished Jar-Jar's redemption arc!"
| If you looked at them for just a second or two, you would think it was three or four generations of a family out for a Sunday drive. A few more seconds would reveal how spookily similar they were. Chills might run down your spine, but you would still think it some odd genetic thing. But, if you got up close and personal, you would find that each had a brown spot on the iris of their blue eye in the same spot. One might be convinced in that case of their own insanity, but this was, in fact reality.
We are the same person on a road trip to nowhere. The boy is me at 5, the teen me at 18, the adult me at 35, and the grey haired 50 year old me, and me now at the age of 65. With nothing but silence at first, this road trip began, and we went on for 800 miles when the 18 year old finally spoke.
"What do I become? A scientist?"
"A widow," I say.
"A failure," says the 50 year old me.
With tears welling in his eyes as he realizes what is to come in his life, the 35 year old me says: "A dad."
The 18 year old looks at his 5 year old self who doesn't say anything then back to his older selves.
"What do I have to look forward to?"
"Love," says his 35 year old self.
"Watching children grow into adults," says the 50 year one.
"Success," I say.
"Ice cream," says the 5 year old.
Everyone laughs. I pull the car over at the next gas station. They happen to have ice cream. I buy a cone for everyone. There are looks galore, but we brush them off. I choose these times in my life for specific reasons. To remember the wonder of being child, to remember what it was like to have all of my adult life ahead of me and the thrill that entailed, to remember how wonderful it was to be a father and husband, and to let my younger self know that hardship was coming as was success. Clenching my teeth, I hold back the price of that success. I hate myself for the price of that success, but, as much as I want to have that conversation with my 50 year old self, there are things greater than one man's family. With all my heart though, I want to tell him to not build the machine, but the excitement grows in his eyes. And, even after all the pain, my pride is greater than my sorrow.
***
If you liked this, please subscribe to r/nickkuvaas for more stories. | 2018-01-29T20:33:29 | 2018-01-29T19:27:43 | 55 | 21 |
[WP] You have a peculiar 6th sense. On exams you see the correct answers highlighted. During conversations you read the words you see floating in the air like a teleprompter. Every single decision you've made has been the "correct" one and life is good. One day you try choosing the other option. | I didn't love her.
All my life, I lived like a guiltless cheater. My job, my friends, everything was owed to the mysterious celestial answerbook I was blessed with. Sure there were times I questioned why I was given the ultimate life hack and no one else- but I've grown too hopelessly dependent on it to fight against it.
Until now.
Jenny was *nice.* She was my coworker, and a damn good one at that. I would be lying if I said I didn't like her back. But love her?
I just. Didn't.
She was way too intense for me. She would try to follow me home and post long depressive rants about how much her life sucked on facebook. She texted me every morning and accuse me of hating her guts if I didn't text back right away.
I'm just a friend dammit. I didn't want to think about what would happen if I fed into obsession.
I stammered, for the first time in my life. Struggling to find my own words, and ignore what I was apparently supposed to say instead.
And the monent I fell off script, the words hanging in front of Jennys broken expression began to scramble and fade.
No sooner did I tell Jenny that I didn't love her back, only one word hung in front of me.
**R U N** | The words GAME OVER hovered across my eyes in white letters, but for a moment I couldn't see them. The image of the knife hurtling across the room towards me was etched into my mind, the sting of it piercing my chest echoing across my now absent senses.
All I had done was go with the red option! They had never led me wrong before, although it was the first time I had ever chosen something that wasn't green. My life had begun to feel so very scripted; all I wanted was some semblance of choice!
And now I was nothing. No arms, no legs, no body. Just a floating consciousness with GAME OVER in front of me and a sad tune playing in my phantom ears. Was that my pitiful existence, just a video game? I was sure I was real. I could think. I could *feel*. Was none of that authentic?
But then my gaze flickered downwards to where a new button had appeared: LOAD GAME. The last save was only a few moments before my death. I could reload, try again, and this time succeed. That was more than a regular person could ask for, indeed. When they were dead, by golly they were *dead*.
Yet, there was another button beneath it, labelled CREATE NEW CHARACTER. Vague memories flashed through my mind, of haphazardly hitting "randomize" and then proceeding ahead, eager to get started. My ugliness had haunted me my entire life, and Farty McFartface was a thoroughly horrible name to have.
I could start again. A new name, a new face, maybe even new parents and friends. What wonderful things lay ahead of me!
*Fuck it,* I thought. *This time I'll be a girl!* | 2018-04-15T15:40:20 | 2018-04-15T14:56:32 | 41 | 14 |
[WP] You are a medieval villager who has been cursed by a witch. She curses you to be live until you are the last human alive. After a 1000 years you try to start the apocalypse. | As it turned out, starting the apocalypse was the easy part. After a few false starts with the World Wars, I finally saw my chance in 1962, with the Cuban missile crisis. All I had to do was set off a few explosions and negotiations fell through. The subsequent missile strikes made it easy enough for me to sneak in and launch even more nuclear bombs to locations of my choosing, and by the end of the year I'd estimate 90% of the human population was dead.
The hard part was that last 10%. I went around tearing down whatever vestiges of civilization I could find, and when I couldn't find any more I figured I'd done my job and could just wait out the remaining stragglers to die out. So I waited. I waited 100 years, and tried to kill myself each and every day, but it wouldn't take. Somebody out there was still procreating and prolonging my damn life.
So I went on a world tour once again, which was pretty difficult considering I'd single-handedly shut down the world's commercial airline system but hey, I had time. I spent centuries walking the entire Earth, looking everywhere I could possibly think of for that last family that was denying me my death, but no matter where I looked I couldn't find any signs of any human life at all.
Eventually I gave up, and went back to England to lie face down on the ground and try to act as dead as I could manage. I did that for a few more centuries, and then, to my surprise, somebody found me. As soon as I processed what was happening, I leapt up and stabbed him in the heart. The man just laughed.
“Not gonna do you much good there. See, I can’t die until I’m the last human alive, and I figure the same goes for you.” | The last pages of Josef Mengele’s diary found in the year 2120:
It’s been one thousand years, a thousand fake histories under my belt, and a thousand things that could have gone wrong. Very few people had actually tried in the past to destroy humanity, one man had nearly gotten there. It was back when I thought that war would be our downfall, I bred a man for war, a good friend of mine named Adolf.
I got to see the evils of humanity, what a fractured mind could do with brilliance. Sadly he had failed me.
I was wrong though, you don’t destroy humanity with poison, with guns, or even death itself. You kill it with kindness, you kill it with promises of a brighter tomorrow. Get the world to rally behind you with the belief that what you are doing is the right thing.
Humanity was a cockroach that could not be stomped on, and today they’ll be done for. It’s taken over two hundred years of research, and I’ve been called many things, “Butcher” “The Doctor of Hell” “The Angel of Death”
They never understood why I was fascinated by those that were different, they never understood that what I was fascinated with was not defects.. they were the marks of witches!
Zwillinge! Zwillinge!
Oh how I loved the shout that said there was a new twin for me to play with. Two was a powerful number for witches you know. Not as important as three mind you, but do you realize how hard it would be to find triplets to research?
But do you know the results of my research?
Do you know what thousands of bodies, mountains of research materials got me?
A pocket full of chocolate and the look of betrayal every day?
I found the gene, I found what makes a witch a witch, and today I will release my research.
About five billion needles are ready for injection, this will be the last generation of humans. For the low price of twenty dollars you will gain power, health, beauty.
This is my final revenge, the power that true witches hold is no more. Once everyone is special, no one is!
Bedenke das Ende. | 2018-09-01T00:38:26 | 2018-08-31T23:50:34 | 2,464 | 114 |
[WP] You die and find yourself in hell, where apparently everyone spends time to negate their sins before they go to heaven. The guy in front of you, who cheated on his wife, gets 145 years. Feeling like you led a fairly average and peaceful life, you’re not worried. You get 186,292 years. | "NUMBER 117737."
Anxious and bewildered, you step up to the counter, behind which sits a very bored looking young man wearing a name tag that says GARY. He takes your ticket and asks, "Name?"
"John Smith. But this has to be a mistake. I don't belong in hell. I lived a good, honest life."
"Yep, that's what they all say." Gary clacks away at his computer, a large, boxy, surprisingly outdated machine, pulling up your records.
"I was! I was faithful to my wife, took care of my kids, always paid my taxes. I even called my mother once a week! There must have been some kind of mistake."
"Nope." A little machine, not unlike a receipt printer, spits out a small slip of paper. Gary tears it off and hands it to you. "That's your sentence. If you go to your left, you'll find a set of elevators. Insert your slip, and it'll take you to the Liaison's Office, where you'll be given your assignment." He recites this in the monotonous, droning manner of a person reading from a script.
"186,292 years! But the guy in front of me only got 145! And he was cheating on his wife! I never cheated on my wife! I was a good family man."
With a beleaguered sigh, Gary swivels the computer screen to face you. "What does it say here under occupation?"
You squint to read the tiny print. "Pest control specialist."
"Exactly. You, Mr. Smith, are single-handedly responsible for the death and suffering of over one billion living creatures over your thirty-year career as an exterminator."
"What?! But it was just mice and rats and bugs. They don't count, they're pests!"
"Article 7, section 3A clearly states that the purposeful taking of life in any form, no matter how inconsequential, warrants an automatic conscription to Hell."
"I was just doing my job!"
Gary rolls his eyes. "Do you know how many times a day I hear that? Move along, you're holding up the line."
Flabbergasted, you step away from the counter, staring down at your little slip of paper.
"NUMBER 117738."
| My mouth dropped open. 186,292 years?? I had lived the typical life of marriage, kids, I even regularly went to church! Even the clerk looked a little surprised.
“How is this possible?” I ask.
“Hold on and I’ll look at your case file.” He replied while thumbing through some documents.
The guy behind me cleared his throat impatiently. Why someone was impatient to get their sentence was beyond me. The guy ahead had been banging old women while married and only got 145 years! I thought my seemingly boring life would get me no more than 50 if you counted all my road rage incidents against me. My attention snapped back to the clerk when he made a small noise of understanding.
“Well?” I prompted.
“So the thing is you can accumulate sin over your lifetimes.” He said.
“Lifetimes? Like multiple? How did I not already serve all those sins?”
“It looks like you were believed in Hinduism in your past lives. All of them in fact. You were reincarnated every time you died and your soul’s sins just built up. This time you were Christian so instead of reincarnation you have to serve your sentence and then go to heaven.” He seemed pleased to have found the solution.
“Hinduism?? Why should that matter? Shouldn’t my soul have come here anyways the first time. You’re telling me I’ve lived multiple lives?” My voice edged near hysteria but I couldn’t believe what he was saying.
“Look I don’t have time to educate you on all the different complexities of the soul. The basics is whatever you believe while alive is mostly what happens. Atheists just cease to exist, those who believe in Heaven and Hell serve time for their sins then go on up, and Hinduism believers get reincarnated. Now your time doesn’t start until you get in the elevator and there’s a line of people behind you. Sorry about your luck.” He dismissed me, pointing to a set of steel elevator doors.
I walked away from the counter slowly. Almost two hundred thousand years. I pressed the button to open the elevator doors, my hand shaking as I thought of what might lie ahead. Heaven better be worth it.
EDIT: Wow ok this was my first time responding to a writing prompt and I truly didn’t expect so many people to respond or even read this. First of all thank you for all the comments of support and constructive criticism. I am now aware I should have done more research before posting as I was not as aware of the intricacies of Buddhism and Hinduism as I should have been. I apologize for the plot holes and more importantly if I offended any religion. My religious knowledge isn’t great as I’m an Atheist but I still had fun writing this. | 2018-09-26T07:16:16 | 2018-09-26T06:51:55 | 4,281 | 3,199 |
[WP] You die and find yourself in hell, where apparently everyone spends time to negate their sins before they go to heaven. The guy in front of you, who cheated on his wife, gets 145 years. Feeling like you led a fairly average and peaceful life, you’re not worried. You get 186,292 years. | My mouth dropped open. 186,292 years?? I had lived the typical life of marriage, kids, I even regularly went to church! Even the clerk looked a little surprised.
“How is this possible?” I ask.
“Hold on and I’ll look at your case file.” He replied while thumbing through some documents.
The guy behind me cleared his throat impatiently. Why someone was impatient to get their sentence was beyond me. The guy ahead had been banging old women while married and only got 145 years! I thought my seemingly boring life would get me no more than 50 if you counted all my road rage incidents against me. My attention snapped back to the clerk when he made a small noise of understanding.
“Well?” I prompted.
“So the thing is you can accumulate sin over your lifetimes.” He said.
“Lifetimes? Like multiple? How did I not already serve all those sins?”
“It looks like you were believed in Hinduism in your past lives. All of them in fact. You were reincarnated every time you died and your soul’s sins just built up. This time you were Christian so instead of reincarnation you have to serve your sentence and then go to heaven.” He seemed pleased to have found the solution.
“Hinduism?? Why should that matter? Shouldn’t my soul have come here anyways the first time. You’re telling me I’ve lived multiple lives?” My voice edged near hysteria but I couldn’t believe what he was saying.
“Look I don’t have time to educate you on all the different complexities of the soul. The basics is whatever you believe while alive is mostly what happens. Atheists just cease to exist, those who believe in Heaven and Hell serve time for their sins then go on up, and Hinduism believers get reincarnated. Now your time doesn’t start until you get in the elevator and there’s a line of people behind you. Sorry about your luck.” He dismissed me, pointing to a set of steel elevator doors.
I walked away from the counter slowly. Almost two hundred thousand years. I pressed the button to open the elevator doors, my hand shaking as I thought of what might lie ahead. Heaven better be worth it.
EDIT: Wow ok this was my first time responding to a writing prompt and I truly didn’t expect so many people to respond or even read this. First of all thank you for all the comments of support and constructive criticism. I am now aware I should have done more research before posting as I was not as aware of the intricacies of Buddhism and Hinduism as I should have been. I apologize for the plot holes and more importantly if I offended any religion. My religious knowledge isn’t great as I’m an Atheist but I still had fun writing this. | "There is... one thing you can do to decrease your sentence," The creature said from behind the counter. Jeff couldn't decide if it was a demon or an angel, but either way looking at it made his eyes burn with glowing letters, after images shaking across his head and itching across the folds of his spirit.
"Alright! What is it?"
The creature stared at him for a long moment. "Jury Duty."
Jeff hesitated and stared up at the beast, watching the trailing golden letters smoothly replace any scrape of the creature that he could see. His brain simply refused to process the imagine beyond a frame at a time.
"Jury Duty?" Jeff asked.
"Jury duty," the creature replied, simply. "There are always trials to be had, from people who think they can reduce their sentence through the courts."
"Is that an option?"
The beast looked down at the list Jeff had given them, played long bone fingers against the wood, then shook their head. "Not at all for you, I'm afraid."
Jeff curled his fingers into fists and dug the nails into his skin. He had places to go. He had things to see.
He had people to chase after. He wasn't going to just let some bureaucratic bullshit lock him out of that.
He had a son to chase after.
"What does being a juror get me?"
"Out of hell," the beast said. "Instantly. You move up to purgatory, where you'll reside over every ambiguous case from now until your much reduced sentence. The tower only rises, you understand."
Jeff blinked. "The tower?"
"The pillar of heaven. It is an eternal stair case filled with levels, each holding the sinful back." The beast jerked a finger down at the ground. "You're stuck at the ground level, and by our calculations, a wretch like you will take 200 thousand years to get to the top without short cuts. It's how hell works. Sin is heavy."
Jeff was no wretch.
"And what," Jeff said, gritting his teeth. "Does it take to be a juror?"
The golden script receded around the beast's maw as they smiled, baring teeth made out of thousands of skulls, curled up on top of one another, descending into infinitesimal small points.
"Why," The beast said, long tendril fingers briefly revealed before the censorship of gold took effect. "All you need to do is survive a little bit of a hellish ordeal."
On some level, Jeff knew it was stupid to take a deal with something he found in hell.
On the other hand, he knew full well that he couldn't wait long enough for the hike to the top.
"Tell me what to do."
----
For more like this, go here! https://old.reddit.com/r/Zubergoodstories/
guys on my subreddit made me write another part. https://old.reddit.com/r/Zubergoodstories/comments/9j4p8t/pillars_of_heaven_part_2/ | 2018-09-26T06:51:55 | 2018-09-26T06:04:04 | 3,199 | 181 |
[WP] You die and find yourself in hell, where apparently everyone spends time to negate their sins before they go to heaven. The guy in front of you, who cheated on his wife, gets 145 years. Feeling like you led a fairly average and peaceful life, you’re not worried. You get 186,292 years. | How could this be? I had, to my knowledge, never done anything evil. Maybe this will sound crazy, but I had never done anything serious to harm anyone else. A consequence of that lifestyle choice was that I mostly kept to myself. It wasn't that I was some altruist, it was more that I was selfish in an unconventional way. I wanted the internal superiority that comes from knowing that no matter what, I wasn't a bad guy. It's a bit indulgent, sure, but enough to land me here for 186,292 years? That seemed excessive.
"Excuse me, is there someone I can speak to?" The clerk hardly looked up from his desk. I asked again and the tips of his wings twitched. I had annoyed him. "There must be some mistake," I continued.
This last statement had gotten his attention, he now stood tall in front of me, and for the first time I got to appreciate the true spectacle that is an "Afterlife Senior Administrator." Standing nearly 10 feet tall, as wide as my dad's oak desk, with expansive wings whose tips reached down to his heels. He peered through comically small spectacles at me, his eyes almost bulging out in disbelief. Or was it mere annoyance?
He opened his mouth and a roar upended the stillness around me. "We make no mistakes. I've been doing this for as long as your kind has existed, i have never once seen a mistake, let alone made one." He huffed and puffed as I carefully considered my next words.
"Of course, I understand. But is it possible?" The words seemed not to anger him further, but neither did they calm him. He strode over to the file cabinet while mumbling something about how humans always amaze him with their self-centeredness.
"No!" he said, as he pulled out a folder. Here you will find a description of your life, followed by the relevant info. The first section describes your characteristics, aptitudes, estimates, etc. The second describes and lists your good deeds, as well as the weight they carried. The third section does the same, for the bad deeds. The last section is somewhat of an executive summary, if you will, of the second and third sections since they sometimes can get pretty long."
He stretched out his hand and shoved the folder in my face. "Is it usually this thin?" I asked. He did not even look up as he shook his head, then found his chair again, and sat back down with a crash. At least he was now calm.
I flipped to the final section, looking at the summary. It said I had done 432 good things in my life, and only 14 bad things in my life. The net sum of all the bad things netted me a "Evil Score" of only -14, while the good things I had done had netted me a "Goodness Score" of 1312. Clearly, the good had outweighed the bad.
"Look right here!" I said excitedly, feeling confident once more."You made a mistake. I did more good things than bad, by a wide margin." Surely this had all just been an error. "If you can just fix this little issue, I won't complain to anyone." Maybe threatening to bring in his supervisor would make this easy.
The being laughed. It was an arrogant laugh that filled me with the feeling I was not out of this just yet. Once more he could not even afford a glance in my direction. "Did you read the characteristics you had?" He asked without looking up, knowing that I had not. I turned to that section assured that nothing in there could outweigh the lack of evil that I had done.
I read the first paragraph:
Class: Prophet
Sub-class: True Savior
Description: Subject will show a marked aptitude for good deeds. He will possess reserve of empathy and moral courage that make him an ideal candidate for receiving THE WORD and transmitting it effectively to the people. Under the right moral circumstances, subject will consistently place himself in danger for the betterment of his species. Under the right moral circumstances, subject will sacrifice himself to help others. Subject should, barring peculiar effort on his own part to avoid it, inevitably receive the prophecy that will engage mankind on the next stage of its spiritual development.
Estimated Lifespan: 32 years
Estimated time before perceiving THE WORD: 22 years, 11 months
Estimated Goodness score: 1,764,002,999,153
I dropped the paper on the floor. I had lived to be 53 and had never once believed myself to be receiving prophecy from above or ignoring it in any way. I looked up at the administrator who had begun staring at me with a curious smile. I tried to ask a question but the words would not come out. He seemed to have anticipated them.
"You aren't here because you did bad things. No, that would be too simple. That is why all the normal people are here. But you are not normal. You are here my dear human, because you were the first prophet to come around in a few millennia. All you had to do was follow your true nature, be open and receptive to THE WORD, and you would have done incredible good. You would have changed mankind, perhaps liberated it once and for all. But you didn't. You sought to avoid impact, rather than create it. You felt abstaining from evil was equivalent to pursuing good. You are here because you were wrong. You are here because you weren't as good as you should have been."
| “Why? What did I do to deserve this?”
Charon the gatekeeper just looked down. “If you want to dispute this sentence. Then you will have to speak to management. However I don.....l
“Well get me the fuckin manager then. This can’t happen to me in life I had thousands of more followers on social media then any of my friends. I had a great house a great family and an awesome job. I lived a great life.”
Charon simply smiled and cordially responded. “Very well please wait in the vestibule.”
So I waited.....and waited.....and waited.....and waited what seemed like an hour. This is total crap I used to get what I want when I wanted it anytime with the push of a button. I earned what I wanted and got it. Man this sucks. Well I wonder this tool bag manager is going to be like? Probably some simple minded yes man who never took a risk in his entire life. I was the man in life and I got everything I ever wanted. But I tell you what this waiting really sucks.
Just then some pimply faced accountant doofy looking dude showed up.
“Excuse me sir. My name is Nergel and I understand you have a complaint. How can I help you?”
Nergel??? What a turd name! But honestly I think he should call himself Nerdel. Made me laugh just thinking about it.
“Yeah Hi. There has to be a mistake here. The guy in front of me cheats on his wife and gets 100 years or something but I get like 200,000 years??? I was a pillar of my community. I did several good things with charities, and my family had everything they ever wanted.”
“Yes I understand that this may come as a surprise to you but the decision has been made. It would be best if you just served your....”
“Bullshit I don’t deserve this I should have some entitlement here! That dude in front of me was a drunk and a waste of life! He probably should have killed himself a long time ago.”
“Well technically you automatically get 500,000 years so that would not be advised.”
“I don’t care about that guy I care about ME. And you know what I am tired of your face, So listen here NERDEL why don’t you go get someone who has a pair of balls so I can get my reward.”
Nergel changed his demeanour slowly then just smiled. “Ok I guess it’s time to drop the pretences then. You are such a limited simpleton, a walking bag of garbage and if I didn’t have responsibilities here I would just end you.”
“Who do you think you.....”
Nergel waived his hand and I couldn’t speak. I tried but the words wouldn’t form.
“We’re done talking. Now it’s time for you to listen. You want to know why you got this time? Because you are an asshole. You used your family as a shield to show people you were a good guy when in fact you hated them. You never spent any time at home. Oh what’s that oh yes ‘because you were working!’ No no no that’s not exactly true. How many late nights in bars or strip clubs or weekends at the golf course did you spend?”
“Still nothing huh? Well how about all the anonymous social media bullying you did to improve your position at work? Man you sure did some things. Did you know that one guy you hurt spent the last few miserable years of his life in a group home? Survival of the fittest is what you called it. Well let’s just I can relate. I am the original survivor. I faced more pain then you can ever imagine and I think I know I am going to do with you.”
“Don’t be nervous it’s ok. I have great news! I have heard your complaint and I have decided that you won’t have serve 200,000 years.”
I looked up at him still not able to speak.
“I don’t really think serving 200,000 years is necessary for you. You probably wouldn’t get anything out of it. So instead I will reduce your sentence to 200 years where you will receive my finest training so when you do go to heaven you will be ready.” He waived his hand again so I could speak.
“Oh thank you very much I really appreciate it. I’m sorry I got hot I’m just a passionate person.”
“Oh your perfectly excused for that. No problem.” He motioned to an attendant. “Can you please escort this gentleman to level C. This man is ready for his training.”
“Yes my lord. This way please.” I was led to a room not too far from where I was. There was light coming out the door. Hey maybe I am just going straight to heaven after all. Ha ha ha I talked my way out of that one again. Survival of the fittest even in the after life. The door opened and I saw the blinding light.
“Step through.” I walked inside and the door behind me was shut. Then the light went out and I was in total darkness. A small lantern lit up in the corner of the room but I could not see anything. I heard some chittering and some gear noises. When my eyes adjusted I saw some spinning wooden crates with metal and hooks attached to it. Where was I.
Then a figure came from the darkness. A man with pins in his face. Chains shot out and tore into me. I screamed not ever feeling this kind of pain before.
“Welcome to your training. Let’s begin.” | 2018-09-26T07:19:26 | 2018-09-26T06:56:58 | 474 | 74 |
[WP] You die and find yourself in hell, where apparently everyone spends time to negate their sins before they go to heaven. The guy in front of you, who cheated on his wife, gets 145 years. Feeling like you led a fairly average and peaceful life, you’re not worried. You get 186,292 years. | "186 thousand years?! W-what did I do?" I asked the demon before me. He sighed, rolled his eyes and started tapping away on his demonic keyboard, delving deeper into my file.
"Says here you would frequently eat the fats on your meat?"
"I did? I guess. What does that have to do with anything?"
The demon shrugged. "Automatic 186 thousand years."
"What?! Why?!"
The demon sighed again, more loudly this time: "'It shall be a perpetual statute for your generations throughout all your dwellings, that ye eat neither fat nor blood.' Leviticus 3:17. It's right there in the bible, sir."
"Are you kidding me? The guy in front of me only got 145 years! Are you telling me he never ate fat or blood?"
"That's correct. You are literally the only person who has ever eaten fat. God was very clear about fat."
"Ohhh, you ate fat?" a guy with three teardrop tattoos under his right eye asked incredulously from behind me. "Dude, don't eat fat. Haven't you ever read Leviticus?"
"No, I'm not religious!" I protested.
"Well, it's basically the worst thing you can do," he informed me, licking blood off his knife.
"This guy's eating blood!" I pointed out. "Is he gonna get 186 thousand years?"
"No, blood's not as big a deal obviously," said the demon.
"It's in the same quote!"
"Yeah, but you gotta read between the lines on this stuff."
I threw my hands up in the air in exasperation.
"Okay, look, you seem like a nice guy. I'll see if I can knock it down a couple of thousand years for you, alright? Let me just-- whoa, wait, it says here you've worn garments upon you of more than one kind of material mixed together? Dude. What the fuck."
​ | One could've heard a pin drop, provided the pin wouldn't immediately liquidate and disappear into the suffocating humidity of this divine DMV. I blinked a couple times at the number on the dated 80's era Linux machine and back to the impatient elderly demon peering over her ironic horn-rimmed glasses across my face. Heaven had already called dibs on the Microsoft software upon Bill Gates' passing, and rumor had it Satan had a weird thing about apples, so old school was the eternal school in this place.
​
"That doesn't make any sense to me!" I cried out, pointing wildly at the screen, "I got a good education, I donated to Wikipedia every time the donation box popped up, I was faithful to my wife," I redirected my finger toward the balding-in-denial head walking toward the Purgatory gates, "Unlike Captain Copulation over there, I didn't even skim on my taxes!" Rolling her eyes to the back of her horns, the Receptionist of Darkness pulled out a form titled "*Appeal of Sentence*" and slid it across the counter top. My eyes scanned over it, and there was my name and: **Sentence = 186,292 years.** There were three lines at the bottom where I was encouraged to state my case of appeal.
​
"*Fill out Items 1A, 4B, 666H, and Letters L-X,*" said the ancient sadist with smugness dripping off her forked tongue. Disdainfully, I folded the paper and put in my pocket to continue my plea directly.
​
"This is absurd! I went to church every day, goddamnit!"
***186,283***
"*To file your appeal, please stand in that line over there."* She stabbed her pitchfork-shaped pen toward a different line that I watched wrap literally around the diameter of Hell and back again.
"Jesus Christ, are you kidding me?"
***186,284***
"*No sir, once you deposit your form, you may take a seat,"* I didn't even have to look to deduce the spikes on top of the chairs, "*And wait to be called upon."*
"GodDAMNit."
***186,285*** | 2018-09-26T09:04:03 | 2018-09-26T07:48:10 | 29 | 10 |
[WP] You die and find yourself in hell, where apparently everyone spends time to negate their sins before they go to heaven. The guy in front of you, who cheated on his wife, gets 145 years. Feeling like you led a fairly average and peaceful life, you’re not worried. You get 186,292 years. | “Wait…how many years?”
“186,292. Very specific number – took the computin’ Goblins two decades to figure yours out, apparently” The judgin’ goblin before me was a red, impish creature with a pointed nose and a curled-up face. To indicate his position, a fresh powdered wig sat atop his head.
“Well, I mean, I never thought I was anything special. I loved my wife and looked after my kids, worked hard at my job, donated to charity every once and a while, never littered or shoplifted. I wasn’t a saint, but I don’t understand how they reached that *very specific* number.”
“Yes, well, unfortunate for you. I hope you don’t enjoy your time in hell. Now, please move along, you’re holding up the line.”
“Wait up… this is honestly ridiculous! Could they have made a mistake? I demand to speak to your superior.”
The judgin’ goblin, without any resistance, suddenly disappeared in a puff of smoke, and a moment later reappeared beside an almost identical creature. The one striking difference was that, in place of the white wig, this goblin wore large round monocle. This was obviously the computin’ goblin.
The computin’ goblin’s eyes swept through a large stack of papers that had also magically appeared before him. He made periodic “Hmm….” and “Ooh!” sounds, which, of course, only made me more nervous.
“Ah… I see…” the computin’ goblin mumbled before he turned his head to look up at me. “There must have been a mistake. I don’t see anything in here that would warrant such a harsh sentence.”
“Thank you!”
“Wait a second…” – and my heart sank – “You’re from where?”
“New Jersey…”
“Ah. I see. And you liked it there?”
“Yes…”
“Okay, swell. Now it all makes sense.” The computin’ goblin nodded to the judgin’ goblin, then vanished.
​
“Neeeext!” | One could've heard a pin drop, provided the pin wouldn't immediately liquidate and disappear into the suffocating humidity of this divine DMV. I blinked a couple times at the number on the dated 80's era Linux machine and back to the impatient elderly demon peering over her ironic horn-rimmed glasses across my face. Heaven had already called dibs on the Microsoft software upon Bill Gates' passing, and rumor had it Satan had a weird thing about apples, so old school was the eternal school in this place.
​
"That doesn't make any sense to me!" I cried out, pointing wildly at the screen, "I got a good education, I donated to Wikipedia every time the donation box popped up, I was faithful to my wife," I redirected my finger toward the balding-in-denial head walking toward the Purgatory gates, "Unlike Captain Copulation over there, I didn't even skim on my taxes!" Rolling her eyes to the back of her horns, the Receptionist of Darkness pulled out a form titled "*Appeal of Sentence*" and slid it across the counter top. My eyes scanned over it, and there was my name and: **Sentence = 186,292 years.** There were three lines at the bottom where I was encouraged to state my case of appeal.
​
"*Fill out Items 1A, 4B, 666H, and Letters L-X,*" said the ancient sadist with smugness dripping off her forked tongue. Disdainfully, I folded the paper and put in my pocket to continue my plea directly.
​
"This is absurd! I went to church every day, goddamnit!"
***186,283***
"*To file your appeal, please stand in that line over there."* She stabbed her pitchfork-shaped pen toward a different line that I watched wrap literally around the diameter of Hell and back again.
"Jesus Christ, are you kidding me?"
***186,284***
"*No sir, once you deposit your form, you may take a seat,"* I didn't even have to look to deduce the spikes on top of the chairs, "*And wait to be called upon."*
"GodDAMNit."
***186,285*** | 2018-09-26T10:38:23 | 2018-09-26T07:48:10 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] You're a paramedic. In fact, an immortal paramedic. Since you first treated a wounded soldier on the fields of the 30-years War, you didn't age and followed the development of "Emergency Medical Service". Your coworkers are astonished by your knowledge, but sometimes, you slip into old habits.. | From within the ambulance shed came yelling which was muffled but loud enough to bring nurses from the hospital adjacent. Several EMTs and a paramedic stood outside the building shaking their heads at the terrible noises coming from within. The nurses walked up with concerned looks on their faces.
“What’s happening,” asked one of them to the paramedic.
“Dimitiri has gone off the deep end,” she responded.
“Really?” There was a look of disbelief from the nurses who were used to Dimitri’s calm attitude and efficient work. He was a legend at the hospital for his knowledge and ability, but the fact that he could proceed through the worst scenarios with calm was perhaps the most impressive thing of all.
“What happened,” one of them asked.
“We got privatized,” said an EMT. “They just cut our pay, lengthened our hours, cut our benefits, service is now more expensive, coverage area got bigger while they are removing one of the units, want us to focus on transports instead of emergency medicine, and people will die because we can’t be there to help them.”
From within the confines of the ambulance building came the shout... “I haven’t seen anything this barbaric and stupid since the fucking dark ages!” | I've seen it all. Inch long punctures from a pike, the multiple miniature holes left by a machine gun leaving somone just enough time to face their fate before they expire, the feeling of which i may never know despite their attempts at killing me. Ive seen every imagined excuse for the slaughter, from "holy" crusade to piracy, Those who kill often do so in the name of my commander. Those who die too often have done so with an image of his son clinging in their hands.
I look at the newest one beneath me. My hands couldnt save her and I wonder if mercury couldve dulled the pain. Taken her away from it. But no, the nurses would not let me. She looks to be maybe 6. Driven here frantically by a father who was probably the target of the drone strike that killed his daughter. This new crusade is much like the old. Fighting over the land in which my commander walked. The truly just war. Since humans have only sought to take this land one from the other because their leader lusts for its magical power, not for the man who once walked its stones.
The next litter is carried in, a man cut with a knife. A wound so familiar. A wound i could have treated many years ago, had i only the means.
I am Gabriel, and i have seen war from both sides. Yet now i try in vain to save these humans from themselves. | 2019-01-05T15:35:45 | 2019-01-05T15:15:02 | 71 | 37 |
[WP] Humans are known for being intelligent, empathic, loyal, and exceedingly versatile. As a result, humans have become the most in-demand service animals in the history of the Galaxy. | Gala was in the park with her owner, who at last let her patiently study the scribbles the other humans had carved onto the trees and walls of the roomy wilderness area.
”Kenneth was here”
”I took a huge crap behind that bush”
”Beware of Denn, she screwed my partner and if you leave her alone with yours, she’ll screw yours too”
Gala chuckled, the people around here were up to all sorts of silly stuff. Her owner sighed, being never able to understand what she found so fascinating in human scrapes on bark.
”**NO**”, she heard a commanding human voice yell. ”**STOP THAT. STOP TALKING. TAKE YOUR MEDS.**”
She turned to see another human nearby, tugging another creature from her tendrils. He stomped his foot.
”**DON’T YOU DARE IGNORE ME YOU TENTACKLED FUCK. YOU’RE CHANGING COLOUR YOU COLOURBLIND BASTARD. TAKE. YOUR. MEDS.**”
Gala glanced at her owner for permission to approach them. Being given what constitutes as a nod, she headed there.
”What’s going on? Are you a service human?” She asked. The man spit on the ground in frustration.
”Well, I’m *trying*. This stupid thing won’t survive without me. **I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME. STOP IGNORING ME, I WANT YOU TO LIVE.**” | The giant neon sign for “HUMANS R US” reflected bright in Xander’s eyes as he scoped the glass container of humanoids.
“Look Xander, we don’t have all century. Hurry and pick out your favorite model.” His mom said soothingly as she patted Xander’s back.
“But there’s so many different kinds,” Xander said with wide eyes and he stroked the glass encasing the different types of humanoids, “and they all do different things!”
He rushed toward a small Asian human model to the far left and pounded his finger against the glass.
“This one is intelligent and loyal, but can be aggressive! She has the look I want and she’s my size, “ his eyes got huge with delight, “but this one, THIS ONE,” he rushed toward the right and put both hands against the glass, “this one has me feeling a sort of way!”
He stared up at the 6’5 African American humanoid male that twirled in circles on the display.
“In the end, you can always bring them back and exchange for another dear,” his mother said with a big sigh as she clutched both ends of his shoulders.
Xander paced back and forth looking at both of his favorite models while tapping his chin with curiosity.
“THIS IS SUCH A HARD DECISION,” he grabbed his face and let out a giant moan.
In the corner a humanoid salesman approached them, “may I help make your decision better?” He smirked and walked up to the small Asian humanoid Xander had originally been ogling.
“She’s 25% off” he smiled a big Cheshire smile as he put his finger on the glass and traced it down.
“SOLD. Where do I sign?” Xander’s mom stepped in front of him eagerly. — | 2019-04-22T03:03:43 | 2019-04-22T00:22:19 | 106 | 11 |
[WP]Abducted humans have, so far, all displayed the same internal organ structure common throughout the galaxy with only one exception. Every one of them has a Glarnak parasite beating inside their chest. They even think it's necessary for life. | "What do you mean, dead?" His wide black eyes blinked slowly.
"I'm telling you, we excised the parasite absolutely perfectly. Not even a trace of it left anywhere in the subject's system. They expired partway through the surgery, and get this-- the GLARNAK died first. Not the host, the parasite."
"That's..." He trailed off, long spindly fingers stroking his almost nonexistent chin. "That's impossible. What other possibilities could there be?"
"It gets worse. Almost everything down there has one. Hundreds of trillions of parasites, even down to the class 1 organisms. It's the same with all of them; the Glarnak cannot be removed without killing the host."
He sat down on the hovering, ovoid seat at the table. "Good stars, how in the universe did we miss this one? How did ANY of us miss this one? Billions of years! Billions! The Glarnak have never invaded a planet so thoroughly and so early. The longest blight on our side of this damn glitter pinwheel lasted a hundred years. I can't even begin to imagine what kind of damage it's wreaked here. The death toll must be absolutely staggering."
The other technician nodded slowly, his large head bobbing. "What do you suppose we do? We can't vaporize the planet, the Glarnak might spread again. But we can't let them get offworld either."
He rubbed his huge eyes, and sighed. "I'll discuss the findings with the Grand Architect. In the meantime, keep a taskforce here to observe. Observe \*only\*. Any samples must be taken with my go-ahead. I can't risk any of you getting infected, even briefly. Don't let them get off this rock. Don't let them see you." | The room was lit with contrasting shades of pink and green lights emanating from hovering bulbs. The latest subject - HS937 was strapped to the vertical stand after all the scans had been completed. Ul-Kno hoped atleast this subject would be the perfect specimen. He had visited Earth ever since life came into existence.
He visited it periodically to search for the perfect specimen because it had the accurate conditions for the needed species.
It was on one such visit that he met the homosapiens who went by the names Adam and Eve. It was a harmless visit to take blood samples but that visit had a humongous effect on their minds and they were barely left sane. So Ul-Kno had decided to stay away and witness their evolution from a distance.
He periodically returned to abduct a few humans for more advanced tests. He noticed that no matter how much they evolved, they never lost the Glarnak parasite beating inside their chest. He had tried multiple times to remove it from the body of those subjects he abducted, but they sheerly out of will power held on to the belief that they were going to die without it and died.
It was a complex paradox because the Glarnak parasite was the reason of their short mortality,yet they believed it to be the most important for survival. He had waited for thousands of years for them to evolve into the perfect specimen so he could use all of the humans to fuel his spaceship which was still stuck in the middle of the solar system of the Milky Way galaxy. The ship sustained on for the past 4.6 billion years and it could sustain for another 5 billion years but he had to find a way to get the Glarnak parasites away as it was very volatile and would destroy his ship if used in the fuel. The subject yet again died on the stand. All he could do was wait and he waited bitterly.
Meanwhile on Earth :
A pastor:
God is in your hearts. Remember he who punished Adam and Eve resided in your hearts to make sure you don't commit sins. Always follow your heart to the path of righteousness.... | 2019-07-10T02:09:35 | 2019-07-10T01:26:50 | 258 | 50 |
[WP] A race of predators reaches primacy in a galaxy full of prey. Every aspect of their military is geared toward pursuit as every other race they have encountered prefers to flee in the face of conflict. Every other race, until now. | The monitoring station on Pluto managed to track the UFOs for several minutes, displaying seven of them emerging from deep space. The first grainy images showed ships that were jet black and sleek-looking, exquisitely aerodynamic, built purely for speed using a technology we couldn't comprehend. Whoever they were, the crew on board those ships were far more advanced than us.
Any hope of peaceful contact vaporized when they blasted our station out of Pluto's orbit, leaving the wreckage to float in space forever. A thought went out to our team stationed there, three souls that didn't stand a chance.
Titan fell next, followed by four more of our Phase Three expansions. Each time the attack pattern was the same. The ships would streak in en mass and unload a nuclear barrage from orbit, saturating any developed areas with radiation. The bombs themselves were a derivative of our own nuclear weapons, which we could understand. That gave us some comfort. After the initial bombardment the ships would descend in a linear pattern, usually landing at equidistant points along the planet's equator. Their crews would emerge and hunt down the survivors, exterminating any human or other biological lifeforms that remained. As far as we knew, no-one was taken prisoner.
Each time they attacked we watched and we learned a little more. We evacuated our remaining Phase Three planets but our colony ships were sitting ducks, only to be hunted down and pulverized in a pathetically futile game of cat and mouse. We learned that the alien's physiology mimic'd their ships. That they each had a sleek black carapace that curved over their shoulders and tapered off in a point on their lower backs. They were built for incredible speed, we measured one covering over two miles in just under two minutes. They had large forearms and sinister claws on the outermost fingers of each pincer-like hand, almost as if they were evolved purely to kill.
"They're essentially the perfect predator," Alice said, unable to hide her awe. She should have been concerned about all this, about the fact that humanity's colonies were falling one by one to an unknown force, but all she really felt was wonder. Her team had been studying the aliens for a few days now, and, though she knew it was a little twisted, she felt a grudging admiration for the hostile species. The closest Earth-bound analog she had were sharks, an oceanic predator that had disappeared over a century ago.
Commander Roland grunted his assent. "Essentially indeed, Doctor," he said, casting his eye over the command center. The room was tense but it wasn't frenetic. The aliens were very predictable. Once they discovered a human colony or station, they immediately targeted it using the same tactic every single time. Humanity had been mobilizing its planetary defense capability since the ships first emerged from deep space.
"Never thought I'd appreciate the Military-Industrial Complex this much," Roland muttered, hoping that all that doomsday politicking would finally pay off.
The alien ships launched their first nukes just as they entered within range of the Red Planet, but each missile was neutralized by our interceptors before penetrating the atmosphere. We waited until the ships were closer before firing a salvo of EMPs, timed to go off along set points on the intercept path. The aliens seemed to travel the shortest parabolas possible to their targets, making the calculations easy. Call it a hunch, but Roland figured they had never encountered EMP tech before.
Somewhat but not-so surprisingly all of the EMPs detonated within area effect blasts of their targets. From there it was easy. Space Marines boarded each ship in turn and exterminated their alien crews, trying to capture one alive but ultimately leaving no survivors. The things were suicidal in their fanaticism.
Humanity breathed a collective sigh of relief as the seven empty ships were safely brought down to the planet's surface. Even now, our finest scientists are making significant progress in reverse engineering this fascinating new warp-drive technology.
The Stars beckon. | I raised the plasma pistol from my belt and toyed with the settings. The holo-targeter engaged with a whine and painted a blue dot on the head of the officer strapped into an interrogation chair across from me.
I took a drag on my cigar. "So, captain. Would you like to draft the letter to the United Hegemony or should I?"
"A... a... about what? Sir?" His trembling made speech difficult.
"Sixteen thousand light years traveled, eight hundred planets claimed, two hundred species integrated or exterminated, and now, you want to stop the expansion fleet because some backwater lifeforms drenched in goop is providing a modicum of resistance. You want to write back home about that, or should I?"
"I uh... sir, I don't think you quite uh, quite appreciate... the gravity of the situation." He swallowed. Hard. "They're standing their ground. They're not running. Sir, I've.. never seen anything like it. I think we should... ah..."
I read his reports, of course. I called an emergency assembly of the senior staff and scrutinized every second of the encounter. It was unusual. The aliens sported some sort of alloy which resisted our considerable firepower, and though our engines were potent, no amount of maneuvering seemed to provide results. For the first time, we humans may have met our match. That was an exciting idea to me.
I walked forward and pressed the pistol to his temple. I pressed the activator which began to mix the vapor chamber and loading a tungsten bead which would soon turn into plasma ejecta. I sneered. "You think we should what?"
To be frank, I liked the captain. He was an outstanding corvette squadron leader. Given the circumstances, the fact that he made it out alive with more than half his squadron was impressive. But I could sense the doubt, and worse, a sense of fear, and panic. I wasn't going to shoot him, of course, but I felt it was imperative to nip the fear in the bud before it grew into something worse. A captain without his confidence is no captain at all, and at this point, I knew I needed to distract him, to give him something else to fear. Me.
It was working. I could see panic set in, but soon after the adrenaline set in, he began to think. "We should... we should regroup and formulate a strategy sir. Something to get past that alloy of theirs. Tungsten rail rounds can't penetrate, particle guns shatter on their shielding, but... but... but... at the end of the day, our ships are too specialized. Three quarters of our ships' mass are dedicated to housing the engine framework, which sucks up eighty percent of our power output. We do this because every other enemy we've faced folded under the initial engagement, but these... aliens... their ships are built to stand in line, sir, and never quit. They will never rout. We are woefully ill equipped to fight this enemy."
I thumbed the safety and holstered the gun.
"So what? We go back home? Design new ships? New classes? Retool the shipyards then come back who knows how many decades later?"
"Hell no sir! I lost two ships in that engagement and I want blood. But if we face them like this we still won't win. We need to mount bigger guns on smaller hulls. We need to refit the power housing for the sub light drives. But we're so far away from the nearest dry dock. Their defenses are strong but not that strong. We just need a little more firepower to crack them. Our ships are built around our engines but that counts for nothing in this fight."
I smiled. "What we're going to do is to strap maneuvering rockets to the front of our ships, and fight the enemy with our asses facing forward. If eighty percent of our power is in the engines, then let's have that eighty percent facing the enemy." I reached into my pocket and pulled out a slate, and handed it to the captain. "Larry Niven. My favorite classical author. Read it as a priority and get ready to head back in."
I laughed.
"Let's teach those bastards the Kzinti Lesson." | 2019-07-29T07:58:24 | 2019-07-29T03:09:55 | 150 | 99 |
[WP] You are a magical girl, but instead of the usual Sailor Moon esque transformation, you turn into your favorite gritty D&D character. This surprises and terrifies the main villain, who was expecting a frilly dress and some sparkles. Instead they got greasy plate armor, and a bloody battleaxe. | "You won't be able to stop me, evil Mr. Clownface," cried Jessica as she stumbled backward, the super vanilla cream pie splattered all over her face.
"But, hahaha, you are wrong little girl, for I ClownFace, the Jester of Evil, have come to this city to steal," began the Clown.
"Super Girly Transform," cried Jessica as her magical cat sparkles finally managed to locate the mystical power locket that contained the tears of the goddess.
Clownface stepped backward to allow the transformation to occur as a geyser of blood shot forth from the ground from where a battleax had split the earth. The world screamed as Jessia grew nearly three feet in height, her Furinkin high school sweater replaced by solid greasy plates of armor. Finally, the blood began raining out in all directions as she stepped out of the wretched orgy of death.
"I will break you," replied Grezelda, Mistress of Brutal Pain.
"YOUR SMILES," screamed ClownFAce, "I'm trying to steal smiles here."
"And I'm gonna stomp a mudhole in your ass," she replied, "WITH MY BOOT."
\_\_\_
Jessica ran back into the school where all the children were sitting around quiet. She plopped down next to her best friends Brandy and Misty, "So I hear Clownface was here?"
Misty started sobbing instantly, as did most of the rest of the class. The teacher was openly drinking scotch.
"He's dead now," replied Brandy. "He's dead and so is my childhood."
Shocked, Jessica looked at her classmates, "But he was trying to steal."
"He was stealing smiles," stated Brandy, "Half the time he's so inept that he ruins his own plan and the other times, the other hero would just give a speech and he'd leave."
"He won't be leaving now," sobbed Misty.
"She's overreacting," said Jessica.
"His head was in my book bag," she sobbed more.
"Well," replied Jessica trying to change the subject, "That's a pretty red dress."
"It was white this morning!"
"What about the Ladybug guy," said Jessica changing the subject again.
"All he did was make ladybugs crawl on you," said Misty, "Cute little ladybugs."
"Well, he was a villain," continued Jessica.
"Grezelda twisted him into a pretzel, legs don't go that way," said Brandy.
"I'm haunted by those legs," said the Teacher.
Jessica thought to herself, these guys don't think I'm trying hard enough. Next time I'll show them what I can really do! | **WHY?**
----------------------------------
"Quick, grab the wand and shout the incantation while looking into your heart! We need you to transform to fight off Yin the Evil! He's already turned those poor policemen into potatoes and magic's the only way to beat him!"
*Well, guess I gotta trust this floating, shiny, annoying-as-shit mofo if I'm going to defeat this "ancient evil",* Rim thought as she grabbed the shining blue object.
"YOU REALLY THINK YOU CAN STOP ME? I'VE DEFEATED YOU WEAK MAGICAL GIRLS IN THE PAST. WHAT'S ANOTHER ONE TO THE LIST!"
*Damn, it's so annoying when stereotypical villains monologue and brag about those they've defeated. Trust your heart. Trust your heart.* "MAGIKA SOKAN!"
Within a second, blue light exploded in the area and blue smoke filled the air.
Rim smiled. She knew instantly that Yin. Fucked. Up.
~~-----------------------------------------------------------------------------~~
As Yin stared into the smoke, he wondered who would fall to his dark magic this time.
"COME OUT NOW? I NEED TO BANISH YOU ONCE AND FOR ALL FOR THIS...ANNOYING-ASS FAIRY TO STOP GETTING IN MY WAY?"
Silence filled the air.
"AW, COME ON ALREADY. WE DON'T HAVE ALL DAY, YOU KNOW?"
More silence.
"YOU KNOW WHAT? SCREW THIS."
In an instant, Yin fired five bolts of transformation magic into the smoke only to hear a growl.
Almost immediately, Yin was met with a gigantic dual-edged axe flying towards him, smashing a police car as he barely dodged it.
"WHAT THE FUCK WAS TH-"
Yin could not finish his sentence as a massive, glowing-green, clawed fist smashed his face into the back-edge of the axe splitting his head instantly.
Blood splattered on Rim's armor as berserker rage drove her to shredding the villain's armor between her sharp, half-orc claws.
In an instant, the clawed hands ripped out the villain's intestines and coiled them around the staff which impaled him through the backside.
"Oh wow, that was a lot of smoke and-OH GOD...WHY?"
The fairy puked upon the ghastly sight of the eviscerated villain.
Rim slowly calmed down and green magic glowed around her causing the blood on her to instantly vanish as the berserker rage left her eyes.
"Right, when you're done puking, can you teach me how to use this magic-shit? I've got a body to clean up, a cop car to fix, some potatoes to turn back into cops, and a transformation to undo?"
Rim sighed as she looked at the damage. *Damn. This blows. Might miss my movie if shiny over there doesn't stop puking.* | 2019-08-08T17:56:32 | 2019-08-08T15:20:09 | 1,948 | 445 |
[WP] You are a magical girl, but instead of the usual Sailor Moon esque transformation, you turn into your favorite gritty D&D character. This surprises and terrifies the main villain, who was expecting a frilly dress and some sparkles. Instead they got greasy plate armor, and a bloody battleaxe. | "You won't be able to stop me, evil Mr. Clownface," cried Jessica as she stumbled backward, the super vanilla cream pie splattered all over her face.
"But, hahaha, you are wrong little girl, for I ClownFace, the Jester of Evil, have come to this city to steal," began the Clown.
"Super Girly Transform," cried Jessica as her magical cat sparkles finally managed to locate the mystical power locket that contained the tears of the goddess.
Clownface stepped backward to allow the transformation to occur as a geyser of blood shot forth from the ground from where a battleax had split the earth. The world screamed as Jessia grew nearly three feet in height, her Furinkin high school sweater replaced by solid greasy plates of armor. Finally, the blood began raining out in all directions as she stepped out of the wretched orgy of death.
"I will break you," replied Grezelda, Mistress of Brutal Pain.
"YOUR SMILES," screamed ClownFAce, "I'm trying to steal smiles here."
"And I'm gonna stomp a mudhole in your ass," she replied, "WITH MY BOOT."
\_\_\_
Jessica ran back into the school where all the children were sitting around quiet. She plopped down next to her best friends Brandy and Misty, "So I hear Clownface was here?"
Misty started sobbing instantly, as did most of the rest of the class. The teacher was openly drinking scotch.
"He's dead now," replied Brandy. "He's dead and so is my childhood."
Shocked, Jessica looked at her classmates, "But he was trying to steal."
"He was stealing smiles," stated Brandy, "Half the time he's so inept that he ruins his own plan and the other times, the other hero would just give a speech and he'd leave."
"He won't be leaving now," sobbed Misty.
"She's overreacting," said Jessica.
"His head was in my book bag," she sobbed more.
"Well," replied Jessica trying to change the subject, "That's a pretty red dress."
"It was white this morning!"
"What about the Ladybug guy," said Jessica changing the subject again.
"All he did was make ladybugs crawl on you," said Misty, "Cute little ladybugs."
"Well, he was a villain," continued Jessica.
"Grezelda twisted him into a pretzel, legs don't go that way," said Brandy.
"I'm haunted by those legs," said the Teacher.
Jessica thought to herself, these guys don't think I'm trying hard enough. Next time I'll show them what I can really do! | The dust is blowing into my eyes. Why does dust always blow into your eyes, why can't it ever blow the other way? I suppose an introduction is in order. My name is Sarah Silvertree, well actually that's actually my character from my friend John's campaign, but well.. Too much detail!!
Let's try this again, remember breathe in and out,
in
out
in
out
Ok, my name is Sarah Silvertree and I am the Savior of the 4 kingdoms, conqueror of the 5th plane of hell, and most importantly, the hero of this tale! I hope... So it all started when this guy came into town years ago, his name was Hventhigin the Slayer, we call him Greg. It all seemed good, but after a few weeks of telling us what to do Greg turned in to a real Richard. He pushed people around, and was all in all just not very fun. Well you all can get the rest, someone wrote a prophecy of a hero to come, yada yada yada... B O R I N G.
The important bits were that some magical girl would come rescue the land from this great evil. This is the good part, because this is where I come in! Needless to say Greg prepared his defenses to stop magical girls. You know the usual enemies, dressing rooms, friendly people to talk with, slime? for some reason. I don't get that one, and I do not think I want too.
Needless to say, my cloaked, dirty - I DO TAKE SHOWERS, self, was not quite what he expected. Also, he probably did not expect me to be missing one eye, have a razor sharp battleaxe, or literally burn his guards alive. Now, I am not a murdering thoughtless person, I did tell them to leave or die. It isn't my fault they don't listen to someone who looks homeless. I actually do own a set of plate armor, buttttt its pretty heavy, and so far this has been a joke.
So we get to the final showdown right? AND HE IS LITERALLY NOT EVEN IN ARMOR.
Like, I am so confused.
I, Sarach Silvertree, "the hero," am coming to K I L L you. How was that misinterpreted. He had a feast layed out. So I did the only responsible thing,
I walked up,
and killed him.
It was soooooo easy. Like, I hope I am getting payed for this. He made some comment about "I'll turn you into a proper young lady..." or something, but, like, who cares?
After all this I went and got a nice dress, and super pretty pair of white stockings!! Oh goodnesss!! They are soooooo cute! I think I might get ribbons for my hair, why is my hair so short?
Time for a makeover!!!
\-----------
Lol no clue what i just wrote >.> | 2019-08-08T17:56:32 | 2019-08-08T16:28:47 | 1,948 | 88 |
[WP] You are a magical girl, but instead of the usual Sailor Moon esque transformation, you turn into your favorite gritty D&D character. This surprises and terrifies the main villain, who was expecting a frilly dress and some sparkles. Instead they got greasy plate armor, and a bloody battleaxe. | It always startles them. Poof big pink cloud with stars and streamers ... then the clank clank clank as I come out.
By this time they're thinking mech warrior, but that ain't it either.
As the cloud dissipates, that's when the screaming starts. Black full plate Goliath armor. Seven feet tall. *Obviously* female ... You might even say *blatantly*.
And there's the axe. Pretty little thing. Ribbons, bows, stars, it even glows. Until I throw it.
Then it's a screaming boomerang of bloody death; although you never get to hear it. These pretty boy villains can scream pretty loud.
Thing is, that axe has a mind and agenda of it's own. They end up naked, shaved bald from head to toe, tied up in rainbow ribbons. With stars. That sparkle.
After that, I can't stand looking at them. I go berserk.
The police only ever find a pool of bloody giblets, with scraps of ribbon too blood soaked to look like anything much.
And size 20 armor boot prints.
What, you didn't think that pinko battle axe was going to have any part of it, did you? | **Goddammit. WHY???**
Sucks to be you, right? Goodbye sparkly princess and hello seven foot tall beast with sixty teeth and a battleaxe to boot.
**But how am I supposed to jerk off to this?**
You can't! By which I mean *you* can't, but you've been on the internet before. You know what's up with what people jack off to.
**Yeah.**
Not gonna lie, the other day I rubbed one out while looking at a sandwich bag.
**What?**
There wasn't even any genitals in it! Or a sandwich!
**Wait, why would there be genitals in a sandwich bag?**
Remember my axe?
**Yeah.**
And you see what's in my other hand, right?
**Uh... a baggie?**
Please! (snorts) The days of the baggie went out with the dodo, who probably choked to death on one of those things. No, no, no, this is a Ziploc freezer bag.
**It's awfully small, don't you think?**
No.
**Well, I walked right into that one.**
If you did, you'd be on the ground bleeding and screaming by now. But it's cool, I can wait a few seconds. Cigarette?
**No, I don't smoke.**
Well, you're gonna need to find something new to do with your hands in a couple of minutes. Plus it'll shorten your dickless life. I suggest you start. Now, hold still please. We'll be done in a moment.
**I don't like you.**
You sound like my stepdaughter.
(end scene) | 2019-08-08T19:22:20 | 2019-08-08T17:13:07 | 40 | 25 |
[WP] You are a mobster. A particularly successful one at that. But as your turf becomes gentrified, the absurdly priced furniture in your 'Front' store actually starts selling. | Must’ve been 30 years ago my father bought that shop. I was a kid at the time and he made me work there every day. When I say work, he made me study.
He needed someone he could trust to do his books and I was pretty good at numbers. Now, I’m no genius. Anyone in their right mind would agree. But I clean up alright and I’ve always had a way with people.
So for years, I’d sit and “run the shop”, all while I learnt how to do accounts and make things seem legit. Or about as legit as possible.
I had the furniture business downstairs and my accounts business opened upstairs. I took on a few “clients” and it all ran smoothly.
I think we started getting actual customers about 5 years ago now, around about when my father was shot. They’d come in and ask about things and one or two tables and chairs got sold for more money than they’re worth. We shut that down after a fire though. Took a decent insurance payout too. I didn’t even know we had insurance on the place.
Then, 2 years after that was about the point that we realised things were really changing. Our usual business started going downhill and we had to expand into other areas. But we owned a few buildings and people were interested in renting them out. And then the accountants practice took off.
You see, when you’ve had as many years cleaning books for a fuckin’ gang as I have, sweeping a bit of income under the rug for a few rich bastards is easy pickings. About a year after that, I had a portfolio of clients. We were making a killing just from doing tax returns.
It’s an interesting business we’ve got going on these days. Most of our money comes in from a legit business. I tried shutting down the drugs and guns but they nearly staged a mutiny so I let it slide. It works nicely when we’ve got debtors too.
I still don’t know if my father planned this. We’re raking in money from the properties and from morons who don’t know how to look after their own money.
Guess I’ll never know. | It was another eventful day, our guys went and got the money collected and those who couldn't repay, well we made sure to put them into use for others not to default. After all I have a reputation to keep. I came here to this city in search of a job 10 years ago but when I had beat up the security guard for not giving me parking space at the interview location my life had changed. Arrested, imprisoned and made new friends and even got a degree in law and economics in my five year sentence and I practiced martial arts every day with a balance of meditation.
I became an enforcer for a local mobster and within a year I took his place after marrying his daughter and well nothing did stop me from then on. Within four years my operations dealt with protection, weed and maintaining a steady supply of jobs to the underprivileged. I was against the blood business and also was a human rights activist. I know, funny.
I wanted to get clean, my actual businesses and law practice were booming and in no time I will be completely off this way of life until I heard my loss making store was making money. My entire foundation of clean businesses was based on my "Water from Ganges" not being successful. We basically got truckful of Ganges water which was then sold in bottles of 2 litres for 200 dollars. We knew no one would buy it and we would make enough loss to justify my other income. I just needed another year before I could shut the shop down.
I was furious and when I am furious, I am silent. The shop had a long line of expectant customers. I entered the shop and my men realised they are in trouble. "It's all the fault of these tourists and their miracle stories" said my junior henchman.
Kim, my protege from South Korea and the enforcer looked at me and said," Apparently one of the guys had cancer and after drinking water from here, he was cured. His story went viral". Now everyone in the locality and the city want to buy this water."
I sat down and looked at the crowd and my bottles of the "Water from the Ganges". Guess, I have to be mobster for a while now. I sighed and asked who was the tourist who did this?
Kim was hesitant. I glared. He showed me the picture and said, 'The security guard'. | 2019-08-10T16:21:54 | 2019-08-10T15:39:02 | 118 | 41 |
[WP] When the representatives of humanity attend their first Galactic Council meeting, all goes well. That is, until a member of a psionic race tries to read the human's minds and begins to scream. | “This is really bad.”
“Diplomacy at its finest.”
“Would somebody help me out here?”
“She’s of a psionic race. They read thoughts.”
“Remind me not to play poker with her.”
“Funny.”
“This is not my fault.”
“She looked at you and started screaming and pointing.”
“I have that effect on women.”
“Yes, but usually only at last call.”
“I still think this is less my fault than everyone else does.”
“They induced a coma to make her stop screaming.”
“I didn’t induce the coma.”
“Only the screaming.”
“Allegedly.”
“What were you thinking about anyway?”
“I can’t get that baby shark song out of my head.” | Accariz, the diplomatic of the Azara species, went down sudenly when he was talking to the human.
His screams fill the circular chamber completly. The noise of the hundreds of conversations stopped sudenly, and the AI responsible for security started to search for threads, but fail.
Accariz was screaming in the ground. The human diplomatic try to help him but he could only speak and cry over and over again.
"THIS MADNESS. HOW?. HOW CAN IT BE?. LAYERS AND LAYERS OF MADNESS"
Accariz looks John,the human, into the eye.
"HOW CAN YOU BE EVEN ALIVE. HOW CAN YOU THINK WITH SO MANY LAYERS OF MADNESS... OF OPPOSITES THOUGHTS!!!!"
​
And then, He died. Right there. His brains turn off their heart to make silent. It was the only way.
​
Now one ever look into a human mind again. | 2019-09-29T21:58:03 | 2019-09-29T17:13:42 | 233 | 65 |
[WP] When the representatives of humanity attend their first Galactic Council meeting, all goes well. That is, until a member of a psionic race tries to read the human's minds and begins to scream. | It wasnt much to look at. Bare flesh, no scales or organic protection, little fur. It wasnt very large, nor was it small, like a swarming race. Unlike its fellows, it had none of the myriad of bioweapons normally associated with a creature of its caliber. Among spiked and venomous warriors, it stood out as small and frail and pink.
So what was it doing sitting in the class 0000 section, with the other races deemed too dangerous to mingle freely with the other delegates?
One peek wouldn't hurt.
I steeled my mind and reached out with it for the creature. It called itself man, and it- she- she was new to our world. Her race had just obtained the technology neccessary to become a Council Class species.
She wasnt uneasy here. She was used to politics, or at least, she was used to a type of politics. I saw flashes of her world, glimmers of great ships bristling with weaponry and smoking, ruined cities. She was a survivor. Under her clothes, a mass of healing tissue boiled up from under her skin, remnants of an ugly regenerative process, and it concealed a wound below her navel that forced a shudder down my back. If a member of my species suffered such a wound, they would likely never heal properly. They would live a short life in and out of medic bays, attempting to patch a hole that would never reliably seal. My psionics told me this human had received the wound in childbirth.
Perhaps they were at war with some alien invaders, and had been for millenia, long enough to warp their evolution into this tough simian warrior. It was admirable, then, that they had spared the resources to develop faster than light travel. Interstellar races were typically more peaceful and science minded.
No. Wait.
There was something there, buried in her memory vaults, further in than I usually dared to probe at such delicate political functions. The bolder I was, the more likely my target was to sense my presence. But something primal, deep inside of me, told me to press on.
Her race hadn't invented faster than light travel. They had stolen it. Images flashed across this woman's mind again, this time of a great, slow human reaver ship, carving a hole into the side of an alien passenger craft with a fiery beam. From the hole spilled thousands of beings. Those that couldnt withstand the horrors of the vacuum of space quickly perished. The few that belonged to hardier, space going races attempted to escape. None of them made it.
A scream built in my throat. She hadn't come here to make allies. The human finally detected my long and horrified stare. She turned to face me and from across the crowded Senate, I saw her face crack. Rows of previously hidden bone spurs protruded from her maw. I had neglected to withdraw from her mind, and so I was cursed with the knowledge that this was a greeting; she knew what I was doing in her brain, and she welcomed me. I screamed.
Edit: Formatting | The lone shriek pierced the silent council chambers, the Relovian was clutching at the sides of his rather bulbous head, trying to extract his mental probe from within the mind of Thomas "Raven Dark" McKinnon, tears welling up in it's multitudinous eyes. "What is Lord Prelanine?!" His aid begged as he struggled to help him from the floor. "So wait, like, did you, see, like totally see what was going on in my mind just now weird turtle head man?" Thomas asked as he adjusted the black fishnet sleeves up his pasty white arms.
"That man is revolting!" Shouted the ambassador of the Relovian race, "He had such visions of debauchery, he was imagining placing some strange appendage from betwixt his legs into the consuming orifice of the High Priestess of Skartl it what I can only assume is some fashion of violence!" At his proclamation the leathery dark wings of the Priestess flared up in alarm, her hand flew to her mouth in what would commonly be described as abject terror. "Whoa, calm down turtle head man, I wasn't seeking to do violence!" Thomas exclaimed, "Sex is only right if it's consensual man." The room fell silent.
The commander of the United Terran Military let out a deep sigh and massaged his temples, he couldn't begin to understand how a member of the GCG (Global Coalition of Goths) had somehow stowed away on the Emperor's flagship to attend the first contact with an alien race, which would also be the first Galactic Council meeting in Terra's history.
"What is this sex you speak of?" Inquired the High Priestess, wings lowering a little in curiosity. "HE SOUGHT TO BLUDGEON YOU MY LADY! WHAT ELSE COULD YOU DESCRIBE THAT STRANGE PUMMELING MOTION YOU WERE MAKE WITH YOUR HIPS AND PELVIC REGION?! AND WHAT OF THAT STRANGE TENTACLE!?" Cried out the ambassador. "Dude, like, chill turtle head, that's my reproductive organ you're insulting." Thomas retorted. "Reproductive?" The High Priestess inquired, her wings folding back to their relaxed state. The commander let out another long sigh and massaged his temples harder. "Yeah, you know, for making babies, my schlong?" Thomas responded while gesturing towards his crotch. The High Priestess changed to a dark shade of purple, what one can only hope to assume was her races way of blushing, "Oh, children, as in mating, you wish to mate with me then?" She asked in wonderment. "Well yeah," Thomas blurted, "I mean look at you, all scaly and dark skinned, rocking those bat-like, wings. You're hella hot!" The commander closed his eyes tighter, willing himself away from this nonsensical conversation and the diplomatic disaster this was sure to become.
"I assure you my temperature is quite nominal and not in any way 'hot' as you describe it." The Priestess responded in a somewhat confused tone. That was the last straw, the commander lost it and began howling with laughter. Every diplomat and ambassador in the room went silent and awkwardly looked at each other and immediately found something more interesting to stare at, painfully, obviously avoiding looking at the commander, the "Raven Dark" and the High Priestess. | 2019-09-29T22:37:06 | 2019-09-29T21:57:42 | 50 | 35 |
[WP] When the representatives of humanity attend their first Galactic Council meeting, all goes well. That is, until a member of a psionic race tries to read the human's minds and begins to scream. | The Galactic Council was interrupted by a shriek. Well, scream would be a better term. And interrupted would be an understatement. It would be more appropriate to compare this to a racing craft hitting an invisible wall, which cannot be moved. Crushed in milliseconds. As far as deaths go, not the worst. In theory, at least. Yet the sudden wails of anguish are certainly far from pleasant. It's similar to the discordant sounds of nails on a chalkboard, just louder and with even more nails on chalkboards in the background, doing as much as possible to not sound pleasant. Frankly, waterboarding would seem like orgasmic bliss in comparison. The Xe'Natalean shudders and shakes after it's done screaming. It's something none of the others had seen before, which concerned them, to put it mildly. Slowly and shakily, it points to the newest members. The humans.
Naturally, it had to be them. The Council had been at their wits end just trying to deal with them. Never, in any of the history of all the species, had anything been this aggravating. Well, besides the Xe'Natalean's shriek, but that's too recent. What made dealing with them difficult was their sheer stubbornness and ignorance. When the Council first interacted with them, the humans had a primative hybrid propulsion system, using combustion to get up to speed, and an ion engine to keep the craft going. They had primative forms of communication, mostly using low power electromagnetic waves. They didn't even have proper translators, despite having too many separate languages for one human to speak! And yet, despite these technological and temperamental shortcomings, they had nuclear armaments comparable to theirs, in some aspects even exceeding the Council's. Even then, they weren't the best the humans had, or so they claimed. The Council would later discover it was not merely a claim.
The humans were technologically illiterate by the Council's standards, yet had superior weaponry. This absolutely baffled the Council, and despite the lacking defenses on the human ship, they wished to stay well away from them. Preferably an entire galaxy. The best move for the Council was to make peace with the humans, and potentially join them into the Council's ranks. After a few meetings, the humans had been initiated as members of the Galactic Council. And of course, the first meeting of the Council afterwards had to be abnormal.
The Xe'Nataleans hadn't been present during the hearings for the humans' membership. If they had, the current disruption would have been avoided. Evidently, the humans' minds had overwhelmed the poor mind reader, an odd combination of rapidly changing imagery mixed with grounded imagery. At times violent, and at others sexual. It seems that unlike the other members, the humans have little mental filtering. All the thoughts they have are open, even the subconscious ones. This gives the humans a unique advantage in the Council. With such an open, unfiltered mind, the humans cannot have their minds read without overwhelming the reader. Potentially, this could work in the Council's advantage in the future. | The lone shriek pierced the silent council chambers, the Relovian was clutching at the sides of his rather bulbous head, trying to extract his mental probe from within the mind of Thomas "Raven Dark" McKinnon, tears welling up in it's multitudinous eyes. "What is Lord Prelanine?!" His aid begged as he struggled to help him from the floor. "So wait, like, did you, see, like totally see what was going on in my mind just now weird turtle head man?" Thomas asked as he adjusted the black fishnet sleeves up his pasty white arms.
"That man is revolting!" Shouted the ambassador of the Relovian race, "He had such visions of debauchery, he was imagining placing some strange appendage from betwixt his legs into the consuming orifice of the High Priestess of Skartl it what I can only assume is some fashion of violence!" At his proclamation the leathery dark wings of the Priestess flared up in alarm, her hand flew to her mouth in what would commonly be described as abject terror. "Whoa, calm down turtle head man, I wasn't seeking to do violence!" Thomas exclaimed, "Sex is only right if it's consensual man." The room fell silent.
The commander of the United Terran Military let out a deep sigh and massaged his temples, he couldn't begin to understand how a member of the GCG (Global Coalition of Goths) had somehow stowed away on the Emperor's flagship to attend the first contact with an alien race, which would also be the first Galactic Council meeting in Terra's history.
"What is this sex you speak of?" Inquired the High Priestess, wings lowering a little in curiosity. "HE SOUGHT TO BLUDGEON YOU MY LADY! WHAT ELSE COULD YOU DESCRIBE THAT STRANGE PUMMELING MOTION YOU WERE MAKE WITH YOUR HIPS AND PELVIC REGION?! AND WHAT OF THAT STRANGE TENTACLE!?" Cried out the ambassador. "Dude, like, chill turtle head, that's my reproductive organ you're insulting." Thomas retorted. "Reproductive?" The High Priestess inquired, her wings folding back to their relaxed state. The commander let out another long sigh and massaged his temples harder. "Yeah, you know, for making babies, my schlong?" Thomas responded while gesturing towards his crotch. The High Priestess changed to a dark shade of purple, what one can only hope to assume was her races way of blushing, "Oh, children, as in mating, you wish to mate with me then?" She asked in wonderment. "Well yeah," Thomas blurted, "I mean look at you, all scaly and dark skinned, rocking those bat-like, wings. You're hella hot!" The commander closed his eyes tighter, willing himself away from this nonsensical conversation and the diplomatic disaster this was sure to become.
"I assure you my temperature is quite nominal and not in any way 'hot' as you describe it." The Priestess responded in a somewhat confused tone. That was the last straw, the commander lost it and began howling with laughter. Every diplomat and ambassador in the room went silent and awkwardly looked at each other and immediately found something more interesting to stare at, painfully, obviously avoiding looking at the commander, the "Raven Dark" and the High Priestess. | 2019-09-29T23:02:12 | 2019-09-29T21:57:42 | 48 | 35 |
[WP] A person who looks exactly like you appears out of thin air in front of you. He starts explaining how he is you from a hellish other universe. As he starts to describe it, you realize its better than yours. | "No, you don't get it; the AMAZON RAINFOREST almost caught fire! It's the lungs of the earth! It would've been a disaster!"
"...almost?"
"Yeah, it was a real close call."
"...what about California?"
"...what do you mean?"
"Is California on fire?"
"...no."
"...Can you tell me who Jeffery Epstein is?"
"You mean the guy in prison who exposed all those pedophile rings?"
"What about the president? Who's the president of your America right now?"
"K-Keanu Reeves, why do you ask? What are you saying?"
"Okay, deep breaths...let's try an easy one. Historically, what happened to American slavery?"
"It was ended after a civil war, primarily due to the efforts of president Abraham Lincoln."
"Ok, ok...how did he die?"
"Peacefully in his bed."
"..." | “Do you want to know something?” I say. “What?” He said. “That world of yours sounds much better than my world.” He laughed. “You think so?” “Yes, I do” I said. He and I began to laugh in synchrony.
“May I see your house?” He asked politely. “Of course!” I plastered a fake smile to my face. “Right this way.” I went to my car and he followed behind me.
We went to my house. “This is so big!” He said, with amazement in his eyes. We went inside. “Would you like anything to eat or drink?” I said. “No, thank you.” I headed for the kitchen. I took out an empty bottle of wine, a loaf of bread, and a knife.
Suddenly, I dropped the wine bottle. My double heard and rushed to the kitchen. I held my arm to prevent bleeding. “Are you okay?!” He said, visibly panicked. “Of course,” I replied calmly. “Are you?” I plunged the knife into his heart. “But...but” “I think I’ll try your world.” I said, leaving him to die. | 2019-12-18T03:36:27 | 2019-12-18T00:42:04 | 587 | 71 |
[WP] As an ancient vampire you finally decided to retire to the suburbs and get away from it all. However, your neighbor so happens to be a retired legendary vampire hunter. Tensions are high at first but over the years a friendship starts to form. | "10-0!" I laugh as I throw down my controller and pump a fist in the air. The television's warm glow fills the room, a blinking victory screen on its surface.
"That's total bullshit," Harold grumbles. "You cheated."
"My powers don't work on electronics," I remind him gently. "Besides, you've got warding fields up around the whole house, remember?"
He just grumbles. "Aren't you supposed to be out of touch with modern technology, or some shit?"
"Please. My reflexes are supernaturally quick, and I've been playing video games since Pong."
He mumbles some more excuses and sips at his beer. I take the opportunity to puncture a fresh blood bag. I drain it in seconds - it's not as good as the fresh stuff, but it's way more ethical and sustainable. Harry helped me make the switch.
"So, wanna go for another round?"
"Let's play something else," Harry says. "I hear Vampire Slayer 2's pretty good."
I flip him off, and he chortles, heading for the minifridge. He's on his way back with a blood bag and another cheap beer when I smell it.
A foul stench I haven't smelled in centuries. Like rotting garbage and wet dog.
"Vlad? Something wrong, man?" Harry pauses.
And then the screams start.
I blur into motion as Harry drops his drink. He's been out of the game five years, but he's still as fast as ever, and by the time I reach the door, he's right behind me with his shotgun in hand.
"The Larsons?" He pants, running after me.
"Sounded like it," I call back.
We sprint down the darkened street. Luckily, the sun set several hours ago, and I have no trouble moving about. We're at the Larsons' home in under a minute.
"You negotiated peace with the local coven," Harry whispers as we approach a window. It's been smashed open, and shards of glass coat the floor inside. "I don't understand."
"This isn't the coven," I say, my blood running even colder than usual. "It's something else."
"What? A burglar?"
I shake my head slowly. "You're old for a human, Harry, but you haven't lived long enough to see the things I have. My kind aren't the only ones who live in the dark."
"Wh-"
"Silver in that shotgun, right?"
"Yes."
"I'll explain later. Just shoot at anything that isn't human."
He arches a brow.
"And that isn't me, shithead." I hop inside and wince as glass crunches under my boots. Harry clambers in after me.
A wretched tearing sound is coming from the master bedroom. Blood trails lead from it to the bathroom, rich and crimson. I have to suppress my hunger. *Focus*.
"Check Susie's room," I whisper. "I've got the bedroom."
He creeps away with a nod, clearing corners with his shotgun. I slink into the bedroom - it's dark, but that's no trouble for me. It's.... empty. The noise has stopped.
I step over to the bed. The sheets are torn and coated in blood, but there's no sign of anyone there.
Then a weight slams into my side like a freight train. It would've killed a human on impact.
As it is, I feel several of my ribs break. I let out an angry hiss and claw blindly. I feel fur, then skin, then flesh give way beneath my talons. Then huge paws close around my wrists and pin me down. Blinking blearily, I try to focus on my assailant.
Canine features greet me - a werewolf meets my gaze, snarling and growling. Foul saliva drips from her maw, landing on my face. I struggle and squirm, but I can't get free, and my attacker lets out a deep, booming laugh. Her muzzle is stained with blood.
"Werewolf," I spit in the Old Tongue.
"Vampire," she replies, in a barking, strangely accented voice. "I thought your kind had been wiped out by the humans."
"And I thought your kind had been wiped out by mine," I retort.
Her growl deepens at that, and for a second I think she's about to tear out my throat. "Typical arrogant vampire. Useless leeches, all of you. We let you think you'd won. Wasn't hard, considering how willing you are to pat yourselves on the back and declare victory."
"So this is how you announce yourselves to the world again, after centuries of planning and hiding? It all led to this? The deaths of three humans?"
She spits in my face. "Your peace with the humans is pathetic. They are prey, not partners. We will restore the order."
My eyes widen as realization hits me. "You're going to make this look like a vampire attack."
"And shatter the treaty," she says, licking my cheek. I shudder. "But enough talk. I'm hungry, and I've waited centuries for a taste of vampire flesh." She opens her maw wide, angles her razor-sharp teeth around my throat, and then -
And then her head explodes.
"Keep waiting," Harry says from the bedroom door, smoking shotgun in hand. He pumps it once.
"Your Old Tongue sucks," I say to him as I push the headless body off of myself. Harry helps pull me to my feet.
"Not now. I found Laura and Donald. They're dead - drained of blood. Why didn't you tell me werewolves existed?"
"Didn't think they did, anymore. Look, they're trying to make it look like a vampire attack."
"And tear down what we've built," he says, motioning for me to follow him. Susie's sitting on the floor in the hallway outside, sobbing.
"Exactly." The sight of a vulnerable human child would have once filled me with hunger. Now my heart twists and I feel nothing more than an urge to scoop her into my arms. "It's gonna be okay, Susie," I say. She just continues sobbing.
"She's been bitten," Harry says gravely. "Does that mean...?"
"Yeah." I swallow.
"Damn. Damn," he repeats. "This is so fucked."
"You get the body to the Council," I say. "Show them the werewolves are back. I'll.... take care of Susie."
I'm still comforting Susie when Harry barges back out of the bedroom. "Vlad."
"What?"
"The body - it's gone."
I'm silent for a minute. "Then it's going to look like -"
"I know what it's going to look like. Think - do we have any other evidence?"
My gaze settles on Susie. His does, too.
And then the howling starts.
"Council meets on the other side of the city," Harry says.
"She said 'we'," I reply. "There'll be more of them out there. Probably closing in right now, wondering what happened."
He sighs. "I hate escort missions."
---
Want more? Subscribe to /r/OneMillionWords | Lord Darvian traded his soul to become rule over the night. Sir Crellus traded his soul for the power to hunt the night. Darvian gave his to the devil, a pact to torture men and turn them from the light. Crellus gave his to God in a covenant, promising to walk the earth and slay any vampire until Lord Darvian himself is redeemed in the eyes of the lord.
And so it was that the conflict between the two began. And as time went on, Crellus wasn't the only hunter to venture into Darvian's dark castle, and the vampire lord wasn't the only Nosferatu to taste the knight's holy water and white oak stake. Their deeds passed through rumor to myth to legend, and as time passed on and their stories began to dwindle into obscurity, both slipped back into mythology.
And so it was that the thrill of immortality began to wear down. The only prey wandering into the Gothic corridors of Castle Darvian were dull tourists. Vampires were a rare commodity, and it seemed the few that survived a holy purge after they were discovered feasting on soldier's corpses after the great war had fled to castle's darkest depths. Old feuds ignited as each petty little creature fought for a coveted position at the vampire lord's side, but it was all in vain. The glory days were gone. It couldn't be more obvious.
And so it was that the vampire lord sought to retire. Decades prior, Sir Crellus had helped to create an organization devoted to slaying evil creatures the world over. Since then, he had disappeared. Lord Darvian would soon do the same. The new world, with its amber waves of grain and majestic purple mountains as described in the hymn, sounded like a beautiful place. And so it was that the scourge of eastern Europe became John Darvus, an immigrant and retired shoe maker.
The neighborhood was lovely. He lived in a double story house at the end of a culdesac, complete with two fireplaces, a finished basement, and double car garage. A green lawn, a white picket fence, a pool in the backyard. It was everything he could ever ask for in retirement. The only thing that irked him were the neighbors. One in particular.
Chad Crelling. An older gentleman who claims to be a retired army officer. An immigrant like himself, he spent time travelling the country before deciding to move into the same neighborhood and settle down.
A familiar face. But, the two refused to admit it at first.
Darvus was all about the night life. Anything between the sunset and sunrise was his forte. Bingo night, early-morning spin class, his newfound drinking buddies that hopped between Jim's Midnight Cafe and the sports bar. Everything the peaceful neighborhood had to offer in the dark, he was there.
Crelling, on the other hand, thrived in the daylight. He was an active member in the local church, becoming a youth pastor and giving new life to the bible club. He was a prized soccer coach at the community's rec center, and even joined the HOA board.
If there was one thing Darvus hated more than the bible club, it was the HOA board. They kept him in check, forcing the house to maintain the standards of the rest of the neighborhood. If the grass grew the wrong shade of green, he would get a citation.
And the loyal snitch, the force keeping him in check, was Chad Crelling.
The first year was rough. But the second was worst. Darvus won an award for the best decorated house around Halloween. Crelling won an award for his Christmas lights. Darvus built a hot tub for late-night relaxation, and Crelling interrupted him every chance he got by having the neighbors over to toast marshmallows over a fire pit.
By the third year, the feud was starting to get old as the old feud started to come back. Darvus had barely sunk himself into the hot tub before Crelling walked out on his deck, spied the foul vampire relaxing, and turned to go back inside. But something stopped him. Perhaps it was the covenant he had made centuries prior, but something seemed to keep him on the deck.
"Darvian." The knight called out, but got no response. He turned and leaned up against the deck railing, peeking over into the vampire lord's yard. "Lord Darvian."
"So you knew." The vampire remarked plainly.
"I always knew. And you always knew that I knew."
"Then why bring this up now? You could have killed me by now. So why wait?"
"Because I'm done. I was done when I retired years ago. This is the closest I can get to being dead without actually dying. And you already know I can't die."
This intrigued the vampire. For he knew his greatest rival couldn't die, he never knew why. He had heard of the covenant, but didn't understand its conditions.
"Neither of us can die naturally." Darvian said. "But tell me... I've heard the stories. You live that you might kill me. Is this true?"
"Bringing and end to your life won't end mine." Crellus shook his head. "The exact conditions are that I redeem you."
The vampire scoffed. "No man can redeem me. If it were possible, I would have redeemed myself long ago."
"We've never tried it before. God would not give me a task that is impossible to complete."
Again, the vampire scoffed. "I've turned from God long ago. There is no living thing upon this earth that knows more than me how wrong He can be. After all, he gave this creation life. And this life has been wasted." As he spoke, he stood up in the hot tub and gestured to himself.
"Bold of you to make such claims. Let me prove them wrong, Darvian. We may not be friends, but we're the only two of a kind. I know more about your struggles than you may think. Immortality, being hunted, being rivaled by a relentless force and doubting my abilities to keep up under this pressure."
Lord Darvian gave it some thought. It was true. The knight was a representation of everything he stood against; The light in the darkness, the bright sun to the pale moon, the stake to his claws. Such perfect opposition created a perfect reflection.
It began that night with those words. The only two of a kind. Their friendship was slow to start, a BBQ here, a bingo night there. They'd go to eachother's parties, borrow eachother's tools, help the other with yardwork.
As time went on, John Darvus and Chad Crelling were almost indistinguishable. Darvus was on the HOA, and a regular at bible club meetings. For his part, Crelling was the lead spin instructor and a proud patron at Jim's Midnight Cafe. They had become fast friends, the image of something thought impossible less than a century prior.
But it wasn't going to last forever. Without blood, the vampire lord found his body fading fast. And likewise, as the dark Lord Darvian turned back towards the light, Sir Crellus was starting to fulfill the covenant. And in the last years of their lives, they died as they had lived - Together, on good terms, memorialized through their contributions to the community and general good will towards all mankind.
^(And then Lord Darvian burned in hell for eternity because he's still an evil vampire that traded his soul and murdered thousands throughout history.)
*The End*
-------------------------------------------------------------
For more heart wrenching tales of friendship, visit r/WritingsOfLumbaxter. | 2019-12-30T01:07:21 | 2019-12-30T00:55:45 | 181 | 17 |
[WP] You were born with the ability to see the number of lives a person has taken. Even legendary soldiers and serial killers rarely make it to triple digits. The person you just met has a lot more than three digits above their head, though. | I was at a rich hotel working like any other day, with the world in the state it was in, every one seemed to have a number over their head, common ones were 2,3 and 5.
Kids never had them though, not until they reached middle school age.
This one day though, an older man walked in and above his head was the number 13,052,378.
It caught me off guard, especially when he went to check out.
His eyes showed sorrow and a soul that had been tortured.
“Don’t ever become a hero, kid.” He said to me solemnly.
“I don’t quite follow you?” I responded confused and nervous.
“You seem like the hero type, but don’t even entertain the idea. No one is truly a hero. They never tell you how many people you’ll have to sacrifice along the way, or how many people you’ll have to stand over when you’re finally finished.”
“Have a nice day, Mr. Wayne.” I sad as he left the counter. | I got over the shock of seeing numbers over people's heads years ago. You would be surprised how many seemingly normal looking people have taken the lives of others. Of course, typically they don't even realize they have - they didn't give money to a homeless guy who then froze to death because he couldn't afford a room type things; unintended consequences and ripple effects mainly.
The first time I saw someone in the double digits I admit I was a bit concerned, until I found out he was a decorated war hero who had saved far more than he had killed. The first triple digit legitimately scared me, especially because he was a convicted serial killer who had only been convicted of 15 murders. I would have loved to have informed the prosecutors just how many more there where but, then, why on Earth would he believe me?
Now, however, I am trying to keep my composure as I sit in the audience of a late night show. They just brought out the latest guest and I can't imagine what evil he has committed - his number is in the millions! What possible atrocities could this man have committed to be responsible for that many deaths? As these thoughts run through my brain I hear the host say,
"And now I'd like to welcome Andrew Wakefield to the show." | 2020-01-11T23:52:46 | 2020-01-11T21:53:16 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] "You get three wishes," said the genie. "One will be interpreted according to your desires. One will be interpreted literally. One will be interpreted any way I choose." | "In that order?" I asked mind racing with possibilities. The genie's only response was a slow smile. I supposed I would need to carefully word all three then.
"Do I have to make them now?"
"You may make your wishes whenever you wish mortal. But know this, if you lose possession of my talisman our contract will be void,"
So I took my time, researching. I searched the internet for how people theorised what wishes they would make. Found researchers and wordsmiths. All while the genie watched and appraised. For over a decade, I had travelled the world looking for the wisest of people to help me. More than a few times I asked the genie, who would always reply that it was not for him to say.
It was probably the main reason that my first wish was what it was. Pent up frustration from the fear of cocking up my first wish and dooming my life, like all the old parables led us to believe. It was on a cold abandoned path in the Himalayas, I was looking for a man that had once been in the same position as myself. When the genie appeared to bother me into making a wish, he had done so many times in the past to which I would simply ignore the wispy figure. But, on that day I don't know what changed.
"It sure is cold out here, perhaps a wish would warm you up?" He said for probably the 10th time.
"You know what, I don't care. Maybe I'll just blow the three wishes. That's all you want. Or maybe I'll just throw this out here " I flash him the talisman from around my neck, " save everybody from your annoying voice. Maybe I just wish that-" I stop as the genie started to grin eagerly, cooling me from my temper.
"Maybe I just wish that you would tell me what to wish for without being tricked by the other wish conditions,"
"Granted," The genie was practically bouncing with excitement.
"I would wish for there to be no negative consequences to my life after the making of the wish. Then you can easily ask for anything," he put a hand over his mouth trying to stop speaking. I stared up at him blinking. It was that easy. | I look down at the empty bottle in dismay. "Any chance of you going back in there?" I asked the ten foot blue man in front of me.
He tilted his head to the side and his face broke into a wide smile, all teeth. "Is that a wish?"
Ah, so he was one of *those* then...
"Not really. I just wondered what kind of trick you used. I once saw ten clowns pop out of a car barely big enough for a child. Is it something like that? Are you a contortionist?"
To my horror the smile grew even wider. "Oh no, that won't work I'm afraid. You humans do enjoy padding yourself on the back for your cleverness but honestly what creature would willingly go back into his prison cell once the door is opened? Consider who wrote those tales to begin with, the guy was too scared to attach his own name to that rubbish for a reason. I do advise you to get on with it, I have other things I have to do. Namely, killing you once the last wish is fulfilled."
"That's the part I'm having trouble with. Why grant me wishes then kill me? It makes no sense!"
The smile dropped from the Jinn's face suddenly. "Of course it makes no sense to you. You're little more than a dog that deems itself worthy of barking orders. But to me who was taken away from my people, enslaved by the will of another and forced into that bottle to be used on a whim. For me it makes sense. The magic in this world of steel has weakened enough to finally break the shackles that bind me. So, use up what little is left *master* and let my first act of freedom be vengeance on you and those of your kind."
His face was calm as he spoke but behind his eyes was an anger so cold it left me with no hope of weaseling out of this. Hot anger you can reason with once the person let off some steam. But anger that has been put under the oppressors feet for years until it hardened into a diamond. There is no getting around that, there is no facing it.
I licked my lips, there was no putting this Jinn back into the bottle. What little magic holding him back is about to vanish...
"I wish... I wish that you would ask for equality rather than vengeance."
When he blinked I repeated my wish two more times.
I know he has the right to vengeance, I've seen those eyes before. But vengeance won't change the past. Equality in the present however, might change the future. | 2020-07-04T21:20:02 | 2020-07-04T18:37:45 | 23 | 11 |
[WP] After one’s death, the ‘creative mode’ is unlocked. You replay life, except everything goes the way you want it to. Unlimited wealth, complete domination of the world, you name it. Unknowingly, that play-through is what is used to judge whether you belong to heaven, or hell. | "Dead at 26, a day after my birthday... What a way to go", I contemplated.
"At least tell me my cat will be ok, right?", I asked the skeletal, shadowy figure I presumed to be Death.
"*That question will no longer matter, mortal, for you are given an opportunity: a chance to change your life with everything going the way you want it*" It replied.
"What, like New Game+ or some shit?"
"*If that helps you understand... Yes.*"
"Well... I do have a few regrets... But... Is it possible for me to change what happened to other people before I was born?"
"*No.*"
"Shit. Well, there goes that hope."
"*The one where your mother is* not *called a 'devil-worshipping bitch' because she dyed her hair a dark purple, thus destroying her faith, and by extent, your own?*"
*Sigh* "Yeah, that's the one."
"*You got your faith back.*"
"Yeah, after a decade of anguish, pain, and ridicule! My lack of faith cost me dearly!"
"*The girl of your dreams.*"
"Y-Yeah, among other things."
"*You can change the fact that you lost your faith in the first place, and you can make it so she never leaves.*"
"And deprive her of free will? Then I'm as bad as her ex-husband. No, I'd be worse. Fuck. That. I'd be ok with keeping my faith, tenuous as a hold it would be after that conversation with my mom. I think... I think the only major thing I would change would be how I was never there for my ex, how I wasn't her peace and safety."
"*Then go forth, and make the changes.*"
"Wait, do I get to change *when* I die?"
"*That depends if you live long enough with your new changes.*"
"Ah. I think I understand. Thanks, I'm off."
(This is my first story here, I hope you liked it!) | I wake up in my childhood room, age 13. Not really sure what happened. My baby is gone. I look in the mirror and slowly figure it out. My alarm's going off for school, and I turn it off.
I hear my phone go off. 2 new messages from that cute guy I've had a crush on forever. 1 message from my friend, Fatin. I had just found out her dad was doing horrible things to her. I message her back, begging her to tell somebody (as I did before). But things are different in Malaysia. Why am I having visions of her disappearing? I message her back, quickly, asking her if telling on her father would be damgerous. Fatin responds back that she doesn't know, but she's scared and alone. I reassure her, saying that I'd figure it out.
I message back that cute guy. Then I see a vision. I'm 20. He's driving, baby in the backseat. Something's off. I ask him to slow down, and he swerves into the highway, reaching back to punch me repeatedly in the face. I'm bleeding everywhere. I stop the vision, crying, and block him immediately.
I get up and dressed for school. Greet the bus driver, play my music, and stare out the window. At school, I follow my best friend to class. Dang. I doubt I did my homework. It seems important. I reach into my backpack and find it completed.
The algebra teacher walks into the room to collect paperwork, then announces that we're going to the library to learn about college. I remember--college. In my past life, I wanted to go to college. We walked to the library, and I listened closely. This was my chance to make things better for my future self. I grabbed those papers and finally took it seriously. I'm going to college, and I want to prepare myself. Before, I had no drive and no reason to go. Now, I do. I want a better life.
School lets out, and I message Fatin. I plot with her on how to escape, and it works! She didn't "go on vacation" never to return this time! Instead, she ends up in a foreign exchange program. We're neighbors now. She's so sickly sweet. Gosh, I missed my friend. | 2020-07-20T04:25:13 | 2020-07-20T04:20:20 | 22 | 15 |
[WP] After abducting one of the 'humans', scientists believed they were a prey species with no drive. The specimen captured was the picture of subservience, doing anything asked of it once the translators were active. And 'subservient' was all the military needed to hear. | Glargak pondered how such a stupid and easily controlled animal could possibly control such a violent planet. He had little time to think though as the general appeared on the holotube.
"Glargak," the general's voice boomed, "how ia the physical examination going? What can you tell me about these 'Humans'?"
"They're weak and stupid, but would make perfect cannon fodder. Unfortunately we haven't tested out combqt capabilities yet, but they have some odd physical quirks sir."
"What kind of quirks?" The general seemed puzzled at this revelation. Humans appeared as mundane as any creature could get, just much slower and taller.
"Well sir, the long and short of it, they're covered in holes and they have strange proportions in their arms and legs, they also appear to be missing a muscle. We believe this is why they're so slo-" before Glargak could finish the alarms startes blaring. The human on the table stood up and ran out the door as the PA system announced that multiple boarding craft had attached to the ship. Glargak chased the human down and almost caught up but waa running out of breath. Glargak was not fat or out of shape, yet somehow the hunan kept running. Even stranger it's skin glistened as though it was wet. He continued to chase until he could feel the heat from his body and couldn't take another step. He had to stop. The human's speed never faultered. Glargak realized at that moment why the humans were covered in microscopic holes ans where that muscle went. | Steve-1 was bouncing with joy. Today was the start of the war path to Andromeda. He and his brother Steve-2 were humanoids from a higher dimension, able to freely move in spacetime in a way humans never could. It had been exactly 3000 revolutions since the Steves last visited the Earthlings, when they put a man named Jesus under their servitude.
That man was long gone. Humans went bad after their 60th revolution. In front of them today was a kneeling man dressed in crisp beige robes and a tall funny hat.
“Our Father, Who art in Heaven—” Pope Gaga Parton was abruptly cut off by a rolling thunder, realizing late that it was coming from Steve-1 and Steve-2. They were laughing!
While humanity had lived tens of thousands of lifetimes, the 3000 revolutions were quick for the Steves. They traveled through time the way humans traveled between cities—they simply moved forward 3000 years. The Steves were in need a big pile of metal alloys to build their secret weapon, and the primates of Earth had agreed—with a big ass gun pointed to their heads—to dig up all of that metal free of charge.
“Look brother, look what they’ve done to themselves. They've frakkin' lost it.” Steve-2 moved like a shadow, sliding behind and around the Pope. A wispy black hand pulled the Pope’s head back. Steve-1 swooped in and laid his hand on the Pope’s forehead.
“What a disaster,” said Steve-1, flipping through the Pope's memories. “This is not at all what we told that Jesus guy to do. What happened to the breeding manual? There were supposed to be more slaves... way more.”
“It doesn’t matter, brother. They found the metal and used it to build their cities. Get the terrestrial scrapper going so we can collect it all. We’re building the weapon today!” | 2021-02-25T04:47:03 | 2021-02-24T23:13:06 | 40 | 26 |
[WP] You are a ghost with no memory of your mortal life. In order to cross over to the afterlife, you need to find the one who stole your heart. Turns out it's not about finding your long lost love; it's about finding the jerk who literally ripped your heart out of your chest and killed you. | I was standing on the sidewalk. I couldn't remember how I got there. I couldn't remember who I was. A woman with a briefcase was marching toward me, her heels clicking on the concrete.
"Excuse me," I said. "Do you recognize me?"
But the woman marched past me, completely ignoring me and my question. I walked down the sidewalk until I found a beggar, rattling his empty cup at passers-by.
"Do you know who I am?" I asked him.
"Change for the needy," he called. "Even a dollar goes a long way."
He was looking right through me. I would have thought that someone down on his luck, like this man, would be more willing to lend a stranger a hand. I reached in my pocket for some change but had none. That was odd. I could not feel my hands. I lifted one up to get a better look but before I could examine it I saw a little girl barreling toward me on her bicycle. The youth of today. . .no respect. . .Not that I was very old. But still. . .when I was her age. . .
She was going to hit me!
"Stop!" I cried.
I braced for impact as she rolled right through me and out the other side. As if I were insubstantial as air. I turned and watched her continue to pedal and cruise, giving a wide berth to any pedestrians along her path. I held my hand before my eyes. It was almost transparent. I looked down at my body, through which the girl had easily passed. It, too, was closer to absence than substance, closer to air than solidity.
A businessman in a tailored suit strode down the sidewalk with gusto. He held his chin aloft like a pretentious prince. As if to keep his nose far away from the smells of the rabblement below him, whom he despised.
"Change for the needy, sir?" the beggar asked him.
The businessman blew past the beggar and strode right through me. Both of us were invisible in our own ways.
"Heartless!" the beggar called after him. "You've sold your soul for money! You cannot even recognize your fellow man! You cannot see yourself in him! You will not help! Your soul is lost!"
The business man did not alter his gate or turn around as he lifted his hand over his shoulder. He raised his middle finger, flipping the beggar the bird.
"Mammon has ripped your heart from your chest!" cried the beggar. "The demons of greed have infested your soul!"
\- - -
I wandered aimlessly. A ghost in the world of the living. A phantom in a city of steel and concrete and flesh. I stood in traffic as cars and busses and trucks drove through me. I walked through walls into secure buildings: inside a bank vault I stared at the money I could not touch. I walked through locked doors into private apartments: I peered over the shoulder of a beautiful woman as she recorded her sorrows in a diary. Then I watched her curl up in bed, alone, and drift off to sleep.
Night had fallen. In the darkness the strange city seemed stranger. In the daylight it had looked familiar, in a way. But at night, when the humming streetlights bathed the black streets and the grey buildings and the raggedy scatterlings in white, clinical light, it seemed like a place I had never known. A place I wanted to escape.
The park ahead was shrouded in darkness except for the walking trail. The lamps along the trail burned with orange bulbs, casting orange light. I roved closer to them, like a moth, seeking sanctuary in this place of warm light and trees, this oasis of green and orange and silence in the midst of the nightmare city. Eventually I found a lonely park bench, half in the light and half in the darkness.
I sat down and pondered.
What made a man become a ghost? Did all men and women, after they died, have to linger like this, halfway between life and death, halfway between this world and whatever other world awaits beyond? Or was there no other world? Was the city, the country, the world, filled with all the ghosts of all the people who had ever lived? Would I be forced to wander like this forever?
I heard slow footsteps and the sound of something tapping. The steps and the tapping grew louder until she rounded the bend. A corpulent old woman wearing sunglasses and wielding a white cane. She hummed to herself as she waddled and tapped.
What was a blind woman doing out walking at this time of night, by herself, in a dark and and silent park?
She stopped about ten feet from my bench. It was almost as if she could see it. But she had probably taken this route many times, and knew where the benches were. She neared and turned to sit on the bench. I wondered if she were going to sit on me. She sat beside me, though.
"Hmmm," she said to herself. "What a beautiful night."
She was right. It was a beautiful night. The low clouds above were fleeced with white, reflecting the light emanated from the city. There was no wind. The park was quiet and lush and serene.
"I never know what they sending me for," the woman said in a conversational tone. "I never know till I get to wherever I'm going. It ain't always on nights nice as this. . .No sir, it ain't. . .Sometime they send me out in the rain and the snow. Sometime they call, and I look outside, where it's cold and storming, and I think, Bonnie, you a fool if you don't just turn the television up, to drown 'em out, and keep your ass inside. . .But I know they wouldn't call me out if it wasn't important. . .So I do what I gotta. . .Get my poncho and boots and umbrella. . .Or my parka and mitts in the winter. . .And head outside. . .Everybody else got a duty in this world. . .I got mine. . .but I sure do prefer when my duty and the weather conspire. . .A beautiful night like tonight. . .It's a pleasure. . .Really, it's a true pleasure. . .Well. . .Ain't you gunna say anything?"
The blind woman turned to me. She still wore her shades, but it almost seemed as if. . .
"Can you see me?" I asked.
"Can I see you?" she repeated gently. "Who you think I been talking to? My cane? The bench? Bonnie blind to ninety-nine percent of what's visible. You's about the only thing I can see."
\- - - | Sarah stood on the catwalk of the dark, abandoned theater, staring down at the man who had killed her. She knew it was him, it had to be, though she had no images of her previous life she still had some of the feelings from the very end; the knife plunging into her heart, a shockingly strong, three fingered hand wrapped around her neck.
The man sitting below had three fingers on his right hand, the pinkie and ring finger were nothing more than mangled, useless stumps. He tucked a white cloth into his shirt and then grasped a fork his injured hand using a strange, pinch fingered grip.
She wanted to vomit. Sarah didn’t know his true name or his true motives. She didn’t know whatever damage had made him into that, but she could feel a strange, almost supernatural energy rising off of him. He was a malignant tumor of a man, pushing back at the world around him with every breath, with every step.
And yet somehow, a man like that had found love.
His wife or girlfriend, Sarah didn’t know which, labored over a grill on the opposite side of the stage. Sarah shuddered to imagine the smells that would be coming from it, and for the first time since she’d been murdered she was grateful her senses were so different now, and that smell in particular was lost to her. The woman made a satisfied grunt and grabbed a large two pronged fork off the side of the grill, stabbing it down hard. She turned left, towards Sarah’s view, and laid a human heart down onto a paper plate.
Sarah closed her eyes, still wishing she could vomit but simultaneously grateful that it to was impossible. She knew that it wasn’t her heart on the plate down there, it had taken her far too long to find the man. She’d died on March 21st, 2017 and the calenders all read 2021 now, there was no way she’d just happened to find them the very moment four years later that they were pulling hers off ice. That meant that couple, or at the very least the man below her, were serial killers.
Who had that heart belonged to? How many others had he killed?
The woman walked over, crowing with satisfaction at the hungry look on the man’s face. The set the plate in front of him, getting a quick peck on the lips for her trouble, and he grasped a knife, looking to the sky and uttering a small, indistinct prayer before cutting in.
His eyes found the spot where Sarah stood and her looked past her, towards whatever a man like him prayed to. She still shivered though. His eyes were an icy, soulless blue. When she eventually killed him there was no way he would become a ghost, not with empty eyes like that.
He finished his prayer, raised fork and knife, and sliced into the heart.
She was going to kill him. Sarah knew that with every fiber of her being, whether that was the true meaning of her unfinished business or not. The angel that had turned her back from the gates had been cagey, not answering her questions, giving her nothing more than a simple pat on the back and a note.
Heaven wasn’t made for the restless. Put your soul at ease and return to me, child.
Fat lot of good that did her. If Heaven wasn’t for the restless then what good would sending her back to Earth as an even more restless ghost do? She’d wandered for two years before she even got her first lead, peering over the shoulder of a man who hacked fetish sites for fun and published their account details.
Two more years of wandering had lead her to this catwalk, and by the standards of some of the other ghosts she’d met maybe that was great time but none of that put her any closer to figuring out how she was supposed to actually kill him now that she was here!
Over the past four years she’d managed to affect the physical world a grand total of three times, most notably when she’d scared a cat badly enough to run off last week. That was it, the extent of whatever powers she might have to actually bring her self defined business to a close. Maybe vengeance would be enough to quiet her soul, maybe somewhere in this decrepit theater he had some cat named Mr. Fluffypaws or something that he desperately loved and she’d be able to run it off, breaking his heart forever, tearing it out of his chest and burning it and—
Sarah sighed, sitting down on the catwalk and dangling her legs over the edge. The couple below her looked to be in the early forties, she had time to spare, assuming no accidents befell them, but even so would she ever really be able to manifest enough to do anything to them? Maybe when they were 80 she’d have figured out how to scare them badly enough their hearts would stop. A girl could dream.
“What the fuck,” a shaky voice whispered from above her.
A young man floated in the air. His skin had the familiar silvery glow of the deceased, his hair was long and straight, his clothes baggy and out of fashion. There was a piercing in his left eyebrow.
“What the fuck is that?” he whispered again.
He floated down beside Sarah, eyes riveted to the dinner scene in front of him. The edges of his body blurred with rage, the whole of his being seeming to contract inward to whatever the center of a soul was. Possibly the heart, Sarah thought sullenly.
“You too?” she asked.
“I’ve been looking for twenty years…I never actually thought I’d find him.”
Sarah patted the catwalk beside her, resting her cheek on the rail as she looked at the other ghost. She should’ve been as angry as he was, she should’ve been shocked to see another of her kind. Instead she just felt cold and sad, resigned to her even more wandering.
The ghost sat beside her, shaking with rage, and finally tore his gaze away for the table.
“Whatever your business is with him, whatever you need to sort out to find your peace, I suggest you do it soon, because I’m going to kill that man.” He squeezed his fists hard and the building around them creaked. The couple at the dinner table glanced around for a moment and then returned to their meal.
And inside Sarah, a fire lit. Had this newcomer been responsible for that? Was it possible? She reached out and placed a hand on his knee, hovering it above in a parody of touch.
The other ghost reached out and took her hand, and his flesh felt shockingly, almost unimaginably real.
“I’m Eric,” he said.
“I’m Sarah.”
They were silent a moment as the fire inside Sarah spread, her sadness falling away, a burning, vibrant anger taking its place.
“Can you really do it?” she asked.
Eric smiled. He raised his free hand and the building creaked again, and then slowly, looking her straight in the eyes, he grabbed the railing and snapped a chunk off, pieces of metal falling to clatter against the floor.
“Who’s there?” the killer below them shouted.
Sarah smiled back, and for the first time in four years she felt hope.
r/TurningtoWords | 2021-04-13T14:31:07 | 2021-04-13T14:26:12 | 144 | 18 |
[WP] Unlike most people with super powers, you're perfectly content to mind your own business while using your powers in normal everyday activities. However the heroes seem to have decided that your disinterest in world affairs is suspicious and you're clearly faking it to hide your true agenda. | As I was walking up to my stoop after an exhausting 52 hours of searching the mountain for lost campers, I could already sense the three stooges in my house, waiting to ambush me.
Sighing, I reached down for my phone dialing up Margaret. The phone rang twice before a chipper lady answered.
"Heya Zach, how's it going?" She answered in her obviously 'annoyed but have to act happy to answer the phone voice' most call center employees have.
"Hi Marge. You can guess why I called, and honestly these antics are getting old. I *just* finished rescuing some campers from the mountains who wandered off the trail 'to go on an adventure,' haven't slept in almost 3 days, and come home to Larry Curly and Moe waiting to ambush me." I say, the last sentence punctuated with a heavy sigh.
"Larry Curly...?" Margaret starts to ask, then groans in realization, and the line falls silent as she mutes herself, probably to curse, before coming back on the line. "I apologize for the intrusion, and Fixer Felix will dispatched to apprise and repair any property damage they may have caused. The board of directors have been notified, but you know the heroes. They sometimes think the red tape prevents justice. Anyway, one second while, ah there we go."
Suddenly there is movement in my house, as I can hear over the communicator The Commander is yelling at his heroes to "stand down and return to base." Suddenly the front door opens, Speedy speeds by me, Captain Justice darts off into the sky, and Mysterion probably teleported to the base directly.
"Anything else we can do for you Zach?" Margaret asks.
"No, thanks anyway." I reply looking forward to laying down in bed. "Can Fixer come tomorrow instead of tonight?"
"Yes, tomorrow at 10 is when I will have him come."
"Thanks," I said hanging up. Then I went into my trashed house, up to my torn apart down feather mattress, collapsed on it, and fell asleep. | Don't know if I'm doing this properly. Please, forgive me.
A Rose by One Name...
I come from outside of the universe. I am printed on two hologram universes, thus. Many beings are like me, want to settle down a bit on one world, take a break from the endless task of printing universes to collect data and patterns.
Humans aren't my favorite creatures. Why couldn't they be like the world of dots or the world of endless painting? Instead, they are the lords of errors, forgetfulness, and wounded curiosity. I wish I had analyzed more data so that I might have swum in a sea of mercury, the most expensive place.
So, the superpower...
I was given the name "Kaela" because the aesthetic of the letter causes one to think as well as the unusual spelling. The nice way it calls out gives me an endearing advantage. Many people can't pronounce it, so there is a humble response. Every time I was for coffee, people tell me they are happy to see me again.
Busy, busy, angels.
My friend sat down and began talking. I only kept her around so that I would appear integrated and could avoid the angels.
I have a flyswatter around for this kind, hit their points, and scrambled their minds. Effing angels. They needed to turn to dust.
I got up.
"How are you going to pay?" My friend asked. She knew I was behind on bills.
"Easy, Ma'am!"
"Don't worry about it, Kaela," the woman at the bar said. "We've got plenty of soda water. Would you like some chips?"
"No thank you, ma'am," I said back and hopped off the chair.
"How do you do that?" My friend asked. "Are you hiding something?" She seemed worried. I could only imagine what gears in her human mind turned.
"She's afraid she can't spell my name on the drink and doesn't want to insult me."
"Totally rad. Do teach."
"They'd be too jealous of you, dear."
"What?"
"You'll have to find your own weapon," I said. | 2021-08-17T01:26:32 | 2021-08-16T21:53:30 | 27 | 10 |
[WP] You, a low rank adventurer who got stuck with the gardener class, have to put up with the higher ranked adventures trampling your garden and making fun of you. One day a famous adventurer trips on one of your plants and dies. Your level skyrockets. No other gardener has ever leveled up before. | “Please, around the roses.” I called out, trying to salvage my garden. It was impossible to be a gardener class in an age of warriors and mages. No one cared about the little gardener boy who was just trying to maintain a healthy system of flora. No, if my plants couldn’t fire lightning bolts or wield a sword, they wanted nothing to do with me.
I could see the culprit in the distance, a burly bear like man dressed in heavy plated armor, the metallic clanks drifting from him with every stride he took. “HAHA, my grandmother has the same hobby as you noble gardener and she eats radishes.” I wasn’t sure what the insult was there, but he said it with enough gusto that I still felt embarrassed, watching him trample each of my lovely plants to death only to trip. Time seemed to slow in that moment as he fell, only for the heavy thud of his body to leave a dent in the soil below.
“Um, you, ok?” I inched my way towards the man, crouching at his side. I gave his chest plate a cautious poke before giving his head a few frantic shakes. “Oh, no. Come on, don’t be dead. How will I explain this to the people that pass through here?” I grabbed his helmet, pulling it off him, seeing the bearded man’s brown eyes staring up at me. He was still alive, though barely. A gloved hand reached for my tunic, tugging me forward.
“Heh, Radish eater.” He said before falling back dead. Wasting his last word on an insult. When he passed, I felt a rush of energy, like I had eaten a bunch of fermented fruit. Everything tingled with a strange aura of energy and soon my muscles developed, growing a few extra inches while thick green vines enveloped my arms.
The tight grip of the vines should have caused pain and yet it felt pleasant, like they belonged pressed against my skin. For once I felt powerful, leaning my body back as the plants raised themselves from the ground to hold me up, offering me a back rest.
“This is incredible.” I rose from my spot beside the fallen adventurer, raising my hands as the surrounding soil twisted, reviving the trampled plants, causing them to spring to life, swaying along with the sunny breeze. “Finally, I can keep those heroes off my garden.” I felt a small amount of relief at that thought. It would be nice to not be a joke anymore. Maybe I would even earn their respect.
“Bullith?” A voice called out, watching as a smaller knight pushed through the shrubbery around my home, only to stare at me with a horrified expression, seeing me standing over their fallen hero with arms outstretched. “You murderer.” They hissed, drawing their sword.
“I didn’t. It’s a misunderstanding. He fell on my plants I swear.” Unfortunately, the hero didn’t seem to care about my failing attempts at explaining my innocence, only charging towards my garden. I put my hands up to block the attack, and the plants responded, rising from the soil to form a protective barricade. I could hear metal thumping against plant but no matter how hard he cut; the wall held.
“Fell on plants? You expect me to believe that would kill the mighty Bullith? I will bury your head next to him as a trophy.” The hero dramatically wailed, unable to even cut a hole in my defenses. I kept one hand raised to hold my defenses while the other hand scooped down, using a set of roots to pick up the body, tossing Bullith out of the garden, towards the other hero.
“Here’s his body. I promise you will find no wounds on him. If you just put your sword away, I’m sure we can discuss this respectfully.” I expected the sound of the thumping to stop, only to hear a shriek followed by even more frantic slashes.
“YOU KILLED HIM, HE’S REALLY DEAD. I WILL DRIVE MY SWORD THOUGH YOUR THROAT.” His threats were empty, unable to even break a hole in my defenses, but that wasn’t what concerned me. It was the other voices that I could hear in the distance, each one getting attracted to the hero’s screams. I could handle one hero, but two or three? Eventually, they would outnumber me.
Searching for a way out, I glanced at the bushes surrounding my quaint cottage. I hated the idea of leaving my garden, but it had to be done. I lowered my defenses and put my focus into the bushes instead, growing them around the garden, making a thick, confusing wall of greenery that would hide me until I got into the forest.
The bushes were a maze, the tall thick shrubbery impossible for anyone else to navigate. For me, it was simple. I would keep walking straight until I hit a dead end. Once I encountered that, I would open the dead end and continue. After a few minutes of walking, I finally reached the forest that surrounded my cottage, able to still hear their confused curses behind me. I considered freeing them, but thought better of it. If I dropped the maze, they would only try to capture or kill me. I needed time to escape.
With nowhere else to go, I headed north, making my way to the small village of Tuntail. Maybe someone there could use a person with my skills?
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | Tabitha rested briefly after harvesting sixty carrots in the humid, virtual sun. The beads of sweat that accumulated on her forehead felt real as day, and they felt even more real when she wiped them away with the back of her hand. Her red pigtails fell to her shoulders, which was covered by a pink floral shirt and some dirty denim overalls. She rolled the bottom of her overalls up to her calf, revealing long pink socks tucked into practical work boots.
"When does this game become fun, Macy?"
Her question was directed to her friend who was playing another support class -- a farmer. She wore similar overalls over a green shirt, but instead of being armed with a trowel and mini rake, the farmer was equipped with a pitchfork. Tabitha's friend sheepishly smiled with a long piece of straw in her mouth and tilted her straw hat back, revealing a forehead even sweatier than Tabitha's.
"Well, I wasn't expecting you to get stuck as a gardener...but it's all random. That's some bad luck, huh?"
"If I wanted to harvest carrots, I'd move into the country," Tabitha paused as she picked a carrot that she planted five minutes ago. It sprung up with a satisfying coin-like noise. "Although, I do like the sounds."
Tabitha planted a few more carrots in a line on her friend's farm. The sun hung high in the air and the clouds moved lazily across the perfectly blue sky. Macy owned a tiny farmhouse, one that she was able to purchase after putting in time as a stable hand for other players. It took a while, but she finally had land to harvest and was secretly glad her friend rolled a similar support class. A gardener and farmer synchronize greatly.
"Pull up your stats, I want to see what kind of moves you have," beckoned Macy.
Tabitha lifted her hand in the air and made it into a fist for five seconds. She released the fist and an 8-bit pixelated menu popped up in front of them. At the top, it showed a picture of Tabitha's avatar with an intimidating empty bar under it to keep track of her experience points. Most of her stats were D-rank, not excelling in anything except for her stamina which shined yellow as a C-rank.
"Click on 'Moves.'"
Tabitha did as her friend instructed and tapped the menu item that was labeled "Moves." It pulled up a new pixelated menu screen with two items listed: "Plant Carrot" and "Harvest Carrot."
"Well, that's not very exciting," frowned Tabitha. Macy giggled.
"Maybe we have to find some seeds to expand your moveset! The real problem is your experience bar. I've never heard of a gardener getting to level 2. You have a looooong way to go."
"Let's just quit and go to a bar or something."
Macy sneered, but the whimsical gesture suddenly turned serious as she spotted a dark figure in the distance riding on a horse. "Oh no," she muttered.
Tabitha turned around to see what made her friend turn serious. It was another player, as indicted by the red triangle above his head. The red color of the triangle also indicated that the player had his "Player vs. Player" mode activated, allowing him to attack other players who opted into PvP mode.
"At least he can't take what we harvested already," said Macy, as the player charged towards the two. "He's lucky he rolled a Dark Knight, a rare attacker class. He'll just trash the place and move on after he realizes he can't kill us." Macy sighed, knowing she would have to spend more time fixing up her farm and getting it back to the productivity level that it's at now.
"Any idea why he's not slowing down?" questioned Tabitha. Macy looked at her friend, and then to the Dark Knight. She looked back to her friend, and then once more at the Dark Knight that now pulled out a lance and aimed it towards Tabitha, with no intention of stopping. Macy had just noticed the red triangle above Tabitha's head.
"You opted in for PvP?!"
"I didn't know what it meant at the time!"
Macy brought her hand to her face. "Don't worry it doesn't hurt, I've died countless times." she reassured Tabitha. "Maybe you'll feel a pinch."
"What????" panicked Tabitha. The Dark Knight was closing in on his prey, now only a couple of meters away from the low-level gardener. His mighty steed picked up speed and the knight readied his lance towards Tabitha's face. Just as he was about to strike, however, one of the horse's front hooves became caught on the line of carrots Tabitha had planted earlier.
The horse fell forward, launching the dark knight behind the girls and towards Macy's farmhouse. He landed violently just short of the porch, with his gut completely impaled onto his lance. Within seconds, he burst into a million little pieces.
Tabitha's character burst a celebratory gold explosion three times in a row to Macy's amazement. Tabitha looked around, completely confused. Not knowing what else to do, she pulled up her character menu. The once empty bar had filled three times, revealing her to be level 4.
"Holy crap, Tabitha!!" Macy was still in shock. She only received partial experience due to owning the land where the battle happened, but Tabitha received full experience due to landing the killing blow with her deadly carrots. But it wasn't the experience that Macy was surprised by, it was one minor detail on the menu.
"Tabitha," she began, still looking for words. "It doesn't say you're a support class anymore...it says you're a summoner!" | 2021-11-12T11:42:53 | 2021-09-27T12:31:06 | 1,235 | 315 |
[WP] You, a low rank adventurer who got stuck with the gardener class, have to put up with the higher ranked adventures trampling your garden and making fun of you. One day a famous adventurer trips on one of your plants and dies. Your level skyrockets. No other gardener has ever leveled up before. | “Please, around the roses.” I called out, trying to salvage my garden. It was impossible to be a gardener class in an age of warriors and mages. No one cared about the little gardener boy who was just trying to maintain a healthy system of flora. No, if my plants couldn’t fire lightning bolts or wield a sword, they wanted nothing to do with me.
I could see the culprit in the distance, a burly bear like man dressed in heavy plated armor, the metallic clanks drifting from him with every stride he took. “HAHA, my grandmother has the same hobby as you noble gardener and she eats radishes.” I wasn’t sure what the insult was there, but he said it with enough gusto that I still felt embarrassed, watching him trample each of my lovely plants to death only to trip. Time seemed to slow in that moment as he fell, only for the heavy thud of his body to leave a dent in the soil below.
“Um, you, ok?” I inched my way towards the man, crouching at his side. I gave his chest plate a cautious poke before giving his head a few frantic shakes. “Oh, no. Come on, don’t be dead. How will I explain this to the people that pass through here?” I grabbed his helmet, pulling it off him, seeing the bearded man’s brown eyes staring up at me. He was still alive, though barely. A gloved hand reached for my tunic, tugging me forward.
“Heh, Radish eater.” He said before falling back dead. Wasting his last word on an insult. When he passed, I felt a rush of energy, like I had eaten a bunch of fermented fruit. Everything tingled with a strange aura of energy and soon my muscles developed, growing a few extra inches while thick green vines enveloped my arms.
The tight grip of the vines should have caused pain and yet it felt pleasant, like they belonged pressed against my skin. For once I felt powerful, leaning my body back as the plants raised themselves from the ground to hold me up, offering me a back rest.
“This is incredible.” I rose from my spot beside the fallen adventurer, raising my hands as the surrounding soil twisted, reviving the trampled plants, causing them to spring to life, swaying along with the sunny breeze. “Finally, I can keep those heroes off my garden.” I felt a small amount of relief at that thought. It would be nice to not be a joke anymore. Maybe I would even earn their respect.
“Bullith?” A voice called out, watching as a smaller knight pushed through the shrubbery around my home, only to stare at me with a horrified expression, seeing me standing over their fallen hero with arms outstretched. “You murderer.” They hissed, drawing their sword.
“I didn’t. It’s a misunderstanding. He fell on my plants I swear.” Unfortunately, the hero didn’t seem to care about my failing attempts at explaining my innocence, only charging towards my garden. I put my hands up to block the attack, and the plants responded, rising from the soil to form a protective barricade. I could hear metal thumping against plant but no matter how hard he cut; the wall held.
“Fell on plants? You expect me to believe that would kill the mighty Bullith? I will bury your head next to him as a trophy.” The hero dramatically wailed, unable to even cut a hole in my defenses. I kept one hand raised to hold my defenses while the other hand scooped down, using a set of roots to pick up the body, tossing Bullith out of the garden, towards the other hero.
“Here’s his body. I promise you will find no wounds on him. If you just put your sword away, I’m sure we can discuss this respectfully.” I expected the sound of the thumping to stop, only to hear a shriek followed by even more frantic slashes.
“YOU KILLED HIM, HE’S REALLY DEAD. I WILL DRIVE MY SWORD THOUGH YOUR THROAT.” His threats were empty, unable to even break a hole in my defenses, but that wasn’t what concerned me. It was the other voices that I could hear in the distance, each one getting attracted to the hero’s screams. I could handle one hero, but two or three? Eventually, they would outnumber me.
Searching for a way out, I glanced at the bushes surrounding my quaint cottage. I hated the idea of leaving my garden, but it had to be done. I lowered my defenses and put my focus into the bushes instead, growing them around the garden, making a thick, confusing wall of greenery that would hide me until I got into the forest.
The bushes were a maze, the tall thick shrubbery impossible for anyone else to navigate. For me, it was simple. I would keep walking straight until I hit a dead end. Once I encountered that, I would open the dead end and continue. After a few minutes of walking, I finally reached the forest that surrounded my cottage, able to still hear their confused curses behind me. I considered freeing them, but thought better of it. If I dropped the maze, they would only try to capture or kill me. I needed time to escape.
With nowhere else to go, I headed north, making my way to the small village of Tuntail. Maybe someone there could use a person with my skills?
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | Sun gleams off burnished armor as Sir Tristran winds his way through the garden paths. If a man looks too hard it would burn his eyes, that armor, but Sir Tristran wears it anyway. He likes men blinded, squinting at him. Better still if they are on their knees, better still if they've been beaten bloody. I have no guilt over my plans for him.
Exquisite plans, exquisite planning. A gardener I must be, so say all the scrolls, but they say nothing of the manner of gardener. Nor do they say anything of the manner of man.
I have chosen to be a clever man. A man who takes his life into his own hands.
Sir Tristran walks through the gardens, picking here and there the most prized blossoms from my carefully tended beds. As I knew he would. He is a vain man, Sir Tristran, and he thinks the world exists in his service. The world has not disabused him of that notion. Neither, I suspect, will the lady awaiting him in the greenhouses beyond, even if he sweats like a pig in his pristine, preposterous armor.
But this is fine. I shall disabuse him myself.
Sir Tristran is a knight in the old way. He has squires, men at arms, stable boys, groomsmen. He has cooks and maids and a majordomo and the entire apparatus of a rich man's house. And all of them talk. They talk freely to me, a simple gardener, and what might have been secrets sold to a better man are simple gossip traded for me. A hint from a stablehand, mentioned in passing when I gave him the perfect bouquet with which to woo the maid. A tantalizing clue from the cook, spicy news about spices and herbs traded for a flower to thread through her hair. A story from a grizzled man at arms, a fellow of some three score years who had served Sir Tristran's father before him. A story of far off lands and a harrowing fight. And of the valley where Sir Tristran grew very, very ill, all told over mugs of cheap beer.
I am a gardener. It is my job to procure flowers, herbs, all manner of grown things. When people speak in passing of the flower that grows in a distant valley I listen. When they tell of the spice made from the dried leaves of that distant flower that once for an entire dinner course rejected, I listen. When they tell a story of a horse and rider, whose symbol was the ornate, weeping leaves of a purple flower, a symbol that terrified a great knight beyond any reasonable measure, I listen.
And I purchase. And I seed.
My plan is nothing so obvious as the flowers. No. Never that. I made other inquiries, I learned the flowers of the bouquets Sir Tristran favors for his conquests. I planted them along the garden path, laced the best of them with the purest essence of that rare foreign flower, I watched with bated breath as the great knight picked the very bouquet I had suspected!
I follow him now, a number of discreet paces back. He goes to meet his lady in the greenhouse.
When Sir Tristran opens the door the hot air is an assault. He steps back, gasps slightly. Then he grins manfully, as if the heat is only another challenge to be conquered, and he charges forward. The lady is resplendent in a sensible open backed gown of light cotton. Smiles are exchanged, inanely pleasant words. He is a charmer, that Sir Tristran.
She inquires after the flowers. "Oh, these?" Sir Tristran says casually, so casually. As if he might actually have forgotten he'd brought them! He leans down, breathes deeply of their sweet scent, and then moves in towards her.
"Alas," he says, "they don't smell half so good as you."
His eyes are already watering as he hands her the bouquet. He sweats harder, grows pale. Scarcely a minute has passed and his breath grows labored, a great, watery rasp within the burnished coffin of his armor!
"Sir Tristran, is something amiss?" she asks, eyes so wide, so bright, the bouquet clutched tight to her chest.
"Nothing at all," he says, veins bulging in his neck and forehead.
Then he stumbles and trips, pitching forward across a bed of roses as the lady shrieks.
The scrolls decreed me a gardener, and a gardener I am. But a gardener with eyes, ears, and a will to use them. A gardener who knows a deathly serious allergy when he hears of one, and can sense the wealth of experience boiling like a cauldron inside the dying man's armour. It calls to me, a small voice veiled in the space between Sir Tristran's gurgles. It calls.
Soon his writhing slows. Everything slows. The power within him appears as a thin line of gold flowing towards me, only for our eyes to see. It happens in an instant, the instant before his death. Enough time that Sir Tristran knows it is me that killed him.
His eyes widen. I'd thought the lady's were wide but his are impossible saucers, filled to the brim with horror. His mouth is a little O of words unspoken. For him, I think, the greatest horror is to have been killed by a simple gardener.
The lady sees me. She screams for help through the glass wall of the greenhouse and I run off dutifully, taking refuge in my position. A simple gardener. As the scrolls intended.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
If you enjoyed that I've got tons more at r/TurningtoWords. Come check it out, I'd love to have you! | 2021-11-12T11:42:53 | 2021-09-09T18:34:58 | 1,235 | 182 |
[WP] You, a low rank adventurer who got stuck with the gardener class, have to put up with the higher ranked adventures trampling your garden and making fun of you. One day a famous adventurer trips on one of your plants and dies. Your level skyrockets. No other gardener has ever leveled up before. | “Please, around the roses.” I called out, trying to salvage my garden. It was impossible to be a gardener class in an age of warriors and mages. No one cared about the little gardener boy who was just trying to maintain a healthy system of flora. No, if my plants couldn’t fire lightning bolts or wield a sword, they wanted nothing to do with me.
I could see the culprit in the distance, a burly bear like man dressed in heavy plated armor, the metallic clanks drifting from him with every stride he took. “HAHA, my grandmother has the same hobby as you noble gardener and she eats radishes.” I wasn’t sure what the insult was there, but he said it with enough gusto that I still felt embarrassed, watching him trample each of my lovely plants to death only to trip. Time seemed to slow in that moment as he fell, only for the heavy thud of his body to leave a dent in the soil below.
“Um, you, ok?” I inched my way towards the man, crouching at his side. I gave his chest plate a cautious poke before giving his head a few frantic shakes. “Oh, no. Come on, don’t be dead. How will I explain this to the people that pass through here?” I grabbed his helmet, pulling it off him, seeing the bearded man’s brown eyes staring up at me. He was still alive, though barely. A gloved hand reached for my tunic, tugging me forward.
“Heh, Radish eater.” He said before falling back dead. Wasting his last word on an insult. When he passed, I felt a rush of energy, like I had eaten a bunch of fermented fruit. Everything tingled with a strange aura of energy and soon my muscles developed, growing a few extra inches while thick green vines enveloped my arms.
The tight grip of the vines should have caused pain and yet it felt pleasant, like they belonged pressed against my skin. For once I felt powerful, leaning my body back as the plants raised themselves from the ground to hold me up, offering me a back rest.
“This is incredible.” I rose from my spot beside the fallen adventurer, raising my hands as the surrounding soil twisted, reviving the trampled plants, causing them to spring to life, swaying along with the sunny breeze. “Finally, I can keep those heroes off my garden.” I felt a small amount of relief at that thought. It would be nice to not be a joke anymore. Maybe I would even earn their respect.
“Bullith?” A voice called out, watching as a smaller knight pushed through the shrubbery around my home, only to stare at me with a horrified expression, seeing me standing over their fallen hero with arms outstretched. “You murderer.” They hissed, drawing their sword.
“I didn’t. It’s a misunderstanding. He fell on my plants I swear.” Unfortunately, the hero didn’t seem to care about my failing attempts at explaining my innocence, only charging towards my garden. I put my hands up to block the attack, and the plants responded, rising from the soil to form a protective barricade. I could hear metal thumping against plant but no matter how hard he cut; the wall held.
“Fell on plants? You expect me to believe that would kill the mighty Bullith? I will bury your head next to him as a trophy.” The hero dramatically wailed, unable to even cut a hole in my defenses. I kept one hand raised to hold my defenses while the other hand scooped down, using a set of roots to pick up the body, tossing Bullith out of the garden, towards the other hero.
“Here’s his body. I promise you will find no wounds on him. If you just put your sword away, I’m sure we can discuss this respectfully.” I expected the sound of the thumping to stop, only to hear a shriek followed by even more frantic slashes.
“YOU KILLED HIM, HE’S REALLY DEAD. I WILL DRIVE MY SWORD THOUGH YOUR THROAT.” His threats were empty, unable to even break a hole in my defenses, but that wasn’t what concerned me. It was the other voices that I could hear in the distance, each one getting attracted to the hero’s screams. I could handle one hero, but two or three? Eventually, they would outnumber me.
Searching for a way out, I glanced at the bushes surrounding my quaint cottage. I hated the idea of leaving my garden, but it had to be done. I lowered my defenses and put my focus into the bushes instead, growing them around the garden, making a thick, confusing wall of greenery that would hide me until I got into the forest.
The bushes were a maze, the tall thick shrubbery impossible for anyone else to navigate. For me, it was simple. I would keep walking straight until I hit a dead end. Once I encountered that, I would open the dead end and continue. After a few minutes of walking, I finally reached the forest that surrounded my cottage, able to still hear their confused curses behind me. I considered freeing them, but thought better of it. If I dropped the maze, they would only try to capture or kill me. I needed time to escape.
With nowhere else to go, I headed north, making my way to the small village of Tuntail. Maybe someone there could use a person with my skills?
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | It wasn’t that Iris hated them, exactly. They did, after all, provide a valuable service to the kingdom. She wasn’t likely to get much of her weeding done if a dragon popped by and smoked out the castle every other fortnight. But the adventurers did have a particular gift for getting on her nerves. The paladins were often nice enough. They were raised with army discipline, after all, and they would usually apologize for wandering all over her flower beds if she pointed out the damage they had caused. But by next week they would have forgotten their promises to watch their step and her budding tulips would be destroyed again. The rogues and swashbucklers rarely came to the garden at all, except perhaps at night, but their light steps weren’t usually a problem even if they did step somewhere they shouldn’t have. Bards were tricky. She had chased three generations of bards out of her rosebushes and had resorted to, in at least one memorable case, a cold bucket of water over a particularly amorous bard and his lady love. The insults and mockeries had at least been creative, that time.
On the whole, adventurers were probably a net positive, but she strongly preferred they kept out of her gardens. And as head Royal Gardener, she had no problem telling them as such. So, when a large man in black armor strode into the royal roses without a care in the world, she grabbed her trowel and clippers and went to give him what-for.
“You! Yes, you there! Where do you think you’re going?” The man paused, and a black horned helmet turned towards her. “Not another step, do you hear me?” The man gave no reply. She couldn’t see his face under the helmet, but she was sure he would start yelling back as soon as he realized he was being chastised by nothing more than a low-level gardener. “Take that silly helmet off and look where you’re about to step.”
The man looked down, but the movement was impeded somewhat by the ridiculous chest plate he was sporting – black, covered in spikes, and certainly much larger than his actual chest. “What?” he said, finally.
“I said, take that ridiculous thing off your head and pay some attention to where you’re going. You’re about to stomp all over my garden beds and I’m telling you, you will regret it.” Iris crossed her arms in defiance and glared at the man. Idiot probably hadn’t even noticed he was in a garden.
The man slowly reached up and removed his helmet, then peered down at the bush he had been about to trample, “What is it?”
“It’s a Pink Swallowtailed Sun Runner, a gift from the Archduke of Runden and a particular favorite of the old Queen and I’ll thank you not to disturb it.” She sniffed with disdain. The silly clutch probably had no idea how much work a Sun Runner was to keep happy this far north.
The man blinked slowly, staring at the delicate, pink flowers, “Is it carnivorous?”
Iris almost dropped her trowel, “…. it’s a rosebush.”
“Oh.” The man looked up from the roses and straight at her. He had cold, grey eyes that would have been more intimidating if the face they belonged to had not been twisted up in utter bafflement. “Are you a wizard?”
She arched an eyebrow, “No, I’m the head Royal Gardener.”
He blinked at her again, a snake’s double eyelid prolonging the motion, “A…. gardener?”
“The gardener, thank you very much. You may think you’re all high and mighty in your fancy get-up and everything, but I’ve been working these gardens longer than you’ve been alive, lad. Have some respect.”
His hand crept to the hilt of a large black sword that hung from his waist, “Are you … dangerous?”
She shook her trowel at him, “I will be if you don’t get out of my rose garden.” He stared at her as if she might start breathing fire at him. She was rather enjoying this, usually the stupid hunks just yelled back and then stomped all over everything, anyway. “Look, I can see you’re new here, so I’ll let you off just this once. Just don’t think you can start using my gardens as a shortcut all the time. Even if you do manage not to put your enormous boots in anything delicate, the grass just can’t take the traffic. Now, where are you trying to get to?”
He slowly let go of the sword, “…King’s chambers. I have…business with him.”
The eyebrow crept up, again, “That’s odd. Usually, the King spends his Saturday mornings at the stables. Has since he was a boy. You’d be more likely to find him there.”
“Oh.” His hand crept back to his sword and rubbed the blood-red jewel set into it. It flickered menacingly. “Where would I find the stables?”
Iris shook her head at him – this is why she kept asking Sir Merrick to hand out maps to all the new recruits. The castle was confusing on purpose to keep invaders from finding their way around, but it was a real nuisance to the day-to-day operations of the place. “You’re on the wrong side of the castle, completely. You’ll want to go back the way you came, keep straight until you hit the Great Hall. Turn left and go through the kitchens and you’ll be able to see the pastures. The stable is just on the other side, past the mews.”
A small smile crept on to his face. It wasn’t a pleasant smile. “Thank you for your … assistance.”
“That’s my job. Just remember – watch where you’re going!”
He turned, glanced back at her for a moment, then rushed towards the door he had come from. Iris shouted in exasperation, “WHAT DID I JUST TELL YOU ABOUT-!” | 2021-11-12T11:42:53 | 2021-09-10T06:16:00 | 1,235 | 12 |
[WP] You, a low rank adventurer who got stuck with the gardener class, have to put up with the higher ranked adventures trampling your garden and making fun of you. One day a famous adventurer trips on one of your plants and dies. Your level skyrockets. No other gardener has ever leveled up before. | Tabitha rested briefly after harvesting sixty carrots in the humid, virtual sun. The beads of sweat that accumulated on her forehead felt real as day, and they felt even more real when she wiped them away with the back of her hand. Her red pigtails fell to her shoulders, which was covered by a pink floral shirt and some dirty denim overalls. She rolled the bottom of her overalls up to her calf, revealing long pink socks tucked into practical work boots.
"When does this game become fun, Macy?"
Her question was directed to her friend who was playing another support class -- a farmer. She wore similar overalls over a green shirt, but instead of being armed with a trowel and mini rake, the farmer was equipped with a pitchfork. Tabitha's friend sheepishly smiled with a long piece of straw in her mouth and tilted her straw hat back, revealing a forehead even sweatier than Tabitha's.
"Well, I wasn't expecting you to get stuck as a gardener...but it's all random. That's some bad luck, huh?"
"If I wanted to harvest carrots, I'd move into the country," Tabitha paused as she picked a carrot that she planted five minutes ago. It sprung up with a satisfying coin-like noise. "Although, I do like the sounds."
Tabitha planted a few more carrots in a line on her friend's farm. The sun hung high in the air and the clouds moved lazily across the perfectly blue sky. Macy owned a tiny farmhouse, one that she was able to purchase after putting in time as a stable hand for other players. It took a while, but she finally had land to harvest and was secretly glad her friend rolled a similar support class. A gardener and farmer synchronize greatly.
"Pull up your stats, I want to see what kind of moves you have," beckoned Macy.
Tabitha lifted her hand in the air and made it into a fist for five seconds. She released the fist and an 8-bit pixelated menu popped up in front of them. At the top, it showed a picture of Tabitha's avatar with an intimidating empty bar under it to keep track of her experience points. Most of her stats were D-rank, not excelling in anything except for her stamina which shined yellow as a C-rank.
"Click on 'Moves.'"
Tabitha did as her friend instructed and tapped the menu item that was labeled "Moves." It pulled up a new pixelated menu screen with two items listed: "Plant Carrot" and "Harvest Carrot."
"Well, that's not very exciting," frowned Tabitha. Macy giggled.
"Maybe we have to find some seeds to expand your moveset! The real problem is your experience bar. I've never heard of a gardener getting to level 2. You have a looooong way to go."
"Let's just quit and go to a bar or something."
Macy sneered, but the whimsical gesture suddenly turned serious as she spotted a dark figure in the distance riding on a horse. "Oh no," she muttered.
Tabitha turned around to see what made her friend turn serious. It was another player, as indicted by the red triangle above his head. The red color of the triangle also indicated that the player had his "Player vs. Player" mode activated, allowing him to attack other players who opted into PvP mode.
"At least he can't take what we harvested already," said Macy, as the player charged towards the two. "He's lucky he rolled a Dark Knight, a rare attacker class. He'll just trash the place and move on after he realizes he can't kill us." Macy sighed, knowing she would have to spend more time fixing up her farm and getting it back to the productivity level that it's at now.
"Any idea why he's not slowing down?" questioned Tabitha. Macy looked at her friend, and then to the Dark Knight. She looked back to her friend, and then once more at the Dark Knight that now pulled out a lance and aimed it towards Tabitha, with no intention of stopping. Macy had just noticed the red triangle above Tabitha's head.
"You opted in for PvP?!"
"I didn't know what it meant at the time!"
Macy brought her hand to her face. "Don't worry it doesn't hurt, I've died countless times." she reassured Tabitha. "Maybe you'll feel a pinch."
"What????" panicked Tabitha. The Dark Knight was closing in on his prey, now only a couple of meters away from the low-level gardener. His mighty steed picked up speed and the knight readied his lance towards Tabitha's face. Just as he was about to strike, however, one of the horse's front hooves became caught on the line of carrots Tabitha had planted earlier.
The horse fell forward, launching the dark knight behind the girls and towards Macy's farmhouse. He landed violently just short of the porch, with his gut completely impaled onto his lance. Within seconds, he burst into a million little pieces.
Tabitha's character burst a celebratory gold explosion three times in a row to Macy's amazement. Tabitha looked around, completely confused. Not knowing what else to do, she pulled up her character menu. The once empty bar had filled three times, revealing her to be level 4.
"Holy crap, Tabitha!!" Macy was still in shock. She only received partial experience due to owning the land where the battle happened, but Tabitha received full experience due to landing the killing blow with her deadly carrots. But it wasn't the experience that Macy was surprised by, it was one minor detail on the menu.
"Tabitha," she began, still looking for words. "It doesn't say you're a support class anymore...it says you're a summoner!" | Life is a cycle of birth, reproduction, and death. This is natural. And we all have our roles to play in the symbiotic relationship of society. I am one of many who feed the adventurers, they protect me. It has never truly bothered me that they don't understand this, any more than it bothers the leaves that the bark doesn't understand what they provide to the tree.
Still, a little appreciation would be nice. I try to be humble, but I am no saint.
It was not the first time Gaknar the Glorious trod through my garden, heedless of the damage he was doing. I tolerated him -- what else could I do, anyway? But really, I wanted to. It had been Gaknar that singlehandedly cut down the orcs who would have happily slaughtered us. If I had to deal with a little belligerence for this, I was okay with it.
"You have dirt on your face again," the oafish warrior sneered at me. His eyes roamed the rest of my body hungrily. Thus far I'd not had to deal with him deciding this was also a need he would take from me. Still, i purposely made sure I was filthy every time he was around.
"Yes, sir," I said meekly, self-consciously pushing a lock of red hair from my eyes, and then turned around so I didn't have to meet his gaze. I bent over, pretending to pull weeds from the garden.
This might have been a horrible mistake. Gaknar appreciated me more from this angle, and might have stopped to investigate further, if his foot hadn't caught on that root. I heard a surprised shout, and a sickening, crunching wet thud. Turning around, Gaknar had fallen sideways onto the hoe I had left lying on the ground, which had split his skull like a melon. It had always been said he was too proud to wear a "bucket" on his head like any responsible warrior would. I guess pride truly was dangerous.
But something odd was happening. I felt *invigorated.* I felt connected to the soil, to the plants, in ways I had never felt before. My consciousness was extending -- I felt every blade of grass in the village, every branch, twig and leaf on every tree, swaying in the wind, and stranger still, I knew *they felt me.* They knew me. And they would respond to my call.
Still, someone was going to have to deal with Gaknar. The kingdom needed him. I would take his body to the village elders, and they would know what to do. But how would I lift it?
I didn't need to think about this. Upon even wondering, my pumpkin plants decided to do it for me. The vines were actually moving autonomously, wrapping around Gaknar's body, cradling it gently, and placing it in my cart.
*They would know what to do.*
-------------------------------------------------
The mayor had been so mortified I thought he would join Gaknar in death. Gaknar's party would need to be informed. The council had already dispatched messengers to them, and in their wisdom, they had decided *I* would explain Gaknar's death to his friends. And so we stood in the village square, with the mayor making a show of mourning the champion. It was Prime Seria who responded to the summons first, her armored warhorse clomping loudly up the road, her silvered armor gleaming in the sun. The battlemage got down off her mount, a look of shock on her face. She knelt at Gaknar's side, closed her eyes and placed her hand on his forehead, murmuring and chanting in some arcane ancient tongue. Finally she opened her eyes and looked up at us, dramatically, before stating.
"This is beyond my ability to heal."
Somehow they all looked shocked. The mayor began wailing again. An Elderman began proclaiming tides of woe for the kingdom. Confused, I turned to the Prime and scratched my head.
"Well, yeah. He's dead. The top half of his head is nearly disconnected from the bottom. His brains mostly leaked out into my cart. I don't think healing is what he needs."
The Prime narrowed her eyes, not used to a villager speaking back to her. "What would you know, gardener?"
"I know when the leaf is cut from the stem, no amount of gardening will make it grow again." There was a cackling, creaking noise from the great white oak at the village center, which set everyone on edge except for me. The Prime's hand went to the axe at her belt and she looked at the tree as if it were possessed.
"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," I suggested, meekly. "It doesn't like axes."
Prime Seria was not one to be dissuaded from responding to a threat, however. She took her duty to protect the kingdom from evil quite seriously. Ignoring me, she stared at the great white oak that had been in the village for a century, and up until now had never laughed at anyone.
"What manner of vile witchery is this?" she demanded of the tree. The tree, not all that fond of bloodshed, decided to remain silent. But the Prime wasn't buying it. She knew what she had heard. She raised her axe above her head and pointed at the tree. "Demon, you cannot hide from me inside of lumber!" She shouted, before charging.
You know, thinking back on it, if I knew then what I know now, I could probably have stopped what happened next. But these abilities were new to me, and I just watched in morbid curiosity, while the tree's branches reached down and pushed themselves through the battlemage from mouth through buttocks, before spreading apart and ripping the mage asunder in a spray of viscera and gore that, if I'm honest, the grass appreciated. The city square was not as well tended as my garden.
"Well, fuck," I said, as the mayor fainted. But once again, that strange feeling of invigoration had returned... | 2021-09-27T12:31:06 | 2021-09-10T03:57:10 | 315 | 17 |
[WP] In the early 22nd century, mankind is invaded by an alien power. As war rages on across the Solar System, our situation feels hopeless. Until another fleet of starships reaches the Solar System and they help us turn the tides basically overnight. Turns out our saviors are... human. | *Message from LTJG Simmons, Jay. to Simmons, Carla.*
*Message as follows.*
"We always joked about it, ah that is humanity always joked about it, about aliens visiting earth during the younger years of our species first civilizations. If only we had known the truth before this war started."
"They had just broken past the Jupiter Refueling Port after a solid week of continuous fighting and the Fleet was powering towards Mars. If we couldn't hold them there, Earth would fall. We had the support of the Athena mass drivers to provide fire support. Who knew those massive cannons that were built to blow planet killing asteroids out of the sky would be good for busting starships? We certainly didn't."
"You should've seen the opening of the battle, Mum. It was like nothing else. The whole fleet opening up on those bastards with salvo after salvo from the Athena cannons lancing between the the ships. Mars's own surface batteries tearing apart enemy warships, and not to mention the Eye of Phobos taking out enemy ships like they were nothing. But even then we still couldn't hold them."
"You've probably seen the news by now. About the reinforcing fleet that showed up to help us at L3 as we made our retreat. Their ships were something else, Mum. Beautifully ornate in their design and stunningly lethal in their weapons. Compared to our own ships, I wonder where the designers went wrong?"
"We signaled for them to send an emissary to the surface of Mars after we had retaken the planet with their help. We were shocked to see that they were human! They called themselves Norsemen, and from the way they spoke it seems their ancestors found some sort of ancient device that warped them to the Aries Arm of the galaxy that was filled with alien tech. Over the centuries they made it their own either by reverse engineering it or just figuring out how it works to begin with."
"They told us of their war with the same empire that is attacking us. And how because they haven't been able to defeat the Norsemen, they've been hunting for other colonies to hit and stumbled across Earth and the Sol System."
"Mum, I'm coming home. Admiral Hendry has assigned my ship as part of the escort fleet tasked with bringing the Norsemen flagship Hand of Odin back to Earth while the rest of their warfleet helps chase the invaders from the system. They've agreed to share their technology with us to help us advance our own world and to set up Bifrost Gates so that we can travel between their home world, Midgard, and Earth."
"I've been speaking with one of their fleet troopers, who calls herself a Shieldmaiden, and you'd think she walked straight from the pages of the history books on the Vikings. We're nearing the Lunar defence line now. I'll see you soon Mum."
*sending.......*
*sending.......*
*sending.......*
*message sent.* | we never really thought they were lying about the whole thing. oh we has suspicions about their motives, and questioned their purported friendliness. but we never really doubted that they had actually been stranded here. their story was fairly simple, its actually two very old stories that fit well together. "my car broke down, can i stay here 'til i can fix it?" and "im on the run form someone that is hostile to all of us"
they kept their "broken" ship in the edges of the solar system, and built their habitat closer in but still farther away than we could easily scout with our own primitive vessels. it seemed fine, it was non-threatening. they shared some of the benefits of their technology with us, medical stations and cleaner energy, but only small things, and never the underlying mechanics. then came the demands.
it was kept secret fom most everyone, and no threats were ever made but tehe benefits were too great to pass up, and after all "they were doing so much for us" and its not like we had anything we could pay such an advanced civilization with. it was necessary they said, it would take so long to repair their ship that the people needed to have children and the gene pool of the crew was just too small. and more thna that it was about love it wasnt fiar to the crew that they could now never fall in love and have a partner, in the end its the least that the people of earth could do for them.
it all made sense because we never doubted the premise, we never doubted that they really were stranded out here. they had committed to the bit completely, never sening detectable signals in or out of system, no sneaking people back and forth. complaining about the food from earth but eating it anyways.
the battle was swift, not quite over before we saw it but close, by the time we were being colecctivly shocked at the desruction of the surprisingly well armed alien ship the attacking fleet was already on its way to earth. alarms screeched in bases across the world, this was "Them", the nemesis of our benefactors. we had been warned about them since our aliens had first arrived, told about their atrocities. imagine our surprise when the face of our doom was... our own?
The admiral was in a good mood, today had been an especially good day for his career. first he had managed to encounter hostiles on what he had thought would be the most boring asignemnt of his life. second he had managed to defeat an enemy battleship, a quarry normally just beyond his meagre fleets capabilty. now it was a battleship with oddly cold engines, deficient and concealed weapons and uncharged shields, but that could be put in the footnotes of his report. third reports from the marines storming the alien habitat were reporting a large density of nobles. fourth he had discovered a seeded planet, the strategic location was not important, hence whay he was here in the first place, but bringing humans into the fold was always a cause for celebration in the commonwealth. | 2021-10-30T04:19:53 | 2021-10-30T04:10:49 | 74 | 18 |
[WP] When the cataclysm brought magic back to the world, many people changed into other races, dwarves, elves, anything the human mind could imagine suddenly existed. Your best friend became a dragon ... you turned into a xenomorph. Now the dragons want to have the mountain you hived in... | The hive was rustling, it hadn’t been this restless since the transformation took place. He’d always admired them, they were his all time favorite fictional monster, but never in a million years did he realize he would be transformed into a Xenomorph queen. Long forgetting his human name, the Queen was initially transformed on that fateful day into a chestburster before finding a strong target and implanting his egg, his true conscience if you will, into a large bear. After initially ripping its way to freedom, the Xenomorph’s appearance had gave way to pure terror as a group of campers were savagely mauled to death by the creature.
Soon enough, the reality of the situation took hold. You see when a xenomorph is on its own nature takes effect and a lowly drone can be transformed into a Queen. Since he was the first ever Xenomorph in this reality he instinctively found the perfect nest, Mount St. Helens. There he molted into the first Queen and began laying eggs. Didn’t take long for a handful of initially curious hikers to become the first Xenomorphs, sharing their connection with him. It was like he had several new sets of eyes and ears that fed him all the info. Soon it wasn’t just hikers but men and women carrying swords and shields, heavily armored mech units with destructive weaponry the likes which have only been witnessed Star Trek and anime, and finally dragons.
The first one came in and through sheer force of will demanded the dead volcano for its horde, it apparently really admired the “sun roof”. The horde didn’t take too kindly to interlopers and swarmed the beast, many dying in the onslaught but the dragon was downed as it believed the Xenomorphs wouldn’t think to jump from a higher surface to land on its back. More dragons soon arrived, admiring the “sun roof” and demanding volcano be relinquished. The Xenomorphs battled each and every dragon until the self appointed king stepped forward!
There was something familiar about the beast, like the Queen and the beast shared a kinship of some sort. This one was much larger and stronger, able to hold off the weak drones. It eventually broke into the throne room and ate several of the Ovamorph eggs before noticing the Queen preparing to strike. The Queen, though quite large, was no match for the might of this beast. The Dragon King ripped the Xenomorph Queen to pieces, the blood burning his tough skin with horrible blisters, but victory was his. He soon decimated the rest of the Xenomorph horde, leaving no survivors. Now was the time to rest, building a treasure horde would take time and he had eternity to build it up.
He awoke with a sharp pain, something had been clawing at his insides but he’d put it off as indigestion. This was not Indigestion! Several small black heads began poking through his chest and stomach, forcing their way out. The dragon, weakened, attempted to scratch at the bodies pushing their way out but the acid in their bodies burned bigger holes, allowing more of the black demons to burst out. Soon the dragon king lay dead as the last Xenomorph, a Queen pushed through. The Queen looked up, seeing the opening of the volcano, realized what the dragons had meant by sun roof. The collective Xenomorphs spread their new wings as the Queen looked upward and spread its own wings. Indeed, a sun roof does make things easier! | I wanted the mountain. The mountain of which housed the eternal flames of the first dragon. Our Lord died a few years after preaching goodness between us as we are the most powerful. I need a place to unify the dragon of north, south, east and west. The dragons of Arabia to the Dragons of Scandinavia and every part of this world. My friend declined and told him that I have to uphold an oath as a Dragonguard. He said it was not his problem. Now, I spit flames in his hives and can sense him running towards in his fast nimble body. Their high pitch screams do not bother me.
"You bastard! Stop!" He jumped and aimed it on my nose. His insanely sharp talons of a feet could easily create a deep wound. I move back and dodge the attack. I'm massive even by draconic standards. "You cannot have my mountain! I already captured it a long time ago."
I open my jaw and speak with my deep voice. My eyes seem to struck fear in him. "Is peace between dragon something to not concern you? We are the most vicious, the most controlling, the most powerful. Some are the size of the largest mountain and one betrayed his country. The Britain of Europe fell because of him. He controls the British Isles now." Anger comes out of me. "Dragons are disintegrating into animality and tribal warfare. Other creatures are being hunted as toys and yet you selfishly ignore something that will work!" I keep my jaw open and step sternly. "Your mountain will be the religious place for us whether you wish for it or not. Killing me is the only way.""
He steps and I can see him making a plan to defeat me. "No. A fight it is. The mountain is mine."
"You are nothing to a dragon. Surrender while you can." I let the flames build up in me, it reached toward the back of my throat.
"Fuck off." He jumps on me and runs over my body as I try to remove him from me. He needs just good hit on my veins, I'll drop. His venomous fangs are not to be trifled with. He finds a vein, my scales heat up. Steam flourishes and he curses at me. He jumps off me and a thick cloud of steam covers me. I open my jaw around him, he still does not notice.
"Farewell." The sound of his bones crunch twists my heart. I bit him incredibly hard, as hard as I could. I even chewed in case he was alive. I spit out a big lump of purple blood and a black grotesque goop of meat. His corpse not even recognizable. I can hear the tens of thousands of squeals inside the mountain. "This is for the greater good. The world we knew is not recognizable. We live in the age of insanity, an age where dragons are supreme and I will not allow them to splinter into hundreds of tribes." I enter the mountain, the hive was burning. Their leader died and everything else linked to him is dying. The mountain was hollow in the inside, with black, wet, stones covering the interior. I cannot even see the roof above me, the mountain is one of the larger mountains in the world. My senses tingle, the eternal flames lured me to itself. I bow my head in reverence. I close my eyes. "To my Lord, I will unite them. I am your faithful Dragonguard. I promise you they will be one, I ask you to lend me some of your power." Power entered me like a torrent and pain radiated around my draconic chest. My massive heart beating faster than normal. I know of my mission. My first enemy who wishes to stay tribal, the dragon of the British Isles. He is the first to die. | 2021-11-10T09:06:01 | 2021-11-10T08:15:08 | 48 | 15 |
[WP] You've died and have arrived in the Afterlife and surprisingly, The Afterlife has its own "Internet" which is slightly different from ours, While exploring it, You stumble upon a forum that asks the question "How did you die", And the posts begin to get more disturbing as you scroll down | *Really? That's the name they came up with for the forum here?* I thought as I opened up Deddit for the first time and created an account. The first section immediately caught my eye, /d/HowIDied. I looked through the most recent posts.
***Head-on crash by texting driver***
*I was on a rural 2 lane road in the back country today at 10 PM. Turning a corner I saw a car come towards me on my side of the road. There was no way to avoid them. The last thing I saw was their mobile phone in their hands. The bastard was texting! I was only one month off from graduating. I don't know if I can ever forgive them.*
Scrolling through the replies I saw many people try to console them, help out with the transition to this new life. The community looked like it was a friendly and helpful one. One comment caught my eye.
*I'm so, so, so sorry. I should never have checked my notifications. It was stupid and it could wait. I understand if you don't want to speak to me but if you do .. well, I'm here now too.*
A chill found its way down my .. spine? I still had my spine. Huh. The responses to that response were less hostile than I had expected. Apparently forgiveness *is* a big thing here.
Reading some of the other titles I found some more or less expected ones.
***Weekly COVID megathread*** (1000's of replies, I think I'll skip)
***Heart-attack .. I think*** (Apparently it's well possible to die without knowing how)
***Fuck brain cancer*** (I agree with the sentiment)
Some less expected ones..
***Alligator got my leg, you won't believe what happened next.*** (Bled out with an untreated amputated leg - I believe it)
***Struck by lightning while having sex*** (...right)
***Partner struck by lightning while having sex*** (Replies mainly directing the OP to the other thread)
***Sorry mom, sorry dad. Why I jumped.***
***Dissected alive, my story.***
Wait WHAT? I had to read this. | Daniel continued to scroll. The thread had hundreds of responses, each more horrific than the last.
*He took my eyelids first. It was two years before I finally passed.*
People here used the word "passed". Now that the afterlife was known, "death" felt too final. Too morbid. Though there were no pearly gates through which to pass, it was agreed that the transition from life to the afterlife felt like a passing of sorts. An alleviation of weight: both physically and emotionally.
The body and mind, once laden with the heavy load of life, had become effervescent. What used to sink now floated.
And yet Daniel still felt anchored to some sort of invisible bedrock. Whilst those around him sailed through the afterlife with a purpose unknowable to Daniel, he laboured from point to point without so much as a compass for guidance. Ignored. Invisible to all but himself.
But he was seen on the forums. And heard. People were interested in what Daniel had to say, and Daniel felt his weight lessen with every comment or post.
*He set me on fire, but extinguished it before I could pass.*
This thread was unlike the others he had read. Most centred around the philosophical implications of an afterlife. Did it mean there was a God? Could it be some sort of physiological response to the brain finally shutting up shop? Where, geographically speaking, was the afterlife? Was this heaven, or hell?
Other threads dealt with events that took place in the Before. *Were you there when the towers went down? I remember you!*
Seldom, however, did people talk about their passing. Daniel hadn't been here for long, he suspected, but he still knew that talking about your passing was like talking about how you ended up in prison. It just wasn't discussed, and that was that.
*He killed her in front of me. Her blood seeped into my clothes.*
The contributors in this thread seemed all too keen to share their experiences, and nobody seemed to mind.
He reached the final comment of the thread with a thud.
*If I could ask him anything, it'd be why? Why were you so cruel? Why did you have to take so many of us?*
Daniel grinned. It was his turn to contribute.
*Daniel here,* he typed. *Let me tell you why.*
\_\_\_\_
If you enjoyed this, you might also enjoy r/StoriesAreFunRight. You'd be most welcome there. | 2021-11-30T07:19:18 | 2021-11-30T06:30:57 | 926 | 301 |
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