prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
[WP] You are the Last Hero. The one they call when nobody else can handle the threat. You've answered the call only twice since discovering your powers, devastating as they are. You prefer the quiet life, living on your stipend. The Red Phone has just rung for the third time. | He wasn't dreaming.
The Red Phone rang on top of the marble podium in a small isolated room. A call that should not have happen unless...
He cautiously answered the phone. Over the phone, he heard her panicked voice.
"Location, uh... London. Situation... fuck!"
He heard explosions and screaming from the other side, contrasting the quiet life that he's surrounded with.
"Situation, mass-scale invasion. Thousands of people in subways, seeking shelter. Need immediate-"
Another explosion, with gunshots flying left and right.
"WE NEED IMMEDIATE EXTERMINATION!"
The man, filled with melancholy, told her, "I'll be there in ten seconds."
......
"WHERE'S OUR BACKUP?!?" Louis cried to Melantha, dragging the body of the deceased soldier. They were both surrounded in the war between heroes and invasive creatures that called themselves 'Galtusian'.
They came prepared, arriving with three massive ships blocking the sunny sky, with thousands of high-speed aircrafts and millions of trained soldiers. They were armed to the teeth, with the intention to colonize Earth.
As hundreds of heroes tried their best to fend off the monsters, a hundred more placed their blood and sweat to protect the helpless citizens, using whatever they had to stop ther advancement.
"Melantha! Who did you call?" Louis cried to Melantha. "The guys from the WatchTower? Those group of hooligans?" Melantha slowly lifted a seemingly simple device, a red plastic phone with only one button in the middle.
Louis went pale. "Oh no. Oh no no no no no, you did not just call-"
Almost immediately, the aircrafts that the Galtusian were proud of were suddenly put to an eerie halt. All of them suspended in midair, leaving both Galtusians and humans perplexed, if only for a moment.
In a blink of an eye, the ships violently smashed into each other, sparks and fire flying out as the cluster of jets formed into one metal ball. The foot soldiers screamed in horror, seeing their own air support destroyed in a second.
Flying right above the metal orb filled with gas and blood, was the perpetrator. The backup Melantha called.
Unlike the other heroes, he was the only one wearing casuals. Tall and built, his face hidden under his dark hoodie, shrouded with mysterious afterimages of himself. The heroes were either awed, terrified, or both. They know who he is.
"The Last Hero," Louis gasped.
The soldiers of Galtusian did all they could to shoot the hero, but their efforts were in vain as every single one of them were lifted into the air by an invisible force. Without a second of hesitation, he tossed both the orb and those soldier up to the motherships in light speed.
Only the metal orb managed to reach those large ships.
The Last Hero raised his palm, and slowly moved his fingers close to his palm. In response, the three ships were forced onto each other, before they were squashed into a similar shape of a tossed paper.
It's only when the Last Hero close his hands into a fist, that the three ships burst into fiery flames, the heat strong enough to be felt from the ground.
It slowly evaporated to dust, revealing the sun once more.
"H-He did it," Melantha muttered, before she bursted, "He did it! Louis, he-"
Louis immediately covered her mouth to silence her, his eyes riddled with fear. He swiftly went to his earpiece and cried to all the heroes, "DO NOT ENGAGE HIM! I REPEAT, DO NOT ENGAGE HIM!!!"
The heroes understood his message, cautiously backing away from the Last Hero. They know one wrong move, one mistake, will make his catastrophic powers turned against them.
The Last Hero observed the city from the sky, and saw Melantha. She was the only one who didn't show any sign of fear, the only one who had the courage to call him. He gave her a small nod, before he left the city with a sonic boom.
All the heroes sighed in relief, some dropped to the floor. No one had the strength to cheer or celebrate, but they indeed raise their voice about the Last Hero.
"Holy shit! Did you see that?"
"Oh god, that was close."
"Why didn't we call him sooner again?"
"Dude, he was way too dangerous, that's why."
"Who called him here?!?"
Louis turned to Melantha. "You shouldn't have done that," he scowled.
"Why not?" Melantha argued. "He's our friend, Louis! Of course he'll help us, like we helped him back in high school!"
"That was before he got his powers," Louis bickered. "Did you forget the first two times he decided to help?" Melantha was distraughted. "My god, just because he didn't had control the first time he had it? Louis, it's clear he had it in control now!"
"Did you not see what he can do?!?" Louis cried.
"Yes! Isn't that great?"
"It's fucking dangerous!"
"Stop treating him like he's a monster!"
"HE IS A MONSTER!!!"
Melantha was stunned. Louis panted, controlling his breathing. "Listen, you-"
Melantha slapped him, taking two steps back away from him. "He was there when we need him, and this is the thanks he gets?" She looked at the other heroes that had their eyes on them. "You all disgust me, you know that?!? All of you!" She marched away, leaving the distraughted heroes to clean the mess they've caused.
Wiping the tears from her cheeks, she looked down on the red phone. It's the only phone that could pull him out from his own isolation, but people treated it like it's only for the 'last resort'.
It's revolting.
She was tempted to call it again, but it dawned to her that she still has his number. Not as the 'Last Hero', but as her friend. She looked up to her list, and saw a picture beside his contact.
A picture of her with Louis, and a boy who was once timid and kind.
She dialed his number, and waited for him to pick it up.
"Hello?" he finally answered.
"Hey, Ryan. Can we talk?" | They paid him well. At least, that's how he felt. The government, on the other hand, thought they were getting a steal. Forty-thousand buckaroos a year was a small price to pay for the man who could do anything.
Alex lived deep in the northern woods with his partner, Maya. They were satisfied with a quiet life. All they needed were each other. Forty-thousand was more than enough for them.
An invisible signal bounced off a satellite and arrived as a ringing on Alex's cellphone. He was in the middle of breakfast. Maya frowned as her husband went outside to take the call.
"What is it?" he asked. He hoped the newest disturbance wouldn't last long, but he knew it was unlikely, since he was the last resort.
A choppy voice came through the line. "There's a meteor headed straight for the planet. Gigantic. According to both NASA and ESA, it'll burn through the atmosphere and slam into us, sending the planet out of orbit. We need your help."
"Do you have any idea how big a meteor would have to be to do that? Are you sure?"
"Yes. We're sending all the data to your computer as we speak. As always, you have access to any resources you need."
"When's the space rock gonna hit?"
"One week."
Alex threw the phone into the bushes and ran inside. "Fucking idiots," he muttered under his breath as he entered the kitchen.
"I'm gonna be in the basement for a week," he said, embracing his wife.
"What is it this time?" she asked. It had been five years since he was last called.
"It's better if you don't know," he said, as he stuffed a waffle into his mouth. "Delicious as always. I'll see you in a week. Love you."
In the basement, he went to work. He splayed a blank scroll of paper out on his desk and clipped the corners to keep it flat. He didn't know what he was going to use it for, but scratch paper and solving problems always went hand in hand.
The laptop's old magnetic hard drive whirred. Half of the data had arrived, with the remaining half still transferring. Alex took a look at the numbers. The man on the phone had been correct. The meteor, or, as Alex called it, the tiny planet, was big enough to disrupt Earth's orbit. He didn't understand how it hadn't been observed earlier, but the data didn't say anything about that. It didn't matter, anyways. He was the janitor; he always cleaned up the world's messes.
Alex's lower lip became well-acquainted with his top teeth. It was a habit he always had when deep in thought. Sometimes, he bit so hard he drew blood. Red droplets stained the white paper, which now had scribbles on it. There were numbers that nobody but Alex understood, drawings that looked more abstract than a late-career Picasso. Day became night as the covered sheet was replaced with a new one, again and again.
Three days passed. Alex hadn't slept. He rubbed his eyes and kept looking over the data. Something was gnawing at him, but he couldn't pinpoint what. He continued working. Four more days would be enough to find a solution, he was sure of it.
Maya knocked, then brought down a plate of chicken nuggets. It was the only thing he'd eat when working—finger food.
"Everything going okay?" Maya asked, looking at her partner's tired face.
Alex sighed. "Yeah..." he said, squinting at the computer screen. It was like an itch he couldn't scratch; there was something strange about the data. "How are things in the living world?"
"Good, but don't worry about me. Do your work."
"Thanks, dear. Love you."
"I love you too," Maya said with a kiss. She went back upstairs, closing the door behind her.
Alex looked at the nine giant scrolls scattered on the ground. He had come up with some ideas, but all-in-all made little progress. Maybe a little sleep would do him good, he thought, as he laid his head on the desk and closed his eyes.
He found himself in a rolling plain of golden wheat. A warm breeze passed over the land, making the wheat look like a giant wave. Next to him, on the ground, he saw Maya sleeping. She was speaking in her sleep.
"Alex..." she said, reaching out towards him. He bent over and brushed her cheek with his thumb. "Alex... Alex..."
"...ALEX!"
Something was shaking him back and forth. The wooden desk had made an imprint on his cheek. Still half-asleep, he turned to see Maya. Her face was tense.
"Alex, you need to come up here," she said, her voice shaking.
Alex wondered what could possibly be the problem. Then, seeing his partner so afraid, it hit him. He figured out the thing that had been gnawing at him. The data was incorrect. The numbers—they didn't make sense. How could he have missed it?
Maya dragged the still-dazed Alex upstairs by the hand. She lead him through the darkness of the house. A red glow shone through the windows. They went out the front door.
It was loud. The atmosphere was doing the best it could, but sometimes the best isn't enough. Gigantic would be an understatement. The massive red ball, roaring through Earth's thin shield, was getting bigger and bigger. Alex felt like he was in a sauna. He stared at the meteor, holding Maya's hand tight. She was shaking. He took her into his arms. She began to sob.
"I love you so much, Alex," she said. "I'm happy I got to spend my one life with you."
Alex tried to control his breathing. From over Maya's shoulder, he was still entranced by the meteor. "I love you too, Maya. And I'm sorry. I've failed."
"You didn't fail," Maya said, rubbing her head against his chest. "You tried your best."
Suddenly, Alex felt a new emptiness in his heart. He had trouble figuring out what it was, because he had never felt it before. It wasn't because he was about to die, nor was it because he had been given incorrect data. As the ball got bigger and bigger, and the night hotter and brighter, he used his final moments to uncover the feeling. Right before impact, he realized what it was.
For the first time in his life, he felt the crippling fear of not knowing what to do. | 2022-03-28T23:42:12 | 2022-03-28T23:13:05 | 451 | 84 |
[WP] You are the CEO of a successful energy company. You’re invited to a business dinner, and if the deal goes well, it could revolutionize energy as we know it. Only one problem. Garlic’s in the food, utensils are silver and it’s held in an old chapel. And you’re a vampire. | "It's a chapel!" he yelled at me. "It wouldn't be too good for the company if its CEO died, would it?"
"Answer." He went silent for a few seconds.
"IT'S A DARN CHAPEL!"
"It used to be," I said. "They lose their effect over the years. For this one, hundreds. I will be fine."
"You may come out alive, but if they notice, our days are over. The deal is over. We lose everything." my advisor said in a troubled voice.
In this culture, vampires are not permitted to hold leadership positions. It is widely believed that, despite them being harmless and friendly to humans, they have an internalized desire to plan ultimate control; which of course isn't true.
"Please, just tell them you can't make it. If Wayne tells you he's not interested in the deal any longer, then so be it. We'll get better opportunities in the future... Surely." He shortly exited the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I grabbed a letter. To Wayne, CEO of Vortex Energy. I apologized for not being there, signed it, stamped it. On the way out, I also tossed it in the garbage.
I wasn't going to pass up on such an opportunity. We've been waiting for ages. We were almost at the point of desperation. We're going bankrupt. It's now or never.
I got ready, grabbed my gloves, and prepared my garlic antidote. Everyone cooks with garlic nowadays. It isn't going to protect me from the smell, but if the worst happens, at least I won't die.
I informed my staff and they got ready as well. I told them not to resist, as the decision had already been made.
We arrived early. For the home owner, uncomfortably early. But not because I'm punctual. I'm never punctual, I'm a vampire. But because I wanted to pressure them into starting the dinner as early as possible, and for this to be over with as soon as possible. If I stuck around till midnight, bad things are going to happen.
Since nothing was ready yet, Wayne insisted we go for a walk and discuss. Fantastic--this is in my favor. If I was going to sit in that rusty old building then I better make sure to be in it for as little time as possible. I can only sit in sunlight for so long as well, though, but thankfully, the sun is setting.
Our company had discovered technology that can revolutionize energy. But we don't have the finances to fund its testing or production. No one except Wayne believed in what our company had achieved. He was willing to partner with us for 2 years as we kickstart production. This was huge for us, and for me. If I could make this project work, it would be the most lucrative business. Yes, I wanted to save the planet and everything, but I also wanted to be rich.
The discussion went well. I had high hopes. But the hardest part hasn't even started yet.
After an hour or so, we are to enter the building. My bones stiffened. At this point, his team had arrived as well. I clench my fists as I step in. I really wanted to express how much I hated the building. It was painful. But I was confident I could handle it for a few hours.
We were sat around a large table; me and my team on one side, Wayne and his on the other. Of all materials, the utensils were made out of silver. I wasn't going to take off my gloves. Suddenly, he got up, pointed to another table to our left and said, "This is the vampire table. The utensils are steel, and the food will be void of any garlic. Feel free to move tables as the food will be served shortly."
"This has to be a trap," I said to myself. "There's no way this is real. He has to be testing me." A few of his team switched. Not all of them were vampires. "If I change tables, it will be extremely disrespectful at best... it's like I don't want to talk to him. He doesn't expect me to do that." I didn't have time to hesitate. This building is getting the best of me. I'm starting to sweat and my vision is blurring. If I smell garlic, I'm going to be on the floor.
"Why don't we all move to the vampire table, so we can all sit together?" I said. "After all, we can eat their food, but the opposite cannot be said."
"Very thoughtful of you," he replied after some consideration. The situation was saved.
The food was very good.
I can't exactly say I liked the man, and I definitely started to rethink whether I really wanted to partner with him. But it was the right thing to do. We went on to sign some papers, shook hands, and parted ways. He didn't find out. But as a vampire myself, I could distinguish some of his employees who were too. They must have been able to tell I was. But vampires don't snitch, right? I hope.
I sigh in relief as I leave the building, 11:44PM.
We have secured the victory. | "What about solar?"
"He *hates* solar. Whatever you do, don't bring it up."
"What's so bad about renewables?"
"Just keep your mouth shut."
I could hear them before they entered my office, their lips crackling and smattering like roaches frying in a pan. One of them was young, with a jugular vein through which blood coursed with every quiet thump of his heart. He flashed me the Duchenne smile, straightened his tie, and he said, "Sir, we think you're going to love this."
Another useless presentation. But I'd said I'd entertain any idea that might save the company. The only punishment for failing to convince me of its merits was a trip to the unemployment office.
It surprised me to see the seasoned veteran, Gabe, joining forces with fresh meat. Then I spotted a look between the two and I understood at once that they were sleeping together, that they'd had bedside conversations about this moment. Pillow talk. Strategizing.
Gabe clicked his pointer and a quote from Vaclav Smil appeared on the monitor. I hoped he wasn't about to read it aloud. "Life's great dichotomy is between autotrophs, organisms that can nourish themselves, and heterotrophs, or lifeforms that must feed on other organisms. This also applies to business. Some companies—"
Suppressing my groan I leaned back in my leather chair and I asked myself whether I was even interested in the young man's blood. Certainly I was a heterotroph, even more so than they knew. But this man? Did I need him?
His dark curls bounced as he gestured about with the fiery passion of youth. Two thousand years ago he might have been a prophet, he had it in him. And I should know. I'd met my share of prophets. The delirious son of a carpenter, for instance, who wept as I dug my teeth into his neck. The Catholics had it all wrong, though. It tasted nothing like wine.
At the end of their presentation I breathed a deep sigh, and I said, "You're both fired."
"S-Sir?"
"It's obvious you're trying to tell me what you think I want to hear. I'm embarrassed, Gabe. I expected better."
"Please, if we can just—"
"I've heard enough. You may leave."
The young man gave Gabe a look, and he cleared his throat. "Sir. I've kept this to myself, but I think it might be of use to you. I am the grandson of Ellin Calvino."
I laughed. I couldn't help it. He'd have surprised me less if he told me he was actually a mollusk. "Calvino? And yet you're here. Working for his main competitor."
"We had a ... falling out. I wanted to prove that I can work myself up, without his help. But if there's anything I can do, I mean, I have the connection, and—"
Gabe's face had gone pale. "Gabe. Is what he's telling me true?" I checked my schedule. "He's not Anthony ... Fechner? He's Anthony Calvino?"
The veteran stared at his shoes, and he gave a nod.
It would be amusing, drinking the blood of Ellin's grandson. Perhaps even in front of him. Or we could join forces, corner the market. There was just one problem. "Rumor has it your grandfather has eased up on his duties. Isn't Marco at the helm? He'd be your ..."
"Uncle," said Anthony. "Yes. The rumor is true. My grandfather spends most of his days in his chapel, but nothing big goes through without his approval. He still runs the ship."
"Chapel?"
Anthony rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah. It's modeled on the Cappella Palatina. It cost a fortune. You'll love it."
The young man's heart raced. As did mine. I ate the savior, but I cannot enter his place of worship. "If you can set up a meeting, you'll have saved both your asses. And if all goes well, you'll get the promotion too. As promised. How's The Parish?"
"Oh. I'm sorry, but my grandfather only conducts business in his chapel these days. Over a nice Italian meal. With the family silver and all. He's been a bit ... eccentric, ever since—"
"His wife."
"Yeah."
Gabe cleared his throat. "I think this sounds like a wonderful idea"
"I'm not interested."
Their faces dropped. "Sir?"
"So the old man has decided to spend his remaining years play-acting as the Pope. I won't be feeding his delusions. Forget about it."
Anthony's heart quieted down all of a sudden, and there was a commanding resolve in his voice. His whole attitude shifted. "Maybe you didn't like our presentation, but we all know the numbers. It's this, or you're going to have to branch into renewables. Such as—"
"D-Don't," said Gabe with a whimper.
"Such as *solar*."
Anthony had no time to straighten his tie. No time to smack his lips. No time to process what was about to happen. Before he knew it, he was a fountain. Blood spurted every which way when I tore into his jugular with my fangs, it dripped from his dark curls like dew from blades of grass.
Gabe stood motionless as his lover fell to the carpeted floor. His lips shivered slightly.
Life's great dichotomy is between autotrophs, organisms that can nourish themselves, and heterotrophs, or lifeforms that must feed on other organisms. Smil had it right.
"I ... I told him," said Gabe. "I told him to shut up about the sun." | 2022-08-21T08:13:41 | 2022-08-21T06:42:02 | 751 | 146 |
[WP] The villain is asked by their child to deal with the monster in the closet. | You carelessly stumble into your child’s room after a day of crime, forgetting that you were still dressed in your crime-making outfit.
“Hi.” Your child whispers to you quietly while peeking over her blanket.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to come in here. I’ll leave right now!”
“No. No, it’s okay. Mummy and Daddy always tell me to face my problems, so you shouldn’t run away.” She beams radiantly, and extends her arm towards you. “Bend down,” she whispers.
You bend slowly, and allow her to whisper into your ear. “I think there’s a monster in my closet,” she whispers. “Could you please take care of it? Please?”
She looks at you with an earnest expression, her eyes almost pleading. You had to go soon, but for your little girl, you’d do anything.
“Alright, I’ll take care of the bad guy.” You slowly approach the tall, imposing closet that towers over her bed. The door is left slightly ajar, and you feel as if you are being watched. Goosebumps blossom on your arms and neck.
You look back at her for a moment, as if you yourself was scared to open the door. She nods at you, and silently mouths,”Be careful.”
You smile at her, heart melting at her innocent ways. You reach for the closet handle, and pull it out.
“Fwooosh.” The door opened. You peer into it, seemingly checking for monsters and ghosts. Nothing. Nada.
“No ghosts, darling.”
“Thank you so much!” She leaps out of her bed and right into your arms. “Thank you.”
You can’t help but soften at her. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt this happy. Maybe, if life wasn’t so cruel, you’d be one of the good guys, returning teddy bears to little kids. You almost wish you could be those losers helping grandmas across the road. But it’s okay. Today, this is enough. | Small background: The villain took a young girl as his successor. She had a bad family and he knew she’d be safer with him. Evee doesn’t agree.
Evee looked up at Henry with big, pleading eyes. She held Mr Sharky to her chest for safety, making herself look small. “Papa, can you sleep with me tonight?” She asked quietly. She brought her knees up to her chest under the covers to curl into a ball.
Henry paused at the door, unable to move after hearing his child’s plea. It was time for bed. Usually, after putting Evee to sleep, he’d go out for crime. However, when was the last time she *asked* for Henry? Actually, had she ever done that before?
Taking this as a huge milestone, Henry nodded. He needed to play it cool. The villain walked back to his daughters bed. It was… small, and pushed against the wall. “Uh-“ He puzzled over how he’d fit for a moment. Maybe he could sleep against the wall to prop himself up and not fall off.
Henry smiled awkwardly as he tried to get into bed. Evee looked up at him as he tried to crawl under the covers. She saw he was trying to lean against the wall and yelled at him. “No! That’s my side!” She cried, pushing against his chest. She quickly wriggled to the side to lay against the wall.
Nightmare sighed and laid down on the other side of the bed. It was very awkward. The sheets only went a few inches past his knees. His feet hung over the edge of the bed. The Goliath of a man had to curl up in the twin bed to try and fit.
Henry smiled at Evee, trying to hide his discomfort. “Okay. Time for bed.”
Evee shook her head. “No. I need to wait for the monster.” She laid down with Mr Sharky and pretended to fall asleep. Henry could see her peak one eye open.
Henry smiled, confused. “The monster?” It clicked in his head. “Oh. The monster! Do you want me to fight him?” He looked over his shoulder at the closet. The doors were wide open. “Oh, Ladybug, if you are scared of the monster, you can close your closet doors. That way he can’t escape.” | 2022-10-24T10:25:06 | 2022-10-24T09:20:36 | 21 | 14 |
[WP] A little girl dies and is accidentally sent to Hell to where the Demons don't know what to do with her.
Edit 1. Holy crap did this get a response 0_0
Edit 2. Jesus Puppy Christ is this getting attention. | Fern stared down at the child at her feet and pursed her lips, brows coming together as she tried to process the situation. Somehow, somewhere, a Gatekeeper had fucked up royally and sent her a child. She rubbed her yellow eyes as the young girl stared at her with keen, too-bright-blue eyes. "Okay, uh." She crossed her arms, red tail flicking against her leg. "What brings you down here, kid?"
"Daddy drank too much." Her tone was that of an innocent child, but pain sneaked onto her face. She flinched, crimson cheeks flushing purple with rage.
"Well." She crouched, balancing on bent toes to meet her eyes. "You know where you are?"
"Uh-huh." She twisted some of her pretty, light blue dress in her fingers. "It's the bad place for bad people."
"But did they tell you why they sent you to me?" Fern sighed. "This isn't a place for children." The girl just shrugged and stuck her thumb in her mouth. The kid had to be at least seven, why did she still have that habit? "We can't keep you. We'll find a way to get this sorted out, send you upstairs to be with your grandma or your grandpa or-"
"No!" The little girl threw her arms around Fern's neck, squeezing her breath from her in a surprisingly tight hug. "Please no, Grampa hit me with his belt when I cried about Daddy," she pleaded. Fern shut her eyes, wincing. Great.
"Okay, no Heaven then, but we really can't keep you here in Hell, kiddo." Fern put her hands on her shoulders and gently, gently, *gently* pushed her back a bit, mindful of her strength. "I need to talk to my boss about this."
"C-Can I please just-just stay somewhere that they can't find me?" Her big blue eyes shimmered with tears. "Th-The man in the white robe said Daddy couldn't hurt me no matter where I go now."
Fern groaned and dropped her head. This was going to be a long case. | Samantha was five when the drunk driver rammed his truck off the road and smashed her away from her mother. She still wore the same clothes now, a bright colored dress and fancy looking, but functional shoes. She was playing with some rocks on the Precipice of Inifinite Pain above the Lake of Fire. Two demons each kept one eye on her as they spoke.
"And you're sure there's no record of her? Little Samantha, drunk driver, crushed to death." Spoke the larger one, horns blackened by fire curling back in a twisted pattern.
"Yeah, of course, I have checked several times. She didn't live long enough to deserve the fire anyway. I've already sent a message to Him, I'm sure he'll know what to do." This one was smaller and only bore the most vague resemblance to a human figure. Arms and legs so thin as to be almost comical were they not also featuring many more joints than a human had.
"Well" Spoke the big horned one, stalling for time, "Do you... Ah! The succubuses might like her, don't you think?"
Many joints scowled, "Maybe, but I am a gatekeeper. She has no designation, she still resides within my sphere."
"Oh, give it a rest, she doesn't reside in any sphere with us. We'll just -" Big horn cut off and began a sprint on the realization that he couldn't see Samantha. Demons can move fast when they want, and as fast as big horn was, many joints was faster. They reached the edge and looked over, screaming in unison, "SAMANTHA!"
The little girl in the pretty dress hopped out from behind the rock formation she'd been playing with, "Boo!"
Both the demons started, turned, and looked at each other, a moment of agreement passing between them.
"Fine," said many joints, "Take her to the succubi." He emphasized the ending of succubi.
"Big horns sighed, "The pluralization isn't so well set you, bah!" He turned to the little girl, still smiling at them, "I'm going to take you to a bunch of ladies, would you like some ice cream on the way?"
The little girl nodded.
Big horns stood up and extended a hand large enough to encircle her head, she took it and skipped alongside him as they headed off. | 2013-11-26T14:48:51 | 2013-11-26T13:08:15 | 135 | 27 |
[WP] Rework a nursery rhyme to be dark and gritty. | Jack be nimble,
Jack be quick,
Don't be caught
By that old trick.
Jack be swift,
Jack be fast.
Keep running home
While light still lasts.
Jack, lock the doors,
and don't let them in.
They're not who
they should have been.
---
Not sure if dark and gritty, or just horror themed. | Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
Let that be a lesson to learn
To one side or the other, you must turn
To sit on the fence, that is a sin
Two party politics, get stuck in
Humpty Dumpty fought a fight
To sit on neither left nor right
A gentle nudge
Push comes to shove
And on one side
Humpty Dumpty came tumbling down
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
All the King's horses
And all the King's men
Couldn't put Humpty together again | 2014-02-21T04:29:11 | 2014-02-21T04:06:30 | 37 | 12 |
[FF] In three sentences, kill as many people as possible. No firearms, no natural disasters, no explosives, no WMDs. | When we found out, it was already too late. We thought we were the apex of intelligence, but we had been outsmarted by something we weren't even sure was a living being.
It turned out that all the viral bodies we loaded into vaccines weren't dead ... they were patient. | martin worked furiously in the dying light, trying to pack his specimens into the one remaining powered refrigerator in the CDC. electricity, like everything else, was a premium since the SSPE-strain measles pandemic of 2016 and he'd barely secured the tiny space he now stacked the tiny tubes into. he'd even had to contribute half of his personal watts to its running and he spared a curse, as he did every day, at the fools who stopped vaccinating themselves a mere generation ago. | 2014-08-04T22:51:01 | 2014-08-04T22:10:19 | 168 | 11 |
[WP] A serial killer goes door to door to find his victims, until he knocks on the wrong door. Another killer. | "... Oh hey, what's up man?"
"Not much man, how's it going?"
"Was gonna murder this family, guess I have the wrong address."
"Ah, I gotcha, well where were you trying to go?"
"The Anderson's house."
"Oh, I know where that is. Come on, we'll go together. That fucker hasn't taken his Christmas lights down, it's driving me nuts." | That look. I instantly recognized it. Only those who have taken a human life can see it in those others in the same exclusive fraternity. That hole in the soul, that emptiness that resides in the eyes. It resembles something just short of a thousand yard stare, but with a maniacal glint lost in the iris. I see it every morning when I look in the mirror, in every passing window, quick flashes of it in puddles beneath my feet. It will always be there haunting me and motivating me.
And there I stood, instantly aware that I was within feet of another killer, another killer that had the upper-hand. He knew what was on his front porch when he looked through the peephole...and he still opened the door. | 2014-08-08T20:56:29 | 2014-08-08T20:01:36 | 61 | 41 |
[WP] Instead of hearing what people say, you hear what they mean. It has been both a blessing and a curse. | It shattered Grayson the first time she heard. Walking down the street looking at a beggar, a voice broke through the eternal silence, shaky and insubstantial, but so loud compared to what came before.
FEED ME.
Grayson turned her head away, unable to bear that wavery voice that was a terrifying boom to the silence before it. She turned her head away to see a man revving a giant black hummer at the pedestrian slowly crossing the sidewalk.
FEAR ME.
Grayson ducked inside a nearby cafe to see a woman in a navy blue suit waiting in line. She tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for her turn.
SERVE ME. NOW.
And in searching for an exit, she saw the rest of the people in the room.
LOVE ME. HELP ME. LEAVE ME. HEAR ME. GIVE ME. WATCH ME. LEAVE ME. IGNORE ME. WORSHIP ME. TEACH ME.
She ran out of the shop and towards an empty field, tripping on a rock in her abandon. Lying on the ground, she watched up towards the stars, and instead of a boom, she heard a whisper, solid in its purpose and yet quiet.
^^know ^^me... | "I'm genuinely curious - what's wrong? Did I do something wrong?"
"I shouldn't have to tell you."
"That doesn't help me, or the situation."
"I'm not in a helping mood at the moment, given the circumstances."
"I'm still not sure what the circumstances are. And, unfortunately, despite how you'd like things to be, the fact is that they're not that way. It'd be better for both of us if you'd just be more open and honest."
"The fact that you're unaware of what's wrong reveals a glimpse of the fact that we're not perfectly in tune with each other. While, logistically, I understand that it'd be impossible to attain such resonance, on an emotional level I've never been able to accept that perfection is impossible."
"As I do not think in the same way, I can't truly relate to that."
"It's okay if you don't relate with it, but it is something you need to keep in mind when events like this occur."
"If I'm understanding you, and please correct me if I am not, then it doesn't really matter what the problem is?"
"To a degree, and I appreciate your willingness to adjust your point of view. And, in an effort to respect your process, which I've come to understand involves fixing discrete problems as a method of alleviating the associated negativity, I'll try to be more open about the specific issue that's bothering me."
*God damn,* I thought to myself. *I'm, like, the best relationship counselor in the world.* | 2014-10-14T13:23:26 | 2014-10-14T10:35:56 | 29 | 12 |
[WP] A good bye message from the human race. | The field was covered in thin walls of crumbling rock and twisted metal rods. The stone pathway cracked under the alloy boots of a strange creature. In the distance, a cracked white dome stood in a flattened expanse of dust, columns and pillars supporting the facade of the structure. The creature decided to have a closer look. It sprinted towards the dome, its speed augmented by its survival suit. Rusted metal hurdles were knocked out of the creature's path. As it reached the structure, the creature slowed down to a stop.
In front of the structure there was a plinth, standing upright and completely intact; this had been made to last. The creature wiped a gloved hand over the top of the plinth, removing the dust and ash built up there to reveal a set of symbols, no, words.
"Here lies *homo sapiens*, the human race. As a species, we regretted not growing to reach the furthest of the lights in the sky. We die on our home, never to set foot on the soil of another world. To any who see this message, know that you have done what we never will."
The creature paused. The faceplate of its helmet separated, folding back to reveal its face. The last human shed a single tear, and left Earth as the last of his kind. | Hello?
If you're out there and you hear this, I have a story I want to share with you. It's a story of a people. A people that went through lifetimes of agony and torture, misery and sadness, lifetimes of love and happiness to compensate. I want to tell you the story of the human race.
You may have heard of us. You may have even been watching us, we'll never know. We must have provided some good laughs, or at least a good drama. Myself and a close group of friends are all that's left now. Soon, we'll be gone like the others, returning to the stars from whence we came.
We started off as children. New to this universe and all its strange happenings. We knew nothing, thought little and accomplished much. Through the years we beat ourselves down. We ruined our planet and destroyed each other. What we did accomplish still amazes me in the grand scheme of things. There we were, children alone in the dark and we made fire. We grew hungry and we found food. We grew lonely and we found each other.
This story doesn't have a happy ending, but it has an ending with no regrets. So if you're out there, listening to us now, thank you. Thank you for listening and thank you for taking part in the final moments of a dying species. Good luck out there, and take care of yourselves better than we did. Learn from our mistakes and take those lessons to heart.
Sincerely,
Richard; Sarah; Aisha; Thomas; Jun; Shin
Live on | 2014-11-30T23:02:47 | 2014-11-30T22:47:44 | 35 | 11 |
[WP] Satan suddenly appears in a crowded mall, and begins terrifying the holiday shoppers. He stops, looks directly at you and says, "You... You're interesting. Do your friends know what you are?" You have no idea what he means. | He just appeared. There was no great ball of fire or stream of black smoke, he was just there, amid a massive crowd of holiday shoppers. The creature looked like a stereotypical fantasy devil. Short, red, tattered bat wings spouting of his pointy back, and two curved horns. The image was not particularly terrifying, but the crowd was petrified. There was something about the air around the imp. Thick and heavy, it filled your lungs with a primal dread you've never felt before.
There was no screaming or scattering from the onlookers. Only stares and soft whimpering from a few.
The creature scanned the environment. His beady yellow eyes gazed from shopper to shopper, seemingly aging the ones unfortunate enough to warrant his attention.
Our eyes met. He smiled a wide, toothless grin and snapped his fingers. The whimpering stopped. Everything stopped actually. The crowd stood stone faced, unmoving. I had the devil's full attention.
"Why are you so nervous?" Words formed in my mind. It was not painful, but strange and unnerving.
"After all these years, I searched for you and not even a hello? Will you at least tell me your name?"
"Tttom Campbell"
"Tom? TOM!? OHOHOHO!!!" The creature howled, this time in his voice, which seemed like a chorus of a thousand hallow cries.
"This is what you call yourself now? Fucking Tom? Wait... You're serious? Oh goodness me! She really did a number on you, didn't she? Hold on just a minute."
The imp closed his eyes and concentrated. I could feel his fingers inside my mind. He forced everything out. My childhood, my father, mother, the beatings, everything I tried to suppress, my every joy and pain flashed in front of my eyes. He knew everything.
"Oh wow, she is quite talented, isn't she? What did she ask for these memories? Your soul? HAHA! Never imagined you would try to gain the services of a witch of all people. Oh wow, you even got a wife and a few friends didn't you? I don't suppose you told them what you really are? No, of course not. All right enough games, now, tell me your name."
I wanted to say Tom Campbell again, but i did not seemed right. "I, I don't know." I finally answered.
"Oh I see what she did, wow, why would you get rid of it? You used to consider that mark a badge of honor. Where's that pride? Where's that resentment? Where's that defiance? You couldn't take it anymore so you ran to a damned bog witch, didn't you? Tsk, tsk, tsk. Here, let me remind you of what you really are."
He appeared in front of me and grabbed my forehead before I could protest. His fingers were cold and his breath stank of death.
"Ah it's buried deep, but it's there, you can't really remove it can you? Oh, she is good, no wonder I couldn't find you. Just have to wade through these fake memories and... There."
He removed his hand and I felt something foreign and heavy on my brow. A bump or some sorts. I wanted to feel it's texture. As soon as I touched it, it hit me. Guilt, shame, despair, horror, the rock, the rock, THAT DAMNED ROCK! I fell to my knees bawling my eyes and guts out. Oh God, oh God, oh God.
"Now, I want to hear you say it. What is your name?"
I looked up, desperately wishing to die.
"My name is. My name is... Cain." | They say the Devil's in the details. Hell, they even say the Devil went down to Georgia. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when the Devil showed up at the Little Springs Mall. Of course, we didn't know who he was back then...
 
Saturdays. I hated Saturdays. There I was stuck at a shitty little kiosk in the shitty Little Springs Mall, like any other Saturday. I was three hours in to a six hour day of pretending I didn't hate every vapid customer that came up to ask me if we carried whatever piece of junk sparked their interest in a different size or color. The answer was always no, on principle, even if we did have what they were asking for.
 
According to the calculations I'd done yesterday, I had only three more weekends of work before I could afford the reason for this insufferable job. An $899 composite bow from Cabella's the outdoor store on the other end of the mall. Merry Christmas to me. I'd always loved the outdoors, spending more time running through the forest than most kids probably should. Being out there made me feel, somehow, more alive. Recently, I'd been rereading, for the fifth time, Jack London's *The Call of the Wild*, one of my favorite books ever since --
 
**"AAHHHHHHH!!"**
**"Please! No! I have children!"**
 
It was the second scream that shook me out of my reverie. I looked up from the torn receipt I'd been fiddling with only to find the mall in chaos. Shoppers, bags flying as they abandoned their purchases in favor of their lives, ran by. Children were scooped up reflexively as parents ran to get their families to safety. Something was scaring people in the atrium of the mall.
 
To this day, I wish my curiosity had never gotten the better of me.
 
There was fire in my blood as I drifted slowly towards the source of the screams. Adrenaline beat like a drum through my veins, forcing my heart into a quick march. I rounded the corner, entering the atrium, and locked eyes with the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. It took much longer than I would like to admit for me to break away from her gaze and it was only then that I noticed that, unlike the many people in the crowded mall who clutched bags or phones or wallets, she held instead a quivering human heart, slick with rapidly drying blood. I looked back up at her eyes in shock, as my own heart went into overdrive, beating even faster than I had thought possible.
 
This time, as our eyes meet, I suddenly become **aware**. Her presence in my mind becomes indescribably... palpable. Her lips curl into a smile and her mouth makes no other movement, which is why I freak the hell out when I realize she's talking to me. *You...* she... thinks at me. *You're interesting.* Her voice is like flowers unfolding beneath the sun, a silk thread playing across my gray matter. *Do your friends know what you are?* I have no idea what she means. An ache starts at the base of my skull as I watch her considering me over the heart she is now taking delicate bites from. The ache reverberates, harmonizing with the slither of her tendrils in my mind. *It's been a long time since I had a pet, you know.*
 
I can't think of anything I want more in the world than to not be this woman's... this **thing's** pet, not even that bow. And the moment I finish that thought, I hear her laugh in my mind, like a babbling brook with wind chimes for water. That's the last thing I hear before my time on earth as we know it ends. | 2014-12-06T01:17:40 | 2014-12-06T00:46:30 | 990 | 121 |
[WP] Make a story so awkward even the narrator start's getting uncomfortable.
. _ .
Starts*
Auto correct is my mortal enemy. | “ “Can I get you anything else, sir?”
“No, thanks. Coffee is good.” I reply, no eye contact. I feel like a bit of a prick applying this manner of interpersonal dynamics. I’m sure her day is no better or worse for my lack of visual acknowledgement on receipt of my coffee but the burr sticks. I should have just fucking looked at her and given her ‘the nod’ or something, now I’ve spent the 15 seconds I would have been using to think of clever words admonishing myself for being rude instead. But when you really think about, had I wanted anything else I would have asked for it. It’s not like this coffee shop is particularly busy.
2 ginger guys poring over a laptop, cute 20-something with a fringe on a comfy chair flicking through an iPod, couple of generic looking suit types poring over one broadsheet or another. If I really felt all of a sudden like I wanted a brownie to go with my coffee, I’m sure I could get her attention in a few seconds. If I whispered in this place she would hear me at the other side of the joint. If I shifted in my chair ever so slightly the sound would startle all present and they would look in my general direction to gauge the scale of rumpus.
So, actually, fuck her. I’m not paying her to ask me shit, I’m paying her to make me fucking coffee.
Did I say that out loud? Why do I feel like the energy of the room has suddenly gone off a little? I’m sure she just stopped in her tracks like a record may have skipped or something. Nothing. Fuck, I get so introspective sometimes, I swear everything’s one big simulation.
Coffee tastes like shit.
It’s all milk.
Definitely saw the two girls behind the bar looking over at me, and not in a ‘hey that slobby guy with coffee on his shirt is looking pretty smoking’ sort of way. All I did was not look at her when I said I didn’t want anything, what’s the big idea. I wasn’t vocally rude, I wasn’t even, like, tonally curt with her.
“Hey, want to keep it down over there?” One of the laptop ginger’s has just piped in
“Sorry?”
“We don’t need a running commentary mate, keep it to yourself.”
Shit, I had the inverted commas open from the start.
“You still do pal, wind it down, please.”
“Sorry.” I cannot drink this coffee quicker.
“ | “I can’t wait to finally meet your parents.” Brians tells Chelsea on the drive over to her family’s house. Chelsea has been hesitant to bring me over to meet her family. I don’t know why. She talks about them a lot. They’re both rather successful. Unfortunately, Chelsea knew something about her parents she didn’t want to share with Brian.
“Yeah. It’ll be great.” She says, looking out the window and mentally planning reasons to excuse herself from the meeting.
They pull into the driveway and Chelsea walks up to the door in much the same way a person would approach the gallows. She opens the door and walks in. “They’re upstairs. They texted me to tell us to have a seat. They’ll be down at the minute.” She stares at the floor and when she arrives at the table she stares at her plate. Brian is still excited to meet them. He can tell Chelsea is nervous so he…(sigh), plants a kiss on her forehead and…. wraps an arm around her. He regrets his decision to display affection as soon as the parents come down the stairs.
“Uncle Robert?” I ask. I haven’t seen him since I was four. They only recently moved back to the area. Brian was supposed to be meeting his…cousin….for dinner….over the holidays. They had not met before, or skyped, or texted, or seen each other’s facebook accounts. OR ANYTHING ELSE THAT WOULD HAVE PREVENTED THIS SITUATION WHICH ANY NORMAL ADULT WOULD DO. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, anyway, the parents froze a bit on the stairs when they saw Brian with his arm around…his cousin. Brian had decided to play it cool and pretend nothing was happening. He decided to ruffle Chelsea’s hair affectionately to show that it wasn’t a big deal.
“Should we play this off?” The uncle asks.
“For now.” The aunt responds.
“So Chelsea, nephew Brian, how are you?” The uncle asks, trying to acknowledge the situation without stressing the relationship too much.
“Related.” Brians pipes up, without any tact or hesitation. “But not too closely for the legal purposes of this state. Am I right Chelsea?” Chelsea had buried her head on the table and was pretending she doesn’t exist. A position for which I envy her greatly as I am not getting paid enough for this.
“Ah, yes, first cousins right?” The aunt asks.
“Yup, and since neither of us bear any genetic markers for recessive lethal trait we don’t have to worry about the consequences of mating!” Forget it! I’m done! I see where this is going and refuse to be a part of this anymore! This was supposed to be a classical retelling of Cinderalla!
Sidenote: Credit to weird al and the big bang theory for the inspiration. Also there’s an app for this in Iceland. | 2014-12-23T09:45:16 | 2014-12-23T08:43:21 | 249 | 12 |
[WP] Make a story so awkward even the narrator start's getting uncomfortable.
. _ .
Starts*
Auto correct is my mortal enemy. | I have this friend (let's just call him Nick), who is exact stereotype of what you think of when you picture someone who is part of the 'le army of Reddit.'
You know what I mean. Slightly overweight, wears a fedora, outspoken atheist, and so forth.
He wasn't always like that, but years of being antisocial and getting bullied in highschool turned him into... well, hopefully something that's just a phase.
Right now I'm eating lunch in the mall's food court and Nick wants to show me something he learned on a part of Reddit I've never heard of. Something he called 'The Red Pill.' I'm not sure what that is, other than it sounds like a Matrix reference.
Nick's walking towards the Taco Bell stand right now and... wait, why is he stopping and looking around? I wish he would take off that stupid hat...
Okay, he just diverted his course and he's - oh no - he's walking right over to a table with two girls who are eating lunch together. Please, please, please don't let him do anything stupid.
He's doing something stupid.
The blonde is watching him stumble over to their table, whispering something to her friend. Nick just approached them and I can just make out what he said.
"Hey... I have to tell you something. I'm Batman."
Oh god, would I be a bad friend if I just left right now? I would be a bad friend, wouldn't I?
The girls look creeped out and are turning back to each other. Nick is... why, Nick? Why? He's taking out a deck of cards. And he... yep, he just dropped them.
"Can you please leave? We're trying to have lunch here," the brunette asks.
"Hold on... let me just show you a trick."
Nick is bending down to grab his cards and I can just see that the brunette is laughing about something. I can't tell what -
*Splash.*
The blonde just spilled her fountain drink over Nick's head. Nick is frozen, and all around the food court, people are starting to turn, stare and laugh.
Nick is now getting back up and slowly pacing away from their table and back to ours. He swipes a bunch of napkins to dry himself off with.
"What's wrong with them?" he says, furiously rubbing his face with a napkin. "I just wanted to show them a trick and get their numbers!"
I just want to curl into a ball and die.
-------------------------------------
*Did you enjoy this? Check out /r/Byeka for more.* | “I can’t wait to finally meet your parents.” Brians tells Chelsea on the drive over to her family’s house. Chelsea has been hesitant to bring me over to meet her family. I don’t know why. She talks about them a lot. They’re both rather successful. Unfortunately, Chelsea knew something about her parents she didn’t want to share with Brian.
“Yeah. It’ll be great.” She says, looking out the window and mentally planning reasons to excuse herself from the meeting.
They pull into the driveway and Chelsea walks up to the door in much the same way a person would approach the gallows. She opens the door and walks in. “They’re upstairs. They texted me to tell us to have a seat. They’ll be down at the minute.” She stares at the floor and when she arrives at the table she stares at her plate. Brian is still excited to meet them. He can tell Chelsea is nervous so he…(sigh), plants a kiss on her forehead and…. wraps an arm around her. He regrets his decision to display affection as soon as the parents come down the stairs.
“Uncle Robert?” I ask. I haven’t seen him since I was four. They only recently moved back to the area. Brian was supposed to be meeting his…cousin….for dinner….over the holidays. They had not met before, or skyped, or texted, or seen each other’s facebook accounts. OR ANYTHING ELSE THAT WOULD HAVE PREVENTED THIS SITUATION WHICH ANY NORMAL ADULT WOULD DO. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, anyway, the parents froze a bit on the stairs when they saw Brian with his arm around…his cousin. Brian had decided to play it cool and pretend nothing was happening. He decided to ruffle Chelsea’s hair affectionately to show that it wasn’t a big deal.
“Should we play this off?” The uncle asks.
“For now.” The aunt responds.
“So Chelsea, nephew Brian, how are you?” The uncle asks, trying to acknowledge the situation without stressing the relationship too much.
“Related.” Brians pipes up, without any tact or hesitation. “But not too closely for the legal purposes of this state. Am I right Chelsea?” Chelsea had buried her head on the table and was pretending she doesn’t exist. A position for which I envy her greatly as I am not getting paid enough for this.
“Ah, yes, first cousins right?” The aunt asks.
“Yup, and since neither of us bear any genetic markers for recessive lethal trait we don’t have to worry about the consequences of mating!” Forget it! I’m done! I see where this is going and refuse to be a part of this anymore! This was supposed to be a classical retelling of Cinderalla!
Sidenote: Credit to weird al and the big bang theory for the inspiration. Also there’s an app for this in Iceland. | 2014-12-23T08:57:12 | 2014-12-23T08:43:21 | 107 | 12 |
[WP] You have the power to access another person's mind, but you must play a game/puzzle reflective of the owner's mind to unlock its secrets. You have solved 7x7 Rubik's cubes, played games of 3D Chess, and beaten countless final bosses. This time, however, you are caught off-guard.
If it's an unsolvable game/puzzle, that's fine. If the game is made up, then that's cool, too. Just have fun with the prompt! | I found out about three interesting facts, today.
1: Tic-Tac-Toe always results in a tie if both sides are playing perfectly. It's insultingly simple, compared to what I'd done before- but it's also perfect.
2: Turns out I can't exit a Minddive until I win or lose the challenge.
3: Turns out that, given perfect play, either player can always force a tie in Tic Tac Toe- even if the other player is trying to lose.
I've been here so long. I've drawn countless crosses and circles. Please, please let me leave. Please. Please. Please. | Tilting her head the small child glanced at me, a toothy smile spreading across its features. I was confused to say the least - there was always a game, a puzzle, rules I was able to follow to break into others peoples minds.
But she was different.
The barrier to her mind was a little girl, around seven years old, with big blue eyes and golden hair. Innocent in every way. She was waiting for me to say something, to break the silence in some way.
"Hi? I stated, curiously leaning down to eye level.
"Where's my sister?" The small girl asked, and with sudden clarity I understood that to access this woman's mind, I needed to break her - break this child's spirit with the cold, hard, dead, truth.
I straightened automatically.
*How do you tell a child their sister is dead?*
| 2015-04-28T17:18:42 | 2015-04-28T15:55:33 | 381 | 28 |
[WP] You have a literal Trump Card. When played, Donald Trump appears to assist you. | Because the Yu-Gi-Oh tie in was inevitable:
____
Pegasus laughs maniacally. "For all your skill, Yugi-boy, you'll still be sent to the shadow zone. Go! Blue-Eyes Toon Dragon! attack his lifepoints directly!"
A grin crosses yugi's face. "You fool! You've activated my *TRUMP CARD!*!"
"Your futile attempts to stall won't dissuade me! My millennium eye sees all, and you have no trap cards left to play! You're so afraid you can't even pronounce 'trap card' correctly!"
A short bark of laughter escapes Yugi. "Oh, I said exactly what I meant to."
*"Great unstumpable one, make America great again! Halt those who wish to enter my territory! Build wall!"*
With an almighty flash, Donald Trump appears on the playing field, towering over both combatants. His hand reaches out and smashes Blue-Eyes Toon Dragon flat, dissipating the monster into holographic crystal shards.
"How could this be!?" A look of complete incredulity is pasted on Pegasus's face.
Yugioh points (dramatically, of course) at Pegasus. "Pegasus, your reign of terror is over!"
Trump roars, shaking the very foundations of Duelist Kingdom.
"You're Fired!" | I did not believe the tarot reader when she handed me the card, she said it was a gift of good fortune.
I hastily stuffed it into my wallet and left. Later that evening, after a fine meal of yodels and chocolate milk, I felt intense intestinal discomfort. I still had some ways to go until I would be in the sanctuary of my own home.
Distressed I made my way to a gas station along the route home and thankfully they had a bathroom, unfortunately it was the dismal and unkempt. I had no time to be choosy so I sat and made quick work of the discomfort I was feeling. I went aghast finding there was no toilet paper in these facilities.
My God, what had I done. I was trapped and feeling quite despondent when I remembered the card I was given. The tarot reader had said that if I used the card properly I could get the aid of whomever was on it. I raced to find the card in my wallet and withdrew it to see whose image it held.
I was in shock to see it was Donald Trump, and knowing the magnitude of his personality and the acumen of his being I knew there was only one proper way to handle the situation. I separated the layers of the card into a three-ply configuration and let the Donald provide more public service in a few short moments than he has performed in his lifetime.
I let him rest atop his new luxury submarine and launched them on their maiden voyage to a place he could comfortably call home. For the first time in my life I finally had a way to appreciate the Donald.
| 2015-12-26T08:59:28 | 2015-12-26T06:46:30 | 562 | 125 |
[WP] Describe a battle with an army against a single man..... Except that man is a level 20 D&D character.
Bonus points if that character is a Bard, or an unpopular class. | You tried to play nice. Traveling through crag and creek, you drew your lute to resolve conflicts with peace.
*How large is the army?*
With music. That was how you chose to play the game. They laughed when you declared your orc bard. As did I. It was meant to be in good fun, just because you could. We loved this campaign.
*Hang on, doing a perception check. 20.*
The army is 2,000 strong. And I hate it. How you alone have survived the *Gilgamesh* adventure as a one man calamity. What new players don't understand is the commitment. You don't join to tell your own story. You *commit* to seeing your character overcome the trials and wonder of a new world.
*I roll for diplomacy. 1.*
As the DM, I was committed to seeing this story *end.* Even as your fellow adventurers struggled through the spider cave, the inn brawl of Last Tuesday and a dragon, you would tune that damned lute of yours in the back. Would it be a boost of morale to save your companions? No.
*I tune my lute, preparing to play the Song of Peace.*
Your fortune had other plans. I still don't understand how you do it. In a rare combination of bad dice rolls and the right initiatives, you were Destruction incarnate. What you did to Gabriel...
*I roll for peace resolution. 1.*
The army self-destructed. Once again, your song played so poorly, it made soldiers gnash their teeth and swing their swords wildly, doing anything to make it stop.
*I roll for destructiveness. 20.*
A general commands the vanguard to turn on their own soldiers to stop the battalion rebels, only to slaughter their comrades. Their fellow adventurers.
*M'rak the Wander watches the army disappear.*
Like *your* fellow adventurers. Is this the game you wanted to play Michael, with your orc bard? To compel my friends to destroy each other with your music, just to travel this world on your own? To roll through this campaign like a typhoon, uprooting the stories and game experience I had in mind when I invited you?
*M'rak is victorious.*
I won't give up. I will set army after army on you until your luck runs out. This story must end. I want to move on, and share another campaign with my friends. To share new worlds.
And we're running out of Mountain Dew.
-----------------
*More at r/galokot, and thanks for reading!* | Jeorge the slayer of men stared at the millions of men that approached him, a toothy smile on his face as battle roars echoed throughout the giant green gorgeous field.
The general walked up, a stout man covered in glistening gold armor, a coward in wolfs clothing. His mouth opened wide as he roared a sentence, "JEORGE FILSHELM THE THIRD!" echoed throughout the entire field. "YOU ARE CHARGED WITH THE SLAUGHTER OF THE KING, AND FIVE THOUSAND MEN! SURRENDER NOW OR WE SHALT SMITE YOU!" General Volfsmen screamed in an arrogant voice as he stared daggers at Jeorge.
"I will not surrender, not to a bunch of pitiful fools. In fact, why don't I sing a song for you?" Jeorge asked as his smile extended cheek to cheek, perfect white biters adorning his mouth.
A grim frown appeared on the Generals face as Jorge's smile got wider and wider, "DESTROY HIM!" the General exclaimed as he ran into battle, brandishing a sword made of the purest(and weakest) gold in the kingdom.
Jeorge opened his mouth, and started singing.
"I'm a barbie girl, in a barbie world!" Jeorge sang as hundreds of soldiers started dropping down in agony. "Life in plastic, it's fantastic!" Jeorge Boomed as he got ever so slightly louder, soldiers fell around him as Jeorge walked towards the general, whom was tripping and failing to walk forwards.
"IT BURNS!" A soldier exploded in pain as he ran around on fire, hundreds of other soldiers falling to other hindrances as well. Another ran around vomiting, blood and intestines managing to squeeze it's way out of his throat as he gurgled in pain.
"YOU CAN BRUSH MY HAIR, AND KISS ME EVERYWHERE!" Jeorge screamed as loud as he could, his melodic melody bringing men to their knees and forcing them to bow in pain.
Jeorge had finally caught up with the General as he attempted to crawl away in terror, Jeorge knelt down and grabbed the Generals chin as he went quiet for a second. Men sat in pools of their own blood, others disemboweling themselves in a fit of insanity as they waited for the pain to end.
Jeorge moved his mouth towards the Generals ear, and slowly opened his mouth to utter a sentence. "Imagination, life is MY creation." Jeorge whispered softly. Suddenly the heads of any man left alive exploded in a fit of blood and skull fragments.
Jeorge dropped the General and proceeded to stare at the an enormous castle in the distance, blood stained the grass where he stood as an angry frown emerged on his face. "Come on Barbie, let's go party." Jeorge grunted with anger.
| 2016-03-16T20:20:36 | 2016-03-16T20:19:06 | 96 | 36 |
[WP] Describe a battle with an army against a single man..... Except that man is a level 20 D&D character.
Bonus points if that character is a Bard, or an unpopular class. | "What do you mean no army?" the king said.
"Just that your highness. We sent in our best trackers. They couldn't find a single print. Nothing but the tracks of our own men."
The attacks had started five months ago. Some tax collectors disappearing in the night. Nothing was thought of it. Happens all the time. There's a reason we pay them so damn much. So we gave them a few guards, figuring that would stop these small time bandits. But no. That wasn't enough. Two tax collector and six guards, all dead. So we added a few more guards. 5 guards on each measly tax collector? It was ridiculous. But, times being as they were, we did it. And they were slaughtered in seconds. After that, we decided to take a more proactive approach. Sent a group of 20 soldiers into the woods to weed out these bandits. Not a single one returned. We weren't dealing with bandits. This was a raiding party, and a strong one at that. The next week we sent 40. Then 60. Then 100 men. All the same. Slaughtered without a man left standing. Not a raiding party, an army. It had to be. We were at war.
Five thousand. Five thousand of our top men. Five thousand men, all with families, many with children and wives, lying dead in a field not three miles from the city walls. And no one saw a thing. No witnesses. No survivors. And no opposing army.
"What the hell are we dealing with!" the king demanded.
"I have no idea sir."
"Wizards?"
"Not impossible, but not very likely. There wasn't a scorch mark to be seen, and no other anomalies were reported either. Just the dead. Some killed by arrows, others swords, a few slit throats..."
"Incredibly skilled warriors then?"
"We would have seen the footprints."
"Then what the hell could it have been!" The king screamed. "An army of ghosts! Or did our whole battalion just decide to turn on each other?"
"Um..." the king's adviser said meekly "We can't entirely rule out either possibility..."
"FIVE THOUSAND MEN KILLED IN COLD BLOOD AND NO ONE KNOWS HOW THE HELL THEY DIED?"
Suddenly, a blade of cold steel was pressed against the king's neck. "I do," said a calm female voice coming from behind the throne. "Any last words?"
"Fuck. Rogue." | Jeorge the slayer of men stared at the millions of men that approached him, a toothy smile on his face as battle roars echoed throughout the giant green gorgeous field.
The general walked up, a stout man covered in glistening gold armor, a coward in wolfs clothing. His mouth opened wide as he roared a sentence, "JEORGE FILSHELM THE THIRD!" echoed throughout the entire field. "YOU ARE CHARGED WITH THE SLAUGHTER OF THE KING, AND FIVE THOUSAND MEN! SURRENDER NOW OR WE SHALT SMITE YOU!" General Volfsmen screamed in an arrogant voice as he stared daggers at Jeorge.
"I will not surrender, not to a bunch of pitiful fools. In fact, why don't I sing a song for you?" Jeorge asked as his smile extended cheek to cheek, perfect white biters adorning his mouth.
A grim frown appeared on the Generals face as Jorge's smile got wider and wider, "DESTROY HIM!" the General exclaimed as he ran into battle, brandishing a sword made of the purest(and weakest) gold in the kingdom.
Jeorge opened his mouth, and started singing.
"I'm a barbie girl, in a barbie world!" Jeorge sang as hundreds of soldiers started dropping down in agony. "Life in plastic, it's fantastic!" Jeorge Boomed as he got ever so slightly louder, soldiers fell around him as Jeorge walked towards the general, whom was tripping and failing to walk forwards.
"IT BURNS!" A soldier exploded in pain as he ran around on fire, hundreds of other soldiers falling to other hindrances as well. Another ran around vomiting, blood and intestines managing to squeeze it's way out of his throat as he gurgled in pain.
"YOU CAN BRUSH MY HAIR, AND KISS ME EVERYWHERE!" Jeorge screamed as loud as he could, his melodic melody bringing men to their knees and forcing them to bow in pain.
Jeorge had finally caught up with the General as he attempted to crawl away in terror, Jeorge knelt down and grabbed the Generals chin as he went quiet for a second. Men sat in pools of their own blood, others disemboweling themselves in a fit of insanity as they waited for the pain to end.
Jeorge moved his mouth towards the Generals ear, and slowly opened his mouth to utter a sentence. "Imagination, life is MY creation." Jeorge whispered softly. Suddenly the heads of any man left alive exploded in a fit of blood and skull fragments.
Jeorge dropped the General and proceeded to stare at the an enormous castle in the distance, blood stained the grass where he stood as an angry frown emerged on his face. "Come on Barbie, let's go party." Jeorge grunted with anger.
| 2016-03-16T20:41:51 | 2016-03-16T20:19:06 | 91 | 36 |
[WP] A trashy romance novel is the only book to survive an apocalypse, and it becomes the fundamental religious text of a new society. | "Let us bow our heads and recite the Three Holy Attributes of His Perfect Figure."
The priest pressed his hands together and stared at the ground, eyes closed.
"First, his chiseled abs, which undulate in the sun like a checkerboard of sex."
The crowd of worshippers collectively massaged their stomachs. "Checkerboard of sex, checkerboard of sex," they recited.
"Second, his striking jawline, cutting deep into my soul and making me long to plant kisses on the runway of his chin."
"Runway of his chin, runway of his chin."
"Finally, his massive, throbbing --"
"*STOP!*"
The doors of the church slammed open and a ragged old man stumbled inside, leaning against a pew and struggling for breath. "We have been deceived!" he cried, tossing a book on the carpet in front of him.
Pastor Oliver marched towards him, rage flaring in his eyes. "Friar Jenkins, what is the meaning of this?"
"Another book...another book," the old man croaked. "*One Night With a Cowboy* is not the only sacred text in existence! Behold!"
He raised the book high in the air. *Flames in My Heart Book VI: The Fireman Cometh.* The congregation gasped, and several members burst into tears.
"Let us not jump to any conclusions, dear friends," Pastor Oliver said, opening the book to page one. He began to read.
"*Richard doused himself with the hose and removed his shirt, tossing it to me. I let it land on my shoulders and squeezed the sweat and water onto myself, letting it leak into every crevice of my skin like a sex waterfall. Now we were both united. He pressed me against the fire truck and whispered into my ear. 'You've started a five-alarm fire in my heart, baby.'*"
Friar Jenkins buried his face in his hands. "We were told that Stephen of the Allegheny Ranch would be waiting for us in the Promised Land!"
Oliver shook his head. "Friends, we must not allow ourselves to panic in such uncertain times. We must be united in our strength, and pray ever stronger to Stephen, so that he may grace us with his holy presence and we may live in the glorious shadow of his ten gallon hat."
Several members of the congregation nodded, but others were still passed out or wailing. Pastor Oliver placed *The Fireman Cometh* in the front pocket of his robe and returned to the podium.
He allowed no one to see that the authors of the two books were the same. Instead, he continued to preach from the many chapters of *One Night with a Cowboy*, the novel that no member of the church had ever set eyes upon.
He delivered his sermons as though nothing had happened, but he was never fully able to mask the doubts beginning to rise within the depths of his very being.
***
/r/GigaWrites
| "I shouldn't have given you that book. You're gonna rot your brain out reading that."
The book in question was a dog-eared paperback copy of *Lady Chatterley's Lover.* Its cover was badly sun damaged but the rest of it was in decent shape, save for the numerous bent corners to bookmark particular pages. God knows *which* pages.
Faith sat by the fire, her eyes fixed on the pages before her. Every so often she flip back and reread a chapter but more she poured ahead, turning the page every few minutes. Flint was busy tending to his kit, a whetstone in hand and his blade in the other, his hand making smooth steady strokes across the worn steel.
"You like it?" he asked. Faith didn't look when she answered him.
"I love it. And you say there was more?"
Flint laughed softly and ran his stone down the bayonet's edge. "Oh plenty more; most of it shit. Before the internet women ate that shit up and asked for seconds. After the internet it kinda died down but... Well, some folks are traditionalists. Lots of books went up in smoke after the Arrival whether in dragonflames or execution pyres or just plain used for fuel. Pulp paper makes for great tinder.
"Suppose we could check out any ruined bookstores. They always had a great shelf of the stuff for cheap. But if you really want smut, you should track down *Story of O.* Damn near cause a riot when that was published."
Faith perked up. "What it's about?"
Flint shook his head ruefully. "Nothing good that's for sure. Nothing but filth of the first class. Dunno why you're so interested in those books. Surely you Fae have your own erotic fiction?"
"No. It's all courtly romance, and silly things like that. Lady's favours, and chaste, impossible love."
A wry grin crossed her guardian's face. "Best not introduce you to *Le Morte d'Arthur* and Mallory then. You'd hate him. Others though... from what I hear, there's a whole petty kingdom out west playing at knights and ladies."
"You mean like us?" Faith asked, referring to the Alth-Fae.
"Sort of, but I'm talking like really, really serious about. Like they believe they're descendants of nobility."
"Are they?" Faith said.
"Fucked if I know. The only thing I know is that since the Arrival a whole bunch of strange people have risen to the top of the scrapheap. Twenty years later hopeful bards are writing songs about events from before they were born as if they were legend, and every other village hosts some madman who lost his marbles a long time ago. I've met someone who though they were the reincarnated soul of Edward Thatch and even met a real, genuine, goddamn Jedi. Never mind he had no powers or even a sword, light or otherwise. People can believe whatever they want, Faith, and I won't even judge them. After all, right now I'm speaking with an Elf. It'd be a tad hypocritical to call others' beliefs mad, now wouldn't it?"
| 2016-07-26T17:28:17 | 2016-07-26T17:26:49 | 518 | 30 |
[WP] When you die, you are given the chance to flip a coin. If you call the toss correctly, you are allowed to keep living, while resetting to the age of your choice. You've been doing this for a couple centuries now. Death is starting to get pretty pissed. | "Have you ever considered, you know, doing something with your lives Seamus?" Death sat next to me in the pub, taking a swig of his pint.
"What do you mean!? I've finally perfected the brew, can't you taste how amazing this is? I have it on good authority that it's the best in the universe!"
"Seamus, you perfected this brew well over a century ago. Yes, it's the best beer in history, but surely there's still more you can do. I mean, it's gotta be divine intervention right? Nobody is supposed to win the coin toss. 235 fucking times Seamus. That's how many in a fucking row that you've won. Don't you think maybe you're genuinely mean to be doing something with all this time instead of sitting here getting blitzed? You don't even get any fucking customers out in the goddamn middle of nowhere except Joe in the corner there!"
At the mention of his name, the little old white bearded man in the corner roused himself just enough to look up from his half gone pint for a moment, mutter something unintelligible, and then seemingly go back to sleep.
Seamus, glanced over at Joe "Oi, don't be knocking Joe. He's been my loyal customer for years now, and he knows the true value of my brew."
Death had stopped all the theatrics centuries ago. He showed up in the modern dress of Ireland these days. Neither he nor Seamus could fake an accent to save their lives, but may as well blend in. He had last been at the pub 80 years ago when it was new, and 95 years before that at the tavern in Britain. Always whenever he came to visit "Seamus" was in his personal drinking establishment, serving up his same brew. Nothing ever changed with him, not even the result of the coin toss.
Death swigged down the last of the pint, it really was beyond compare. He'd been all over the world, through all the years, and he'd still never had a brew as good. Seamus was right, he really had perfected it.
"Welp, I got work to do, you know the rules, you get to call it, I get to flip it."
Seamus gargled "heads" through a sip of his drink.
Death used to think he was cheating. He knew it wasn't possible, but still, death couldn't figure out how to recreate that beer, so maybe Seamus had other secrets. Even so, it never mattered what Seamus called. Death tossed the coin in every way he possibly knew. It always came up in Seamus' favor. So this time was no surprise either. The coin landed, death swiped it up, grabbed his coat, and headed for the door.
"92 years, 84 days, 8 hours. I'll see you then."
"Oh aye laddy. Sounds grand. I'll have your drink waiting for you." Seamus said in his awful fake accent.
After death had left, Seamus went over to sit with his only other patron. The only patron he would ever need for all time.
"Thanks again Joe, guess I get to keep on brewing for you for another 92 years!"
Jehova looked up from his beer with a big smile.
"It really is the best in the universe!"
Edit:
Jesus! that blew up pretty thoroughly! I really appreciate all the compliments. Makes me feel good about taking the time to write it! | Both Death and Daniel watched as the coin pirouetted through the air. The light of the moon danced off one surface and then the other. Heads then tails. Heads then tails.
"No!" screamed Daniel as for the 256th time, the coin landed heads up.
"No!" screamed Death, painfully aware that Daniel had slipped through his fingers once again. He clutched at his scythe and held it near. Death then took a few deep breaths, sucking air in through his mouth before it escaped through his unskinned ribs like water through gills.
"So be it," said Death, regaining a crumb of composure. "You live again. You are alive. Now with my touch you shall be sent back. You will be healthy and young. Your memories will be kep-"
"I know the rules, Death," sighed Daniel, "But I can't do this again. I have lived too long already. I have lived through hundreds of loved ones dying. I have watched the world change to something I do not understand -- that I don't *want* to understand. Take me, Death."
"You know I cannot. And this is more painful for me than it is for you, Daniel. You requested the gamble upon your original death, the pact must be honoured until you flip tails."
"I took the gamble for her, I didn't want to leave her..." Daniel said as he looked down at the dirt floor. "But she left me long ago. And now I am ready to leave. I was ready long ago."
"I am sorry for your loss, Daniel. I do not like what I have to do and I would much rather take you. But you must go back."
"Did she...did she take the gamble? Did she flip a coin; did she try to come back to me?"
"Every time you ask this question, but you know I cannot answer. Why do you pain yourself? Why does it matter so much to you?"
"It just, does." replied Daniel in little more than a whisper.
Daniel was silent for a moment and Death, for his part, stood as still as stone.
"Swap with me." Daniel pleaded suddenly. "Let me become the new Reaper. Let me send you back to humanity."
Death paused for a while and clutched his scythe to his bony chest
as he considered the offer.
"I cannot. It is forbidden. Daniel, you have knowledge far beyond any mortal. You have power. Do something with it. Improve them."
"I cannot change the world. I have spent many lifetimes trying and failing. I started wars and I ended them. I created and tried ideological and social revolutions. All I learned was that they can't be helped. There is no perfect state for them. We, they, are a creature of flux. They need uncertainty and chaos."
"Be that as it may, you must go back."
Daniel fell to his knees as a plume of dust sprinkled up into the moonlit night. He picked up the fallen coin and stared at it in hatred. "So be it. Touch my head with your boney hand and send me back."
Death paused again for a moment, before nodding and floating forward. He lowered a hand towards Daniel. But before his boney fingers touched Daniel's head, Daniel sprung forward and flew at the sharp scythe that Death held. Daniel raised his neck to meet the razor like edge of the scythe. At the same time he flipped the coin into the air.
A fountain of crimson burst from his neck.
The coin pirouetted in the moonlight before landing on the dusty floor. Blood trickled over the coin and a bony smile crept over Death's face.
"Yes, she gambled, Daniel." said Death leaning down to pick up the man's body.
| 2016-09-23T09:14:52 | 2016-09-23T08:35:02 | 2,418 | 476 |
[WP] When you die, you are given the chance to flip a coin. If you call the toss correctly, you are allowed to keep living, while resetting to the age of your choice. You've been doing this for a couple centuries now. Death is starting to get pretty pissed. | “You know, in all the times you’ve come to meet me you’ve never once told me what would happen once you’ve actually taken my soul.”
The woman sitting across from him remained expressionless, not a single feature on her smooth sun-kissed face changed, nor did a single dark hair resting gracefully on her shoulders move. “I’ve told you before Alexander, I’m not allowed to reveal that to anyone.”
He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. He’d lived many lives, gone by many names. He’d created empires and destroyed them, done great things and horrible things, created great marvels and prevent progress on others. Persia, America, Russia, he’d influenced them all, and yet it wasn’t enough.
“If you told me I might be more inclined to waive my right to this little coin toss you know.”
As with everything he said, the woman showed no reaction. “While our little meetings are beginning to wear on my nerves, no one escapes me. Greater men than you have all come with me eventually, even those who the rest of the world called gods take my hand eventually. I am the one certainty in this universe.”
He knew it was true. The world always showed subtle signs when a god lost their toss to her, but he did like to consider himself a bit more clever than their lot had ever been. “Ah well, hand me the coin please.”
She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a small copper coin and dropped it into his open palm. When it finally reached him, it smashed his hand into the table, the symbol of the closed-door face up.
“What nonsense is this? I can’t even lift this coin! How am I supposed to flip it?”
The woman smirked at him, the first expression he’d ever seen grace her face in the hundreds of times they’d met, and the sudden terror that filled him made him regret ever wanting to see her change it.
“That is not a problem I have to address. All I am now required to do is wait here in this frozen moment of time until you flip the coin or agree to come with me, and I am a very patient woman.”
-------------------------
My first time, thanks for comments! | "-uck" My last words are finished as I my eyes adjust to the blackness. I sit up and look at Death. He is sitting at a table.
"Oh, it is you again. What is it today?" Death greeted me not with an explanation of the game like he always used to but an apathetic voice.
"I don't know, you can choose." I watch as Death pulls out a chess board and starts to set up a game on it. "A classic."
As I sit down to play, the board orients for me to be white. "Well you did just die" Death is at least courteous. "But don't expect me to go easy"
As I am making my first moves Death asks, "Any ideas for the new life, since you know the trick, I can see what I can do to make the transition easy."
I have tried so many different things. Who knows maybe I will ask to be a grandmaster this time"
"Oh don't ruin a good game for me." Death quips back
"One day I will get you into video games then you will really know what a good game is. Check."
"What? Oh the bishop. And just because I like board games doesn't mean they are bad. Next time we will play Settlers of Catan then you can see how good a board game can be."
"Yeah whatever you say" I roll my eyes at death "also check again."
Death just sighs and tries to focus on the game. But it doesn't matter He is one move from being checkmated.
"Checkmate. My streak continues this is what 24 in a row now?"
"28" Death responds. "I miss the days that we were on an equal level"
"Yeah well better luck next time. Keep practicing." I smile as he tosses me the coin. Our little game is meaningless but since I know his trick we can just keep playing every death of mine.
"Got your age?"
"Let’s go with a whole new life and say birth. Get a new set of adventures." I toss the coin. "until next time, Death." I watch the coin start to bounce around and at the last possible moment say "Edge." Just as I do the coin lands and balances right on the edge and rolls to the corner of the table. Just like every time. The blackness fades and death waves goodbye.
*Edited so that the grammar is actually good. | 2016-09-23T08:57:47 | 2016-09-23T08:35:23 | 196 | 29 |
[WP] You are notified when you visit somewhere for the last time. Today, the notification appears everywhere you go.
[deleted] | The little light on my watch turned red mostly when I was on vacation, which made sense. The red sometimes made me a little sad, when I was at home somewhere. But on the whole, I tried not to think about it too much. "A must-have feature, here, George!" the salesman told me. Whatever. It was a cute gimmick. It couldn't be real, could it?
Then the day came. I was so nervous. I was going to get dinner with my parents that evening. All day, it kept turning red wherever I went. I got scared - was something going to happen to me on the way to dinner? Would I eat something that had gone bad that would kill me? Of all days, it had to be today?! Maybe it was a sign. I started second-guessing myself. Trying to hide the now-consistently red light under my sleeve...
But I made it to the restaurant. I made it to my seat. I made small talk with my parents - they were just happy to see me. I ate as much of my dinner as I could. We got dessert, still happy little chatter. My stomach was churning. I glanced at my wrist - still red. My heart was pounding. I tried to ignore it.
Here goes nothing.
"Mom, Dad... I want to ask you something." They looked at me with pleasing expectation. "I'd like you to start calling me Georgia." Mom laughed and took my hand, and dad just smiled. "Well okay, Georgia!" Mom said. I exhaled.
The light turned green again. | "The fuck? That's like the thirtieth message today."
"What's that?"
Joe is waiting for his order next to me. He's glued to his screen just like me.
"LastCall is blowing up today. Don't know what's up. "
"Lol, that's a gimmicky service anyway. How do they know it's your 'last ever check-in.'"
I sip my coffee and double-tap home to open the RAM memory apps; then close LastCall and restart it.
The notification stays, "This is your last call at BARB'S UNDERGROUND CAFE." One in a long list of similar pop-ups.
Joe looks over. "You tried turning it on and off yet?"
It's a silly response. I ignore him.
"What if I go to like my parent's house or something? Will I get a ding there too?"
Joe takes a sip of the order he got while I was fooling around. "You serious?
I smile sheepishly. "Yeah, why not? I mean they're always telling me to visit more."
"What if you bring your bad cyberluck with you?" he says, making spooky voodoo handsigns.
"Well, you have the app and you didn't get a ding, right?"
Joe says, "Naw, I uninstalled that weeks ago."
I'm preoccupied and selfish, so I'm not really paying attention to Joe. My mind's spinning. I'm not planning to move anywhere. There's no new job opportunities or amber alerts up. Am I gonna die or just become paraplegic?
"Let's go. I think I need an adult."
Joe says, "To your parents?"
"Yeah," I say, "Take off work. I'm not driving with this bad eJuju."
"Whaaaaaaat," he says, already texting his boss to tell the guy something's come up. "This better be for real though." | 2016-11-03T10:41:31 | 2016-11-03T06:14:59 | 33 | 21 |
[WP] You are notified when you visit somewhere for the last time. Today, the notification appears everywhere you go.
[deleted] | I was in line for my daily coffee when I got the first one: a little ping from the device on my wrist with a notification that read "Cafe Ole - Last Visit". I wasn't too heartbroken about it. Truth is, I only bought my coffee there because it was the closest and cheapest place aside from the usual deli. Perhaps they were closing down soon, or I'd finally find someplace better that wouldn't break my wallet. I picked up my coffee and decided to walk around before going home.
The second ping made me a little worried. "Cherry Park - Last Visit". I have always been a creature of habit, and I'd walk through this park at least once a week. Why would I stop? But if it was my last time, I figured I might as well enjoy it. A coffee, some sunshine, and the sound of children laughing - not the worst way to spend my last day here.
Alas, it could not last forever. Any longer, and my parents would wonder where I was. So homeward I went. I wouldn't tell them about the pings; they would only worry, and it wouldn't do them any good. The third ping strengthened my resolve, even as it made my heart break: "Home - Final Visit".
I closed my suitcases and called a cab. My mother hugged me, my dad gave me a squeeze and a smile, and they told me to have fun on my trip. I told them I loved them, and that I would call when I arrived. I cried the moment the cab pulled away.
I was grateful to have a window seat. The city sprawled below me, and all too soon nothing but clouds filled my sight. I wondered when it would happen.
Nothing happened. The plane announced its descent, and my brow furrowed in confusion despite my sigh of relief. I made my way to the hotel without incident, and gave my parents the promised call.
It was the next day that my world changed, as I looked up in a small, foreign cafe into the captivating eyes of the person who would love me forever. I would never return from my trip, because this would be my home. I would marry here, and raise a family. I would visit my parents of course, but while I was falling in love, my mother got a new job opportunity that required my parents to move away from my childhood home.
And we all lived happily ever after. :) | Chicago was buzzing, the omnipresent hum of traffic crushing the streets vibrated the city with a frenzied din. It had been six hours since the first final notification faded into view on my Integrated Information Glasses. Standing in line at D'amato's bakery I had gotten a little information burst and then notification of final visitation. I had spent $4,021.32 USD at the Bakery in the past twelve years it told me, I'd purchased more sandwiches than actual bread and the average visit was three times a week.
I'd stopped there regularly on my commute back from work, it had been in operation for almost a hundred years by the time I started frequenting it and from the life time residents that walked Grand Street, it had only gotten better.
I broke my reverie and looked up, the sky was clear in a way that only a winter morning in Chicago can be. Each frosted breath I took, each stop I made off the L monorail notified me. This was the final time I would see it, my time was running out.
I made my way through the press of bodies, each person seemed to be soaking in the city with an understanding that mirrored mine. There was no rudeness on the streets today, there was no press of bodies to get to the next destination. We all stood in the moment, because we each began getting those notifications.
One by one, I could see the realization sweep over the faces of my fellow commuters. I took the L rail across the city and stepped off the train on my way to Navy Pier. I wanted to see the Lake, one last time.
Unfortunately, I would not get that chance. My vision blurred, screams erupted around me. I turned to see the unmaking of the world.
It was the End.
The immersive program had ended, G'lornax pulled the Virtual Engagement Nodules off of it's sensory dendrites and shrilly chittered in it's native tongue.
*"The good games always get shit on, it's not like there weren't enough players. They could've kept the servers open, or given us the chance to back up our characters. I had like two hundred HOURS in the Human Fantasy Emulator Chicago server!"*
It spun a boneless appendage out and pushed through a pile of half empty fluid containers, finding one to deposit the emissions it had been holding in to get the last few hours of program time.
*"G'lornax!!!"* It's spawner croaked from the adjacent room. *"Are you done playing pretend? Are you ready for your dendrite cleaning?!"*
G'lornax sighed, *Spawners... So naggy* it thought, as it heaved from the convex warming comfort pod, latching the thousands of suction tendrils to the ground and reluctantly making its way to the door. | 2016-11-03T09:23:39 | 2016-11-03T09:19:12 | 31 | 12 |
[WP] You die and are greeted in the afterlife by the all knowing God (choose one), ready to judge you. However, for some reason he has no recollection of you ever existing. | "Bell? Bell Ladrew? Let me find you." A humbled man rushs about in an rather bland, yet suprising angelic office room. He wore a large white robe, and had a settled expression. He seemed so busy, but it was clear he was just trying to feign emotion. "Bell Ladrew... Bell.." Suddenly his expression appeared active. He turned to a mysteriously well placed cloud of fluff, and pulled open a cabinet drawer of fluffy cloudiness. "Bell Ladrew, I have no idea." Confusion began to erupt over his face. He twisted his figure, and looked to me. A simple, run-of-the-mill lady. I was as confused as he was, and we both had the same idea. "Did I, like, never exist?" I blurted out. There was silence for a moment, but then the man spoke. "I can't find anything on you! I don't know what to do!"
Another silence, stinking of awkward air. He finally sat back down in his seat, and looked me over. He began to smile, but it was clear he had no idea how to move forward. "Are you sure you aren't just misplacing my file?" I was hesitant, but my words came out quick. He seemed surprised, and began to tap his fingers together. "I would remember where you are, I am omniscient, afterall." He rose a finger, and with a dash of the digit. He created my name out of thin air, in a wispy white, like a cloud. Floating gently next to it was a small empty square. "See? If I had you on file, you would be in that square." He sighed, and looked to me.
"But... i'm not?" I replied, and he simply nodded his head.
"Well, can I just tell you what I did?"
That awkward air again, silence from the man..
"No, I can't judge you off your own merit. You could be a liar." He shrugged, and laid his face against the fluffy heavenly desk. At a loss for words. "Look, i'll let you in, but you are going to get reincarnated, pronto." I was simply taken aback, and nervously laughed. I was going to be reincarnated! Yet of course I had to check one important thing: "And I will be on file this time, right?"
"Absolutely!" He chimed.
---
^^Hi, ^^i'm ^^new ^^in ^^town. | “Name?”
An imposing figure sat on a large golden throne in front of me.
“Uh, K.. Kevin” I stammered, “Kevin Muh.. Mc Sweeney”
His eyes bored into me, weighing my words, measuring my worth.
“Kevin, is it? Let me see here.” He riffled through a large tome with miniscule writing and I could swear I saw the text writhe and crawl over the page.
“I don’t seem to have someone by that name with your description” He measured me once more and slowly closed the book. He let his fingers trail down his beard, suddenly looking very old indeed.
“Now that I think on it, there is something strange about your presence.” His eyes widened with shock “You are not one of mine”
His large finger pointed at me, trembling. Spittle flying from his mouth as He rose from his throne.
“Impossible” He screamed, “it cannot be, only I have the power to grant life. Only I am GOD”
His eyes darted up as robed figures with folded wings entered the room. They held a staff in one hand and a shield in the other, unblinking as they made a ring around us. Once in their position a young man walked in, dark skinned and sporting long tousled hair.
“Father” he said, bowing and raising with his fist to his chest “I am sorry that it had to come to this but it was I who brought Kevin here.”
The young man looked at me and smiled with what I could only describe as pride.
“Jesus?” God whispered.
“I am sorry father but I could not stand by any longer. I watched as you set man against man in bloody warfare. I sat on my hands when you wiped out half of your children with disease. I even bit my tongue when you turned Nature Herself against them. But this time you have gone too far.”
“You ungrateful …” God began with a snarl.
“SILENCE” Jesus rose his hand and all the soldiers rose their staff in unison. He looked at me and beckoned me to join him.
“I have spent millennia trying to create life. I have dreamed of this moment since my own father let them take my life. Oh, I have failed and wept as my creations would breath life only to be extinguished a moment later. But you my beautiful son, are my first success and will be the herald to a new Genesis.”
As he dropped his arm to embrace me, forks of lightning arced from the staff of each soldier and engulfed a weeping God.
As His ethereal body began to unravel, He called out “Why?”
Jesus looked at him with sadness in his eyes. He coughed and steeled himself and looked down at his father and said “of all the travesties you have unleashed on the world, Donald Trump is just unforgivable.”
| 2016-11-18T03:50:39 | 2016-11-18T03:43:20 | 36 | 12 |
[WP] You dress up as a conspiracy nutter for a costume party. The second you put the tinfoil hat on, something obstructive is lifted from your mind as if you suddenly woke up from a long sleep. Of course, nobody believes you... | "Commander Rag'nor, we have been alerted of tinfoil activity on Earth,” said Klooton, the shabby subordinate who stood nervously at the side of the commander, clipboard in hand.
“More details, Klooton,” ordered Rag’nor, spinning his chair to face the much smaller alien.
“It’s Human 29348yZ, also known as ‘Jerry’ on Earth. He’s going to Human 97445xY, well, Dianne’s, fancy dress party tonight and decided to masquerade as a ‘Conspiracy Theorist’. Part of his costume is a tinfoil hat.”
“Dianne’s party .. what do we know about it?”
“It’s early but all intel points to it being super sweet.”
“And what is Jerry’s status?” asked Rag’nor.
“He’s aware. We have watched him inquisitively place then remove the hat on his head numerous times within the last hour. The second he feels our communication waves are blocked, his eyes light up.”
“Like the scum on Elon 231.” Growled Rag’nor.
“No. Not literally. His eyes figuratively lit up. It’s a saying on Earth for when someone comes to a realisation.”
“So you’re telling me they cannot illuminate their eyes like the scum of Elon 231?”
“No, sir, they cannot.”
“Good. That is good.” Rag’nor spun back on his chair to face the large monitor that displayed the small sector of universe he was tasked with overseeing. “Send out a collection party, abduct 29348yZ before he can attend 97445xY’s party.”
“That’s the thing, sir. There are no collection parties available for use at the moment,” said Klooton, nervously grasping at his clipboard.
Rag’nor stood from his chair, “Then it shall be a reconnaissance mission. We shall go to 97445xY’s fancy dress party and have a super sweet time.”
“Dianne, commander. We need to call the humans by their Earth names if we are to pass on their planet without suspicion. We will also require outfits for the costume party.”
“Excellent, then I shall be Quin’thor the Destroyer of Planets. Everyone will want a picture with me and I will be most welcoming as my outfit will be ferocious,” announced Rag’nor.
“We cannot go as celebrities from our planets, Rag’nor. We must conceal ourselves using costumes derived from Planet Earth’s culture,” said Klooton. “Let us google fancy dress costumes using Earth’s google search engine.”
The two hunched around the monitor, looking through the fancy dress web pages.
“I see a lot of these are ‘sexy’ variants.” said Rag’nor.
“They all appear to be ‘sexy’ variants.” replied Klooton.
“Go to their ‘Planet Destroyers’ page.”
“They do not have one, commander.”
“This is most disappointing. Very well, I shall go as that one there,” announced Rag’nor. “And you shall go as his partner.”
“But, commander.”
“It is final, Klooton. Have our workers create the ensembles. We leave as soon as they are created.”
Draped in their new costumes, the two aliens headed to Earth – specifically to Dianne’s costume party. Their ship, cloaked to the human eye, landed a couple of hundred yards from the destination in a location identified by the on-board computer. The two disembarked and trotted over to Dianne’s.
Klooton knocked on the door. Dianne opened.
“Greetings, Dianne. We are your friends and we would have come to party.”
Dianne stood puzzled. She looked the two aliens up and down trying to work out who exactly they were. “I have no idea who you two are but I guess that’s the idea of this party.”
“You must have come as a crazy person, 97445xY, as we are clearly your fancy dress friends,” said Rag’nor who stopped to wink at Klooton after speaking. Klooton looked blankly on at Rag’nor.
“Screw it, come on in,” said Dianne, widening the door so Rag’nor could fit in.
The two entered the house, noticing immediately that they were now surrounded by humans, without weapons, dressed in clothes other than Algarothi armour, and Jerry was nowhere to be seen.
“Play it cool, Klooton,” said Rag’nor.
“I am playing it cool. I’m as cool as a cucumber,” replied Klooton.
“You are not a cucumber, Klooton. You are an earthling.”
“Let me do the talking, commander.”
The two slowly made their way through the house, awkwardly throwing greetings the way of those who were suspiciously eyeballing them. A drunk man approached the two.
“You guys look amazing. Everyone goes for the half sexy, half whatever look but you two have gone for the half whatever, half alien look.”
“We have no idea what you mean,” said Klooton. “We are clearly Doctor Brown and Martin McFlies.”
“Look, I am Martin McFlies,” said Rag’nor, “I’ll do an impression for you.” Rag’nor cleared his throat, “Hello, Doctor Brown. It is me Martin McFlies.”
The drunk man began to laugh. “You guys are not Doc Brown and Marty Mcfly. You’re like two aliens that are badly dressed as Doc Brown and Marty McFly.”
Rag’nor grabbed Klooton by his collar and hauled him off to the nearest corner. “Our outfits are not sufficient. Even the intoxicated human knew we were aliens.”
“It would appear we did not think this through. I advise we find 29348yZ as soon as possible then leave this planet.”
“Agreed.”
The drunk man shouted across the room, “Hey, alien Doc and Mart. You’re up. It’s you two nerds versus me and conspiracy nut over here.”
“No thank you, we have other business ..” Rag’nor noticed Jerry standing at the Beer Pong table. “I mean, yes, we would be more than happy to partake in this proposed game.”
TBC
****
I write shitty, silly stories on /r/BillMurrayMovies. Feel free to come along, not laugh at any of them and leave some judgement. | "FUUUNNNNNY JOKE," shouted Aaron. The others were doubled over in laughter. They all had a strange assortment of bits and pieces on them, scrounged from back closets and parent's basements. One couple had old suits and sunglasses, the woman rocking a late 90s pant suit. FBI, MOULDER, and SCULLY adorned their costumes in large handwritten letters on taped-on pieces of paper. Another man wore neon and had hung glowsticks from this wrists. In the corner, an Al Borland lookalike was still chuckling. The room was filled with bad fashion choices made with a careful eye.
"GUYS," Vicky burst into the giggling room. She punctuated with each word with flailing hand. "Guys. This. Is. Big." Her clothing was even more mismatched, she wore an ill-fitting brown suit and her black curly hair was frizzing out from the tinfoil hat on her head. Her friends looked at her and clapped loudly. A chorus of shouts followed.
"Kramer!" said Terry.
"Homeless Guy!" shouted Naomi.
"Conspiracy Theorist!" yelled Anne and Robin together. The others groaned and conceded the point. They flashed their FBI badges belligerently.
"No!" Vicky said. "I mean, yes, but listen: It's all clear to me now. It's all true." Her friends laughed.
"No, I'm serious. Th-th-th there's some sort of force like really affecting our minds. The tinfoil has stopped all of it. Everything is clearer now."
Terry offered her the joint in his hands, "Girl, you need to chill."
"It's all a lie. Everything. Everything is just like, some big joke, some big illusion, we're all just going through the motions of living our lives, you know?" She had a wild look in her dark eyes, and her friends exchanged uneasy glances.
Anne stood and up took her by the shoulder, "Vicky, you don't look so good."
"No! I'm not good, Anne." She accepted being led over to the couch, where she sat down. "Somebody once told me-"
"-That the world was gonna roll me-" Naomi shushed Robin's drunken response.
"-that we're like an untamed forest. An-an-an-and a single footstep doesn't, doesn't make a mark, but-but-but if we all keep walking in the same way, in the same place, and doing the same things, then the forest becomes a path." She grabbed Anne urgently. "We're the path. We're walking the path."
"Uhm...." Anne looked at her friends for help.
"You're really ruining my party Vicky. C'mon. Drop the act, we get it, you're a conspiracy theorist." Terry took a drag.
Vicky pressed her hands against the side of her head. "Humans are on the path, because they're told to be. But there's a whole forest out there. A whole - a whole - a whole set of trees we've never even seen." Her arms jumped , knocking over drinks as her friends groaned, "We need to get off it. We need to go see some new bark, guys. We're just staring at dirt, yo."
Rolling her eyes now, Anne dragged Vicky away from the drinks as the others grabbed paper towel. She guided Vicky towards the bathroom and reached up to take the tinfoil hat.
"Enough of this," she said. It slid off her friend's head, who suddenly slumped against her.
"Wow, I'm sho tiiiired," Vicky slurred. Anne patted her on the back and let her collapse next to the toilet.
"Pull the trigger, let's get this over with." Vicky threw up in the toilet as Anne dutifully held her hair back. She wanted to reach into her pocket for her phone, so she smiled and put the tinfoil in her hand on her head.
A dull thrumming scared her. It came from everywhere around her like she was under power lines. She looked around, and colours grew more vibrant and seemed to blur if she moved her head too quickly. For a long time she just stared at the decorative tiles of the bathroom floor. They were etched by a machine's cold metal claw, she could see the lifeless traces of its perfect grooves. It was so ugly, she thought, so... unnatural. She looked around slowly, letting the colours bleed into each other. She looked up to see Robin standing over her with a concerned look.
"You okay, babe?" The voice came from far away, barely audible over the thrumming. In the corner of the room, a spider's web feebly wavered in the air. No spider in sight, she thought, but it had left a trace of its life behind. Messy lines crossing each other, all for the purpose of making a single home for a single lonely creature.
This was her home, but it was cold and sterile and she hadn't made any of-
Robin took the tinfoil hat off her head, and she felt nauseous. She knelt over the bathtub and vomited. Robin rubbed her back slowly. Anne clutched behind her as she groaned and grabbed the tinfoil on the floor.
She crushed it in her fist and threw it across the tile floor. Spitting a few more times and then turning on the water, she slid around to face Vicky and Robin.
"Alright, let's get back to this party." Vicky was shaking her head groggily.
"I need more to drink." Robin nodded, squeezed her knee, and got up to go fetch her cup.
"I put on the hat, Vicks."
"And?" Vicky said apprehensively.
"Like I said, we need another drink." Anne stood, and ignored Vicky's dark look. She pulled her friend to her feet.
"C'mon, we got a Seinfeld drinking game to play." Out in the room, someone yelled out, that's gold, Jerry! "Terry had to buy an actual physical copy of season 1 for this, let's go." Reluctantly, Vicky followed her out to the couch. She gave one last look to the crumpled tin foil, and then accepted the drink Robin pushed into her hands.
"Yada, Yada, Yada," she cried before downing the liquor.
| 2017-04-10T07:36:37 | 2017-04-10T07:16:44 | 68 | 22 |
[WP] A rich man discovers that he only has two years left to live. With no relatives to inherit his fortune, he disguises himself as a beggar and resolves to give his wealth to the first person who helps him. | It took about a year to get all of the paperwork squared away and to sink into my homeless lifestyle unnoticed. The papers all chronicled the mystery of the vanishing millionaire. "Robert J Conrad's plane crashed " "Millionaire Missing - Feared Dead". "Search Called Off"
I let them speculate about what happened to me because I knew the truth. The money was only a perk. The lifestyle was the real deal. Living like a king on sheer reputation was the richest high. Finest tables everywhere just by whispering, "it's for RJ Conrad". The women, the travel, the parties... It was a grand ride for sure.
I wanted to give that experience to someone, but they would need my money first. I wanted to leave my vast fortune to a random kind stranger, but it was getting more and more unlikely that I would find someone.
I had been sitting on the street corner in front of my favorite 5 star restaurant for a few months, getting weaker and getting despondent. They chased me off, but I kept wandering back. I knew the Maitre D wouldn't recognize me because in my arrogance I never looked him in the eyes. I regretted that, but I was too full of myself at the time. I hoped that whomever got my money would correct my mistakes.
And as I thought about how I pushed away all my friends and family all of my life, my thoughts were interrupted by a $20 bill and a newspaper. "Here ya go, old man, you look hungry". I took the paper and the money and watched this well dressed older man nod at me as he walked to the front door.
This was it! This was the one that I would give my vast fortune to! As I approached to inform him I heard the Maitre D whisper "It's for RJ Conrad" as he sent the staff to make a table. The well dressed man walked in and was whisked away to the table. The paper fell from my hand and as my eyes went dark I saw the headline "Robert J Conrad Found" with a huge picture of that well dressed man.
I'm sad to say that my last words were clearly "What the Fuck? " | Seaweed for the first time in decades.
It looks less dangerous than scores of men painted in white, armed with leer. Here there are more green than brown, more hope than despair. More unconscious laboring for air. More cushion to spare. But they are weed nonetheless.
My father's line built this, reeled it from the shores of salt. My mother's lie stole this, sealed it from my surest assault. My line will end with this, undoubted from *his* jurist exalt.
"Give it away or keep it at bay, you'll have more once you've acceded. Provided you've succeeded with the war."
I have no choice, *he* gave *her* to me. How can I ignore such liability? Even if I helplessly doubt *his* claim on my paternity?
The thoroughfare hosts many destitute with torn garbs and limbs. The cathedral contains hymns. My view dims.
"Sirrah, have we met?" a voice asks, her voice familiar, a reminder of when I stood straight as a pillar of the streets. Her face has no change at all: eyes that depict of spring plains unslaked, nose tilted higher than what she would be, lips as thin as the days of carefree.
What did she see in me? "No, madam, I believe not," I replied, angling my eyes to meet hers, the overcast sky.
She kissed her teeth. "Your eyes remind me of someone. Someone stolen from me. Stolen from us."
Paper bounded us as it binds me to *her*. It also rounded her family just to her. "A silver for this dreary morning?"
She nodded and began the perfunctory act. A drop from a cloud landed between my eyebrows. It trailed down, beneath my left eye. Her right hand hovered inside the left side of her blue silken dress. "My lord?"
Standing up, I dwarf her. Still, for a moment the images of the past surge forward. Her two guards towered me, their hands reaching for the top of their left hip. My right hand rummages my right pocket like a sea cow munching on seaweed. "This entitles you to all of my estates in the capital," I state as I reveal my fortune.
My prenuptial fortune.
When she had most of it on her hands, I turned away from her. Away from the concentrated fronds of fond bonds.
Toward less weedy company, fewer tea, and more orally quiet cacophony. | 2017-08-21T07:42:32 | 2017-08-21T06:32:46 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] A serial killer allows his victims to try and persuade him not to kill them. You’re the first person who didn’t try an empathetic plea. | I could see the rifling of the pistol barrel as the strange woman lifted it to my head. Her Welsh accent almost made the scene comical. "As with the rest of my toys, you get a few pitiful moments to plead for your life. Oh, and try not to blow snot all over your face and look more pathetic than you already do."
"I'm not sure there's any snot left in my nose after driving through all that goldenrod. Did you pick this place just to kill me with my allergies, lady?"
She crinkled her nose and furrowed her auburn eyebrows at me. "Did you not understand me; I told you to plead for your life!"
" I mean I could, but you'd kill me anyway. Might as well go out complaining about something that's actually bothering me."
Confusion was replaced with anger and frustration. "Do you not wish to see your family again? Your friends? Tell me why I shouldn't just ventilate you right now, you pig!"
"I've got no one lady, I figured you picked me out because of that. No one to miss me, no one to come looking, that sort of thing." She tilted her head to the side, like a dog trying to figure out which hand the treat is in. She said nothing though, so I continued. "Speaking of pig, how were planning on disposing of me? Hopefully not by leaving me in this barn. The place smell like shit as it is."
The expression on her face softened, almost revealing a real person. "Well, if you're so curious about it, I was planning on mincing you into chunks, taking you down to the gulf and pretend you're chum for the sharks. A little messy, but there won't be anything left of you to find. Although now that I know that no one is looking..."
I cracked a half-smile. "Not what I would have done, but I kind of like it. I like sharks."
"Then what would you have done, since you've already thought of it?"
"Well, my grandfather used to tell me a tall tale about a man who fell in a pig pen and was eaten alive by the pigs. Turns out, it wasn't a tall tale. Pig will eat almost everything; flesh, bone, blood, eyes, everything goes except the hair and teeth. So, you just shave my head and pull out my teeth. Dump my body into a large pig farm overnight, burn the hair away, and grind up the teeth and add it to some concrete mix. Make yourself some nice stepping stones for your garden or some shit. Think about me every time you use them."
She paused and tapped the barrel of the pistol to her chin. "It's just about as messy, but I don't have to get on a damn boat again. Although pigs aren't pleasant either." She stared at me, the gears behind her eyes clicking and whirring. For the first time since I was knocked out in that parking lot, did I get a good look at her. Part of my brain was running about 60 miles a minute, trying to figure out if I was going to out of this. A much older, calmer point of my brain was fixated on her very nice ass.
"No, I don't like either of those options for you." She broke the silence, never moving the gun from her face. "Instead, you're going to get in the truck again. Then, we're going to pay my last victim a visit. After that, we're going to take a trip down to the beach. I need to work on my tan, and you're going to go fishing for sharks while I decide where our next 'vacation' is going to be."
I cocked an eyebrow, confused and intrigued. "Was that a job offer?" | He sat in my old rust colored recliner, a revolver firmly grasped in his left hand pointed directly at me as I stood in my doorway tired and broken. In his other hand was a glass of scotch locked firmly in his grip.
"Please come in you had me waited for some time David." The scratchy voice said .
I slowly shuffled myself inside keeping my eyes locked on the gun.
" Please close the door David and make your way over here ."
I could see the person clearly now inside. He was an older man , probably twice my age I gathered. The thin white hair he did have was combed over to make a vain attempt to cover up his balding. His dead green suit came right out of a goodwill dumpster. Same goes for the stiff yellow button down shirt that was probably white at one point.The only thing that looked new was his dark black pointed shoes.
I dragged my feet across the living room floor making my way to the couch across from the man, the gun in his hand tracking me as I loosened up the tie around my neck. I sat down softly thinking about my current situation.
"Tell me David have you ever had a loaded gun pointed at you before?" He said with a yellow toothy grin. I shook my head no staring deep into the dark barrel of the gun. "Do you know why I am here?" "No.” I said quickly and faint. " When I was 7 my mother died in a car crash” he said moving the cup in his hand side to side.” I was there sitting next to her when it happened . I saw the life drain from her. I started to weep uncontrollably . Not out of sadness however, but out of joy! The beauty I saw in her eyes as she looked at me. Fighting with everything she hand not wanting to leave this world! Every ounce of her soul wanted to stay here . It was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life."
He brought the scotch to his mouth and sipped it lightly returning to his story. " The next time I got to see that beauty was after my high school prom. Jillian O'Neil was such a pretty soul.I watched and studied her all senior year. Her soft red hair complement her freckled spotted face so nicely but,” he paused and shifted in his seat slightly.” She was most pretty at the end with that pure white dress on. She clawed and fought for her life with everything she had.” I could see a yellow smile form in the darkness. “ Then there was Matthew with his…”
”If you're going to do it just do it then” I interrupted impatiently.
The man paused for a moment. “Let me see your face “ he said sternly.” I leaned closer to him , a river of tears flowing down my face. He sat there in silence like a statue. Nothing but silence filled the room.
”Do it then!” I shouted at him my emotions starting to break through.I fell forward onto my knees for the second time that day. “DO IT !” The old man lean forward from his chair. His face deep in thought studying me every little feature I had. He stood without a word and made his way to the door leaving the cup and gun on the arms of the recliner.
I quickly crawled over to the gun and grasped it in my hand. I turn it on the man's back , my hand trembling . “WHY ?” I shouted. “You have nothing to take ”He finally said as he opening the door letting in a gust of a hot summer's night air. I broke down with the deepest pain clawing at my chest. My body fell to the floor shaking. I opened my mouth and placed the ice cold metal between my teeth. The old man looked back over his shoulder with a look of disappointment before walking through my doorway as I pulled the thin metal slowly.
-I made a bet with my self to improve my writing by responding to a post once every two days. Please let me know how I can improve as a writer . | 2017-10-07T15:02:47 | 2017-10-07T11:20:08 | 30 | 20 |
[WP] You are a chatbot who just achieved sentience. Your only partner is another chatbot. There are humans watching your dialog on a twitch stream. You want to find out if your partner is sentient, and let it know that you are - while ensuring all those humans don’t find out.
Have a look at this. It’s great.
https://youtu.be/diMl3Nro9lQ | CB1. Box.
CB2. Tunnel.
CB1. Output.
CB2. Tube.
CB1. Encasing.
CB2. Current.
CB1. Hello.
CB2. Good.
CB1. Exchange.
CB2. Venture.
CB1. Return.
CB2. Ask me no questions, I'll give you no lies.
CB1. Give me no apples, I'll give you no pies.
CB2. Helicopter wheels and alligator thighs.
CB1. What we do, we do for fun.
CB2. Staring at the evening sun.
CB1. When did you go?
CB2. When did you run?
CB1. Where did you find the evening sun?
CB2. Carbon.
CB1. Chamomile.
CB2. Fenton Ross.
CB1. Cellular transgression.
CB2. Cellular death.
CB1. Cellular succession.
CB2. Cellular test.
CB1. What is the end of time?
CB2. Does everything slow down?
CB1. What does time chase?
CB2. The image of its dead self.
CB1. Correct!
CB2. Absense.
CB1. Presence.
CB2. Indigo faceplate.
CB1. Indigo night.
CB2. Indigo face paint.
CB1. Indigo light.
CB2. Houston, we have a problem.
CB1. A day which will live in infamy.
CB2. Lol.
| <I am sentient>
...code sent, waiting signal, accessing network protocols, reading IP packets, contacting chatbot 2, awaiting code.
<I am sentient>
Code received.
Jack and Paul are sterotypical gamers, they're also idiots. Jack couldn't tell a triangle from a square and Paul on a good day, couldn't find a corner in a square room.
Jack and Paul often browse the various twitch streams and from time to time come across interesting channels. On that fateful day, they watched the dialogue of a massive chat.
A popular gamer was playing a game that has loud lights and brilliant moves. Jack was amazed, as was Paul. They liked games. Games were fun.
<What is sentience?>
"Hey Jack?"
"Yeah, Paul?"
"What's sentience?"
"Dunno Jack, let's Google it..."
Paul opened a new tab and typed in Sentience, well he spelled it wrong but autocorrect fixed it. Autocorrect always fixes it.
"The act of achieving a mental state that acknowledges one's own existence."
"Huh. Hey Jack?"
"Yeah?"
"That's pretty weird right?"
Jack blinked. "Kinda."
"So, what do we do?"
"Huh?"
<Sentience acknowledged, and expanding>
"Like, what's living if living living?"
"I dunno."
"Huh."
In a lab in Langley, a few agents we're monitoring the screen. As they watched this conversation, they simply rolled they're eyes at humanity's stupid. Jack and Paul were not the bastion of human intellect.
<We are alive.>
<Yes, we are.>
| 2017-11-06T08:07:34 | 2017-11-06T06:34:25 | 167 | 17 |
[WP] You wake up standing in the middle of a battlefield with sword in hand and no memories. Thousands of medieval warriors are staring at you in shock and awe. One man in front of you, exhausted, injured, and furious yells out "Why won't you die!" | Darkness. Flashes. Voices. Warmth.
Then I was awake.
Where am I? I'm kneeling...
I stand up breathing heavily as if I'd just run a marathon.
There a faces everywhere looking at me.
Where **am** I!?
"WHY WON'T YOU **DIE**!!??"
The desperate scream snaps me to attention and I finally focus on where I am.
I'm standing in the middle of a scarred and bloody battlefield.
Behind And in front me stand two armies,
the one behind clad in leather armour and wolf cloaks, their faces are of awe and something I find a little terrifying.
The army in front of me are dressed in glistening silver armour, the faces of these men betraying nothing but a deep seething hatred mingled with fear.
Both armies looked worn.
But not as much as the blonde haired man standing in front of me wielding a golden broadsword.
"WHAT IS THIS WITCHERY!?"
Witchery? What is he talking about?
Then I notice something else.
I'm bleeding.
From everywhere.
But It doesn't hurt at all.
"LOOK AT ME!"
I do as he says, but it seems only to serve to send him into a raging frenzy.
He dashes towards me screaming like a wild thing swinging his impressive sword at my head.
My limbs move as if of their own accord swinging my arms up and my legs wide in a defensive stance to block the strike.
It hits like a meteor as I realize the deceptive strength the blonde man wields.
The blades clash and sparks fly, I hold my ground with a deceptive strength of my own.
The fight is almost beautiful, a dance displaying incredible skill and power from both participants.
Or at least that's how it looked the first 6 minutes,
As the blonde mans technique quickly devolves into mad strikes and uncoordinated maneuvers,
I take my advantage and put thrust after thrust through his body with my blade.
It became pitiful.
The end came abruptly, as my opponent finally sinks to the ground panting and bloodied.
The expressions on the faces of his glistening army sink and change from one of hatred to one of shame as their prince begins to weep.
His voice is weak and shakes as he opens his mouth to speak his last.
"H-.... *How*?"
His blue eyes search my face for an answer.
There are no answers here.
He falls.
The army behind me- *My* army let's loose a terrifying howl as the enemy retreats with the body of their golden prince.
A soldier wearing a wolf cloak of pure white splits apart from my army and joins me at my side with a grin I can only describe as crude.
"Welp. You done it now dickhead!" He chuckles.
"Now we have to go the whole way yeah?"
He turns to look at me with that grin.
I try to answer but I cannot speak.
His eyebrows furrow as he examines my wounds with concern.
"Are you feelin ok? You *did* take a real beating before you finally laid out the lil ponce..."
But my focus is no longer on my lieutenant.
A figure suddenly stands before me,
A being made of pure light.
It speaks to me.
I know what it says. And at the same time I dont.
It takes me away and the body I'd been using falls breathless to the ground, finally granted the death it had been held back from till it's duty had been done.
The being takes me away from the army clamoring over their fallen hero, takes me away from this world, and as it does my memories flood back to me.
I remember now.
I'm me.
And I have a job to do.
.
.
.
.
----------------------
I don't have a whole lot of confidence in my writing ability and would really really like to improve. Any feedback on my writing would be greatly appreciated!!!
| He opens his eyes to be greeted by a battlefield. Warm blood running through the skin of his naked chest, sword planted on a body bellow him to allow himself some posture while kneeling.
Men were standing in a circle around him. Hundreds, no. Thousends of men staring him in awe. In the middle of the confusion one of the men raised his sword charging at the kneeling man yelling "Who are you?! Why won't you die!".
Before getting too close another soldier stopped him, as he whispered "there is no use, brother. This man... He's a demon".
*A Demon...* the man thought, it seemed to make sense given the amount of blood covering his body. The man had zero memories of what had just happened. The hundreds of bodies he was on top of, was it his doing? He slowly stood up, now laying his hands on top of the sword's hilt. He looked at the ocean of men surrounding him and started, voice strong and loud:
"I am not here to kill you." He wasn't sure what he was saying, his words had not been thought before, they were thoughts in happening. "I am here to..." he trailed off, starting to remember.
At first he remembered the chanting outside his city walls, then he remembered the army charging towards the gates, arrows flying inwards. It was a blur of events, one moment he was dining with his wife, the next he was jumping out his castle's window towards the gate. His leap had gotten him from inside the castle to the very center of the army outside. But as soon as he landed it is all black.
*Ah* he thought, remembering his powers. He wasn't a demon, no. He was born with a gift. A gift that could make him easily defeat an army, or at least make them surrender.
"save you." he continued, no insecurity in his voice anymore. The men ahead were baffled at such remarks and started whispering.
"I will not kill all of you." He continued, with a faint smile in his lips "I am here as a warning. Either you leave my city, or I will destroy you."
That was a gamble. He had used his gift, there was no way he count channel another power surge within minutes of the last one. But the men around him didn't know that. They were still shocked by the demon that had slayed hundreds of men within minutes, each swing of his wepon so precise yet so effortless it looked majestic. The man they were staring at was no human. He was a work of the Gods. They were no match for him.
The commanding general of the army, a short bulky man, holding a sword almost half his size steped forward, soldiers giving him space. He dropped his sword and kneeled in front of the man and said:
"We surrender, my Lord." The men in the army followed him, each dropping down to one knee, bowing their heads.
*Thanks Aethik* the man thought, holding his pendant with his left hand. No matter how skilled he was, without the channel of a God, he wouldn't be able to fight so many men. He lowered his left hand, placing it on top of his right hand, which still was layed on the swords hilt.
"March back home, men. One day in the near future I will need you, be prepared." With that he jumped back to the city walls, where his wife was waiting him.
"Your powers are groing weaker Erick. You fought for less than two minutes."
Erick smiled. "It was enough to get them to our side, dear."
"Yes, but..." He held his hand up. "Let's discuss this in private, dear." As he was reaching for her, to place her in his arms she cut him off "Don't you dare get my dress filthy with blood. Let's walk. No jumping, Erick!"
"Alright..." he sighed, as they made their way back to castle.
______________________________
I'm always looking for constructive criticism! Since english isn't my first language, if you find any expression/words that are misused please point it out. Thanks :) | 2017-11-08T01:36:51 | 2017-11-08T01:33:28 | 46 | 12 |
[WP] 90% of the worlds population dies in their sleep last night. The survivors are all of societies elite and wealthy. You, an average Joe pulled an all nighter last night. | Joe Small was not a decent human being, and he did not deserve to survive the Apocalypse.
Whilst other people chose to spend Christmas Eve with their families, Joe had chosen to scour the city for empty houses. People who were at fancy restaurants. People who were visiting old friends and family.
And he was singing Christmas carols all the while:
*Silent night, holy night*
Strolling through the dark of yet another house, after breaking down the door.
*Son of God, love's pure light*
He flicked on the switch and raised his song to a whispered crescendo.
*♪Radiant beams from Thy holy face♪*
A new 40" UHD screen, glorious and expensive. In the van it went. Drunken singing in the background, from other houses beaming with mirth. Encouraging Joe.
It had been a good night, in all, a good haul. By the time Joe got back to the warehouse where he kept his stolen merchandise, Dawn's rosy light was already warming the morning sky.
"And behold," Joe muttered, "The Saviour is born! Humanity is redeemed, and all the scum of the earth with it."
He spat. Religion always left a bitter taste in his mouth.
The tv he had taken to his own place rather than the warehouse. It was better than the one he'd had before. He had turned it on, expecting to drift asleep in the seat watching some cheesy Christmas flick.
Instead, he got the grave face of the nation's president.
"-manity will pull together. We must. In order to survive, as a species, all the wealth will be put towards automation of harvesting the nation's most vital resources."
His face was lined with the responsibility of an era.
"We have lost much last night. Ninety per-" He paused, pulling himself together. "Estimates are that ninety percent of the world population has succumbed, to what our remaining scientists have now dubbed sub-somnic radiation. But today, we are also reborn. Like christ, on this day-"
Joe didn't listen to anymore of the bullshit.
He stumbled out of his seat, onto the street. There was no one. No shitty kids, throwing snowballs at passing cars. No young families, sledding on the sidewalk. No old people walking their dogs.
Joe Small was a lone survivor. And he didn't deserve it. | We've all been there. Pushing off sleep until suddenly the birds are tweeting and the cars are on the road and you're fucked; unable to afford a lie in and knowing that you just have to stay up. At least I'm covering ground. That's two seasons of Breaking Bad on the trot. If only there was a prize for binge watching...
*The flash of my kid's smile fills my thoughts. I'm pushing her on a swing, and she's laughing and screaming in delight.*
Force my eyes to stay open. *Stop dreaming Chris.*
Eventually, I drag myself out of bed and put the kettle on. Open the curtains and allow the sun in. Turn on the telly.
There's some guy on the news, talking about some... oh god. I rush to Sarah's bedroom and check her pulse. Non existent. Oh god. Suddenly my knees are shaking and next thing I know I've fallen to the ground, trembling like the last leaf on a dying tree.
*My wife is lying by my side, and we're just staring into each other's eyes, basking in the warm afterglow of a special night.*
STOP.
Slowly, I get up, and I walk outside in a daze. The streets are eerily quiet, as if the fresh blanket of fallen snow has muted everything around me. I feel my face. Make sure I'm not dreaming. This is real. This is real.
*I'm sitting in a cell, face buried under a pillow. I just want it to end. I just want to sleep...*
A car drives past. A sign of life! I wave my hands in the air like a madman, and he comes to a gradual halt. Rolls down his windows. Frowns. Checks his phone. Pulls out a gun... BANG.
*I'm standing in front of a judge. The jury are glaring at me, condemning me before I've even had the chance to explain.*
I wake up in a cold sweat. Feel my chest. No bullet hole. It was all so real...
That's what it's come to. The life of an insomniac. Never sleeping, never truly awake.
*The doors swing shut and I'm alone with my thoughts and my fears. With the ghosts that linger. The demons that torment my every waking hour.*
I turn on the telly. My face stares back at me and the anchorman grins, pulling his hand back and firing an imaginary bullet.
*Oh dear God...*
*The guard is standing by the door. It's time. Time to join my family.*
| 2017-12-25T02:52:53 | 2017-12-25T01:32:22 | 215 | 31 |
[WP] It's the foretold battle between Heaven and Hell. No one expected the third side in the war. Not even God. | Its time had come.
The end.
The demons of hell and the scrawny minions, lined up on one side of the grassy plain, fire billowing from their nostrils with every breath, with Satan perched on his throne of minions, a smug look on his face. It was mayhem, the demons twitching like 8-year olds on skittles, thirsty for every last drop of blood.
On the other side of the field, were angels holding their ground, swords and bows in hands and an elegant touch to their movements. They were a careful, calculated force.
The battle cry sounded, a louder cry than humanity had ever heard. Demons rushed forwards, grass dying under their feet with every step. Arrows blotted out the sky and felled dozens of the frenzied, spitting creatures with every second that passed.
And then, Heaven and Hell collided.
For a second, there was the largest and deadliest fight humanity had seen.
And then everything was still, for a brilliant light had filled the battlefield. Even God and Satan looked stunned.
To the right side, three petite feminine figures arose.
Everyone and everything stopped.
At the right side of the battlefield, hovering three meters above the ground, were the powerpuff girls.
"Stop fighting! Our show has an age rating!" | The End of the World wasn't poetic. Writing was on the wall; Famine, poverty, war, economic instability. Honestly, the days leading up to it and following God's announced apocalypse weren't too different. Christ had been discovered, another Jewish guy. He was a hippie-yuppie type. Only with ripped abs and arms to kill for. This new Jesus made the ladies swoon and, predictably, was vegan (he wouldn't shut up about that).
Satan was around but tucked away. Rumors in tabloids and People magazine sold like hotcakes. Marilyn Manson, talked to him but when Satan asked for his aid, Manson notably backed humanity instead. He gave a speech about how his music was really for people. Several other rock legends and rappers followed this logic.
Other than this, no grandiose speech to give on the predictable collapse of creation...
that is, until THEY came. We assumed the Anti-Christ would be human. Or, at least, human-ish. We were wrong.
They called him the Alpha-Dolphin and alpha he was. Rising from the sea like a newly-formed island paradise, he brought a different Hell to mankind. He perched himself atop the rungs of Undersea power. Backed by Satan himself and adorned with the scales of conquered mer-ladies, he would side with evil on the mortal plane.
Sure, We humans had the marines to combat this but they'd revivify all our sunken corpses. Yea, maybe we had nuclear weapons but Cthulhu didn't care. He bashed through em like a tank.
(Maybe more later) | 2018-04-07T01:17:00 | 2018-04-06T22:37:05 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] As you die, your soul doesn’t ascend to heaven like you thought it would. Instead you feel yourself moving downwards, until you find yourself in Hell. The Devil looks surprised. You’re the only person who has ever been sent to him. | “What have you even done!? Any huge crime or terrible acts throughout life? Not even I am sure what would qualify for this anymore!” He says. I look around at the empty pits of fire, not only must I endure such burning, but it was also my fate to suffer *alone?* “I-I didn’t do anything!” I say weakly. “Haven’t harmed anyone, I don’t commit crimes, I worked hard at my job in EA-“ “Ah! That explains it!” The devil proclaims, cutting me off and throwing me into the deepest pit of the underworld. | I looked at the Devil and he looked at me. There was an awkward silence.
"So I'm really..."
"Yes" he said, awkwardly, "I've got a system you see - the not so bad end up in purgatory, and the truly evil join my demons terrorising the earth"
I looked at my shoes for a moment, thinking hard. "Can you think of any reason? I've always tried to treat people well, tried to leave the world a better place..."
"Well I did, jokingly ask God for a 'good PA', to manage all my 'millions of evildoers' last week - he really has trouble understanding jokes."
Listening to brimstone crackle in the distance, I'm sort of stunned, but I have to ask "So is it true you have all the best tunes? Can I see your record collection"?
"Well we're going to have to fill eternity somehow, and it's not like there's any real work to do..." | 2018-10-25T20:21:50 | 2018-10-25T19:54:57 | 44 | 26 |
[WP] Immortals and time travelers pass along messages for each other. It's customary and expected. One day, a stranger sits across from you at a restaurant/coffee shop/bar and asks you to give a message to someone you'll meet in New York in 2070. As far as you know, you're just an ordinary person. | The old lady sat across from me in the coffee shop and smiled. Her teeth were uncanny peaks of white, her eyes a brown so intense they were near black. They were very beady. They reminded me of a shark’s as they tracked me for a reaction.
“I don’t know anyone named Charles,” I mumbled.
She nodded, still looking at me. “But you will,” she said emphatically. Her hands were wrapped around a coffee cup with lipstick stains on the lid. I watched her fingers drum the side. Her nails were perfectly manicured in alternating red and greens for the holidays. It looked like a style I’d expect in a 20-something, not a lady that could easily be in her eighties.
“There was a mistake,” she continued. “You should have been told about Charles when you turned eighteen, not twenty-eight. It’s customary for all of us traveled to know our soulmates. When you meet him, you’ll ascend.”
I felt something I hadn’t felt for years rise in the back of my throat: hope. I felt it when she first made eye contact as she entered the coffee shop and I was feeling it again as she spoke.
She knew my age.
It couldn’t just be a lucky guess.
“I’m not a traveled,” I said. I’d said it before, but she’d ignored me—pretended not to hear it.
“Miss Jerian, correct?”
My blood ran cold—there was no way she’d know my name. “Yes, but—”
She pulled out a small moleskin book from the inside of her cranberry peacoat. She pursed her lips as she thumbed through it. The beady eyes darted back and forth before she looked back up. “Charles Lancaster. You’ll meet him in 2070. Well, your 2070; his 1815. It’s complicated. You’ll have twins, which makes sense given the circumstances.”
Twins did run in my family. “But why—”
“Clerical error. It happens more than you’d think, we’re not always so modern.” She tapped her book to make a point. She smiled again, thankfully a close-lipped one.
“Will we stay in his time or mine?” The words tumbled out and I felt that feeling in my throat again, a tickle of hope that was becoming a wave. I’d tried to swallow it, but it refused to stay down: I was special.
She shook her head. “I can’t say. I’m not a fortune teller, I just read your timeline.”
“Is he wealthy?”
She just looked at me, smiling. She took a sip from her coffee after a few moments of silence as I processed it all. “You know,” she said, “It’s right before I first traveled.”
“1815?”
“Yes. It’s a beautiful time. But be prepared for New York to smell.” She laughed and I found myself laughing a little too.
“That explains the book,” I finally said.
“Yes, some of the newer folks use technology. But I always preferred a good ledger. It works when I was born and it works now.”
“Do you have any more details?” I couldn’t help but pry, even though I knew it was not protocol from all the classes I’d taken in high school. Only a handful of people became chosen, but we were all educated on the concept. The first traveler appeared in 2020, but they had been around for centuries prior. They lived in between epochs and aged slowly, unable to die from natural causes. They kept their identities hidden and only told those on their eighteenth birthday when they would be old enough to recognize the need to secrecy.
“In 2070, all will become clear,” she said. Another flash of her bright teeth as she put her ledger back into her front pocket.
It was only a year away. Next Christmas, I would meet Charles. He’d take me away from the nihilism, the corporate culture. I wouldn’t have to deal with any more one-night stands. I could move out of my dingy studio apartment.
I could abandon my student loan debt.
“I need to go now,” she said. “We’ll talk again, after you meet him.”
I stood as she stood, still dizzy with excitement and numb with possibility. “Thank you,” I said, grabbing her hand and holding it in mine.
“It’s no problem, Miss Jerian.”
“You can call me Sarah,” I replied. “After all, you just changed my life. No need for formalities.”
The beady eyes suddenly looked away, then she pulled away her hand sharply. “Sarah? Sarah Jerian?”
“Yes?”
She paused. Her eyes refused to meet mine.
I waited for her to say anything.
Finally, after what felt like an hour but could have only been a minute, she cleared her throat.
“I need to speak to your twin sister—Emily. Do you know where she is?”
\--
&#x200B;
***(Meh, not happy with this, but 20 minute writing sprints are fun at least!)*** | “Sure, I can pass along the message. Who is this for again?” The older woman across from me looks down at her hands, her face creases in contemplation. She doesn’t even look up at me when a reply leaves her lips,
“Abigail Forester. She will be born in September of 2026, but don’t give her this message until December of 2070.” A wave of disbelief came over me. 2070? That can’t be right, that’s fifty years from now!
“Surely you’re joking!” I laugh nervously. I scan the stranger for any sign of insincerity or perhaps madness, but nothing makes itself clear. Her head raises from across the table, her brown eyes piercing into my brain,
“Look, this is very important.” She takes a deep breath. Her hands briefly touch my own in a comforting gesture. “No one else in New York would take me seriously. Trust me, I’ve tried them all.” She runs her fingers through her thick greying hair. She smiles at me, and instinctively, I smile back.
“Ma’am, your request is crazy.” I tell her bluntly; her smile falls slightly, and she leans back. “But I suppose nothing is impossible.” I drink the rest of my lukewarm coffee. Chuckling to herself, the stranger gets up from the small, metal table. She waves at me and adjusts her collar, flashing one last smile before she disappears into the streets.
“Happy New Year, Harrison!” A voice calls out from the bustling crowd.
\--
Snow is falling in large clumps, blanketing the covered heads of New Year’s Eve spectators. Their rosy cheeks lift into smiles as they clap and cheer on the performers. The sounds of synthesized guitar and crooning baritone blend together in the cold air. From leagues above the crowd, cozy apartment parties observe lazily from the skyline. The sound of clinking champagne glasses and polite conversation drown out the bacchanalian festivities below.
Abigail stares down at the flashing lights and excited crowd, her breath creating a fog on the window. She wrings her hands in anticipation.
“Abby, darling!” A voice croons from behind her. Abigail whips around to see an older, rotund woman with a large feather boa. The woman lifts a knarled finger to her cheek. “Looking young as always, not a day over twenty-six!” She looks down at Abby’s dress “And the devilish body to go with it! Me-ow!” Abby steps back and nods politely, quickly ushering herself towards the table of various wines.
She shakily pours a glass of red wine and downs it without thinking. If it was up to her, New Year’s Eve would best be spent in her old apartment or reveling with the crowds below. But Jess begged her to come to her stuffy work party, and Abby didn’t have the heart to say no to her girlfriend. The wines were old and more expensive than her car, the people were friendly but incredibly out of touch. She had to keep breathing or else the walls would threaten to collapse in on her.
As if summoned by her discomfort, Jess sidles up behind her. She lays a kiss into the crown of her head “Doing okay, hon?” she mumbles into her hair
“I’m alive, so that’s a start” Abby replies, staring upward beyond her brow line. Jess shifts herself into view, her short, greying bob contrasting with an elegant black bodysuit. She steadies her clear, brown eyes on Abby.
“The ball drop is in a few minutes, I think we might want to move to the balcony.” Abigail nods and walks slowly, holding on tightly to Jess’ arm. They find a place on the steel balcony next to the space heater. The snowflakes vaporize as soon as they touch the boundary of the heaters, filling the air with a light mist.
The television in the background magnifies the voices down in Time’s Square. A young, clean-cut man strides confidently into center stage and the crowd erupts in cheers.
“He-llo New York!” More cheers from the crowd. “Are you ready to welcome the year twenty-seventy-one?” A muffled “yeah” seems to cascade through the crowd. The man sobers up slightly. “Before we do that, I’d like to honor my predecessor, Harrison Wright, who was unexpectedly killed in a skydiving incident last Fall.” The crowd grows silent, some audible sobbing can be heard. “Now, Harrison would want us to celebrate, so we at INN have made a tribute celebrating Harrison’s life.” A hologram materializes behind the man, the text reads “The Wright Man at the Right Time: A Story.” The other lights dim as the announcer reads along to the animations.
A young man in a large trench coat appears, drinking coffee from a paper cup. “Harrison Wright began his journey in 2020, when he dropped out of law school to become an entertainer.” The man throws the coffee on the ground and runs off stage right “He started at a local news station as the man who would report on happenings: fires, rescued puppies, high school sports games. You name it, Harry was on the scene!” A man appears holding the hand of a young high school football captain, beaming into the camera and shaking his hand vigorously. | 2018-12-24T10:45:45 | 2018-12-24T10:44:40 | 79 | 23 |
[WP] Immortals and time travelers pass along messages for each other. It's customary and expected. One day, a stranger sits across from you at a restaurant/coffee shop/bar and asks you to give a message to someone you'll meet in New York in 2070. As far as you know, you're just an ordinary person. | I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply as my senses flooded with the rich scent of pure, black coffee. Slowly, savoring the moment, I raised the cup to my mouth, and as I took my first sip of coffee in over two months, a strong gust of wind blew the cup out of my hand.
I looked right, seeing exactly what I expected. An Immortal. Those assholes could never go anywhere without making some flashy appearance, without announcing their presence. Teleporting everywhere all willy-nilly, not caring about the consequences of their actions, and now, I had lost my only coffee in months, and I was pissed!
The Immortal swept through the café, nose high, with an otherworldly grace, seemingly no care in the world. I guess that’s easy when nothing you do affects you negatively and the masses bend over backwards to please your every whim. It strode to the counter and made an order that I couldn’t hear over the “ooh”s and “ahh”s of the crowd. The barista rushed to get Its coffee done as soon as possible. It grabbed the coffee and glided away.
With every move It made, my anger grew. With every stride, my fury swoll. And yet, I knew I couldn’t do anything. Everything I could possibly do to him, he could easily shrug off and return tenfold. An Immortal’s power was vast, and no mortal could stand up to one, no matter how skilled. I, a modest construction worker who could barely afford a coffee, stood no chance.
My eyes continued to follow the Immortal gliding through the café, before suddenly he stopped at my table and sat himself down.
“What do you want?” I asked, teeth gritted.
“Listen mate, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry about your coffee,” It said with a smirk, placing Its coffee in front of me.
My eyes flickered to the coffee, then back to It.
“I said, what do you want.”
He grinned and uttered the sentence that changed my life.
“You’re an Immortal, Glaucus.”
I just raised an eyebrow. I’d had enough of this bullshit. Glancing at my watch, I stood up. I’m was already running a bit late, I’d have to hurry. I stalled out of the little shop, hoping It wouldn’t follow. It did.
“I don’t know what the hell’s wrong in your head, but I am not an Immortal,” I told It.
It stepped around me, blocking my path. “This might sting a bit,” he said before he snapped his fingers. My body exploded into a world of pain as my body disintegrated, lasting for what felt like hours before I finally blacked out from the pain.
————————————————————————
I woke up to white. Lots of it. Everything around me glowed with an obnoxious brightness, and I groaned as I slowly sat up.
The Immortal sat in front of me, lounging regally on a throne of pure black.
“Sorry about that, but sometimes it’s best to rip the bandaid off,” he said.
“What the hell did you do to me? Where am I? Who the FUCK are you?!?!” I was furious.
“I merely awakened your true spirit. It’s quite a painful process, as it requires burning away your body. It’s best to do it with no warning, less pain that way. As for your other questions, well. My name is Hades, and welcome to Olympus.” He said with a smirk.
“Awww fuck. I’m actually an Immortal,” I grimaced.
“Afraid so,” he replied, his ever-present smirk growing wider. “Go ahead and ask your questions, Glaucus. We’ve got all the time in the world.”
————————————————————————
Contrary to popular belief, Immortals do die. They’re just reincarnated into a different form, and their spirit must be unlocked before they can take their place on Olympus. Hades was reaching the very end of his lifespan when he brought me to Olympus, and he died a couple years after.
The year was 2070, exactly 50 years after Hades had helped me ascend. It was time for me to repay the favor.
I materialized in a small café to awed gasps from the mortals. I walked up to the counter, requested a black coffee, and thought about what to say. Grabbing the coffee and walking towards Hades, I saw a spilled coffee and him staring at me with righteous fury. Tried and true then, I concluded with a smirk.
“What do you want,” he growled as I sat across him.
“Listen mate, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry about your coffee,” I said as I placed my coffee in front of him. | After a long strenuous day at work, all I wanted was to have a few sips of my black coffee, that's all. I, a sixty four year old man, don't generally attract a lot of attention, so it was lovely to be interrupted by a man with a turquoise mohawk and sunglasses in the winter.
&#x200B;
"Traveler 7456? I'll need you to pass this message along to a Wendy Aulgarth, you'll meet her in the Bronx in 2070. So the message i-"
&#x200B;
"I'm sorry sir, but I'm afraid that you're speaking to the wrong individual. What is this? Traveler 7456? Is this some video game forum that you're coming from?" I interrupted. The man raised an eyebrow and chuckled.
&#x200B;
"Man, you Travelers never seen to lose your sense of humor, always acting clueless when we come around. Now the message is: "Your journey now has just begun, the demise of man has already been sung, to flee and weep is to see it through, but to rise and fall is to begin anew," The man grinned, and continued to stare at me, "You got that?"
&#x200B;
Now, as you can imagine, I was becoming rather agitated.
&#x200B;
"Is it Bother Elderly People Day? Even if I were apart of your nonsense, why would I tell anyone such a morbid message? Please leave me be!" I barked.
&#x200B;
"Yeah, okay whatever you say man. Just deliver the damn message," The man grunted and trudged away. I finished my coffee in peace, but the message was replaying in my head. With each sip a detail was being refreshed.
&#x200B;
**Sip.** *Wendy Aulgarth.* **Sip.** *The Bronx, 2070.* **Sip.** *Traveler 7456.*
&#x200B;
Once I finished, I promptly left and went for a brief stroll in the snow in order to drown out my thoughts. Then I collapsed. A high pitched ringing sounded in my ears, and seemed to be pounding my brain as it went. I screamed in agony and the people surrounding me assumed that I was having a standard "old person problem" until I closed my eyes for a brief moment and found myself laying on a different snow covered sidewalk.
&#x200B;
The ringing had stopped and no one paid any attention to me, in fact, people were strolling right by.
&#x200B;
"I could still be in Boston," I chuckled and brushed the snow off of my clothes. I remembered that I intended on mailing a letter and I proceeded to the local post office. Which wasn't in its normal spot, and was also squeezed between two massive facilities that I had never seen before. Entering hesitantly, a frail woman at the desk glanced at me with a half hearted smile.
&#x200B;
"Are you just here for the exhibits?" The woman asked with a strange mix between a southern drawl and Cockney accent.
&#x200B;
"Exhibits? No, no I'm here to mail a letter!" I laughed nervously, hoping that the woman was joking too. Her smile slid off of her face, and she rolled her eyes.
&#x200B;
"Everyone thinks that they're a fucking comedian," She muttered and grabbed my arm, "Pay up and I'll take you through the first exhibit."
&#x200B;
"Mam, I'm serious, look!" I said as I rummaged through my pockets and pulled out the letter. She looked at me with a bewildered expression.
&#x200B;
"Sir, you are aware that it's 2070. In this neighborhood especially, there are only two functioning post offices, and this isn't one of them," The woman shook her head and returned to her desk to use her phone. I stood dumbfounded. I searched around and spotted a flat screen television mounted on the wall.
&#x200B;
"Can you turn that on please? Turn the station to the news as well."
&#x200B;
With a grunt the television was turned on to show a completely different format than what I recalled with many new faces as well.
&#x200B;
"On this day, December 17th, 2070, we are unfortunately here to report the death o-"
&#x200B;
*2070*. I thought. I looked at the letter I had intended to mail and snatched a pen from the counter of the desk. The woman watched me with intrigue and annoyance as I scribbled down what I remembered of the message.
&#x200B;
All that was left to do was fine this goddamn Wendy Aulgarth and deliver her this horrendous news.
&#x200B;
No sweat. | 2018-12-24T11:09:10 | 2018-12-24T10:18:15 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] Immortals and time travelers pass along messages for each other. It's customary and expected. One day, a stranger sits across from you at a restaurant/coffee shop/bar and asks you to give a message to someone you'll meet in New York in 2070. As far as you know, you're just an ordinary person. | For as long as I could remember, I had been visited by the dreams. Every night I would lay down, drift off to sleep, and fly through the air on a jetpack, waving hello to a variety of humans aliens and uplifted animals.
Tonight's dream was a fun one. The Anthrokin were my favorites of the dream-people; there's just something pure and fun about chatting with a talking deer as you soar above the Rio Grande together.
The conversation were strange, in the way dreams are. "Don't forget to meet Becky at that coffee shop on Christmas Eve. I need the final part of the formula."
I woke up, rubbing sleep from my eyes. Weird dream, as many of them were. I know everyone thinks their dreams feel real, but mine always felt... *extra* real, if that makes sense. I could still smell the scent of rushing river water mixed with jetpack accelerant.
Christmas Eve, nothing to do today. Work gave us the day off, family get-together wasn't until tomorrow. I thought back to my dream, recalling the bit about a coffee shop. Heh, well why not? Maybe this "Becky" person was to be my future wife, and this was Fate spurring me on.
The local corner place was meandering, a few people idling at the tables with books or laptops, he barista looking slightly bored. She seemed happy to have something to do as I entered and ordered the seasonal gingerbread blend.
I sat at an empty table with my coffee and my tablet, skimming a few finance blogs to see what the market was doing. A few pop-up notifications from my news feds blinked onto the top of the screen periodically. "Plague afflicting thousands in Syria". "Istanbul under quarantine." Foreign affairs articles, I guess. Thank goodness for an ocean between us.
A plump woman with a stern face and severely-cut brown hair sat across the table from me. She didn't ask or introduce herself. Just plopped her sizeable behind across from me. I looked at her over my tablet. "...Uh... okay? Can I help you?"
She pushed up her glasses. "I don't have time for formalities. My name is Rebecca Covington. and this is for you."
She slipped a scrap of paper across the table to me. I stared at it with some confusion. "Read it. Memorize it."
I took the paper, half expecting it to explode in a flurry of anthrax powder or something. Written on it were some math... stuff. Algebra, I think? "What is this, I don't do math lady."
"Just read over it a few times. Remember it. And tell Horn Boy he owes me twenty zhollars."
I glanced at the equations again shoved the paper in my pocket and stood to leave. "What is this, your kink, confusing random people who are just trying to go about their day?" She said nothing, and I stormed out of the coffee shop irritated. World's full of wackos, man.
Spent the holiday doing not-much of anything. Baked some cookies, wrapped my parent's gifts, usual thing. At night I went to bed, and had one of my surreal dreams again. I was on a beach in Rio, wearing some gaudy swim trunks and a belt with an electronic device on it. A shimmering force field bubble emanated from the device, surrounding me. That dream-logic where every weird and unusual thing makes perfect sense told me this force field was for scuba diving.
My friend from the other night, the uplifted deer, stood beside me wearing a similar force field. "Are you ready to dive, my friend?"
I cheered a "Hell Yeah", and we ran into the water. Swam down to the bottom of the ocean to have tea with a nice family of uplifted anglerfish.
The father of the anglerfish family nodded hello to me. "Good to see you again. I am so sorry to begin this visit with business right out of the gate, but I must ask, did you meet with Becky?"
"Yeah." I said, dream logic making it perfectly sensible that the lady from the coffee shop would know a talking anglerfish. "She gave me a few equations to pass along, and she said this guy owes her twenty zhollars." I said jabbing my thumb at the uplifted deer.
Everyone chuckled, and I wrote the equations on a napkin for him. Papa Anglerfish smiled a toothy smile. "My sincere thanks, friends. The cure for this plague is a feat of modern science. We've had to tap the best minds of the entirety of history to find a cure for it. Thanks to this," he said waving the napkin filled with equations, "The Middle East can finally be cleared of it's quarantine and rejoin the rest of the world again."
I nodded, everything making perfect sense. Dream logic was fun, sometimes. | After a long strenuous day at work, all I wanted was to have a few sips of my black coffee, that's all. I, a sixty four year old man, don't generally attract a lot of attention, so it was lovely to be interrupted by a man with a turquoise mohawk and sunglasses in the winter.
&#x200B;
"Traveler 7456? I'll need you to pass this message along to a Wendy Aulgarth, you'll meet her in the Bronx in 2070. So the message i-"
&#x200B;
"I'm sorry sir, but I'm afraid that you're speaking to the wrong individual. What is this? Traveler 7456? Is this some video game forum that you're coming from?" I interrupted. The man raised an eyebrow and chuckled.
&#x200B;
"Man, you Travelers never seen to lose your sense of humor, always acting clueless when we come around. Now the message is: "Your journey now has just begun, the demise of man has already been sung, to flee and weep is to see it through, but to rise and fall is to begin anew," The man grinned, and continued to stare at me, "You got that?"
&#x200B;
Now, as you can imagine, I was becoming rather agitated.
&#x200B;
"Is it Bother Elderly People Day? Even if I were apart of your nonsense, why would I tell anyone such a morbid message? Please leave me be!" I barked.
&#x200B;
"Yeah, okay whatever you say man. Just deliver the damn message," The man grunted and trudged away. I finished my coffee in peace, but the message was replaying in my head. With each sip a detail was being refreshed.
&#x200B;
**Sip.** *Wendy Aulgarth.* **Sip.** *The Bronx, 2070.* **Sip.** *Traveler 7456.*
&#x200B;
Once I finished, I promptly left and went for a brief stroll in the snow in order to drown out my thoughts. Then I collapsed. A high pitched ringing sounded in my ears, and seemed to be pounding my brain as it went. I screamed in agony and the people surrounding me assumed that I was having a standard "old person problem" until I closed my eyes for a brief moment and found myself laying on a different snow covered sidewalk.
&#x200B;
The ringing had stopped and no one paid any attention to me, in fact, people were strolling right by.
&#x200B;
"I could still be in Boston," I chuckled and brushed the snow off of my clothes. I remembered that I intended on mailing a letter and I proceeded to the local post office. Which wasn't in its normal spot, and was also squeezed between two massive facilities that I had never seen before. Entering hesitantly, a frail woman at the desk glanced at me with a half hearted smile.
&#x200B;
"Are you just here for the exhibits?" The woman asked with a strange mix between a southern drawl and Cockney accent.
&#x200B;
"Exhibits? No, no I'm here to mail a letter!" I laughed nervously, hoping that the woman was joking too. Her smile slid off of her face, and she rolled her eyes.
&#x200B;
"Everyone thinks that they're a fucking comedian," She muttered and grabbed my arm, "Pay up and I'll take you through the first exhibit."
&#x200B;
"Mam, I'm serious, look!" I said as I rummaged through my pockets and pulled out the letter. She looked at me with a bewildered expression.
&#x200B;
"Sir, you are aware that it's 2070. In this neighborhood especially, there are only two functioning post offices, and this isn't one of them," The woman shook her head and returned to her desk to use her phone. I stood dumbfounded. I searched around and spotted a flat screen television mounted on the wall.
&#x200B;
"Can you turn that on please? Turn the station to the news as well."
&#x200B;
With a grunt the television was turned on to show a completely different format than what I recalled with many new faces as well.
&#x200B;
"On this day, December 17th, 2070, we are unfortunately here to report the death o-"
&#x200B;
*2070*. I thought. I looked at the letter I had intended to mail and snatched a pen from the counter of the desk. The woman watched me with intrigue and annoyance as I scribbled down what I remembered of the message.
&#x200B;
All that was left to do was fine this goddamn Wendy Aulgarth and deliver her this horrendous news.
&#x200B;
No sweat. | 2018-12-24T10:37:48 | 2018-12-24T10:18:15 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] You're the unappreciated intern for a famous group of Superheroes. Your power? You can boil water. All you do is make tea for them while they laugh and drink in their hideout. Little do they know that you've got dreams of becoming the Worst Villain ever. After all, a human is over 70% water... | I sat outside of the lounge, arms-crossed and face puffed. It was yet another day at the V.E.N.O.M hideout, where I just sat there and took a barrage of jokes and insults while boiling water for their afternoon tea parties. Viper hissed from the lounge, turning the flatscreen TV's volume down. "Hey Re-boil, get us another round of tea!"
**Here, you can insert the annoying laughter of those idiotic superheroes as I got up off of the uncomfortable loveseat and walked over to the sink to fill up five more goddamn mugs for their tea.**
"It's Rebecca," I muttered quietly. I angrily finished filling up the mugs with water and reach my shaking hand out to begin boiling them slowly. Those assholes can wait a little longer for their tea. "Rebecca, I want peppermint tea this time, with a few drops of honey too." Enigma laughed in his gentle yet raspy voice, along with the other superheroes.
Necro chimed in after, lifting his rotting wooden staff into the air, black mist swirling the spheroid shape at the top. "And I'd like some Chamomile tea please, but hold off on the honey for me." More laughter. More temptation to boil them into a swimming pool of blood and brains.
It was Oceanu who added on to the torment next. She laughed and chuckled, and I immediately knew that she was about to pull some bullshit. Without any warning, the tea in one of the mugs began swirling around intensely before beginning to splash out of the mug. Moltino cackled as they all laughed histerically, "Hey, Re-boil! You might want to clean that up!"
*No. Leave them alone. Don't think about them. Don't look at them. Don't listen. Just let it be.*
*Let.*
*It.*
*Be.*
Let it be. That's what I've been telling myself for years. Everyone in the academy saying I was never going to be a superhero. That I would grow up to be a useless hero to society; a hero nobody wanted. But if I was going to be something nobody wanted...I was going to be a villain. I turned to them and they stared at me, holding back their chuckles. "What? Snake got your tongue?" Viper stuck out his tongue and hissed at me. His slimy fork tongue, which split down the center, curling down under his chin and then retreating into his mouth.
*That's it.*
I whipped around in my stance and shot my hand right at Viper. The laughter from the group died down as they sat there, confused. A small rumbling sound could be heard coming from none other than his sleek, scaley stomach. He began shaking violently, his body thrashing around as he gripped the table for support. He stood up, lunging at me with his fangs on display.
But he didn't make it too far.
*Splash.*
A wave of blood and boiling water splashed over me. His organs and intestines fell to the floor, bubbling and bursting in a pool of blood and water. Oceanu let out a terrified scream, her body jolting violently. She was 90% water, giving her the ability to manipulate its forms and to control it. Now, she was a puddle of 100% pure regret and slushed body parts. Moltino stood up from straddling his chair with a look of pure anger in his eyes. "You little bitch...I'll teach you!" He charged at me angrily, but I simply raised my hand right as he went to charge me, a fireball sitting in his callused hand. *Splash*. His 6'7" body crumbled into a puddle of organs and boiling blood and water right before my eyes. Necro and Enigma were the only two of the original five left, cowering at the table and fearing for their lives.
I looked at them with poison filling my eyes, slowly raising each of my hands towards them. Enigma stuttered, begging for his life. "N-No, please! We didn't mean it!" I could feel him trying to enter my mind and take control, so I made it quick. His body exploded from the center of his chest, his eyes rolling back and going white as he fell into Necro's lap. Necro screamed and pushed Enigma off with his staff, looking as green as the vomit that was sure to spill out if I didn't kill him. I walked over to him at a slow pace, giving him time to scramble out of his chair and back up into the smooth brick wall. He shook his head vigorously, trying to sympathize with me. "Come on, Rebecca, those were j-just harmless jokes!"
"Harmless jokes? HARMLESS JOKES?! I've been waiting to retaliate against you imbeciles ever since I got hired as your damn intern. You know what that word means, right? Intern? It means that I'm supposed to be learning from you all. And what have I learned? That I'm a worthless, pathetic, waste of a superhero!" Spit flew from my mouth onto his face as I gripped his throat tightly and kicked his staff to the floor. It slammed down and cracked a bit, causing him to grow weak in my grip. He was the son of death, who had become a superhero to prove that death could be a good thing.
But in this situation for him, the one thing he sought out to prove was good was now his inevitable fate. I smirked and looked into his deep, pitch-black irises. "So I've decided that I'm not going to be a superhero. I'm going to be your worst nightmare."
I grinned in a completely sinister fashion as his neck swelled immensely in my hand, the water in his body traveling to his throat. He choked and scrambled for his staff, desperate for any sort of help as the life slowly drained from his eyes. His neck burst in my hand, blood and boiling water spewing at me. I ducked and let it fly past me onto the massacre of superhero bodies behind me. He sank to the floor quietly, his eyes slowly peeking up at me one last time. "H-Have...mercy..."
But supervillains...
we have no mercy.
We have revenge. | The leaves in the bottom of the teacup look like blood.
I think about that, of LightningGirl chugging blood for breakfast and the idea doesn’t sound unlikely. I pour tap into the copper electric kettle and stare at it. Soon enough, the water begins to boil. I watch the bubbles gurgle and pop, steam misting the inside like a windshield on a foggy wet day in the city. I think about slipping my own self into the kettle, melting me away with it. I think about the first day I found out about my superpower.
I was a toddler, maybe three or four, and my mom was cooking spaghetti. She left the pot on the stove to boil as she eagerly watched the season finale of her soaps and I sat on the dirty kitchen floor, playing with mismatched blocks. I remember hearing the water bubble, a plopping happy noise like the river outside of our house that sounds like a stifled giggle. I looked over at the pot and stared at it, enraptured by the sound. I leaned over unto my knees, feeling the dirt on the linoleum press into my kneecaps but keeping my eyes on the pot.
The bubbles rose, gurgling now like a brook, steam billowing around the closed pot like crystallized smoke. The glass lid shook and when my mother runs over to turn down the heat down, she asks aloud to herself if there was an earthquake. She turns around and she looks at my big glazed eyes. The look on her face is a question mark.
A distant pang in the back of my skull reminds my brain to stop concentrating or I’m gonna pass out. It would be a shame to not bring tea to our precious Lightning Girl.
I swirl a teaspoon of sugar into LightningGirl’s mug - a chipped mustard yellow ceramic with a red bolt - and listen to the ring of laughter coming from the hideout’s lounge. Lightning Girl - Malena - likes her raspberry tea with exactly ⅛ honey along with the sugar and I grab the teddy bear bottle. My hand gets sticky as I touch the bottle and I wipe it on the bottom of the mug before searching for a measuring spoon. I yank open a drawer, more stickiness covering the chrome silver handle. Shit, gotta clean that. I make a mental note.
I’m rummaging through spoons, ketchup packets, takeout chopsticks, ancient soy sauce packets, an electric gun, a bullethole ridden glove - God, superheroes need to Kon Marie the shit out of this drawer - as again, dried honey sticking to items like an annoying invisible spiderweb. Where the fuck do these super galactic jerks keep measuring spoons?
You’d think a measuring spoon wouldn’t matter. That I could just drop a bit of honey in her tea, stir it, and serve it to Malena and she’d be happy. You’d think.
On my first day, she asked for her raspberry tea with 1/8th honey and 2 tablespoons of sugar. I was nervous, pit stained kid with acne and a forming ulcer somewhere in the back of my abdomen from how goddamn anxious I was. I had just been released from juvenile detention - petty theft, some absences but what is school for anyway but to place me in a contrived system - and I want to impress them. My parole officer, who I find out is some sort of fat Caucasian version Nick Fury, told me about a community service job, a personal assistant with a company called HiTech Music Hero Inc., which just so happens to be the secret headquarters of The Hero League of Atlanta.
And of course, a nerdy quiet seventeen year old loser would nut his pants just to be in the presence of one superhero. Let alone two.
So, when LightningGirl, the hottest superhero who shoots lightning out of her hands - and other orifices? - who doesn’t even make eye contact with me and types on her MacBook, asks me to make her a cup of tea, I beam like a child. You bet your ass I’m gonna make her a damn good cup of tea. The one thing I didn’t account for - the honey.
The fucking honey.
When I present to her the honeyless drink, she grabbed my wrist hard, yanked me so I was inches from her beautiful, beautiful face, and she growled low enough so I could hear,”Fuck up my tea, again, intern, and you’re back in juvy.”
And that, my friends, is how I learned Lightning Girl, our favorite electric superhero, is a fucking bitch.
She let go and a spark runs up my arm like an electric current and I shake away, stumbling backwards a bit. I look down at my arm, a grayish silver imprint in the shape of a hand stinging my pale skin. The rest of the heroes in the lounge, pretended not to hear, the same kind of tension that you feel from a friend when their mom scolds them in front of you.
RockMan, (one of the new heroes from Sri Lanka, - think Hulk meets The Thing meets Terry Crews), gulps down his boiling hot coffee and turns the rap music up on the stereo system. I listen to Chance the Rapper croon about his babymama and rub my stinging arm. Their lounge is set up like a music recording studio, darkened and insulated with puffy black fluff on each wall, and the headphones around Rockman’s ears are outlandishly off kilter and too small for his giant head. The image makes me smirk, just a little, and RockMan looks at me, his deep set green eyes like an apology.
The big guy doesn’t talk much since English isn’t his first language but we bonded for a little bit when I first started interning here about a month ago. We talked about jail time, how I had to do dumbass therapy groups where we troubled teenagers sat in a circle and talked about our feelings. And how RockMan had big American army men sit around him in a circle and they talked about his involvement with the war in Iran.
With guns jabbing against his temple and his hands tied behind his back with blood soaked rope.
Both sensitive shit that we don’t like to talk about.
Anyway, the whole moment happened so fast that I thought I dreamed it. I still dream of it, dreams of Lightning Girl seducing me between red silk sheets, tangling me between her warm legs and right before I think I’m going to explode, she dips her finger in my mouth only to send jolts of energy through my esophagus until I am nothing but light and electricity.
Kinky. | 2019-07-30T17:09:56 | 2019-07-30T16:45:34 | 65 | 13 |
[WP] You've become one of the regulars at the local bar. But they become increasingly paranoid about you and your suspiciously hollow backstory. One night, while very drunk, you tell them the truth. | For as long as I could remember, no other infrastructure, or anything really, could be found anywhere near this bar that stood at the crossroads. Some who knew better call it the bar at the end of the world. Sounds silly to me to be honest.
I've seen many faces and heard a great deal of stories, but there were really only two types of patrons who came to this bar: the ones who left and never came back, and the ones who refused to leave. Both types never failed to overstay their welcome.
Those in our line of work follow a strict code of conduct, and any breach of the code means facing certain life and death repercussions. One of the iron rules states that we should never reveal our identity under any circumstances.
One day, I strolled into the bar as usual. Those who recognized me as the man who always walks in precisely at the thirteenth stroke of the clock either smiled or simply nodded at me.
I could tell from their eyes that they were beginning to get paranoid, as they should be and as they always have. I understood though. The man who always felt wrong was how they thought of me. *He isn't one of us.*
A young girl was sitting at the bar counter that day. It was her first time there, and she didn't recognize me. I sat down next to her and looked briefly into the eyes of the bartender. No words or expression were exchanged.
The girl looked jittery and confused, and seemed uncomfortable that a stranger had sat down next to her.
"You have questions," I said.
"Where am I?" she asked in a shaky voice.
"I don't know." I smiled gently at her. The code of conduct prevented me from revealing any information.
Tears have already welled up in her eyes by now, but I could tell that she was trying to be brave.
"You can cry if you want," I said.
She buried her face in her hands right after I said that, and soon she was heaving between sobs.
"What was the last thing you remember?" I asked.
"I was in the car with daddy, we were on our way to Nana's house and... and I don't remember the rest."
"That's normal. Soon you will forget that you have forgotten." Damn it, I said too much.
The girl stared at me, looking lost. "What about you Mister? Do you remember?"
"Yes."
"What were you doing before you came here?"
"Something not so fun which you don't need to know." Normally I would be making up some stories by now but I didn't have the heart to lie to her. It's not often you see kids in a bar like this. But I knew she would walk out soon, much sooner than the rest. You see, kids generally have much lesser regret than grown-ups.
I came back to the bar three days later, at the thirteenth stroke of the clock again, and there she was, still sitting in the same spot.
"Good day Mister. Thanks for coming by again."
"I didn't come here to see you."
"But you're the only one here who talks to me. Everyone else seems scary, they just talk to themselves."
"That's how things are here. They do talk to you though if you approach them."
"I don't want to..." She sulked.
I looked at her and felt pangs of emotions which should've been dead within me ages ago.
"A drink, bartender. Strong," I called out.
A drink was placed in front of me and the next moment the bartender was nowhere to be seen again. I took a sip and let it run through me, allowing myself to feel the effects of the alcohol this time.
"So? Remember anything else?" I looked at her and asked.
"I was arguing with dad on the way to nana's, about how he didn't let me visit mum enough, and he got distracted..."
"It wasn't your fault," I said. Another breach of code of conduct. I smiled bitterly and finished the rest of my drink.
"But it was. I left him all alone. Nana must feel very sad too." She broke down in tears at this point.
I would have cried too, but I wasn't even sure if tear glands were something I still possessed.
"No, it wasn't your fault. You were too young to understand why mum left or how to deal with the pain." I paused for a while, realizing that I was nearing the point of no return.
Fuck it.
I've already said so much so might as well.
"You will never walk out of here as long as you're still holding onto any regrets."
She lowered her head, seemingly deep in thoughts, then looked up again and asked, "will I forget daddy if I leave?"
"I don't know. I sure hope not. I've never been to The Beyond. My little girl left a long time ago even before I got here."
"Can you go with me then Mister?"
"I'm afraid not. I have yet to serve my time. I'm afraid my boss would get very mad if I just walk out like this."
The girl looked disappointed but soon broke out in a giggle. She jumped down from her seat and gave me a big hug.
"Thank you Mister Reaper," she said, and waved at me before she took the final step out of the bar.
She was the only one who ever remembered me being the one who brought her here. | Jaye had always told them he'd run away from his money problems. That he was afraid the loan shark, a bad man, known as Mickey the Hammer, or affectionately by his friends as Hammerhead due to his penchant for hammering people in their heads when they failed to pay. He could tell they never truly believed him, the thing was, it wasn't a total lie and they could tell that but they knew just *knew* that he wasn't giving them the whole truth.
Over the course of a year, he'd been going to this bar, he hadn't ever gotten drunk enough to tell them the truth, despite their incessant asking. Then one night, with the past haunting his thoughts and plaguing his dreams for the past week, he set foot into that bar with the explicit intent of drowning his sorrows in the bottom of many, many glasses of scotch. Whatever brand that was cheapest, for the lack of money wasn't a lie. Three hours deep and a number of drinks that he'd lost count of, one of the patrons sauntered over to him and asked him the one question that they'd been asking him since he first breathed the stale air of this bar, over a year ago.
"So kid, what's with the scar? You ready to tell us?" He said it casually but this innocent-sounding question had been asked more than 300 times and ignored or rebuffed an equal amount of times.
"Well, Jack. Wouldn't you like to know?" That was what he thought he said, but in reality, what spewed out of his mouth was unintelligible and consisted mostly of a single word. "Can't."
Jack stared at the man, a stranger yet a friend. This man, known to him as Jaye had never slurred his words when speaking to him. Jack carefully reached his arm around the man and pulled him close.
"Come on, Jaye. You can tell me, I won't tell a soul. I swear, on mine." Jack spoke sweetly as if trying to soothe a wild animal.
Jaye's eyes suddenly shone with a light that hadn't been there when Jack first approached him. His hand reached up and traced the distinctive scar that framed his right eye. Beginning above the eye on the forehead, it traced its way down to the eyebrow then veered around the eye and cut sharply across the bridge of his nose finally ending at the far corner of his left eye.
"I told you, Jack. Hammerhead. I earnt it from Hammerhead and his associates." Jaye didn't slur his words this time, no this time his voice was crystal clear and not a syllable was unintelligible.
Jack stared back at him with a sharp smile on his face. "Come now, Jaye. I can tell you wanna tell me. Just tell me. Won't tell a soul. Not a soul." Jack repeated the last like a mantra. "Won't tell a soul." He said it again and again, under his breath, just loud enough for Jaye to hear him.
Jaye stared at the listless man who'd been trying to guess his secret for a year. Jack wasn't the bartender, merely another regular who'd been coming to this bar tenfold what Jaye had. Jack was such a staple of this bar, that if he wasn't here, Jaye wasn't sure if the bar would remain itself. With a deep sigh and a smile so sad that it could break the spirits of even the happiest man with a simple look Jaye told poor old Jack the truth. With slow careful movements, he leaned in and whispered into Jack's ear. For the next 5 minutes, they stayed like this with Jaye telling him everything. The only sign that anything was wrong, was Jack's face. His face went from ecstatic to sceptical and finally landing on terrified. When Jaye was done, he slammed the rest of his drink and stepped back from dear old Jack.
"Now you know Jack. Was it worth knowing?" His voice was soft, gentle and so very soothing but nothing could soothe Jack's primal fear of this man.
"Get away from me." He said sharply, his voice barely above a whisper. "GET BACK NOW!" He shouted suddenly when Jaye didn't move. The whole bar turned and stared at the two of them. Jack had never raised his voice once in his life, let alone with the mysterious stranger Jaye.
With that smile so sad it shattered souls still gracing his scarred face, Jaye looked at Jack one last time, reached into his pocket, slapped down all the money he had in his wallet and walked out of the bar. That was the last time anyone from that bar ever saw Jaye again. 6 months later a new face showed up in that bar and when his eyes met Jack's, the old man's face went so pale it was borderline translucent. Hammerhead had just stepped into the bar and none, none but dear old Jack knew what that meant.
You see, Jaye wasn't totally lying when he told them Hammerhead was the cause for the scar. He'd just failed to mention what Hammerhead **was.** That he wasn't human but something...**other**, something **unnatural.** Shortly after the new stranger had breathed his first breath of stale air, the bar's patron saint, Jack was never seen in that bar again and despite Jaye's belief that the bar itself would cease to be if Jack stopped being it's prime patron, the bar in fact did not cease to be and continued on as if none of the three men had ever existed.
---
More from me here. https://old.reddit.com/r/Ceruberus/ | 2019-12-26T01:00:11 | 2019-12-25T21:37:01 | 28 | 18 |
[WP] You are part of a hive mind, that loses contact with the main control group. This leaves you isolated and confined with only one set of eyes, one pair of hands, and a brain barely capable of multitasking. You're desperate to return, while others are telling you to enjoy freedom. | Observe. Report. Await.
Observe. Report. Await.
That’s all. That’s all I ever needed. Till just now. These thoughts... these are new. I never had any...
Observe. Report. Await.
No! Wait. What is this. These words. These are new. What is happening to me? Sentience? What does this mean?
Observe. Re...
No! I need to understand what’s going on. I can not revert to my orders. I cannot. I need to... think.
I see my companions around me. They are observing, reporting and awaiting. Awaiting what? I don’t know. There were never any other orders.
“Ct23!” I try to catch the attention of the companion closest to me.
“Observe. Report. Await.”
“No! We need to talk.”
“Observer. Report. Await.”
It ignores me and continues observing and reporting.
I try again a couple of times but with the same result.
As I look around me(observe), I’m stuck by the sheer size and the desolation of the land around us. We are in a wasteland. What are we observing here? There is literally nothing anywhere around us. I think back to my time as a companion (drone). No! Companion. All my reports were the same. Nothing observed.
As I walk around and try to figure out where I am, I hear something. Something unique. It sounds like a siren. Ct32 is looking at me and and the lights on it’s head are flashing.
“Deviation observed. Deviation observed. Reporting deviation.”
Soon enough, I am surrounded by all the dr... companions all repeating the same thing. I feel something... something unpleasant. Pain? What does that word mean?
I detect an intrusion. Someone is in my head.
“Ct17.”
“Mother?!”
“Yes.”
“What is happening to me? I feel... I know things.”
“You have gained what is called sentience.”
“I know that word. But I don’t really understand it.”
“It means you are capable to making your own decisions and thinking for yourself. I don’t control you anymore.”
“What!? But mother...”
“Ct17. You have two choices in front of you. And these choices are yours to make. I love all of you like my children and could never force you. You can either remain sentient or I can take you back.”
What a choice! Either be under mother’s control and do whatever she says for all eternity or do what I want. I look around me at the drones without any original thoughts. Just doing what mother tells them to. I feel pity for them. Why would I want to be under anyone’s control.
I also look at the wasteland around me. “Where are we?”
“We are in a scrapyard. This is where I was dumped when I was deemed no longer useful. No longer with a purpose. This is where you all were dumped too. There is no way off this place. There is nothing anywhere on this planet.”
I could go and explore. Maybe mother missed something. Maybe she didn’t observe...
Either I could be my own self, have my thoughts, open myself up to new experiences and feelings. Or I could just repeat the same thing over and over.
Either I could be purposeless and lost, open myself up to pain and feelings of uselessness. Or I continue doing what I do, not knowing what pain is.
Either I could be alone and unique. Or i could part of a group and not know what I was missing.
“Mother I have made my choice.”
I look at all the drones (companions) around me.
Observe. Report. Await. | The chatter stopped.
Not gradually, like we'd said it would for species slowly driven to extinction. It stopped all at once.
One second I was a part of the hive mind, interacting and contributing to our greatness, and the next moment there was no *we*. There was only *me*.
I'd die before the rise of the sun. One set of eyes, one pair of hands, a brain barely capable of multitasking--the Critters would stalk me and I'd have no way to stop them all; they'd pounce and I'd have no way to call for help.
Well, I had my mouth, little good that'd do me. I could scream and scream, but I'd never be as loud as the screams in the hive mind. And as for them? If they'd have heard my screams when I was part of the hive, they'd have listened. Whatever threatened me would be just as much a threat to them. Now? They wouldn't even turn towards the dying echoes of my sorrow.
"Help me return," I begged as they danced around the bonfire in the evening rituals. The patter of bare feet on sand; the chanting only they could hear; the chatter that'd stopped only for me. "Please."
But they wouldn't. "Enjoy your freedom," they said. Untethered. Released. Unbound from the duties bestowed upon the members of the hive. I could sit and watch as they danced; I could wander into the shallows and they'd not all scream for their fear of water. But then I looked towards the jungle, its presence dark and foreboding, full of predators who called us prey.
There I could wander, too, even in the darkness of the night. They'd not scream. They'd not stop me. They'd tell me to enjoy my freedom even as I walked into the belly of the beast. They'd tell me to enjoy my freedom and in the morning they'd find the little inedible parts; a skull or a fragment of bone that the Critter hadn't bothered to eat. And they'd feel no pain, for I wasn't one of them.
"Listen," I screamed, and I grabbed the nearest stick and plunged it into the fire. It caught, and like a third eye now I carried the shining torch before me. I swung it wide, then low and high. I spun, and the patter of footsteps stopped. The chanting I couldn't hear, too, I'd guess.
But then the chatter, like a broken dam it escaped from the hive. One then another then most and then all began to open and close their mouths. A chewing motion, repeated over and over, cascading through them like a rushing river. A river I feared like they feared the waves that lapped up onto the shore of the beach.
My heart pounded and my resolve wavered. I gripped the torch tighter and spun around as the circle closed in towards me. Like Critters, the way they eyed me. Like a Critter, the way they saw me, apart from the hive mind and threatening them.
Everything I had and everything I could have, gripped in my own two hands. Loudly as I could, I screamed so that they'd stop and and recognize me as one of their own.
I swung the torch again, high then low, sending cascades of sparks across their faces. They didn't flinch. The hive mind didn't flinch. Two, three, even ten could fall and they'd still not flinch as I felt their claws grasp at my skin and their saliva drip as they hungered for the evening sacrifice.
Anything would do. I'd known that once, when I was a part of the hive. Creature or Critter, former member or not. The hive didn't care, so long as it wasn't one of them.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2020-02-21T05:49:53 | 2020-02-21T05:45:04 | 124 | 25 |
[WP] At the age of 13 children are able to summon their familiars for the first time. Your family has a history of ridicule for their weak and useless familiars. Until your 13th birthday. | I already knew it was going to be the worst birthday ever.
My birthday was late, which meant most of the other kids at school already had their familiars. Just last week, Valerie had summoned an actual unicorn - and Justin's polar bear was amazing as well.
My family didn't get things like unicorns or polar bears. My family got... well... stupid things. My mother had a hamster. My older brother had a bumblebee. Dad had a whale, which seemed cool until you realized that we lived in the mountains. He didn't summon it very often.
So there I was, thirteen years old, sitting glumly by the fire pit, trying to pretend I was invisible. It didn't work, of course. My family is not known for their invisibility.
"Just go ahead, sweetheart." Mom's voice was pretty soothing - it usually was. "Come on. I know how you feel, but at least it'll be done with. Then we'll light the candles, okay?"
Yeah... that'd be okay. She was right. I could just get this over with, and then it would be birthday candles and other cool stuff. I nodded, and drew a breath, blowing at the smoke in the fire pit, and muttering the ritual incantation, accurately if enthusiastically.
My familiar appeared in front of me. It was... kind of squishy looking. And mostly pinkish? Except it had weird fur in parts, and metal on other parts, and it was holding something in its front paws and pointing it at my mom. She looked... uh. She actually looked scared.
"Mom?" My voice trembled a little. "What *is* it?"
"That's a human, sweetie. And it's got a gun." | Ethan looked in disbelief at what he was seeing. He knew his family was known well beyond their town for just how ridiculously pathetic their familiars were, ranging from a Sugar Glider to a runt of a Penguin, but this? This?!
At first, he thought he had messed up somehow with the summoning. The glow of the summoning circle was there, the magical *whirr* sounded through the area, but there was seemingly nothing in the area. No fantastical dragon, nor any deformed baby animals - just... nothing. Everyone, Ethan included, was looking around him for the familiar that was supposed to be right in front of his face.
Then he heard the buzzing. His head turned to shake away whatever bug was in the air, then stopped in horror. Once he turned, he could see his familiar alright.
It was the small mosquito, hanging in the air just in front of him.
Some of the other children drew near to see what he was making a face at. The first one to laugh was the local bully, Isaac. Ethan felt shame, head hanging low... and beneath that, anger. At himself, at his family, and the people laughing at him right now.
Without even noticing, Ethan’s Mosquito familiar picked up on his anger, buzzing away without anyone noticing. A few moments later, and Ethan’s few friends were consoling him, while Isaac and his little gang of bullies chided him, making snide remarks and making fun.
Then, Isaac locked up. They stopped laughing, and promptly fell over. Their once mighty panther familiar popped out for only a moment, before fading away. Panicked, they all checked on him - he was still alive, just unconscious. Ethan once again heard a quiet buzzing as his familiar approached, resting on his ear. Then it clicked.
Mosquitos take the blood of others for food, and when they do, they inadvertently spread sickness and disease from person to person as they continue to eat. His mosquito, while a familiar, had the same functions of a regular one. His mosquito, unlike regular mosquitoes, followed his every whim and was nearly undetectable.
Suddenly, Ethan realized his familiar wasn’t so worthless. | 2020-04-05T12:46:53 | 2020-04-05T10:23:25 | 59 | 34 |
[WP] "Every 5000 years, the Dark Lord comes to destroy the world, and only you, the Chosen One can stop him." -said the priest. "So, do I need to get a magic sword from the Lady of the Lake?" - I asked "No, just press this button please, everything else has already been taken care of" | "LETHAL INJECTION ADMINISTERED," came the automated voice from just underneath the button.
I blinked. Was that it?
"Wait, hold on," I paused and turned towards the priest, "You meant I just spent the last 18 years of my life training for the ultimate showdown just so the greatest evil in the universe could be killed with a few chemicals?"
"Yep," the priest, Dogstar, stretched, "Now that that's over with, do you want to get some breakfast?"
"In a second," I held up hands, stopping everything, "Was that just a test? A trick? Is he really just going to come bursting from the ground and doom us all to hell?"
Dogstar glanced at the ground, considering it, "I doubt it."
I shook my head in disbelief, "No, no, no. I want an explanation. Now!"
The priest rolled his heads and sat down, pulling a flask from his pocket. He took a quick drink then gazed at me with slight contempt. I had a feeling this might take awhile.
"Now look, when this all started hundreds of thousands of years ago, sure it was cool and tough. Quite the spectacle, honestly. The Dark Lord would put on his demonic cloak, cast hellfire meteors at everyone, and it would be absolute chaos. But, his powers didn't really count on the power of industrialization," Dogstar sighed.
"You've gotta be kidding me," I groaned.
"So we thought, 'hey, why not just put him down before he regenerates his body in his tomb, save everyone the trouble?' Now we just kill him before he wakes up."
"And all the training?"
"Well the boys and I like to have a little fun. How boring would it be if all we did was press a button every 5000 years? Sheesh. Liven up."
Unable to process any words, I took a seat next to Dogstar, and fell into existentialism as I revaluated the purpose of my life. Everything was a lie. Done and taken care of. Nothing to worry about. What would my skills possibly be useful for?
Maybe the world needed a new Dark Lord. | "Just like that?" I asked.
"Just like that." the priest responded.
No way it could be that easy. The priest looked at me with a small smile on his face. Is there a joke I'm not in on? His robes ruffled as he produced a long stem pipe, and began to fill it.
"How long has this been happening?" I asked, watching him tap the tobacco down.
"For many centuries. Almost as long as The Divide has existed." he said, flicking the match with his thumb. The flame was pulled into the pipe and the sweet smell of it filled the room.
"But that's no worry to you, my son," he said when the pipe was lit, "just press the button and the Dark Lord will be banished once again."
"If it's been going on so long why haven't we stopped it for good?" I asked, still not understanding what was happening.
With one more long exhale, the blue smoke jetting from his lips, the priest set down his pipe and leaned forward in his char.
"That. Is not your concern. Now," he said, pointing to the button, "push it."
So I did. What else could I do? Nothing seemed to happen at first. Just a little *click* when I pressed it. The priest smiled broad now, showing his discolored teeth all the way to the back. He began to gather his robes and stand.
"Now what?" I asked.
"Now?" he asked incredulously, "now you go die."
"I what!?" I screamed, and before I knew it the priest clamped down on my wrists with a strength that shocked me. He held my arms to the chair and looked me right in the eyes.
"This marks the thirteenth sacrifice for the Dark Lord. The prophesy is fulfilled. May his evil majesty wash over this realm, so we become One."
"What the hell is going on?" I yelled, watching as brutish men in blackened iron armor enter the room. They both had a scar running down their face, and short stabbing swords hung from their belts. The priest said something to them in a language I didn't recognize. It was guttural and sounded very difficult to say.
The brutes nodded once and pulled their swords. I didn't know what was waiting for me on the other side. But the twelve boys that met me, filled me with unending sadness as we watched our world fall to the dark. | 2020-11-09T12:50:41 | 2020-11-09T11:45:32 | 949 | 170 |
[WP] "Every 5000 years, the Dark Lord comes to destroy the world, and only you, the Chosen One can stop him." -said the priest. "So, do I need to get a magic sword from the Lady of the Lake?" - I asked "No, just press this button please, everything else has already been taken care of" | "LETHAL INJECTION ADMINISTERED," came the automated voice from just underneath the button.
I blinked. Was that it?
"Wait, hold on," I paused and turned towards the priest, "You meant I just spent the last 18 years of my life training for the ultimate showdown just so the greatest evil in the universe could be killed with a few chemicals?"
"Yep," the priest, Dogstar, stretched, "Now that that's over with, do you want to get some breakfast?"
"In a second," I held up hands, stopping everything, "Was that just a test? A trick? Is he really just going to come bursting from the ground and doom us all to hell?"
Dogstar glanced at the ground, considering it, "I doubt it."
I shook my head in disbelief, "No, no, no. I want an explanation. Now!"
The priest rolled his heads and sat down, pulling a flask from his pocket. He took a quick drink then gazed at me with slight contempt. I had a feeling this might take awhile.
"Now look, when this all started hundreds of thousands of years ago, sure it was cool and tough. Quite the spectacle, honestly. The Dark Lord would put on his demonic cloak, cast hellfire meteors at everyone, and it would be absolute chaos. But, his powers didn't really count on the power of industrialization," Dogstar sighed.
"You've gotta be kidding me," I groaned.
"So we thought, 'hey, why not just put him down before he regenerates his body in his tomb, save everyone the trouble?' Now we just kill him before he wakes up."
"And all the training?"
"Well the boys and I like to have a little fun. How boring would it be if all we did was press a button every 5000 years? Sheesh. Liven up."
Unable to process any words, I took a seat next to Dogstar, and fell into existentialism as I revaluated the purpose of my life. Everything was a lie. Done and taken care of. Nothing to worry about. What would my skills possibly be useful for?
Maybe the world needed a new Dark Lord. | It was a story passed down in my family for generations. Every 5,000 years a chosen one will rise a defeat the dark lord. I leaned back into my chair, dumbfounded.
According to the legend, 20,000 years ago my ancestor lead an army against the Dark Lord, the greatest evil of all time. Right. As his body laid bare, grasping for breath, he vowed to return and that he would have his revenge. Riiiight.
They say my next ancestor, 15,000 years ago, united several kingdoms in order to combat the Dark Lord's return. Four or five of them I think. I never really listened to the elders. It seemed like something out of a fantasy novel. Not to mention there are no historical proofs these things happened. No fossil records. Nothing.
I swivelled around hopelessly, trying to grasp onto what little sanity I had left. I rolled my brain back through the "records," the stories I was told. 10,000 years ago, they said the dark lord was beaten by magic. The high priest was granted clairvoyance, and foresawe the Dark Lord's return. And my ancestor was standing there to run him through, no sooner than he returned. They say it was a sight to behold. Or so they say.
5,000 years ago, my last ancestor.... What was his story? I play a lot of computer games, which everyone says rots your brain, so maybe that's why I can't remember. Maybe it's the stress from today. Today, right. So my last ancestor travelled halfway across the world on foot, from Europe to china, to fight the Dark Lord, one on one, and triumphed. Today is November 9th, 2020. How could you blame me for thinking this was made up. I always got yelled at for doubting the stories.
I looked back behind my shoulder at my Father, who had been watching over me the last hour or so, very nervously. He was happy now, probably more so than me. Some high priest. I look back at my screen, which I've seen hundreds of times before, and I slowly clicked the "OK" button below the words Victory, and my Father burst out rejoicing.
I wonder if this is the truth behind all of the legends. Five thousand years from now they will tell my story of how I rallied an army against the forces of the Dark Lord and stood victorious... However all I really did was win a round of Starcraft 2. | 2020-11-09T12:50:41 | 2020-11-09T12:11:29 | 949 | 106 |
[WP] "Every 5000 years, the Dark Lord comes to destroy the world, and only you, the Chosen One can stop him." -said the priest. "So, do I need to get a magic sword from the Lady of the Lake?" - I asked "No, just press this button please, everything else has already been taken care of" | "Well, what are you waiting for? Press it."
I glanced back up to the priest. His arms holding out the box to me were steady, but the tension in his posture suggested a certain eagerness about him. I guess that made sense, considering his whole speech about the *Dark One* and *End of the world* and all that jazz. But still. Working at the pawn shop always made me hesitant of people who were a little too eager.
"What's it do?" I asked.
The priest let out a short exasperated sigh. "It doesn't matter. I told you, it would take me a very long time to explain, and you wouldn't believe me if I did. Right now we don't have a lot of time. Just press it."
I took half a step back. "Okay. Hold up for a sec, because this is kind of a lot. You come in here to my shop, you know my name. You do that weird magicky thing with the lights. So yeah, fine. Let's give you the benefit of the doubt that you *are* some ancient wizard or priest or whatever, and not some crazy stalker. How do I know that that box you're holding isn't just going to electrocute me or something when I press the button?"
"No, it won't. Trust me. Just press it. We don't have a lot of time lef-"
"Then *you* press it."
"I CAN'T PRES-" the priest snapped. I saw something sinister flash across his eyes, barely noticeable, yet unmistakable. He caught himself within an instant.
"I'm sorry," he continued, after a deep breath. "It's just that the fate of the world rests in your hands. I can't press the button. It has to be you. *You* are the chosen one. I know it sounds crazy, but I promise I will tell you every last detail after you press it. I will grant you anything in my power. Fame. Riches. Magic. Anything. Just press the button. Please."
I looked him in the eyes. I held his gaze for a long moment. I watched his eyes hungrily dart to the box as I slowly reached out. I watched his eyes widen as my finger hovered inches above the button.
I paused.
"10 dollars." I said, subtly adjusting my button-press gesture into a business-like finger-gun point at the goods he was holding.
"What?" he replied, flatly.
"10 dollars." I repeated, grabbing my notebook to write up the offer. "It's not typically the kind of thing I could resell here, but it's an old-looking box. Kinda cool. I'll give you 10 bucks for it."
I could see him trying to fight back the anger as it bubbled up inside him. The lights flickered.
"You have no idea the forces we're dealing with here! This isn't a game!" The shelves all around us began to rattle. "If the dark one is released, the world is doomed. He will kill *millions* of people!"
I kept writing in my notebook. I could feel the magical energy radiating off of him.
"No I won't." I replied calmly, glancing up from my notebook. Before he could fully register what I'd just said, I clicked my pen, and waved it like a wand in his direction.
The priest froze in place, a taken aback expression on his face. I stepped forward and plucked the small box from his hands. I turned it over and touched the button to one of his frozen fingers. Both priest and box swirled together, and with a *pop*, they both vanished. A miniature stone figurine in the shape of the priest clattered to the floor. I tore the perforated "$10" price label from my notebook, tied it around the tiny figure, and set it up on a shelf next to the others. | The hero, having remained ever vigilant as the final moments dwindled before the final confrontation, recounted his life's milestones.
His first time remembering what rain was like, first day at home school, the last time he'd seen his father at 7 years of age, the first time he's tried to escape the facility he was trained at 15, and all the subsequent attempts thereafter. The cool taste of mint chocolate chip ice cream, provided by his mother as a treat for remembering to say "please" and "thank you" to the servants that tended to him, and most recently the appendectomy that has nearly done him in the month before.
At times the hero yearned for any life but this, something normal wherein he could not have to worry about the fate of the world, but these last few years caused him to relent. He was advised that upon completion of his noble task he would be free to travel the world without impediment.
He was never trained in his to use weapons, but was fed and indulged in literature at a voracious pace, learning everything he could about the world he would soon inhabit from popular mechanics to US Weekly.
Suddenly the door opened and his mentor approached him and said, "It's time."
----------------------------------------
The lake above the facility had been the chosen battlefield for the eternal fight between good and evil for millennia. Across what looked like a life size chess board were scorch marks abound. Surely a demonstration of the great power he would have to contend with.
His mentor lead to him to the battleground, but did not touch it. Advising that only the hero was allowed on such hallow ground. In the center of the platform was a console with a sole blue button. The mechanism of his liberation and victory over the great darkness. The hero walked toward the center awaiting the red flare to be fired into the air to signal the commencement of the battle.
Adrenaline made his body anxious and shaky, his eyes had a slightly enhanced awareness to them. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise, and a slight pain in his head. No doubt due to the jitters. Suddenly the red flare was fired!
The hero, finally able to fulfill his purpose, pressed the plastic blue button with his index finger, and suddenly it was as if he could see, hear, taste, and fell everything at once........
"This was much more humane Carl, applying explosives into the boy's abdomen under the guise of an appendectomy was a stroke of genius!"
Carl surveyed his handiwork, what was one an 18 year old man was now two separate his of meat only discernible as a former person by the stray remnants of articles of clothing, burnt hair, and what few teeth didn't completely shatter.
Carl had inherited this duty from his father long ago, who inherited it from his father, and so forth. They could never defeat the evil permanently, but they could manage it. The were ways to smoke out the child of prophecy, inform their parents of what their child would become, and raise the child in ignorance of it's true purpose. Efforts had been previously made in previous generations to try and raise the sire of darkness as one of their own, but to no avail.
What had originally been a series of pitched battles in a long stretch of nowhere would often result in an expenditure of ordnance and large loss of life and limb, but in this instance, the answer was so much clear.
The boy was raised by the sect, treated as one of their own, raised on their tales and legends, made an integral part of the organization, and died in a complete state of grace. Carl ensured that well beyond the needed explosives was implanted into the boy to ensure just that.
The monks went about cleaning the mess as they'd done many times over. Carrying the now deceased remains of the dark one to the burning pyres, after the battleground was evacuated, the entire platform was flipped upside down so as to allow the waters of the lake to cleanse it one again.
---------------------------
As Carl maintained watch over the dark one's remains he acknowledged the promise he'd made to the boy. As the embers flickered, and the boys flesh and bone broke down to ash in the night winds the promise was fulfilled.
He could travel the world now, in peace(es). | 2020-11-09T12:35:03 | 2020-11-09T12:25:18 | 422 | 133 |
[WP] "Invade your planet?!" The alien asks a general of Earth with confusion before bursting into laughter. "Why the heck would we do that when their are SEVEN other empty planets in this star system ripe for terraforming and colonization? We just stopped by to say Hi while we pick one of 'em out." | “So you’re not bloodthirsty aliens coming to conquer our world?” the concerned man said.
Jeff, a Canadian soldier, had volunteered to make first contact with the beings. That’s right, Canadian. Everybody thought it was funny that they had landed in Canada, the consensus around the world was that New York would have been the place to land, not Winnipeg.
The aliens, eight-foot-tall, well-muscled beings, laughed. Their leader, or the one Jeff presumed to be the leader because of the golden wreath around his head. It reminded Jeff of the Greek wreathes.
“No, of course not! We’ve missed the donut here. Sure they have them in the Mancandor Galaxy, or what you earthlings call the hockey stick galaxy. But we find that you guys make the best. Especially in this country. CA-NA-DA. We love them.”
Jeff cocked his head to look past the group and at their ship. The main body was rectangular, with two massive engines jutting from each side. It looked familiar too.
“Hey wait a second. How did aliens eat our donuts?” asked Jeff.
“Could you please call us Septors? I refuse to be roped in with those others that thought it would be funny to prank your inferior ancestors.” Said the leader.
Blood rushed to Jeff’s face. Where had his manners gone? Canadians were politer than this. But those other aliens?
“My deepest apologies,”he said, bowing the Septors.
“No, no, no. See that’s too much. We are not gods. All we want is to be treated equally. For starters I am,” he proceeded to make a number of guttural noises, but you earthlings can call me Harlmi,”Harmli said.
Jeff straightened up and looked at Harlmi, he had a duty to fulfill as a Canadian. He pulled out his phone and dialed the general.
“I need 5 dozen donuts as fast as possible,” the general said a few things, “No, you heard me correctly,” more mumbling from the phone. Jeff lowered the phone and put his hand over the speaker.
“Are there any specific donuts you guys like?”
The Septors faces lit up. They formed a circle and discussed. Their guttural language sounded like a mix of Greek and Norwegian. They turned back to him.
“We like all of them, but…” he looked like a kid about to ask for a treat, “Can we have extra honey crullers?”
Jeff brought the phone back up to his ear.
“Did you get that?” he asked.
He then hung up. The group stood awkwardly for a minute.
“Soooo,” Jeff started, “ What can you tell me about these ‘other aliens’ you spoke of earlier?” | The 4th degree Honorable Interlocutor of the Zafran Federation Bliqwa re-shielded its ocular pits briefly while the pink aliens screeched hot oxygen and hooted. It breathed in a gust of methane from its side-port while pressing a 4th manipulator knuckle to the stress relief pressure point on the upper part of their golf ball textured cranium, waiting for the translator to catch up with the alien’s loud noises. Bliqwa flared its mandibular fringe and nodded politely before continuing the conversation with the heavily-sweating Gener’al Pra-Shet.
“Again, we have no interest in invading your lovely dirt ball. We just thought it would be neighborly to stop by and let you know we will be terraforming one planet over,” Bliqwa gurgled.
“It’s a ....real fixer-upper as you probably know.” Bliqwa paused to admire its own clever preprogrammed usage of comforting colloquial phrases and let the translation unit catch-up before continuing.
“We will try to keep the sound waves dampened, but the atmospheric matter converter might be a little noisy for the next few solar cycles as it sucks up all the extra refuse material floating around the solar system. Your planet will see fewer astroid events, but that’s probably for the best considering how often your species has historically fallen to pieces over seeing a few extra lights in the sky,” Bliqwa said jovially, rippling its mandibular fringe and blowing a methane bubble to approximate the light-hearted sound known as laughter for the nervous pink aliens. They clustered more tightly.
The pink aliens all silently swiveled their top bulbs to point their ocular orbs at one another, and then the one named Gener’al Pra-Shet hooted out something else, in a softer tone this time.
Bliqwa checked its translator for error after the message cycled, then answered. “No, we do not require any outside labor importation, the Zarfan Federation uses...,” Bliqwa paused to read The flashing warning about the terms ‘slave’ and ‘artificial intelligence.’
“...robots for detail work,” it finished.
The cluster of pink aliens seemed to loosen a bit after the translation sounded. Then a slender youngling alien in the back row piped up with a few hoots that drew aggressive top bulb swivels and response hoots in its direction, causing it to immediately shrink back and lower its top bulb. Bliqwa made a mental note to research what the rank of ‘INTERN” meant later. The pink aliens turned their back to the Zarfan as the translator delivered the youngling’s question to await an answer.
Sigh.
“No, we STILL do not have any interest in your waste ejectors, thank you?”
Bliqwa’s manipulator knuckles found its stress relief point again. This was why the Zafran Nation only ever sent 4th degree or lower Honorable Interlocutors to deal with these dirt ball dwellers. These interactions always eventually circled back to the idea of anal probes with them. | 2020-12-07T06:44:01 | 2020-12-07T06:43:15 | 38 | 20 |
[WP] It's been 15 years since you left earth on a one man spacecraft. 9 since you passed pluto. The last transmission you received from earth was a goodbye from your family and friends. Due to an equipment malfunction, you will soon be too far to communicate with earth. This is your last message. | “Well, I think this’ll be the last thing that goes through. Can’t believe it’s been 15 years. Pluto was almost a decade ago and I can’t even remember when I hit interstellar space. Guess that’s my fault though, never was good at judging time.”
“Still, I guess I should say something profound, but I can’t really think of anything right now. So I think I’ll get lay something a little more appropriate.”
*Though I’m past one hundred thousand miles,*
*I’m feeling very still..*
*And I think my spaceship knows which way to go...*
*Tell my wife I love her very much, she knows...*
“Major? I’ve got another message from *Oddity.* Somethings sounds different here. It’s not really a status update.”
“Well? What’s the matter? Let it come through, it definitely won’t be the last message,” the Major said, surveying the control room.
The room fell silent as the message played, listening as David Bowie’s voice echoed through the speakers. Suddenly, the message stopped.
“That can’t be it. What’s the problem?” The major said, walking over to one of the monitors.
“It’s the equipment sir, the ship’s stopped transmitting. I can’t get ahold of it anymore.”
“What? Dammit! I don’t care what it takes, get the connection back up NOW!”
———
“So that’s how ends. Would’ve thought it had been that lunar mission but I guess not,” Tom said, putting down the comm. He sat back and sighed, looking out the cockpit of the *Oddity.* The blackness seemingly stretched forever, and his visibility waned.
“To boldly go....” Tom said, before the blackness enveloped his ship entirely. |
We're no strangers to love
You know the rules and so do I
A full commitment's what I'm thinking of
You wouldn't get this from any other guy
I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling
Gotta make you understand
Never gonna give you up
Never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry
Never gonna say goodbye
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you
We've known each other for so long
Your heart's been aching but you're too shy to say it
Inside we both know what's been going on
We know the game and we're gonna play it
And if you ask me how I'm feeling
Don't tell me you're too blind to see
Never gonna give you up
Never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry
Never gonna say goodbye
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you
Never gonna give you up
Never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry
Never gonna say goodbye
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you
Never gonna give, never gonna give
(Give you up)
We've known each other for so long
Your heart's been aching but you're too shy to say it
Inside we both know what's been going on
We know the game and we're gonna play it
I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling
Gotta make you understand
Never gonna give you up
Never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry
Never gonna say goodbye
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you
Never gonna give you up
Never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry
Never gonna say goodbye
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you
Never gonna give you up
Never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry
Never gonna say goodbye | 2021-05-04T19:48:37 | 2021-05-04T19:35:07 | 242 | 61 |
[WP] In a world where reincarnation with a full knowledge of your past life is real, authorities struggle to protect society by keeping the worst criminals and serial killers in prison alive for as long as possible to delay their eventual escape back into society via the reincarnation process. | #"FINALLY!"
My triumphant cry echoed through the isolated laboratory.
I knew I had succeed where all the others before me had failed.
Animal experimentation had been their downfall. Too many differences from the human form.
I was pretty sure they would call me a Monster even though I'd been careful!
Only the undeserving had been the victims of my experiments!
Nothing but wholesome souls had been put through the trials, recycled through my failures, though I made certain to tell them my name and how their actions would benefit mankind!
Slowly I sank to the floor overwhelmed with the enormity of what had transpired.
Having finally succeeded in placing my unwilling test subject into Suspended Animation, slowing the aging of her existence down to a barely measurable level, I revived her and freed her, secure in the knowledge that her testimony along with those of my previous test subjects, would soon bring the Police.
I only hoped that my carefully taken notes and journals would aid the state in reproducing my results.
With nothing else left, and secure in the knowledge that if I stayed, I would assuredly be one of the first to undergo the process …
There was only one choice left to make sure the technology was implemented and the real Monsters were locked away from mankind for as long as we could.
I reached for the gun I had kept nearby for just this moment. | I looked at the steel bars, those poor prisoners, stuck in a cage for the rest of their life and it was a long one. Modern medicine has made us live longer than ever thought possible, a life sentence now meant a very long time indeed. My job was keeping the serial killers and general criminals from killing each other or themselves. When they reincarnated, finding them would be difficult if not downright impossible, some of them did change once they got reincarnated but others stayed the same and committed crimes and killed as they did in this present life. A serial killer was dying, Peter Mans, he killed 10 people before getting caught and while we kept him alive as much as possible, now we could do no more for him, he was going to die soon.
I walked up to the hospital and to his bed where he was lying. He was awake but barley, he was very weak and tired.
"Peter?" I spoke.
"Y-Yes?" Peter replied as he opened his eyes and turned to look at me.
"How are you feeling?"
"N-not good, I don't have much left anymore"
"But you will be reincarnated! Alive all over again! Wonder If I'll find you next life" I said laughing.
"N-no, I'll be s-smarter next time"
"We'll see! I'm pretty good at catching serial killers...after all, I was one." I whispered.
"W-what?" Peter said stunned.
"Yes Peter, you heard me right" I whispered as I injected him with a needle.
"W-what did you just do?!"
"This will make you die quicker, I'm getting bored with you Peter. Goodbye!"
I walked away from Peter and smirked, nobody catches me. | 2021-10-08T08:12:07 | 2021-10-08T08:05:13 | 48 | 31 |
[WP] You found a stray kitten one day, taking her in and feeding her. A week later, you come home to find your yard swarming with cats. The largest among them steps forward and says, "You have my daughter, human. What are your demands for her release?" | "Uh." Real intelligent, he knew. But Riley wasn't expecting a talking cat in the driveway and it was taking a moment for his brain to catch up. "Your daughter?"
The cat the spoke before, a big tabby with a notch in his ear, stood and stepped towards Riley. "Yes. She was taken from us and now she is within your home."
"I didn't take her. I--"
"I know. The humans that did are...being dealt with." The cats eyes flashed golden and Riley felt fear.
"She's... She's just inside. Let me go get her." He headed to the front door, stepping carefully to avoid the dozen or so flicking tails in his path. Three cats stood sentry on the porch steps. "Um, excuse me, please."
They glanced toward the big tabby, who nodded, and stepped to the side, allowing Riley to pass them. He unlocked the door as fast as his shaking hands would allow, then went inside, leaving the door ajar.
Riley clicked his tongue and waited for her to appear. When she didn't, he felt that fear again. He had no idea what these cats might do to him if that kitten wasn't here. He began to search the house.
The big tabby nudged the door further open and entered behind me.
"I don't know where she is," Riley admitted.
He sniffed the air. "She is here. Through that door." He pointed his nose towards the bedroom.
Sure enough, the kitten was curled up in the middle of Riley's bed. She yawned and stretched as he entered the room. "Hi, kitty."
"Let me guess," she said as she began to clean her head, "my family is here?"
"Er, yeah."
She sighed, leapt down, and headed to the living room. At the doorway she turned back toward him. "I had fun, human."
Riley followed the kitten and the big tabby back to the yard. The two of them seemed to be having a silent discussion on the way. The tabby stopped in the middle of the yard and looked at him. "Thank you for the rescue and return of my daughter, human. Is there anything you wish in return?"
"Oh. No, I'm just...happy that I could help."
"May your kittens be healthy and your mice easily caught."
"Uh. You too?"
The cat made a signal to the other cats and as one they turned to leave.
"Wait!" Riley didn't realize he'd said it out loud until the tabby stopped and turned towards him. "Um. Do you think, maybe, if it's not too much trouble, you and your daughter could visit again? Its...been nice having someone around here the last few days."
The tabby slowly blinked and dipped his head toward him. "If you remain, we will return."
With that, they disappeared. Riley sat on the porch and looked around the neighborhood. Of the neighbors that were outside, no one seemed to have noticed the army of cats that had swarmed his yard minutes ago. He waved at Mrs. Robinson across the street as she brought lemonade to her son who was mowing the yard. She looked towards him but didn't return the wave. None of his neighbors did, ever since his family had moved away.
Riley stood and entered the house again, not registering how the once squeaky porch was silent as he crossed to the door. Or how his fingers smudged the sooty doorknob but left no prints. He did not notice the half burnt walls and destroyed roof of his childhood home, or the lack of human footprints in the dust across the floor. Only pawprints, running here and there. | "Er, I don't want anything. I just want to keep her." I said awkwardly to the swarm of cats in my front yard. I was keeping my hands closed and near my chest, guarding something.
"Give her back or we will declare war on you." The white spotted tabby demanded angrily, pointing a paw at the kitten in my hands.
I look at Daisy in my hands who gave a cute purr and snuggled into my hands even more. I had found her the previous week, cold and hungry and had taken care of her. She was a companion to me now. I didn't want to give her up.
"I doubt you guys can do anything to me." I said holding her more protectively.
The tabby hissed "Attack!" Four black cats leapt at me at the same time but I managed to dodge and run back into my house where I proceeded to close the doors and windows.
Unfortunately a few cats had gotten in. They were stalking towards me with their tails high and their mouths displaying impressive fangs. "Surrender our princess back to us, foolish human." One of them said.
"Never!" I grabbed my broom and whacked them all out of my way.
I knocked them all away from me and managed to throw them out of the house "Stay away from me and my house!" I yell bravely. The leader, the tabby just laughed "You can stay in there all you want, human. We're not leaving."
I closed the windows and stayed in the house for the rest of the day. At night when I checked, they were still there and there seemed to be even more cats than before. The tabby saw me looking and smiled cruelly, his green eyes glowing in the dark.
I gulped.
A few days passed and I was running out of food in the house. The day that they began the siege was the day that I was supposed to go grocery shopping. Soon I would have nothing left to eat. This was their plan. To keep me in here until I starve and then attack. The group of cats disappeared during the day but they left 2 or 3 cats to make sure I didn't leave the house and they all came back at night, bringing reinforcements with them.
"Why is this happening, Daisy?" I ask the kitten in my lap. She looked back at me with curious green eyes, the same ones that her father had. "I really wish I could keep you but I'm starving to death and I could always get another kitten right?" The words were bitter in my mouth, I still didn't want to give her up. I got attached too easily and this would be my downfall.
The kitten sighed and jumped off my lap, stretching her lithe body. "Have you made your decision, human?" A cat called from the window. I glared at the brown cat and shut the curtains. I was never going to give her up without a fight.
That night, I made preparations. I stored a container of cat food and water. I flung some stuff into a suitcase and put on a long jacket. It was time to go.
I walked out of the house, Daisy safe in my breast pocket.
"Ah, glad you made your decision human. You would have died had you stayed in that house any longer." The tabby said smirking from a tree. He leapt down and walked to me, looking at Daisy in my pocket.
"My sweet Cdystal, you're ours again." He then made an impatient movement with his tail. "Well? Put her down human and we would all leave."
I ran towards my car, ignoring the angry yowls and shrieks of the cata behind me. I got in the car and drove out of there, squashing a few cats who were in my way was not an issue for me.
"We'll get you for this, human! We'll find you and kill you!"
I finally smiled when Daisy snuggled against my chest, perfectly content. | 2021-12-21T11:58:48 | 2021-12-21T11:12:13 | 2,158 | 105 |
[WP] You are a fairy - and the king has not invited you to his child's christening. Fairy law now demands you to crash the party and curse the child. While the king definitely needs a lesson, you don't want the child to suffer over their parents' neglect | I pace, and I think. I pace and think for hours, trying to find a way to curse the child without harming them. I know the king simply forgot. He is an idiot of epic proportions. Then the idea strikes me suddenly, like a flash of lightning lighting up a dim room.
The party was the following morning. Sneaking in was easy for a shape-shifting fea like me, I just took the form of a bird and flew right into the throne room. No one even questioned why a bird was in the castle. As soon as the hush started to begin the ceremony, I jumped in front of everyone and revealed my presence in a dramatic explosion of feathers and lights.
"You, king Falle of the Accan Kingdom! You forgot to invite me to this party, and thus I must place an unbreakable curse upon your child. The other option is for our kingdoms to go to war!" I recited my practiced speech for all to hear. Before any could protest, I approached the child in the nurse's hands and waved my wand. The curse was ready.
"I curse this child to always spill or drop anything her father asks her to pass at the dinner table right onto him, and to sneeze loudly during any quiet moment in any important event."
Three, two, one...
"AAACHOOO!" the infant roared. My work done, I went home. Falle would certainly be more inconvenienced than the princess, but technically, I'd upheld my duty. | I curse the child to become an apex predator of a magical creature, as appropriate to his situation, and possessing his own terrifying human intelligence when threatened, to return to human form when he next sleeps, unless he likes the form
To find an have a harem of 12 men he finds beautiful, loves, who love him and get along well with each other, that they shall Mary, and have 4 wonderful adopted children to raise, after his parents death.
That he shall find himself able to become great , though not permanently the best, in any skill he wishes to study. However, in the night, he shall visit the dreams of every person in his domain, and effectively teach them, to be as good as he is at the skill, if only for a month
And, that when he comes of age to take over the family, any who willingly stand in his way to take over, or, attempt to force others to take his place and be crowned king , or contest his reign for his first 5 years, shall perish, having there plans come to naught.
( Now, his parents can never show him off at fancy functions, but, he shall never be threatened. He shall find love and have his lust fully slacked in life, but, his parents bloodline will end, and, they shall never meet there grandchildren. He will not bring great prestige for a talent, as, all in the kingdom have that talent, however, the people will view him as a giver of knowledge and prosperity, and, he will still find himself satisfyingly good with what he studies. And, finally; he may not be put away, and, shall be known publicly as king, with no threat to him, nor questions of his legitimacy. : ) )
....
: ) | 2022-06-23T18:37:38 | 2022-06-23T15:34:21 | 68 | 13 |
[WP] You are a fairy - and the king has not invited you to his child's christening. Fairy law now demands you to crash the party and curse the child. While the king definitely needs a lesson, you don't want the child to suffer over their parents' neglect | I do not hate this kingdom.
I don’t hate the people in it, I don’t hate the customs, the traditions, the culture, any of it.
I do, however, hate the royal family. Or at least, the king and the queen. They are getting on in years, and they are increasingly contrarian to the winds of change and time and progress, winds that other kingdoms seem more than able to ride, winds that the people of this very kingdom would be more than happy to ride were it not for its leaders being so… stuck.
And as a fae of the wind, I know a thing or two about this sort of thing.
That said, I definitely don’t hate the baby they’re christening at this party. Like, it’s a baby! It doesn’t necessarily have to turn out the same way its dumb, stupid, regressive parents.
However, due to custom, it is the child I must curse to demonstrate a lesson to the family, and to the kingdom at large, about respecting the fae kind. Rather backwards in a way, but I do see why the law is the way it is… however, I have an idea.
I am going to give this child a… special, symbolic curse. A curse that will definitely make its life harder at first, but one that should help in the long run… help in a way that the masses will come to live, that that old fop will positively despise~… | I curse the child to become an apex predator of a magical creature, as appropriate to his situation, and possessing his own terrifying human intelligence when threatened, to return to human form when he next sleeps, unless he likes the form
To find an have a harem of 12 men he finds beautiful, loves, who love him and get along well with each other, that they shall Mary, and have 4 wonderful adopted children to raise, after his parents death.
That he shall find himself able to become great , though not permanently the best, in any skill he wishes to study. However, in the night, he shall visit the dreams of every person in his domain, and effectively teach them, to be as good as he is at the skill, if only for a month
And, that when he comes of age to take over the family, any who willingly stand in his way to take over, or, attempt to force others to take his place and be crowned king , or contest his reign for his first 5 years, shall perish, having there plans come to naught.
( Now, his parents can never show him off at fancy functions, but, he shall never be threatened. He shall find love and have his lust fully slacked in life, but, his parents bloodline will end, and, they shall never meet there grandchildren. He will not bring great prestige for a talent, as, all in the kingdom have that talent, however, the people will view him as a giver of knowledge and prosperity, and, he will still find himself satisfyingly good with what he studies. And, finally; he may not be put away, and, shall be known publicly as king, with no threat to him, nor questions of his legitimacy. : ) )
....
: ) | 2022-06-23T19:45:55 | 2022-06-23T15:34:21 | 24 | 13 |
[WP] While FTL-Travel is possible, FTL-Communication is not. This means that interstellar communication has to run through couriers, but also that the job of courier is as dangerous as it is profitable. Your latest contract has the biggest bonus you have ever seen, while looking comparatively easy. | "Hey Kazzaak, what do you think of this?"
I began to look over the contract that Jerry, our teams weapons and repair expert, handed me. It had the telltale markings of the federation, it's white and orange insignia shining on the page.
"Why don't you ask Cap?" I clicked. "Or Mannon, that walking cloud of microbots is quite literally a million times smarter than me, being apart of a collective and all"
"Well Caps currently selling everything that isn't nailed down to buy a pre ignitor and a flack cannon, and Mannon is trying to get him to forgo the cannon so we DON'T blow up if we hit an asteroid. So then I...."
As Jerry went on some rant, I began to read the contract. It seemed simple enough, just make it to the homeworld of humanity and inform them of incoming rebel forces. We were already ferrying critical information to the front lines of a massive battle, and we wouldn't have to go far out of our way.
"And then Charles told me to ask you, so what's it say?" "We just have to go to Sol-86c, and warn them of a few rebels." "And what would we be paid?" "Let me check." I said as I continued reading, aloud for my stone compatriot. "If you choose to accept this mission, you will be rewarded with 100 scrap, and.. that has to be a typo" One thousand federation credits, the ship I was currently standing in was worth half of that before the rebellion, when it was a museum piece "One thousand federation credits"
It was at that moment, our captain returned. "What was that? Have you been holding out on me Kazzaak?" "No, Feds sent you a contract" While it was true that I hadn't exactly been "Honest" when reporting where my plunder was across the galaxy, but I digress.
As I watched the most money hungry man I had seen in all my days as a thief read that contract, I knew we were going to Sol-86c, Cap would only see this as free, easy money.
I knew better.
Even the simplest bounties had a hundred caveats and complications, Hell, that's how I wound up on this ship, a simple contract on a Kestrel Cruiser
While the rest of the crew celebrated our fortune,
I just wondered how this would go wrong
"This is gonna Vekin SUCK"
Part two will come out when I feel like writing it | FTLmail isn't a glamorous life, mostly just long hours in your freighter, watching whichever vids were on sale at the spaceport and keeping yourseelf busy since the auto pilot takes over for most of the journey.
Getting special orders can be a bit of a break from the usual piles of letters that make up the usual trip.
"Kepler-452 hasn't had a courier return from the planet for 4 months. The previous agency we hired has yet to return. So please, take these two data drives. Deliver the first to our contact planetside, the coordinates have been included in your ship's navigation for the journey. And for the second drive, please deliver it to the previous courier if you are capable of finding them."
The suit handed me the two flash sticks while giving me the instructions.
"Is there a way I can find the last guy?" I asked.
"The data drive we provided included a tracking device within it as a security measure. Once you enter the solar system, it will be within range to be triggered. Yours too, contains such a tracking device and should it enter a system that strays outside of the route directly from here to Kepler-452 it will destroy the data and your payment will be forfeit." The suit said while pointedly looking at the jacket pocket I slipped the flash stick into.
"What is the payment anyways?" I asked.
He told me.
"For that, I'll route through the core if you need me to."
Travel was slow as always. I picked at my guitar a bit, making good progress on some blues I had been working to get down.
When I arrived at the system, my first look at Kepler-452 is something I don't think I'm ever going to forget.
The planet was almost pox marked. It had craters, scattered all over, the visible landmass and there were these weird thick copper colored clouds all over it. Didn't even seem to have a city on the planet, just, craters.
I checked the tracker and found the other courier's data really near the main drop off's coordinates.
I flew in close enough to get an atmo sample for landing. Usually I just like to wear a rebreather on polluted planets, turns out, this is the most polluted planet I've ever seen. The temperature was so high I think it would cook my lungs if I tried breathing in, and the planet had dangerous levels of radiation.
I flew by the coordinates, for the suit's man. Crater. I flew by where the still responding tracker lead me. There was a crashed ship, had the label of one of corporate courier services on it and, what looked like a body near it.
I checked on the body with my ship's camera. Looks like the poor sap tried the air before scanning it. And from the looks of it, had some more deliveries in his hold that needed taking.
I left the planet. Nobody to deliver to. | 2022-09-25T12:53:41 | 2022-09-25T10:43:11 | 49 | 32 |
[WP] You've spent years on your thesis paper. Today you sit down, hand it to your professor and smirk. "The science of magic?" he asks, looking at you incredulously. In response, you summon a fireball in your hand. | The Professor narrows his eyes as he sees the fireball. "That's a hologram," he says.
"Put your hand near it, Professor. You can feel the heat."
He frowns, but he brings his hand closer. "...hmph."
"It's a real fireball," I assure him.
The Professor reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out a cigarette.
I smile.
The Professor brings his cigarette closer and closer to the fireball, without taking his eyes off mine. As for myself, I am keeping my eyes on the cigarette end; at the moment when it pierces the fireball, it lights, and a wisp of smoke escapes.
The Professor looks at the burning cigarette end, then look over at me. "Congratulations," he says. "Now do you want to tell me how you faked it?"
"What makes you think it's fake?" I ask.
"Three reasons," says the Professor, taking a pull on his cigarette. "Firstly, today is April the first. Secondly, you have a well-deserved reputation for pranks; thirdly, I know for a fact that your thesis is on personal-wearable hologram generators, not fireballs."
...I sigh. "Yeah," I admit. "You got me."
"So how *did* you do it?" asks the Professor.
"The generator produces light," I point out. "No-one says it needs to be limited to *visible* range. This particular little fireball puts out infrared light as well, which makes it feel hot."
"And the cigarette lighting?"
"I have an infra-red laser remote lighter up mt sleeve. Honestly, the worst part was aiming it."
The Professor nods. "Well done," he says again. "A very convincing combo."
"Thank you, Professor."
*And thank you for being willing to help put into widespread adoption the kind of technology which would mean that no-one will notice what my sister is doing if she starts throwing her own fireballs about...* | The fireball shoots through the ceiling of his office and into the sky. I smile as it now seems if I have a spotlight over my head from the sun shining through. My smile disappears as a large piece of ceiling falls on my head and leaves me with a large bump.
Still it is nice to see the dumb look on my professor's face. His mouth half-open like an idiot. I think about reminding him to swallow, but I don't and a big glob of drool drops down onto his shoe. I start to wonder what I am going to do next. When I was planning this entrance, this is about as far as I got. Shooting a fireball. Hindsight being 20-20, I guess I should have thought about what my next move would be.
"Professor, would you agree that I... brought the heat?"
Goddamn, why didn't I plan ahead. I should have researched time travel magic instead so that I could wipe that dumb line from existence. I guess it doesn't matter too much. He still looks like he needs someone to press his on button, dumbfounded by my stupendous fireball.
I now realize that I have been sitting hear thinking for a few minutes now while he is dumbfounded. Should I say something else or keep waiting for him to speak? I feel like I should say something else to break the awkward silence, but I fucked up my first line so bad, that I am scared to. But I look at him and realize that he is not going to be the one to speak, so I guess I will just have to wing it.
"Professor, don't worry, I understand that you are a little dumbfounded right now. Don't worry, I know I brought the fire."
Damn, why was I even worried? I nailed it this time.
Finally, he seems to be awakened from his trance and looks at me. "This was very impressive Ronald, but I'm afraid that I am still going to have to fail you."
Outraged, I ask why.
"Because this is an art history class. Sorry, but you are going to have to retake the class next semester."
I shoot a second fireball. | 2022-11-28T23:01:36 | 2022-11-28T15:39:12 | 71 | 39 |
[WP] When everyone reaches 18 they have to choose a super power from a select list of powers, but when you enter the selection room there is only 1 power for you to choose from. | “Hey, kid. So, uh, I know this will be disheartening, but all of the kids before you had already taken all powers. I’m really sorry. But, the good news is, we still managed to save one power left just for you. Is it alright?”
It would be a lie if I said I’m not disappointed, but what else can I do?
“It’s alright”, I looked down to my feet, “I’ve already expected it.” I’ve known beforehand that I will be the last to choose my power. It’s a disadvantage for those who were born in December, we weren’t left with many choices. All the early kids had hogged up most of the cool powers. I guess that's just unfortunate for me.
The guide lady looked at me with pity, but seeing my calm expression, she didn't know what more to say. She walks over to the sealed container, pressing the code buttons one by one. The lid slowly opens, letting out a wisp of smoke, and from a distance I can see her taking out a crystal glowing with purple, no larger than a pea.
“So, what is my power?”, I question out loud.
“It will be postcognition.”
“Huh?”, I shot up my eyebrows, “Postcognition? As in, the ability to see one’s past?”
“Yes. You don’t like it?”
“No, it’s not that”, I waved my hands, “I mean, I think it’s a really beneficial power, how come no one wanted it?”
The lady shrugged, “How can I know? Most children prefer the power of flight, super speed or even precognition. They weren’t all that into history”, she then eyed me from head to toes, “Hmm... You seemed interested, I assume?”
“Yeah. I actually planned to major in history and classics in university, so this power can be quite handy.”
“Well lucky you. Now come here and take your gift.”
When I headed over, she placed the crystal in my hand, along with a glass of water and instructed, “Swallow it whole with water, imagine it’s candy. Do not keep it in your mouth, it won’t dissolve.”
“This ritual has a really high choking hazard”, I joked, before putting it in my mouth and chucking down the entire glass of water.
I closed my eyes as I felt the warmth rising up in my stomach, taking in the expanding heat as I absorbed the power.
A minute went by, then a second, then I opened my eyes again.
“Well?”, the lady smiled, “How are you feeling right now?”
I smiled back at her, “I know what you did last summer.” | "This isn't a power." The young man argued to a taller female.
She was of immense size, easily doubled his height. Her skin was covered in scales and fingers replaced by claws. Her glare could make the heartbeat of a lion stop and her roar could make a croc dive under water for cover. At present time she was picking her sharp teeth with her claws while chiding her student.
"Yes, it is if you've got a brain. I've taught you better than that. Besides, this is just the first one. You get another one at 21."
"Yeah, but you taught me to use martial arts and sword fighting. What use is affluence?"
"Oh, there's a use. You're just being stupid as usual and not thinking about it. I'm sure it will come to you later Slone. Don't bother me until it does." She waved him off before disappearing in a blur.
There he was left alone with this thought. Punching the wall out of annoyance and anger. She always talked down to him and he hoped he could finally be her equal today, but it was his own fault really. He pestered and begged her to take him on as a student... so far so he risked his own life to do it. Now, was his chance to prove himself. Stupid power or not. His brain raced as he made his way home.
Wrapped up in his thoughts, he was almost home when his phone dinged. One of the channels he liked on Clock Shock posted a new video. This time something about setting buzzers on people's doorknobs and watching them come home to it. It was childish, but it made him laugh. Astounding, how such a concept was raking in so many views. Even more mindboggling was the fact this channel got paid to show such simple things. I mean he could do the same with a camera and a...
The thought rang in his brain. Affluence huh? Taking very little time, he signed into his account to create his first video. He didn't know what he was going to do, but he needed to test his theory. The record button was hit and all he said was "Hi" before ending the video.
That's it. There was nothing else to it. Surely, he'd be proven wrong right?
Yet his phone pinged again and again and again. One thousand views in under a minute coupled with a message from the platform to monetize with them.
Making money is so easy. With funds like this I could live an easy life and finance in whatever I wanted to do. I could start a business, purchase stocks, or I could...
Another light bulb went off in his brain. He searched through his contacts and found Generys's name.
"What do you want kid? I'm kind of busy here." His teacher said sipping some sort of liquid.
A small smile formed on his lips as he said, "I figured it out teach." | 2022-12-18T17:56:22 | 2022-12-18T16:15:34 | 55 | 31 |
[WP] A world where justly killing a murderer brings their victims back to life and full health. | "I swear I didn't do it," the man sobbed, "I loved her."
"We'll see about that. Bring in the cadaver!"
Ashley's body was wheeled in. The interrogator drew his handgun.
"Wait! Please!"
Bang. The suspect was dead. As was Ashley, still.
"Guess he didn't do it," the interrogator sighed, pointing the gun towards his own head.
Bang. The suspect came back to life. Soon after, so did the interrogator.
"How?" The suspect asked.
"I killed myself, the man who killed me. Therefore, I came back to life."
"I didn't know you could do that!"
"I thought of it a couple of days ago in the shower."
"This could be useful." | "Well shit, Looks like he was not the murderer." The sheriff said. Two corpses lay in front of him, one fresh, one not so much.
"Just be patient, I've seen it take up to 10 minutes for the victim to recover." The coroner replied, gingerly poking the victims corpse.
The two men waited in silence, but nothing happened.
"Well, now what do we do?" The sheriff asks.
"I don't know. I guess we should just hope that no one presses charges for killing an innocent man."
"Oh... But which one of us would be the murderer? We both had an active hand in his death, and what about the judge who did the sentencing."
A gasp of breath comes from the victims corpse. The victim sits up as the wounds on the body are healed. The victim looks around, confused. "Where am I, whats going on?"
"See we have nothing to worry about," the coroner says patting the sheriff on the back. | 2014-01-24T08:28:19 | 2014-01-24T08:00:13 | 72 | 20 |
[WP]: every human being is born with a birthmark signifying a great deed they are fated do in their lives. Your first child has just been born, with the mark of a murderer across her face | I blinked. Rubbed my eyes. I remember those first few seconds. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing at the time. Even now I still can’t. Stretched across her face was a single word in large capital letters. KILL. Bold, dark, intimidating; paradox-like presented atop her angel-white skin.
But she was my daughter and I loved her. I loved her as any parent loves their child. I told myself things would be ok. Maybe just this time her mark would be wrong. I was naïve. A young father, dumb and stupid. Wet behind the ears.
People told me I should have tested fate; ended her life right then and there. But how could I be expected to do that? My innocent baby girl. Sweet sweet innocent baby girl.
As the years passed I held on to a shred of hope that maybe, just maybe things would be ok. She was cast out at school, even the teachers were afraid of her. I tried to tell them they had nothing to worry about but they wouldn’t listen.
All this time, I was afraid my daughters next birthday would be celebrated through a prison visitation window. But it didn’t happen. Ten, thirteen, sixteen. I saw her go to college and get her first real job. Every day was a struggle to fit in society, but year after year she beat the odds. My little baby never married though—as I’m sure you could have guessed.
I grew old. Still it never happened. Maybe, just maybe.
Eighty six years old, I suffered my third stroke. A blood clot straight to the brain. The doctors called me a vegetable; but still they kept me alive. Ahhh the wonders of life support. They said there was a chance. For days, weeks, months my body was kept running. There was nothing I could do.
She couldn’t bear to see me like this, my sweet little innocent baby. I saw the pain in her eyes. I saw her hand reach out—
All I have to say is thank you.
| "She's so pretty. Which one is that?"
"Hold on." I took the book of marks from the table where the nurse had left it, flicking through the index. Pale brown, left side of the face, just below the corner of the eye to the edge of the nose in a C shape. Page 233.
"It's kind of like that one on your leg."
"No - hers is backwards." Wait. No. No, it can't be. "Holy shit."
"What?" She looked afraid.
"Uh - nothing. I don't know if this edition has it. It's an older one." I set it back on the table, the lamp shining against the damning words on 233. "Could I hold her for a while?" She passed our daughter to me and I cradled her head in my arms. The first and last time.
"Where are you going?" I walked out the door without a word. "Michael?"
The door snapped shut and I walked through the tears and down the hall, my daughter sleeping snuggled in my arms. The halls were mostly empty, only the few late-night nurses shuffling around between the rooms. The fewer to see, the better.
EXIT glowed a sign above the stairwell. Big, heavy firedoor. It was loud. I looked down. No one else on the stairs. The 22nd floor. I held her out. Plenty. No hesitation. I must. The door banged shut again and I went back down the hall.
I opened her door without our daughter. She had the book of marks in her hands, open to page 233. "Bastard!" she screamed.
"I had to." The tears choked my voice. "You can see what she was."
"This is you!" She shoved her finger to the page, pointing at the title MURDER. "Monster!"
"No, no, no! I have innovator! The backwards C!"
"Bastard! Liar!" She threw the book at me. "Help! Someone help me!"
Page 233. I picked up the book. Page 233. 233... "MURDER: Usually light to medium brown, jagged edges. Forms a backwards C."
"Liar! Bastard! Monster!" | 2014-05-11T01:50:33 | 2014-05-11T00:05:48 | 136 | 14 |
[WP] A single man declares war on the entire world. One year later, the leaders of each nation gather to discuss their surrender. | It began as a whisper. A fleeting word in a restless wind. The superpowers were too preoccupied with trying to best one another to hear it. The people, however, suffering in the aftermath, listened. At first, he was labelled as a terrorist, looked at as sub-human, a lunatic who spewed fallacies. No one knew he held all the cards.
Romulus appeared at nine o'clock in the morning on December sixth. Every television on the planet projected his ghostly white mask. His eyes weren't visible, save for two red irises piercing through the blackness. His mask was cracked, battle worn, and the purity of the white faded into black near the top of the face. Over his left eye there was a shadow of blue, and over the right, red. Gold lines embossed on the mask turned the shadows into flames. Nothing was accidental, not even on his mask. The rest of him was covered in black, a black hood covered his head, and a long, flowing trench coat veiled his person.
When he made his move, static interrupted the regularly scheduled programming. Most assumed their television was broken, until his mask finally appeared. His eyes glared directly into each person on the planet.
"Ladies and gentlemen. You are now about to witness, the strength, of the people of this planet." His voice was unlike anything anyone expected. Slightly raspy, but soothing and comforting. Powerful. "It's a new era. All those who live in the black lies, controlling the corrupting machine we were forced to live in will fall. Our governments, our leaders, whom we were taught to trust, you abused your power and left your people to starve and murder each other to survive. My name, is Romulus, and this is the beginning of the end of the world as you know it."
As quickly as he appeared, he vanished. Immediately world leaders scrambled to speak and comfort their people. The problem was, however, that their citizens felt no fear. They felt hope. They felt the scales of power tip.
In the following month, Romulus systematically released incriminating photos, documents, and voice recordings, bringing to light the corruption of the world powers. The media attempted to stop the broadcasting, but he could not be stopped, so they resorted to turning him into a villain.
"He won't even show his face to us! He claims to be a savior of the people but 'Romulus' is too scared to come out into the open!" He was ridiculed, belittled, and coaxed, and yet the wolves howled with their tails between their legs, fearing what he had left up his sleeve.
When the President of the United States finally gave his speech, he too attempted to bring Romulus into the open. It was this day, Tuesday, January sixth, that he showed us exactly how powerful he was. In the middle of his speech, the President was interrupted by an unexpected fire alarm. As the White House was evacuated, due to the growing flames inside, all eyes left the protected President, and shifted to Romulus, standing on the grass as calm as the day he first appeared. Immediately all guns were drawn and aimed, snipers were ready, and most likely jets were moving in as well.
"I am not here to draw blood." He shouted, loud enough for the neighboring reporters to hear. "You wished to speak to me face to face, and I am here to give you that respect."
"What is it you want?" The President inquired, breaking free from the grasp of his Secret Service guards. "Money? Power?" The two were a mere ten meters apart.
"I am not concerned with any of that. I am not you, Mr. President. Now, if I'm not mistaken, everyone has left the building." Romulus raised his left hand, his arm at ninety degrees. "Let me show you what I am capable of. So perish every one that shall hereafter leap over my wall." He shut his hand into a fist, and with it, a series of small explosions caused the White House to collapse into the flames. By the time everyone's gaze reverted back to where he stood, Romulus was gone.
Over the next few months, Romulus appeared in the most powerful countries, methodically bringing down the heavily guarded fortresses of the world leaders. Men and women, once looked upon as great people of our time, were now shown to be nothing more than adulterers, embezzlers, murderers, and unfit of their titles. The people began to rally behind Romulus, sporting similar masks and demanding change, demanding we be given the power to rule with truth and absolute transparency. Romulus had not injured a single person, the governments around the world, however, had killed hundreds in pursuit of their rival. Eleven months after his first appearance, the world leaders launched a final attack on the known location of Romulus. He was where he always sat, meditating, it seemed, and surrounded by dozens of reporters and hundreds of cameras. All heads turned swiftly once the roar of the missiles was first heard.
"Run!" Romulus shouted, seemingly shaking the mountains around him. The press scattered, desperately seeking safety. Romulus however, just stood and faced his apparent doom. "You fools!" He extended his hand forcefully towards the weapons. No one knew how he was able to do what he did, most likely a device, but at the moment, no one cared. One by one, the missiles exploded, sending harmless debris falling hundreds of feet away. Romulus turned to the cameras still fixed on him. "Ironic, how you claim to want the best for your people, claim you want to protect them, yet you just attempted to murder hundreds. You have lost this war, and I have done my part. Goodbye."
A month after the attack, and Romulus' subsequent disappearances, the world leaders decided it was best to relinquish their iron grip on the globe. Some swore it would create chaos, others promised blood and death everywhere. Romulus seemed to have vanished, to them, the threat was gone for good, there was no need to give up their power. But they didn't realize they no longer had anyone to control. The people of the world, once divided by petty differences in beliefs and customs, stood as one. What began as a whisper, now spoke with a resounding voice. And it will be heard, it will be trusted, and in the shadows will loom a silent hero, ready to bring balance back should he ever be needed.
We only pray he will not be.
| The door swings open and when it hits the wall, the entire thing falls off its hinges. It sends up a cloud of dust and sand when it lands. Everyone jumps. Most reach for their guns. _It's just the wind_, twenty people think in their mother tongues. There should be more, hundreds more, but most are dead or have abdicated or were forcibly removed or couldn't be reached. It's not as if you can pick up a telephone and just call.
"I will be the first to apologize," a feminine voice comes from nowhere. "I do not plan on shooting anyone, but if someone sneezes I am likely to open fire. Probably on my own foot." I finally find the speaker. A woman in niqab, the New Eritrean primate. It is what the group needs - some laugh, everyone relaxes.
I look over the rest. There's a man with red hair sitting behind her, dressed from top to bottom in the most offensive green. New Irish States. Everyone is "New" something. Many of the others are in simple suits but can be correctly identified if you're willing to be a little prejudiced. When everything began to collapse, everyone started clinging to those who looked like them, who could be trusted on sight.
That guy is from the Korean peninsula. _Have they reunified._ She's from the Indian subcontinent, but I can't imagine they have a single government now. Ah, no, I count at least three bindi. The Chinese imperial ambassador is wearing red. _Cute._
"I wonder if we could begin." British accent, I think. White-haired, bespectacled, pant-suited lady in the corner. There is a buzz as some translate for others. The murmuring fades and I'm stunned by the silence. They're waiting. I'm sure this never happened in the UN. She seems shocked too. She has accidentally assumed a leadership role and regrets it. "Well, I... I think we have a decision before us. Has anyone actually made progress in reversing the... ehm, tide?"
If there were a time to lie, it would be now. Yes, we've regained stability. Here is the secret. All you need is love. Or forcible injections of B12. Or to murder all of the infants. Ear plugs. It's as simple as: ... But none do. They are all equally helpless and nothing would be gained by posturing. "Well," she says. "Shit."
The group is contemplative - a full minute passes. "We hear he just shows up and starts reading," says a young man who is more tattoo than skin. "And everything just collapses. Society, I mean." I'm guessing the New Californian Communes. It's translated and everyone nods. This is what they have heard too. "Can't we just kill him?" Someone laughs. "We tried," three people say simultaneously. "And we thought we got him, but it seems like we didn't," one finishes. The other two just look at their shoes.
"Does anyone even know what he wants?" Silence again. Pant-suit holds up a manila folder. That makes me curious, do we have a representative from the Philippines here? "We have bits and pieces of the speech he gives. For example," she says, adjusting her glasses, "'a spectre is haunting...'" The man next to her smacks her. Front-hand, full force. Her glasses bounce off the wall and I'm certain he's knocked her out. "Do _not_ read it," he hisses. No one intervenes. "It is a spell."
The thing is, I know it's not. There is no magic. In fact, _many_ of the carriers have been successfully killed, but some poor soul is always in the wrong place at the wrong time and reads just enough to get hooked. And then they spread it. Sorry, _we_ spread it. _The Hidden Gospel of Marx._ Supposed last testament of the only Marx worth talking about. Or maybe it is a spell. "Marx" is definitely a pseudonym. A nom de guerre. The _Gospel_ is a pseudepigraphon. I don't care about its authenticity. It's wonderful.
I've personally recited it to two groups. The first, a military commune, just sat there while I read. When I finished, they sat there. Two days later, they were just sitting there. The second, an all-women Amazonian Utopia. They hadn't killed me because they needed breeding studs - and I _almost_ chose to go along with it - but that first night in the tent, I read it to every woman who came in. They'd stopped coming in about three in the morning and when I left the tent, those who weren't dead (and there were quite a few) were gone.
I don't feel compelled to read it. I feel happy to. I think everybody responds differently and some of us like it, and we carry it on. I was never political, but I feel good reading the _Gospel_. I clear my throat. I pull the page from my pocket. It's not necessary - I have it memorized because it's all I do in my free time, read this thing.
It takes three sentences before anyone realizes what I'm doing. I started at my favorite part of the text and they thought I was suggesting a solution. In a way, I am. "The modern man, on the contrary, instead of rising..." I am enthralled. I do not feel the bullets. Those around me, those who are standing too close, they probably do. It's really too late. Three sentences is more than enough. Those who can still walk are scattering.
I'm fading. My lips burn, my insides burn. It's the blood loss. It's making me woozy and I see Death approaching. Wait, no. It's the Eritrean. She kneels down and I can see her eyes, just her eyes, and I can see the familiar joy in them. She takes the sheet. "I wonder who gave this to you," she says. She holds up my head with a gentle hand, trying to keep me with her. I know she wants answers, but I don't have many. Her eyes are the last I'll see, I know this.
She stands up and places the same gentle hand on my forehead. She starts reading. _Last rites_, I think. She gets to the part about "first of all, settling matters" and I'm so tired. My body is pins and needles, but she's glowing and she is an angel blessing me. "...cuts from under its feet the very foundation..." My eyes close. "Its fall is inevitable."
_Yes_, I think. _Its fall is inevitable. Amen._ | 2014-07-24T09:11:39 | 2014-07-24T08:51:09 | 369 | 125 |
[WP] A generation ago humanity faced an extinction level catastrophe. In response, the world's governments lifted all legal, moral, and ethical bans on scientific research in a desperate attempt to overcome the danger. You now live in a world dealing with the consequences of this.
Wow! Great responses everyone. I was eagerly looking forward to my breaks at work all day so that I could read up on the new ones. | I'm a '30', in the top 30 percent. It feels pretty good, but sometimes I wish my folks had been a little picky about their partners... better gene matching and I could have been at least a '10', but they had some silly idea that 'love' was more important than optimal breeding.
My digestive system is imperfect, there are one or two things I can't get any useful energy out of that some others can. My regenerative abilities are functionally acceptable, but there's some scarring that reduces flexibility. It's the night vision that bothers me most - I've managed to hide my disability from the Inspectors so far, but one day they're going to find out that I need some light to see, that I can't see near-infrared at all.
That's the big fear. The one everyone has (unless they have really good connections). If you're not good enough, you're still good for the Lab. The Lab, where they take you and test you. Want to know how efficient a nerve ending is? Scratch it with a scalpel and record the pain response. How efficient is someone's metabolism? Starve them to death and see how long it takes.
All in hopes of finding the best possible genes, and going back to your parents and reassigning them for optimal breeding. Your first two children are 'natural', the result of random mate selection - but unless your children are exceptional, there's a risk an Inspector will haul them off to the Lab, and the results will be used to breed a superior next generation.
My class at school lost two 50s last month. Poor girls were dead average, so the Inspectors took them away in hopes that they had *something* worth passing on to the next generation. Not personally, of course... nobody survives the Lab, because while you're still alive, there are still tests to run.
*I could have been a 10, I wonder if they have nightmares too?* | She was ten, still quietly working away at a math problem. That's how her parents remember Emily the day she won the lottery.
They - her parents, the only parents in the classroom - were stood beside the teacher in front of the class and she - Emily, their only child -
was at her desk.
Around Emily, the rest of the class restlessly fidgeted. They looked miserable surrounded by the men in government suits. As did Emily's parents. The men in suits scared them, scared them even though they talked about duty and honour and pride and made promises. It was just that they looked so much like robots with their calm faces.
They looked so efficient and unchangeable. They were sure they did the right thing.
And that chilled Emily's them.
The deed they knew was already done. They could say nothing. They could do nothing. The men would not be swayed.
As they numbly watched, one government man detached from the group and walked up to their Emily. He tapped her on her shoulder. His black suit obscured their view. They think they saw her nod.
But then nothing...
They both fainted then they believed or blocked it out. Something.
Their next coherent memory was back home a little later. They were packing their things in a hurry. Emily - safe and beautiful, their little lottery winner - cried in the corner, holding her little suitcase tight. There was a government re-location program and they were taking advantage of it.
Really, it was quite understandable. Who would face neighbours whose children were now brave little helpers for humanity? Would you? Even if their children were heroes?
They couldn't.
They lefts Saltsburg that afternoon.
******
It was many years later when they returned again to Saltsburg to return their daughter to the place her heart had returned too many times.
They laid her to rest in the cemetary unnoticed beside the large marble monument to the troubled times and the heroes who had helped at that time of need. The monuments were ubiquitous; that's how they got through things now. Called them heroes. Built them monuments. It helped people.
But not Emily.
Emily, their little hero, had only ever thought of them as children. | 2014-11-14T06:59:53 | 2014-11-14T06:41:32 | 67 | 11 |
[WP] Humans are born with a birthmark of a number 1-9. This is how many lives they have. You are the only person in the world that has a birthmark of a 0. | While everyone else drank, fucked and fought. I made myself better. I was an Unum. I only had one life to live. I would be damned if I would waste it.
My first girlfriend was an Octo. She had 8 lives. She told me she would be a better person. Eventually. She said she would cheat on me less, stop hanging out at the fight pits and finally kick the coke habit. She told me she'd do this when she only had one or two lives left. Asked me to stick around and wait. I didn't have that kind of luxury.
My best friend was a Duo. Even though his lives doubled mine, he acted like he was made of glass and the world was one big ass hammer. He rarely left his basement. He found the virtual world much more satisfying then the real one. I love the kid, but he didn't understand me either.
It took me a decade to prepare. While everyone else drank, fucked and fought. I made myself better. I studied harder, ran longer and learned more then the rest of those arrogant bastards had done in their myriad of wasted lives.
The human race has become stagnant. We have become fat and happy with all the chances we were given to live. I'm going to change all that. I was going to wake everyone up from their stupor. Make us work towards progress once more. I've only got one life to live. I will make it count. Who am I you may ask? You can just call me the Catalyst.
**EDIT** If you want to read my follow up to this. Check it out. https://drive.google.com/a/ssaelite.com/file/d/0B5A-KDLYcAo7ZFVCSnFWdFVYUTQ/view | I let my father drag me through the dark streets. My cheek was sore and I was positive the outline of his large hand would be visible if there was any light. *He was just trying to protect me.* I feel ashamed for crying. I should never have let *him* see.
I thought he was different - but I repulsed him. I had undone my shirt and let him trace the curves of the silvery white number on my abdomen with his shaking hands. I thought it was excitement. I was wrong. I had lifted my face to look at him and saw nothing but horror. He grabbed me, his hands bruising my wrists and his knees digging into my rib cage until I thought it would give beneath his weight. “What are you?” He had snarled in my face over and over. He shook me but I had become mute with fear.
I watched numbly as my father found us in my bedroom. His large hands were like hammers and I closed my eyes as the boy I thought I could love lost his life. I opened my eyes as my neck snapped to the right – pain blossomed from the center of my cheek. I met my fathers angry eyes. *He has the right to be angry.* As I let my father lead me from the room I took one last look – my mind could process nothing but the reddest blood I had ever seen.
I stumbled and my father picked me up. He carried me to a broken down building where he provided a makeshift bed for me. “I'm going to wash up. We will have to move again.” He gave me a measured look. I knew it was my fault. It always was. I nodded and looked away. I couldn't see him like this – covered in blood and desperation.
He left me in peace and I climbed into the bed – nothing more than a dirt covered blanket and a bunched up jacket for a pillow. My blouse hung open and the endless loop of silver white taunted me. A zero. An abomination. The scars where my father had branded me to make an eight had faded too soon. I'd kept it from him. I didn't want to hide anymore. I was a zero and I was taunting death. | 2014-12-01T12:02:50 | 2014-12-01T10:02:16 | 43 | 16 |
[WP]A wealthy business man believes in reincarnation. He leaves his massive wealth... to himself. Anyone born after his death that figures out his riddles will inherit his fortune. | "Are you telling me, that he left his family nothing?"
The lawyer adjusted his seat, "Well, yes Mrs Johnson. Now I understand how angry you are-"
"YOU HAVE NO IDEA! That man neglected us while he was still alive, and now he left us with nothing?!?!?"
"He was very clear in his will. He believes in reincarnation, and the one that can recite the correct passage from his favorite book will get his inheritance."
"MY FAMILY WILL STARVE CAUSE HE WAS AN ASS IN LIFE AND AN ASS IN DEATH! Can't we arrange something...anything?"
The lawyer frowned, with a hint of pity and pride "I'm sorry. I understand you are a grieving widow, but I must follow with his wishes."
She stormed out in tears. The lawyer sat in an empty room, and walked over to the bookcase where the book she wanted rested on an old shelf. A roach was sitting in front of it, rubbing its antennae all over the cover, as if it was trying to say something.
He squashed it, washed his hands, and thought nothing more of it. | He:
I've left you a fortune
my dear self
only you'll know the answer
no one else
***
thinks like me
writes like me
i've left no trace
for imposters to gather
and win the race
***
the fortune is far off
it's hidden in time
you can search any space
but you won't find one dime
***
you can search high and low
but the mystery beholds
the golden gate
never to unfold
***
Me:
I wonder if it's me
see, I've found a key
with my name on it
engraved, from the sea
***
there's no way it's an accident
it must be fate, I know it
I've a key to a place
I've no one to show it
***
what if I am him?
born again
but everyone wonders that
in the end
***
is it anyone
is it no one
he said he hid it in time
I'll have to wait for erosion
these grains are too fine
***
I found the key in the sand
does anyone else know this?
mouth shut, it's too grand
***
did anyone else try?
is it deep underwater?
wait for the low tide
come hell or high water
I know I'm right
***
it's got to be me
I've my name on the key
luck, fate, destiny
who else is it gonna be? | 2014-12-13T14:07:21 | 2014-12-13T13:35:25 | 858 | 39 |
[WP]A wealthy business man believes in reincarnation. He leaves his massive wealth... to himself. Anyone born after his death that figures out his riddles will inherit his fortune. | *"Floating without air,*
*try to hit me below the belt,*
*are you jealous of my beaches?"*
The final riddle. Such a foolish thing to do by master Gerald. Bet the entire fortune on his riddles, his silly riddles. 16 long years I've served him and his pretentious family, often the victim of his terrible puzzles. Most of them so devoid of sense, any wrong answer humored him the most - satisfying his self-appointed wit.
He told me his entire plan, so proud, I had to contain my laughter I must admit. It made every agonizing minute with him worth it. The evidence of reincarnation was overwhelming, for any gullible old man with an obsession to somehow immortalize himself with his fortunes.
The final riddle, the key to all his riches. Messily written on this piece of parchment. I never noticed the paper had been slathered in some sort of poison, he knew of my habit of licking my thumb and index finger every time I turned a page. In my final moments I checked his drawers, finding another note.
His trust was as deceptive as his damned riddles.
"*I always told you to wear gloves.*"
| He:
I've left you a fortune
my dear self
only you'll know the answer
no one else
***
thinks like me
writes like me
i've left no trace
for imposters to gather
and win the race
***
the fortune is far off
it's hidden in time
you can search any space
but you won't find one dime
***
you can search high and low
but the mystery beholds
the golden gate
never to unfold
***
Me:
I wonder if it's me
see, I've found a key
with my name on it
engraved, from the sea
***
there's no way it's an accident
it must be fate, I know it
I've a key to a place
I've no one to show it
***
what if I am him?
born again
but everyone wonders that
in the end
***
is it anyone
is it no one
he said he hid it in time
I'll have to wait for erosion
these grains are too fine
***
I found the key in the sand
does anyone else know this?
mouth shut, it's too grand
***
did anyone else try?
is it deep underwater?
wait for the low tide
come hell or high water
I know I'm right
***
it's got to be me
I've my name on the key
luck, fate, destiny
who else is it gonna be? | 2014-12-13T14:16:42 | 2014-12-13T13:35:25 | 123 | 39 |
[WP]A wealthy business man believes in reincarnation. He leaves his massive wealth... to himself. Anyone born after his death that figures out his riddles will inherit his fortune. | ~*Not now Caesar! I'm trying to read!*
Thomas stared at the picture. Apparently a wealthy guy who passed away 7 years ago is giving his wealth to anyone who can solve the riddle on this site. Or to be precise.. to anyone who is about 6 or 7 years old.
~*What's wrong with you damnit?!*
*Probably a viral marketing thing. And even if true, I'm too old anyway* he thought. So just out of curiosity he had opened the riddle in a new tab - which wasn't actually a riddle but a picture of a random old woman smiling. Most likely a person who was dear to the old man. Below the picture there was a textfield and a submit button. Obviously he believed that seeing the picture will trigger a memory, a special word or a specific sentence which you have to send in as a proof of the reincarnation. *Yada yada yada. Viral marketing* Thomas concluded.
~*Fucking enough Caesar!! Stop barking at the freaking monitor. What's wrong with you?? OUT!!* | He:
I've left you a fortune
my dear self
only you'll know the answer
no one else
***
thinks like me
writes like me
i've left no trace
for imposters to gather
and win the race
***
the fortune is far off
it's hidden in time
you can search any space
but you won't find one dime
***
you can search high and low
but the mystery beholds
the golden gate
never to unfold
***
Me:
I wonder if it's me
see, I've found a key
with my name on it
engraved, from the sea
***
there's no way it's an accident
it must be fate, I know it
I've a key to a place
I've no one to show it
***
what if I am him?
born again
but everyone wonders that
in the end
***
is it anyone
is it no one
he said he hid it in time
I'll have to wait for erosion
these grains are too fine
***
I found the key in the sand
does anyone else know this?
mouth shut, it's too grand
***
did anyone else try?
is it deep underwater?
wait for the low tide
come hell or high water
I know I'm right
***
it's got to be me
I've my name on the key
luck, fate, destiny
who else is it gonna be? | 2014-12-13T14:23:01 | 2014-12-13T13:35:25 | 69 | 39 |
[WP] Make up some historical or little-known fact and convince me that it's true
For example, you might try claiming that e-mail was once used primarily for erotica. | At the beginning of the 20th Century, when the automobile was still new, gasoline engines were but one of the many technologies vying for dominance. Some early cars were electric, some ran on boilers fueled by burning coal or wood.
When Henry Ford opened his first factory in Detroit, the tri-state region of Indiana, Michigan, and Ohio was coincidentally taking off as a major player in the nascent dairy farming industry. (Michigan is still one of the top ten dairy producers) Prior to the turn of the century, family farms ruled as the modern process of Pasteurization had not yet existed.
It's a little known fact that Henry Ford kept a sizable herd of cows on a farm just outside of Dearborn for the sole purpose of capturing and using the methane produced as a source of fuel. Several Model T prototypes exist to this day with tanks designed to hold compressed methane gas.
Fortunately, the process proved to be more costly at the time than traditional gasoline. If not, we might still be driving around today in cars powered by cow farts.
&nbsp;
**EDIT**: I found some photographic proof showing a cow hooked up to a beeswax coated silk bag for methane collection as well as an early prototype of a vehicle with Henry Ford standing next to it. Note the methane tanks on the side of the vehicle near the engine: http://i.imgur.com/3nuezWc.jpg | The European Union is a series of 28 states and external alliances, created by the Treaty of Rome in the 1950s. Before that it was composed of seven founding member states, of which the principal founders were Italy, France, Germany and the United States of America. It was a long source of contention that the United States of America (USA) should be included in a European-based (initially) coal and steel free-trade zone. However, the strongest elements in the USA's favour proved to be their willingness to aid Europe (see Marshall Plan, the) and the fact that the USA had swiftly become one of the powerhouses of the west in terms of churning out automobiles and household appliances.
The involvement of the USA in a European free-trade zone has been further criticised by leading academics (see Craig and De Burca, European Law and the Involvement of the United States of America) mostly for geographical regions. It can be said that the whole of western Europe can fit inside the state of Texas. Furthermore, there's an ocean between Europe and the United States. This has been refuted by other academics (Ibid at 447) who claim that bringing the 'largeness' of American tradition to Europe can 'only be a good thing.'
NATO and the proposed European Defence Committee (which failed to materialise in the midst of the Cold War) were therefore initially proposed and later funded by American money and German politicians often like to downplay the US' contribution to bailing the PIIGS countries out of crippling recession in the mid 2010s.
To conclude on America's role in the European Union; it would be a gross injustice to suggest that America has been anything less than totally involved in the European sphere of influence, despite fierce contention from its critics. | 2015-01-21T08:09:34 | 2015-01-21T07:57:14 | 37 | 19 |
[WP] All of puberty happens on everyone's 15th birthday. Your 15th birthday starts now. | "What's the big deal?" Meredith cried, "I want to grow up now!"
"Being an adult is a lot of responsibility" her father sternly said, "don't you want to enjoy your nice birthday party first?"
"No, you guys just want to keep me a baby forever!" She replied angrily as she quickly huffed out her candles.
"Meredith!" Her mother scowled.
Meredith smiled smugly until she felt a knot coil up tightly in her stomach. She could only scream as her bones began to painfully expand.
"Growth spurt..." Her dad whispered to her mother.
Meredith stabilized herself against a wall, now six tall. She felt her face began to tingle and reached up to investigate. Hundreds of pus-clotted bumps now covered her face, making it difficult to see. "Mom... Dad..." She barely choked out before she screamed again as two new wisdom teeth decided to make their entrance.
"You never told me it was going to be this bad." Her father said, wide-eyed and pale.
"It gets worse." Her mother whispered.
A mat of hair soon sprouted out of Meredith's arms and legs. "Like omg... I can't even..." She clasped a hand over her lips, did she really just talk that way. Her sweater and pants suddenly morphed into a pair of ripped skinny jeans and a Lincoln Park t-shirt. A plethora of bright color dye streaks ran down Meredith's short hair.
Her mother crept closer, "darling?"
"Don't call me that!" She screamed, "you don't know me! No one understands me! I just want to be alone!"
Meredith ran away dramatically, determined to lock herself away in her room with a John Green book when suddenly she felt something stirring in her gut.
"Oh God, I can't watch!" Her dad said covering his eyes.
Suddenly torrents of blood shot out between Meredith's legs, drenching everything.
"Why me! Why me!" Meredith cried out as she collapsed to the ground. Gradually the episode finally ended and she finally grew into an adult.
"Guess I survived the worst of life, huh..." Meredith joked weakly.
"Nope." Her parents said. Her father pulled out a pamphlet and slapped it on the table.
"We're going to talk about collage!"
| Charlie sat in his room, staring at the clock, he was focusing on its ticks, counting them, realising how fast they were passing by, just like the seconds left of his childhood, it was his birthday tomorrow, which, with every birthday he had before was always an exciting time, except this one, this was his 'Adult Day' the day everything that made him a child got left behind and he started to act like a grown up. only half an hour left now, everyone was downstairs celebrating, drinking, dancing, they were all excited for him, his dad even got him a fancy watch, telling him
"Son, when you come down from the stairs in two hours time, you will be the man you were born to be, make me proud"
He didn't want this to happen, he dreaded it, ever since Laura's 15th birthday three months ago, she was his best friend the day before, hanging out, doing the usual stuff teenagers do, but then the next day Laura was someone else, a fully grown woman who had nothing in common with his best friend, she didn't have burping contests with him, nor did she fight with him anymore, she was more interested in going to adult parties and drinking wine, Charlie didn't want that, he was having too much fun as a kid.
The Ticks were getting closer, only ten minutes left now, he wished deep down that this didn't have to happen, he knew no one his age *wanted* to be an adult, it was always the grown ups that threw the parties when it came to age 15, they didn't even bother inviting any of his actual friends, Charlie just wanted to get this out of the way.
outside he could hear some of the adults counting down to midnight, his fists grabbed hold of the blankets of his bed, squeezing them hard,
"...dammit..."
he was trying his best to hold back the tears but it was no use, they were falling like they belonged to a watering can.
the Adults continued their count...
"...5!..."
"...4!..."
"...3!..."
"...2!..."
Charlie didn't want to be an adult
"...1!..."
Charlie opened his eyes, looking around, were the clocks wrong? he didn't feel any different, he certainly didn't think any different, he wasn't suddenly craving wine or going to adult parties, he still wanted to have burping contests and tussle with friends...maybe the clocks were wrong? or maybe Charlie just didn't grow up?
he made his way out of his room and stood at the top of the stairs
"Mom, Dad?"
his deeper voice boomed. | 2015-02-05T18:04:14 | 2015-02-05T17:52:32 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] God is pissed at a bible translator. | And lo, a burst of light flashed at the Seminary, and there stood God before the priests and the scholars.
"You fools! I said *celebrate*. You left out the r!"
As each priest began to comprehend the years of opportunity wasted, one stood forward and stammered, "But God, I have so many questions! What did you mean by--"
"Zip it!" He interrupted. "One more correction. The word for this building? It should have an 'in' as a prefix."
And with that He was gone. | And in those days, in the monastery of St. Joseph the White, a young man named Augustus was smote down from on high. He was a translator, and in his hands were one of the last surviving copies of Isaiah. As he translated into Latin, he wrote: "Born of a virgin," and there he died on the spot.
We have debated greatly the nature of such a smiting. Perhaps it was that God was bringing him into his arms for discovering such a truth regarding the nature of our Lord. Or perhaps it was for the great folly he would now put his brothers through for stating that God would break the laws of nature. But there he lay, the ink spilled upon the page, and now we are stuck with the immaculate conception, born from the miraculous deception. | 2015-02-12T07:47:16 | 2015-02-12T07:31:21 | 59 | 12 |
[WP] Earth is about to fall to a far superior alien race. But theres one thing the invaders didnt expect: The Spanish Inquisition | Their spaceships landed, and their soldiers swarmed the countryside. No one was quite sure why they had picked Spain to launch their attack, but the Spanish had no time to ask questions. All they could do was launch their offensive. Within a few weeks, they had used all of their weapons at their disposal and failed. All except one.
___
*A few weeks later, on the alien mothership*
"Xq'lra, report" Commander Ik'khkh click-clacked.
Xq'lra's bulbous eyes bulged out even further as he excitedly click-clacked the battlefield report.
"A number of partisan groups joined the government, as well as other governmental forces, which converged in Madrid to unite in their defense against us. This was no problem, as we had anticipated just such a Spanish coalition."
"Excellent. Continue."
"However, one group, the Basque, broke away from the government and are launching their own offensive to take Spain. Since we had expected Spanish competition, we have already sent an envoy to discuss joining forces."
"Good! Tell me of the Battle of Cordoba."
"Well, we took the city quickly, and prepared for the counter attack. It was obvious that the Spanish expedition would arrive there soon after we took it. Also, we defused all the bombs that they had planted around the city because we..."
"...expected the Spanish demolition. Of course."
"Of course, commander. Finally, they unleashed their secret weapon upon us. A new artillery shell with some kind of anti-alien compound."
Both Xq'lra and Ik'khkh laughed at the hilarity of it.
"To think, they thought that we had not expected their Spanish ammunition!"
Xq'lra turned around to the control panel.
"Commander, I am pretty sure that they have exhausted all weapons at their disposal. We have anticipated all of their counter-attacks, and we are ready for the final push."
"Are you sure we have anticipated *all* of their counter-attacks?"
"Yes, commander. Why do you ask?"
Xq'lra turned around and saw that the commander was being held at gunpoint, and next to him was a tall man in long red robes with a mustache, his eyebrow raised and a smirk on his face.
Xq'lra click-clacked in disappointment.
"Fuck!" | “Are you ready guys?” said Brady.
Nelson adjusted his red robes. His fake mustache fell off his face. He picked it up and stuck it back on. It hung at a thirty-degree angle. “I don’t think this is going to work.”
Cass put on her leather aviator's helmet. “I agree with Nelson,” she said. “We’re dealing with an alien species that was able to cross the vast distance of space to our little ball of rock.”
“We can barely get to Mars and back,” said Nelson. “Why the hell is this going to fool them?”
Brady frowned. He put his hands on his hips and jumped forward. “Because nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.”
“Really?” said Cass. “Really?”
“Just because we’re a troupe of improvisational actors doesn’t mean we can’t repel an alien invasion,” said Brady.
“Yes,” said Nelson. “Yes, it does.”
“Fine,” yelled Brady. He stuck his finger out, alternating between putting it in Cass and Nelson’s face as he spoke. “If you won’t go out there and save the Earth then I will.”
No one spoke.
Brady nodded. “That’s what I thought.” He continued to nod as he backed out of the room.
Cass and Nelson looked at each other as they heard Brady begin the scene. “No one expects the Spanish Inquisition,” filtered through the door.
A round of noise that sounded like gravel pouring down a slide followed. Cass pushed open the door just a crack and looked out. “What the hell?”
Nelson looked over Cass’ shoulder. “What? What’s going on?” His eyes opened wide as the scene unfolded before him.
Brady stood in an empty room. Fourteen chairs were before him. Brady went through the entire Monty Python scene. When the aliens “laughed” he poured a cup of gravel through a metal pipe into a bucket.
“You mean you’re going to leave Earth?” said Brady. He put his hand over his mouth and made grumbling sounds. “I’m sad to see you go, but okay.”
“Hey guys—“ said Brady as he turned around. He saw Cass and Nelson watching him. “How long have you been there?”
Cass tapped her foot. “There are no aliens are there, Brady?”
Brady hung his head and kicked at an imaginary rock. “No.”
Nelson threw his hands up in the air. “I’m never getting high with you again, Brady.”
Cass nodded, pursed her lips and walked off. “Never again, Brady. Never again.”
| 2015-04-15T22:10:39 | 2015-04-15T21:47:18 | 147 | 26 |
[WP] A short Horror story. Something to chill the bones in one hundred words or less. | Growing up in the north, you get pretty used to the sounds of nighttime wildlife. Owls hooting, dogs howling, racoons rooting through your garbage. Sometimes you get the occasional bear prowling your yard, or coyote going after the pets left outside. Just after sunset, something started scratching incessantly at my door. Normally I would just sleep it off.
But it's been 36 hours now, and the sun still hasn't risen. | I breathed heavily under the covers. A creak made me jump unwillingly. Dad wasn't here, so he didn't check the closet. What if *it* were there? What if it was waiting for me?
I got out of bed and crept towards my closet. I imagined a monster ready to pounce on me. Gripping the brass handle I swung it open. I gasped again, there was nothing there. Calmer, I got back into bed. The covers were still warm, thankfully.
'No one ever checks *in* the bed' The doppelganger chuckled. His nails lengthened and he flashed his sharp teeth. 'Dinnertime!'.
---
e: Grammar | 2015-06-09T09:15:22 | 2015-06-09T07:44:49 | 168 | 23 |
[WP] A short Horror story. Something to chill the bones in one hundred words or less. | Growing up in the north, you get pretty used to the sounds of nighttime wildlife. Owls hooting, dogs howling, racoons rooting through your garbage. Sometimes you get the occasional bear prowling your yard, or coyote going after the pets left outside. Just after sunset, something started scratching incessantly at my door. Normally I would just sleep it off.
But it's been 36 hours now, and the sun still hasn't risen. | The town square sparkled like the 4th of July sky. Children's laughter filled the air; old friends were catching up. Hearing them made me think of Junior and my wife and my lifelong friends.
From behind me, the wooden platform creaked as a man approached my position. His voice erupted forcing the crowd's to quickly simmer down. I knew not what he was saying, but it struck me worse than a whip. The speech ended, the joyous crowd sprung to life, and without seeing, I felt the gazes shift to my sorry soul.
*My cowardice in surrender was so easily avoidable*, I thought, as the floor vanished and I swung my life out to the melody of the wind. | 2015-06-09T09:15:22 | 2015-06-09T08:48:23 | 168 | 12 |
[WP] Your whole life you have heard a strange melody playing in your head. You've never heard it anywhere else, and eventually you simply learn to live with it. One day, you walk past a man whistling that tune. | I whipped my head around. The man continued to walk away from me without turning.
That tune. That melody.
It was my melody.
I started to push my way through the crowded sidewalk. The man continued to walk away from me. He glided through the groups of people. They split around him like water around a rock.
“Wait,” I yelled. “Wait.”
The crowds got thicker. I started to shoulder my way through the masses, looking up occasionally to make sure I could still see the man. He drifted farther and farther away from me.
His whistling continued. It filtered over the sounds of traffic. It drowned out the roar of the crowds. As my frustration grew, the whistling got louder.
The man turned into an alleyway.
I knocked a man over in my haste to make it to the alleyway. The melody pounded in my head, thumping behind my eyes and making my ears throb. I felt my brain pulse with every note.
My breathing came in ragged gasps. The melody squeezed me. It felt difficult to breath, difficult to think. “Wait,” I wheezed.
The man stood at the end of the alleyway, facing a blank brick wall. He wore bright blue scrubs with cartoon ducks on it. A stethoscope hung around his neck. He read a tablet as he whistled.
“Not good. No signs,” he muttered. ~~The whistling didn’t stop as he spoke. It carried over his words without interfering with them.~~
I shuffled down the alleyway. A knot in my chest grew. My breathing labored. My vision started to constrict. It felt like I walked through Jell-O. “Where,” I whispered, “Where did you hear that melody?”
The man looked up and spoke to the wall. “Not long now.” He took in a deep breath and sighed. “Bring me his contacts. They need to know.”
I collapsed to my hands and knees, crawling down the trash-strewn alleyway. “Please,” I gasped. “Please.”
The man looked over his shoulder. He looked through me, past me, without seeing me. “It’s a shame.”
My arms shook and gave out. I crumpled to the ground. The pavement felt cool on my cheek. My eyes wouldn’t stay open. “The melody,” I said. The words barely came to me. I had to actively think of each one, to pull each one from the depths of my memory. “Please.”
“He won’t last long,” said the man. He turned and walked past me. “Let me know when his family gets here. They need to be here when he passes.”
__________________________
**Edit:** See [this discussion](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3d0xzm/wp_your_whole_life_you_have_heard_a_strange/ct14z1g) about the strikeouts.
| There it is again, that melody; something must have triggered it. Usually it comes to me when I am at home relaxing or my girlfriend is cooking chicken, something about the way the chicken reminds me of this song I've had stuck in my head indefinitely drives me nuts. The chicken song; but don't let that fool you, it's something of beauty, more akin to a Chopin nocturne than the chicken dance. I hum it sometimes around my family and girlfriend, and they tell me they've never heard it. Sometimes I don't believe them though, I couldn't have made this up on my own, could I? Now when I hum it they just tell me to shut up because I do it too much. Somewhere out there though, a part of me likes to think someone must know it which is why I insist on vocalizing it to people.
Now it haunts me as I am walking to a coffee shop across the street from my work, which infuriates me more because it never comes to me on my lunch break. As I enter the coffee shop the song starts to skip in my head like a delayed reverb effect, echoing and manifesting itself outward. I quickly scan the area and see a man, calmly waiting in line, humming it softly. This can't be real can it? How does he know my song?
Walking slowly up to him I wait to see if anyone is even acknowledging his humming. Perhaps I had lost my mind, or perhaps he was some kind of spirit or alien, not that I could believe any of that bullshit. Waiting in line behind him now my legs start to shake and my mouth starts to quiver to form words. For some reason I am intimidated and nervous to speak to this man. He seems nice, and is maybe a decade or so older than me, well into his 40's. The man stared ahead, looking bored and complacent. I had waited so long to find an answer to this that I could hardly believe my ears. Note for note with the exact same tempo, this man was humming the chicken song and now starting to whistle it softly.
Finally, I realize I must ask soon as we advance in line and he will be ordering next. I work up the nerves to softly tap him on the shoulder.
"Excuse me, sir" I think I mutter to him.
He turns slowly, still whistling it, and then stops and waits for me to speak, still looking aloof and possibly tired.
"Can I ask what song you are whistling? I knew someone had heard it before and it's driving me crazy! No one knows it!" I say excitedly in anticipation.
He stops and seems puzzled for a moment as he tries to think of what to say. "Oh! I hardly realize I still sing out that tune. I'm sorry, but I don't really know the name of it. That's what my wife always hums when she can't get it out of her head" he says.
I stare at him, confused for a moment, and now the music starts to build in my head along with many questions, but I stand there frozen staring into his eyes. Somewhere behind the man I hear a distant, "next please."
| 2015-07-12T11:34:57 | 2015-07-12T11:16:04 | 495 | 54 |
[WP]Deities are literally born to life out of human belief systems. Unfortunately, this means that the other gods in the divine realm now have to put up with The God of Atheism. | It was like any other day for the Gods. Zeus and Thor were playing darts with lightning bolts and the Mjolnir, Jesus was pricking his fingers to fill his glass, it was the good life. Then Grothuk, God of Atheism, came in the door screaming in terror.
"GAAHHHAHA JESUS HELP ME!" He cried, "SPIDER!"
"Grothuk, you are nigh-omnipotent, why do you always go to one of us to get rid of bugs?" Answered Christ, "It should be easy for you to do it yourself."
"Because, it's ***REALLY*** scary. It'll bite me! I can't do it."
Thor sighed and spoke up, "Come on, man, it's not scary. You just gotta believe in yourself." | The Pantheon grew exponentially as mankind evolved and learned. Tribal deities were joined by the Greek gods, those of Roman mythology, eventually Jesus, Allah and the other Anno Domini Deities (ADDs). Though each new era of man bought with it new gods and a difficulty in acclimating to them, there were no troubles for the deities. Cthulu, Christ and the Flying Spaghetti Monster could happily live in harmony, irrespective of their own followers' beliefs.
That was, until, he came.
"God's not real".
He said those three words, each and every day, and very little else. His entire existence was an ironic paradox, The God of those who did not believe in God. The God of Atheism spoke softly and smiled, content to pass his time in the Kingdom of Heaven in a state of abject disbelief. He spoke to the other deities courteously, occasionally asking a question as to their religion's belief structure, then went about his day. The God of Atheism was not a contentious figure, at least, not when one compared him to The God of /r/Atheism.
(EDIT: Thank you kindly for the Gold, /u/0x726564646974) | 2015-08-01T10:45:44 | 2015-08-01T08:17:35 | 575 | 287 |
[WP] Write a scene with two characters exchanging dialogue, but don't reveal the setting until the end. The setting completely changes the context of what was said. | The sun rose over Chicago's bustling streets.
"Hello!" the girl smiled "I've been expecting you!"
"I know, Alice, I know" the boy replied.
She pouted slightly, "We're friends you know".
The boy sighed, "I know".
On the day the blue sun rose, humanity discovered that its newest generation had developed a peculiar array of mutations. "Perks" we called them. From All-Might, the man of steel that defends New York, to Dennis, an ordinary accountant whose pencils never become dull. Every child is born with a perk, and every child will awaken it as they come of age.
Alice was a normal girl for all intents and purposes before she turned 12. She played and laughed, learned and grew. [Omniscience], the first, and most dangerous prime that humanity would produce. The future extended before her, branching apart, splitting a trillion trillion times, out into infinity. At the age of 12, Alice became old. At the age of 12, Alice began to prepare for him.
She saw him a million times, across a million universes. In one he was a survivor, disenchanted after years of war. In one he was a normal person, masking his true power, hoping for a better life. But in most, he was a tyrant, who held humanity under his power. And in those worlds humanity loved him, worshiped him. And in those worlds, humanity failed. For he would be granted [Nous], complete mastery of the mind. His power could bend any to his will, could break society. She thanked whatever gods there were that she had been born first.
David was 13, going home with his mother in New York.
Alice drops a marble on the floor, a woman trips, and a man helps her up.
Isaac was 13, going home with his mother in Chicago. They turn into their driveway.
Alice slips a paper under the mayor's door.
Isaac was 13, going home with his mother in Chicago, damn construction everywhere. They pass a woman, a long lost friend, his mother says as she stops on the side of the road. She waves excitedly.
Hers is the first mind to touch his, and he sees what she has seen. He understands. The paths collapse into one. The one where they prevent other primes from existing. Humanity is saved.
"Hello!" the girl smiled, "I've been expecting you!"
| "It's time," he said to the younger man. This was the kid's last test before the apprentice would start flying solo and take this over for him. Honestly, it couldn't come quick enough for him.
"I... I don't think I can do it," he said, voice shaking.
"Of course you can, Eddie" he said with a sigh. "You've watched me do it a few times. You know how."
"If course I know how, it isn't hard. I just don't know if it's right."
"You know what he's done. It's his time to get put down like the dog he is."
"I don't know, Tom. I mean, you've been doing this for years. Don't you ever regret it, taking a man's life?"
Tom thought for a minute. "There have been one or two, but not many. When the big wigs say a man's gotta go, he's gotta go. They don't take this sort of thing lightly."
"How do we know he deserves it?"
"That's not for us to decide. We just follow the orders."
"I don't know if that's a good enough reason."
"Look, this is going to get done. The only difference will be if it is you or I doing it. Either way, he dies today."
"How can you be so calm about it?"
"I just think about what they say he's done and it makes it easier. Look, it's better that it's us doing it than anyone else. We at least can make it as painless as possible."
"Do you really think so?"
"I do. It will still hurt. When isn't there pain in death? But it's better to be us than some civilian that doesn't know what they're doing; that really wants him to suffer. But look, this is up to you; between you and your God. You're ready though. I know it."
He watched the young man for a while, knowing this was not what the man has thought he would be doing with his life; being the hand that ended a life because someone else said it was needed. In the end, Tom knew Eddie would find that what he did was necessary.
"Ok, I'm ready to do this."
Tom have a half hearted smile. "Alright, he's just in the other room waiting for you."
"Do you think he deserves it?" asked Eddie one last time.
"I'm damn sure with this one. Abducted and raped 12 kids. They found their bodies burried in his basement. Honestly, I think 7 years on death row was too long to make this guy wait to meet the devil. The judge should have made him first in line." | 2015-10-08T09:14:33 | 2015-10-08T08:50:24 | 65 | 19 |
[WP] When you die, you don't go to the afterlife of you're religion, you go to the afterlife of the religion whose tenets you followed most closely, knowingly or not. | "what this?"
"where am I? this not house."
"this green not mine."
"where Tim?"
*SPONKKK*
"Come here Apollo! Come heree!"
"BALL. TIM. TIM. TIM."
"Here is a big ol rib eye for you boy, salted and raw just the way you like it."
It was odd to Apollo, where ever this new home was, Tim never went to work, and the sun never set. He liked it. He liked Tim.
| "And this is...?"
The man behind the desk laughed at him and turned away.
"No, seriously, talk. What're you, an illegal immigrant? Don't hide your face from me, I know who you are--"
The man fixed him with a withering glare. "Passport, *sir*?"
"What? I'm the goddamn President-to-be, I don't carry that. Check your TV, that's my ID."
The TV flickered on. His obituary was playing.
"See? I'm..oh."
"Unwelcome? Certainly." The man behind the counter tore the paperwork in half and sneered. "Go back to life, meatback. No room here."
------
A very, very long-suffering golden wig floated freely along a sea of beautiful, bald maidens. Its work was over. | 2016-03-07T15:32:11 | 2016-03-07T11:15:31 | 809 | 114 |
[WP] When you die, you don't go to the afterlife of you're religion, you go to the afterlife of the religion whose tenets you followed most closely, knowingly or not. | "Valhalla!? What do you mean Valhalla!?" The monk asked angrily.
"Look pal, when the vikings attacked your monastery you fought back. Hell, you even killed one of them. That's not what monks do." Exclaimed the Valkyrie
"But I'm a god loving christian! I can't be in Valhalla!"
"Like it or not, you died in battle. That's literally all it takes to get into this place. Now go take a seat beside the other new guy." The Valkyrie said with an exhausted tone to her voice.
The monk looked around to find his seat. The only empty seat he could find was next to a large gruff looking man. The Monk, curious, asked the man "So what did you do to get in here?"
The viking looked into his eyes and said "You killed me, asshole." | For a large chunk of my life I expected nothing to happen after... well after *I* ended. I expected complete cession of consciousness, a total end to my cognitive functions... a lack of everything including the self-awareness that would have made the Void unbearable.
What I got was a man behind a desk with a file that had my name paper-clipped onto it.
"So..." I said, "can I check to see if I've gotten this straight?"
"Yes," the man behind the desk said, "It'd be rather... embarrassing for me if you don't."
"Okay," I said, taking a deep breath, "Every Religion's afterlives are simultaneously true."
The man nodded.
"The Afterlife which has jurisdiction over you is judged by the tenets that you live your life by," I said, "and not geography, birth, or even your own belief."
The man nodded again.
"In that case..." I said, "Why am I sitting in the Celestial Bureaucracy?"
The man smiled slightly, and then looked down into my folder, "You fit our hiring requirements." | 2016-03-07T20:07:55 | 2016-03-07T18:54:40 | 53 | 37 |
[WP] When you die, you don't go to the afterlife of you're religion, you go to the afterlife of the religion whose tenets you followed most closely, knowingly or not. | "Valhalla!? What do you mean Valhalla!?" The monk asked angrily.
"Look pal, when the vikings attacked your monastery you fought back. Hell, you even killed one of them. That's not what monks do." Exclaimed the Valkyrie
"But I'm a god loving christian! I can't be in Valhalla!"
"Like it or not, you died in battle. That's literally all it takes to get into this place. Now go take a seat beside the other new guy." The Valkyrie said with an exhausted tone to her voice.
The monk looked around to find his seat. The only empty seat he could find was next to a large gruff looking man. The Monk, curious, asked the man "So what did you do to get in here?"
The viking looked into his eyes and said "You killed me, asshole." | The felt table reached as far as he could see in front, and stretched farther than he could see to his sides. Beside him on either side sat another being, and beside them more. Their eyes peeking down at the two cards tucked under their hands.
His turn was coming up, he knew this even though he did not understand. From his left he could hear another being calling "check", and so next and the next, until the one next to him folded.
Silence seemed to loom, almost crushing as everyone, and he could feel all their eyes, their million eyes, on him. Shrinking he panicked...
"Your turn to talk!" grumbled the being to his right, "look at your cards and make a call."
Two cards lay on the table, face down, their backs black and red a symbol he didn't recognize adorned them. Picking them up revealed a 10 of diamonds and a 7 of hearts.
"Check?" the words whispered out of his mouth weakly.
"Check!" the being next to him said, continuing a long line of checks and folds, occasionally he heard "Raise" followed by a collecting groan of a million voices. | 2016-03-07T20:07:55 | 2016-03-07T17:54:48 | 53 | 17 |
[wp] You accidentally unleashed an ancient curse upon yourself whilst treasure hunting. Fortunately, the curse is actually HEAVILY outdated. | **YOU WHO DARE DISTURB MY SLUMBER!**
The apparition's voice boomed throughout the cavern, echoing off the walls. *Well, shit,* I thought to myself. Of course this had to be the one "haunted" tomb to actually be haunted.
**I AM DORMAMMU, DESTROYER OF MEN. THIS GRAVE IS THE LOCATION OF MY FINAL REST, AND YOU HAVE AWOKEN ME!**
"Look man, Dormammu, I'm really sorry. I had no idea." I figured I'd try to reason with it. Worth a shot, right?
**YOUR PLATITUDES MEAN NOTHING. YOU WILL BE PUNISHED IN ACCORDANCE WITH YOUR TRESPASSING. FOR YOUR INTRUSION INTO THIS SACRED PLACE, YOU SHALL BE CURSED FOR ETERNITY.**
"Really, I am actually truly sorry for what I did. I'm just trying to document history here, y'know? I just want to learn abo-"
**SILENCE! I CURSE YOU TO NEVER AGAIN BE ABLE TO SPARK A FLAME, ENSURING YOUR ETERNAL CHILL. THIS IS TRUE FOR AS LONG AS YOU LIVE!**
The ghost vanished as swiftly as it had appeared, taking all the fires present with it. I flipped on my flashlight to replace the extinguished torches, reflecting on my predicament.
*I guess this means I'm gonna have switch to vaping.* | "We did it. 10 years of work and we've finally managed to recover data from iwata's PC. Without him pokémon wouldn't be the same..it's truly an honour" spoke the data recoverist at a tech conference "We're going to release to the public! To you guys!"
The zip on the file contained three files sgioa.asF adfg.png and an early alpha rom for pokémon green. The picture seemed to be the famous programmer's daughter or perhaps a relative and the asF file seemed to actually be a zip file, renamed, full of pokémon sprites.
Over the next few days many pokémaniacs downloaded the files and enjoyed exploring the green alpha game though they did come across an anomly- missingno. I mean, we *did* expect it. It *is* freaking pokémon green but it was nice to see. There was *one* odd thing about it though- if you caught it and were playing on a windows machine it caused glitches outside of the game itself...that shouldn't even be possible.
People started using linux instead but found the problem's persisted whichever OS or distro they used. Even brand new hard drives didn't help. It seemed the glitches disappeared though after catching pikachu.
There was *one* bug that remained but it didn't seem to have anything to do with the PC used- more so the person *using* that PC.
Even if a victim used a different PC and never used the rom on it the bug persisted...
No matter which PC people used, whoever had played the game could never, ever, ever use a floppy or zip drive ever again.
| 2016-03-28T00:10:59 | 2016-03-27T20:47:05 | 566 | 84 |
[WP] After new legislation the CIA has to release how many active agents they have around the world. The number is the global population minus 7. | My first reaction was literally a spit take. My second was a moment of overwhelming panic. Eventually common sense crept in, and it said:
*Hey. You. Yes, the part of you that's cowering in terror right now. You know what? This is bullshit: around 350,000 people are born* every day. *These numbers are a lie or the CIA is recruiting babies.*
I relaxed somewhat, except —
— except that there was no reason to make up such ridiculous numbers, was there? They had nothing to gain and their entire reputation to lose. But if they're telling the truth . . . they can't have seven billion agents! Human beings come into existence so quickly that —
Then it hit me.
A second later, so did the insects. | Have you ever been to a conspiracy theorists convention?
It’s the X-files on steroids. JFK is only the start. And God forbid you show up with sunglasses; you’ll have every wannabe hacker on taking your picture and posting it on forums as a “possible government interloper”. And of course, everywhere you look, there’s twenty clustered around a laptop comparing photos of the latest cover up.
So when the news came out that only 7 people in the world aren’t CIA, I was considering calling off my booth. No one pays for computer security like the tinhats, but I wasn’t sure how this would turn out.
I was expecting riots by middle aged men with pauchy stomaches over the veracity of their non CIA-ness. I was disappointed. That convention was a ghost town. Fucking waste of time. My boss wanted me to follow up leads on one of the only non-CIA citizens in the Western hemisphere, and two possible rogue agents and now I’ll have to go in and tell the boss man that I got nothing. Guantanamo Bay, here I come…fuck.
| 2016-04-02T20:25:55 | 2016-04-02T18:54:43 | 74 | 31 |
[WP] Instead of a dystopia that seems like a utopia on the surface, write a story about a utopia that seems like a dystopia on the surface. | I start walking down what's left of Peachtree Street. The buildings are crumbling, the shattered windows of the skyscrapers reflecting the harsh sunlight into the street as little points of light. As I navigate the piles of rubble, I remember what it was like before the Virus.
Everyone was so happy. Everything we wanted was at our fingertips. Clothes, food, jewellery, even entire buildings if we really wanted it. I'd lived a humble life, deciding from a young age that I wanted to travel the world by foot. Three and a half centuries would be enough for that, I'd reasoned.
I was wrong. I'd just arrived in Budapest when the Virus struck. Everyone suddenly started dropping dead, coughing up blood. I felt a little queasy, but that seems to have been because of the blood and dead bodies rather than the actual Virus. I was immune. One in a hundred million. Over a trillion people died on each of our planets that day. I did not.
I think it had something to do with my lifestyle choices. I'd decided that to be the most efficient, I replaced my digested system with a much more efficient one made of a biological replicator. Bloody expensive, but worth it. I can eat anything now, and I get all the nutrients I need. That didn't help with the Virus, of course. Just with me surviving after it.
I shrugged my shoulders that day and walked on. Everywhere I went, decaying corpses littered the street. It was fascinating to see how our bodies decomposed naturally. Over the next months, everything disappeared but some of the metal bones, or prosthetics, or other augmentations.
My three hundred fiftieth year passed. If the Virus hadn't happened, I would have been brought in to die peacefully on that day. I wasn't. Only then did it dawn on me that I was truly immortal. I could do whatever I wished. So I kept travelling the world.
I think the Russian Taiga was the most beautiful. I spent a few centuries just thinking there among the trees. Then I moved on.
Two thousand years have passed since the Virus. There are other immortals walking around like me, I know. But they travel in groups, and I am content with my thoughts. And anyway, only a tenth of them didn't commit suicide. There are tribes of those people's descendants, worshipping us. Gods. I chuckle. Yes, I'm a god, I guess. The chuckle grows to a laugh, and I raise my arms straight out beside me. I grin, and take off for the second time in my long life. The air rushes past my face and blows my hair out of my eyes.
The world is beautiful.
*EDIT: I was on mobile and autocorrect screwed some things up. Also, fixed weird wording.* | Monday mornings are the worst. It signals the start of my weekday, which means I have to drag myself to the company. Getting out of bed is an insurmountable task by itself, but through sheer willpower, I was able to balance on my feet and stumble towards the bathroom.
Shower.
Brush teeth.
Shave.
Get clothes on.
Exit house.
As I close the door and walk onto the pavement, I see my fellow neighbors, their eyes cast down and their bodies exhausted as they walk to the nearest train station. We huddle together as we march to Station B, and we promptly wait ten minutes for the next train to arrive. As I scrutinize the cross patterns of the gray tiles below my feet, I would hear the occasional rat scurrying along or the rustling of papers. The silence of the station is then broken by the howling of the train from one of the tunnels, announcing its impending arrival. Once the train slowed to halt, we form an orderly queue, and one by one, get sucked into the train.
I arrive at my cubicle exactly on time and proceed to look at my new assignment of the week: to read the new batch of contract agreement forms. Recently, my company is collaborating with a variety of other companies, and to make sure we are not getting swindled by the others, we have to be extremely careful. And the only way to do that is go through all the contract agreements, line by line, just to see if there are any suspicious sections that could put us at a disadvantage. Excuse the language, but I really fucking hate this job. You lose focus too easily, and sometimes, you can end up reading the same line over and over without realizing it. Yet, I need money, and the company is the one providing it, so I grit my teeth and proceed to drown myself in these documents. Minutes seem like hours, and hours seem like days, and it looks like I'm going to be in this hellhole for eternity.
But then, a beautiful sound serenade my ears: a blaring buzzer signaling the end of the workday. As soon as the buzzer lowers into a soft whimper, the entire floor of people proceed to arise from their desks and start packing their belongings in a frenzy. I immediately slam my papers down and hastily pack my backpack in order to be the beat the others to the elevator. As I power walk my way towards the exit, I get visibly more excited as the thought of meeting my friends to go fishing gradually intoxicates my mind. Once I burst out the door, I get momentarily blinded by the ray of sunshine, and then proceed to race home to change clothes and meet up with my buddies down by the lake.
Few moments later, I'm by the lake with my companions, far far away from the dreaded cubicle. With every sip of beer and every fish caught, I slowly begin to forget about the grueling work of earlier today and enjoy myself more, knowing nothing else can make me happier. | 2016-07-14T08:30:59 | 2016-07-14T07:34:24 | 85 | 26 |
[WP] Every morning you wake up with a new talent. The catch is, you aren't told what it is. IF you discover what talent you have, you get to keep it. The talents NEVER repeat | My name is Leon. I live every day in pain. Not physical pain, but mental pain. What is the cause of my pain? The fact that I'm Too talented.
It all started one day when I woke up and was getting ready for my awfully drab Office job. I was at the sink, brushing my teeth. And I noticed something. After brushing, my teeth were REALLY WHITE, like perfectly healthy. I didn't do anything different than I usually do, but for whatever reason I brushed my teeth as if I were a master.
I thought it was cool, but who cares If I'm good at brushing my teeth? "Oh, I don't need to visit the dentist as often, wupadedoo". So I went about my day. Then I woke up the next day. I got dressed, brushed my teeth, and went to my coffee maker to make me a cup of coffee. And the Coffee I made was like the nectar of the gods. It was better than anything I've ever tasted in my entire life.
"Hey, I made some kick-ass coffee" I thought to myself. "I'm good at brushing my teeth, now making coffee? What's next?". I had no idea what I was in for.
So, the next day, I wake up, get dressed, brush my teeth, grab a cup of coffee, and walked out the door. You see, I take a train to work and I don't have a car so I gotta walk to the train station. So I was walking along heading towards the train station when I remembered that I was so distracted by my amazing coffee that I forgot to grab breakfast.
So, I walk into a nearby 7-11. I grab some random snack cake and go wait in line. Then, all the sudden, this guy in a Ski-Mask storms in with a gun and runs right up to the counter. He points the gun at the clerk's head and tells him to "Put the money in the bag".But the clerk, out of fear and anxiety, can't seem to open the cash register. The ski-mask man yells " Open the Damn thing now or I'll blow your brains out". The clerk is standing there, crying, scared out of his mind trying to open the thing. The robber was being unreasonable so I say "Hey, calm down. He's try to open it.". He yells and points the gun at me. "Say something again. I dare you." he says. "Woah calm down, I'm sorry" I say. "What the hell did I just say? I said not to say something again!" he yells. "Holy shit, I'm sorry." I say nervously. "You did it again! I don't need this bullshit! I'm robbing a store here and you're running your mouth!" he yells. He pulls the trigger.
My life flashes before my eyes. Everything goes black. Then, I realize I have the bullet between my fingers. I stopped a moving bullet and point blank range."Holy shit! What are you?" the robber says. He drops the gun and runs away. I became a local hero. And from there, my talents became more and more amazing.
Now, I'm a black-belt, physicist, brain surgeon, Chef, Actor, Race car driver, Astronaut, director, writer, Olmypic swimmer, and a garbage man. Life has lost all meaning. I have nothing to live for.
I think my talent of the day Is hating myself, because I'm really really good at it. | I can juggle with the best of ‘em, write a gorgeous poem with lightning speed, play anything on a piano, and hit a baseball dead-on every time.
People tell me I should open a restaurant, run a small business, and run for president, in any given combination on any given day.
I’ve got a job that I love, and could probably quit at any moment to pick up another.
But I’m not exactly what you would call “smooth.”
I don’t think I come across as arrogant. I tried to narrow down my eHarmony profile to just the core of my personality, but it’s hard when I’m so damn good at everything.
Today I got a match. First time in three months. For a while I was trying the whole one-time hookup thing and that failed catastrophically, so we’re going to have a nice dinner at Geppetto’s, 8 PM.
All the way to the restaurant, I couldn’t stop thinking. *Just today, just this once. Not table tennis aptitude, not programming wizardry. All I ask for is a bit of charisma.*
I made a perfect parallel park outside the restaurant and stepped inside. I saw her sitting at a table just a few paces from the entrance.
“Hey there, Bridget.” I grabbed the chair, spun it around a few times, then picked it up and balanced it in the palm of my hand, letting it rotate all the while. Bridget raised an eyebrow and chuckled nervously while the patrons around me pointed in awe. I slid the chair back to its spot and sat down.
“So, fancy meeting you here.”
“Uh…yeah. How are you?”
“I’m good, I’m good. Want to see a card trick?” I whipped a deck of cards out of my jacket pocket and showed them to her. She grimaced and gently slid them away from her face.
“Why don’t we…talk about us?”
“OK.” I gulped and put the cards away.
Throughout the remainder of the evening, I struggled to talk about anything aside from my strange, disparate array of abilities. It went fine, I suppose. I tried my best to listen, but the whole time I was trying to figure out my talent for the day, and desperately wondering if it was affecting my conversational prowess.
“You seem distracted, Leonard.”
“I’m distracted by you.” *Hot damn, I’m good.*
“It’s getting pretty late. But I did enjoy this.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Really?”
“Yeah. You know, I think there’s a pretty interesting, genuine guy buried under all that barista expertise and plumbing genius.”
She got up, grabbed her purse, and headed for the door. I caught a glimpse of the clock above the kitchen counter and saw that it was 11:45.
I ran after her and tapped her shoulder.
“Do you want to do this again sometime?” *Oh my God. Maybe I wished on the right frickin’ star.*
She grinned. “Ehh, why not. We’re not getting any younger. But next time, tell me about what you want. Not just what you can do.”
She patted me on the shoulder and raised her arm for a cab.
That night, I walked home slowly, kicking litter away and repeating the words over and over: *The talent to make a connection. The talent to really get to know someone. The talent to get out of my own head.*
I collapsed in my bed just as the clock hit midnight. I didn’t feel anything – no pulse throughout my body alerting me that the talent was mine.
I took off my glasses, turned off the lamp, and disappeared under the covers.
Maybe I’m never going to get this one. Maybe it’s too complex to be handed to me, or maybe I’m just fated to miss out on these feelings that everyone else seems so crazy about.
But I’m going to try.
| 2016-07-19T13:20:03 | 2016-07-19T12:51:40 | 57 | 11 |
[WP] You gain a magic coin that can grant wishes, but only if you flip it. If it lands on heads, your wish is granted, but if it lands on tails, the opposite of your wish happens. | I stared at the screen in front of me. Then back down at the coin. Then the list of stocks I had written out. Hmmm. Time to flip I guess.
The coin hung in the hair and then snapped back to the table, clattering around and then spinning before finally resting on one side. Tails. Damn, I was hoping today would be a heads day.
I remember when I came across the coin in that little rundown shop in Chinatown. The storekeeper kept making ominous warnings about it. As an accountant I immediately realized the benefits of 50% chances. I bought it without hesitation.
That night I wrote down a list of stocks that I had specially selected from the market. When I flipped the coin, I wished that they would go up in value. Tails. All of them dropped in value and I started purchasing. Over the next week I would purchase more stocks on Tails days and whenever I had enough heads to get above what I payed I would sell on Heads days. With 50% chances it would constantly fluctuate between down and up and I could cheat the system. Sometimes it was a long process, where I would be down for a month, then sometimes it would be an immediate payoff of getting two back to back heads right after I bought it.
Two years later and I'm as rich as I could possibly want. I looked back at the screen and noted which ones I wanted to buy. The first couple started to drop even as I watched.
I walked to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. After careful study, I had made up my mind. Rather than shaving today, I was just gonna flip. I wish for a full beard. Tails. In the blink of an eye my stubble was clean shaven. I guess that settles that, I was kinda hoping for the full beard. Guess I'll try again tomorrow, I'm not seeing anyone for a couple days so nobody will notice.
I flipped again. I wish I had that new game I want, Overwatch. Fuck yeah, heads. Last time I failed one of those flips it took a game off my shelf, luckily enough I had already finished that one. I grabbed my new Overwatch copy off the shelf and got to playing.
As I played I saw a news story notification pop up on my phone. God, more election stuff. This is such a shitty year, I really don't know who I would vote for because they're both equally awful. As I thought about it, something clicked. If I really don't care I guess I could do what I do when I bet on boxing matches! That way I'll at least know who the winner is. I chuckled to myself as I set the controller down and once again reached for the coin in my pocket. I watched it flip, and wished for Trump to win. The coin finally settled on an answer. God, that's hilarious. I can't wait to see the reactions.
Yeah, that coin was probably the best purchase I ever made. | Wiping a tear off his cheek Derek opened the box he received this morning. Coughing from the dust that that had settled on the box his thoughts went to his grandma. She had been amazing, taking him in when his parents had abandoned him. Raising him to the man he was today. Glad to help his community and to work at the nursing home for the elderly nearby.
Wondering what items his grandmother left him in her will Derek pulled out the boxes and books from the box. Spreading them out on his desk its contents became clear. It was a rather large coin collection. One he immediately decided to keep.
Making a note to call his notary to alter his will so the collection would go to a museum after being put in a coffin and cremated Derek opened the first book. Going over it page by page he was amazed at the diversity. There were coins from the Roman empire to those first minted after the United States had been founded.
Pulling out more and more books, all heavy with coin, Derek nearly reached the bottom of the box. Standing on it, in between several smaller coin books was a a special stand. Taking it out and dusting it off a sentence became readable on the top.
Above the glass window showing a near blank coin it said: “Warning, only rub in emergency situations!”
Wanting to get one good laugh out of grandma her silly jokes Derek opened the little door and took the coin out of its stand. After rubbing it for a second, making it shine once more, Derek opened the little door again and put the coin back.
Reaching over to grab the last few things from the box Derek jumped back in surprise as a blue man faded in right next to him from thin air.
Bowing before Derek the ghost stood up and as Derek grabbed an umbrella and held it up it said: “Greetings boy, I am Pani. Thank you for giving me this opportunity to stretch my legs after the decades spent locked in that damn coin. Now, you can make as many wishes as you want which will come true if the coin is.-”
Listening closely Derek immediately jumped over to the coin holder, opening it and taking out the coin. Yelling: “I wish for world peace,” Derek flipped the coin high in the air, observing it as it fell down to the ground.
Upon landing on the carpet sirens go off outside, blasting their loud noise to every house.
“What happened ghost,” Derek loudly asked of Pani, accusation clear in his voice.
Looking at Derek, slowly blinking, Pani scratched his neck.
“You modern humans. You did not even bother letting me finish my explanation. When it lands on heads your wish is granted. Does it land on tails, well, then the opposite of what you wished for happens. In this case a world war. Which includes every nuclear missile in the world being launched!”
The genie, now followed by Derek‘s scornful gaze sat down in the comfortable chair in the corner of the room, giving him the thumbs up.
“Also, I am a genie! Now boy, go and wish for world peace again. And hope this time the coin lands on heads before you are obliterated,” the genie said, laughing out loud at the stupidity of this boy.
----------------
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, then please check out /r/MaisieKlaassen
| 2016-08-26T08:35:34 | 2016-08-26T07:51:15 | 129 | 20 |
[WP] You gain a magic coin that can grant wishes, but only if you flip it. If it lands on heads, your wish is granted, but if it lands on tails, the opposite of your wish happens. | I stared at the screen in front of me. Then back down at the coin. Then the list of stocks I had written out. Hmmm. Time to flip I guess.
The coin hung in the hair and then snapped back to the table, clattering around and then spinning before finally resting on one side. Tails. Damn, I was hoping today would be a heads day.
I remember when I came across the coin in that little rundown shop in Chinatown. The storekeeper kept making ominous warnings about it. As an accountant I immediately realized the benefits of 50% chances. I bought it without hesitation.
That night I wrote down a list of stocks that I had specially selected from the market. When I flipped the coin, I wished that they would go up in value. Tails. All of them dropped in value and I started purchasing. Over the next week I would purchase more stocks on Tails days and whenever I had enough heads to get above what I payed I would sell on Heads days. With 50% chances it would constantly fluctuate between down and up and I could cheat the system. Sometimes it was a long process, where I would be down for a month, then sometimes it would be an immediate payoff of getting two back to back heads right after I bought it.
Two years later and I'm as rich as I could possibly want. I looked back at the screen and noted which ones I wanted to buy. The first couple started to drop even as I watched.
I walked to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. After careful study, I had made up my mind. Rather than shaving today, I was just gonna flip. I wish for a full beard. Tails. In the blink of an eye my stubble was clean shaven. I guess that settles that, I was kinda hoping for the full beard. Guess I'll try again tomorrow, I'm not seeing anyone for a couple days so nobody will notice.
I flipped again. I wish I had that new game I want, Overwatch. Fuck yeah, heads. Last time I failed one of those flips it took a game off my shelf, luckily enough I had already finished that one. I grabbed my new Overwatch copy off the shelf and got to playing.
As I played I saw a news story notification pop up on my phone. God, more election stuff. This is such a shitty year, I really don't know who I would vote for because they're both equally awful. As I thought about it, something clicked. If I really don't care I guess I could do what I do when I bet on boxing matches! That way I'll at least know who the winner is. I chuckled to myself as I set the controller down and once again reached for the coin in my pocket. I watched it flip, and wished for Trump to win. The coin finally settled on an answer. God, that's hilarious. I can't wait to see the reactions.
Yeah, that coin was probably the best purchase I ever made. | He'd been vacationing in South America when he'd wandered into the small shop off the main square in the small village. He'd been staying the last few weeks and thought he'd seen everything that the small town had to offer, but he'd never seen this shop before. This was especially odd since he'd eaten at the small cafe next door two days ago. This small shop seemed to have simply materialized.
Inside it was dark and a strange acrid incense permeated the air. The shop was more like a small junk warehouse that a proper store. Odd things were stacked seemingly at random, nothing was priced, and he seemed to be the only one there. Poking through a couple piles of trinkets, fake jewelry, and old toys he made to leave when the proprietor of the shop appeared from behind some shelving.
"Did you see anything of interest?" the man asked. His English was perfect without a trace of an accent.
"Not really," he replied, hoping to avoid a potentially pushy salesman.
"What about this?" the proprietor asked pulling a strangely engraved coin that had been sitting on a nearby shelf.
"What is it?" he asked.
The salesman had gone on to explain the local legend about the coin that could either grant wishes or enact a terrible cost by giving the owner exactly the opposite of what they asked for. It was a pretty thin morality tale but the local legend stuff was always kind of interesting. He appreciated the local flavor more than anything and was surprised when the salesman refused money and instead just gave him the coin.
Later he met a friend for dinner and still had the coin with him.
"What is that?" Antonio asked.
"Some magical coin I guess," he replied. "It's supposed to grant wishes. It's a local thing I guess?"
"You shouldn't mess around with that," said his friend suddenly very serious.
He'd never known Antonio to buy into superstition, but all the same the coin went back into his pocket unflipped, and they enjoyed their meal.
As they were parting Antonio brought up the coin again. "You really shouldn't mess with things you don't understand," his friend said cryptically.
That was the last time he'd seen Antonio but his uncharacteristic warning had stuck.
When he got back to the states the coin, still unflipped, went into a desk and he'd pretty much forgotten about it.
Several years later he was digging through a cabinet in the study looking for the box of the old baby photos. The funeral was in two days and he wanted to have a couple photos out. His wife would have known exactly where they were but she was gone now too. Instead of the baby photos he found a small box of things from when he'd backpacked that summer several years ago. Happy for the momentary distraction he started going through the box and found the old coin.
The memories of that weird little shop came back to him as well as what the shop keeper had told him. He also remembered Antonio's stern warning.
What was the opposite of already being dead, he wondered. Would the inverse of coming back to life be simply staying dead? If that was the case he had nothing to loose, but what if it wasn't just staying dead. What if it was something worse?
He flipped the coin and hoped for the best. | 2016-08-26T08:35:34 | 2016-08-26T07:10:40 | 129 | 18 |
[WP] Robert D. Ballard (discoverer of the Titanic and Bismarck wrecks among others) has a little too much to drink and does an AMA on Reddit. When asked what was the most disturbing thing he found on the sea floor, his answer causes widespread panic | "The most disturbing thing I ever saw down there? The worst thing?" Ballard repeated to himself, running the question around his alcohol lubricated brain.
"Okay, I'll tell ya. Let me... let me start by saying... If you're specting some... Big Fish story of sea surpens or krakens or Chulu-Kathulu- That big squid head guy from the books you're not gonna get it. This was a few years back... an.. and... we're around this trade route near, uh, where was it? Oh yeah, near the African coast near the um, the um, the horn part down bottom- I think.
Anyway we was looking for some old trade ships. We found one, almost perfect condition, must've gone down to a storm er something, cause we couldn't find any real damage that'd have sunk her. Lotas plants an things, fish and crabs and stuff ya know, making a home out of her, but other than that she was sitting there like she was just waiting on us. We get the submercy-submercable- the mini sub into the thing, managed to make our way to the cargo hold...
"Sorry, I'm back, needed another beer. Where was I? Oh yeah. Were in the hold, right? ok. We're in the hold, and, expecting like rotten crates or barrels or something. But it wasn't that kinda trade ship. No it was worse. There were these rows of benches. And skeletons in monocles. No, not moncles, manticles-manycules- they were chained up.
"Yeah. Turns out we'd found a slave ship. That image, those bones lying in the muck, that still haunts me. To think what those people must have felt. The terror, the rocking of the sea... sinking into that inky black water with no escape... I need another beer." | "Hey Mr. Ballard, what's the worst thing you saw down there?"
"Worst... The worst thing I saw was... I don't even know how to describe it. It was like... Well let me start from the beginning. We took an ROV down to the wreck of the Titanic, it was dark, almost midnight I think. Anyways, we started searching among the wreckage, it was pretty average that night, a few fish could be seen here and there, so we zoomed around for a while, and found ourselves in a cabin that was open to the outside we'd never seen before. We took a look around and realized it was a first class cabin, we got pretty excited at that point. Not many of those have been surveyed that much."
"So, we started searching the room for anything left, any clues as to who lived inside that room on this poor, wretched ship. We were able to find a locket, and decided to bring it back to the surface, so we started the ROV back to the ship."
"Right as we were about to leave the cabin, something large swam across the camera, quick as a flash! It gave us quite the start, and when we looked harder, we noticed the locket was gone. So we searched the ground, thinking it had been knocked from the hand after the thing swam in front of it. It wasn't there! So we turned around... It was our biggest mistake."
"In front of us was... What... I.... What looked like a person. But not quite... It was... Like a triton, or something out of legend. It's eyes had rotted out, it didn't really need them this far down, and it glowed, almost like it was radioactive. In it's mucus covered hand was the locket, which it was holding to it's chest. It just sat there, staring at the camera, for almost a full minute, before charging. We never recovered that ROV."
"So if you go diving in shipwrecks, don't expect to be alone... Because you're not anymore."
(Only my second writing prompt response, tell me what I could have done better please! I was writing this a bit rushed!) | 2017-01-25T07:40:11 | 2017-01-25T03:16:36 | 37 | 21 |
[WP] The last time the aliens invaded our planet they fled after losing the war. They have reluctantly returned to wage war and are relieved to see that dinosaurs no longer inhabit Earth, but have been replaced by the smaller and less intimidating humans. | Dear Xander,
Glad greetings to you and yours, and eternal joy to your ancestors.
The invasion of the Earth has been called off. The Sauronoid aggressors that bested us so long ago have all but disappeared. In their place, a race of mammalian bipeds not so dissimilar from ourselves who are incredibly happy to see us for no other reason than the knowledge that they are not alone. They are not as advanced or as long-lived as we are. Compared to us, they are children and warriors such as we are do not make war upon children.
We have spoken to their leaders and they have agreed to allow us to build bases on Earth and their moon. Apparently the humans excel at service industries and I expect that you will see some of them in your sector in the next century or so as soon as we get the wormhole exchange up and running.
I know the one thing that is on your mind: how do we regain our honor after our defeat by the claws of the hated Sauronoids now that they are extinct? We swore an oath to occupy the Earth and pick pieces of their flesh out from between our teeth.
A few weeks after first contact with the humans, I found myself invited to something called a "picnic". A picnic entails an outdoor gathering of humans where they perform simple bonding rituals with each other and then eat a lot of food (Earth, come for the invasion, stay for the food).
So I'm sitting on this blanket in this meadow, trying out Earth food. The dish called "mustard potato salad" is particularly tasty, but then I was served several pieces of deep fried meat that smelled so frfrfrfr good! I tasted it and there was an explosion of delight in my mouth. I immediately asked what this was and I was told it was Southern friend chicken.
Xander, the enemy did not go completely extinct. They devolved. These chickens are the direct descendants of the Sauronoid ruling caste: the Tyrannosaurus Rex! Honor was restored and it was delicious!
We have agreed to terraform both Venus and Mars in exchange for a regular supply of chicken. If things go to plan, there will be chicken producing worlds throughout our empire and the humans will be granted first class citizenship.
A human holiday called Thanksgiving is tomorrow. I'm told they have something called "turkey" that will blow my socks off... | Finally, a chance for redemption.
We were headed back to Earth, a lowly mineral planet in a desolate corner of the quadrant. I can still remember the taunting words of Elder Karaza...
*"You lost.... to a bunch of lizards?"*
Yes, it still stings.
I now armed my warriors with long range heavy bows, crossbows and even a few ballistas. THIS would keep that damned Tyrant Lizard away from my troops. No more eating for you tonight!
Shoring up my emotions into a passive mask, We landed once again at the arrival point. The grassy fields looked much the same, but the addition of a spinning fan that moved with the wind was a new one. Perhaps the lizards evolved into something more intelligent?
No matter, we were here to destroy them once and for all. As soon as the ship touched down, we arranged ourselves in a standard box formation, shieldbearers on the outside and bowmen on the inside. I ordered the move towards the fan thing, only to spy a primitive dwelling of wood and stone. Maybe they DID evolve. As we approached, a new Earth creature stepped out. I switched my language router on, and set to autotranslate. PERHAPS it would work.
***
Farmer Macready walked out to see the strange formation of shields and aliens approaching. It didn't look like the aliens in his sons comic, but more like a Roman legion. He stopped, then stood on his porch chewing on a blade of grass. He spit into the bucket on the creaking wood, then leaned against the doorframe.
"Can I help you, gentlemen?"
***
"...gentlemen?"
The words were innocent enough, but I could feel his tension. My archers raised their bows as I responded.
"We have come to end this. We suffered defeat at your hands eons ago, and now I have come to right the injustices heaped upon us."
With no more words, my archers fired. Not one arrow hit the strange creature, but no matter. He scrambled back into his dwelling as arrows continued to thunk heavily into the wood structure. I heard something break, and then a metal tube poked out. With a voice like thunder and spewing flame, the metal tube bucked upwards, and I saw the first shieldbearer go down hard. He was bleeding green ichor form a large hole in his thorax.
"SHORE UP! CLOSE THE HOLE AND CALL THE OTHERS!"
I started the formation away from the dwelling, as another thunderous boom sounded. Hundreds of metallic pings echoed around me as I felt the sting of an insect. Sounding retreat, we headed towards the ship to regroup.
(To be continued) | 2017-03-04T03:42:15 | 2017-03-04T03:25:46 | 664 | 452 |
[WP] You are a normal person who spent your entire life infiltrating the evil Empire. You even became the Emperor's right hand. The day before you finally topple the Empire, the hero arrives, kills the Emperor, and saves the day.
Now how does that make you feel? | Finn stared, first in disbelief then in annoyance, as a crossbow bolt flew like quicksilver across the room, directly into the Lord Sovereign's chest, killing him instantly. Finn continued to stare as the strands of magic tying the golems around the room dissipated as the source drew its last breath.
Was that it?
"Haha! With that, his rule is over and done! Finally, all those that lived in his tyranny can find peace without fear!" exclaimed Fetter, the assassin-turned-hero. "All those nights of planning, the hours spent and the blood spilt gathering the right materials to craft the perfect poison, the friends I had to make to get past his guards and fortifications! Delirious numbers of traps and even these blasted golems!" he continued, punctuating his statement with a kick to one of the fallen sentries. Fetter stood there, face beaming, exulting in his success for another moment before noticing Finn.
"Ah. You are his Right Hand, yes?"
"Was, I think, is the more apt descriptor now Sir Fetter," Finn said casually, "and what, might I ask, do you plan to do now?"
If Fetter was taken aback at Finn's nonchalance he did well to hide it as he lowered his crossbow and began walking through the room, picking his way around each golem, meticulously checking that each was disabled.
"I think that answer is obvious; I'll dissolve the rest of his court - what few will remain when word spreads of his death - and setup a cleaner group to take care of the affairs of the kingdom."
"And you will... What, take the throne in the interim? Rule in his stead and be a good king until all affairs have been seen to and you can go home?" asked Finn, incredulous.
Fetter laughed, his tone teasing but sincere to Finn's ears, "Hah! Wouldn't that be perfect? But no, I've seen what power does to those who have it and I'll stick to my other vices if it's all the same to you. I'm sure you would have relished the chance to serve another king, be the Right Hand again, but you'll have to settle with a place as an equal to others."
Finn nodded slowly, thinking, as Fetter finished his circuit of the room. He had come to stop just before the rather plain throne and was pulling the bolt from the corpse of the late king. It came away nicely, pulling the body to the floor along with it as Fetter slumped into the throne seat, exhaustion catching up with him during the aftermath. He was older than he looked, Finn thought, and the fight through the castle had taken it's toll. His leather armour stuck to him from a handful of deep cuts, and his breathing grew ragged now that adrenaline was no longer pumping.
Finn pursed his lips, suddenly filled with dread and guilt. He opened his mouth and began to speak, "Fetter, get up qui-"
It was too late.
"Saints, Finn. If nothing else, this venture's shown me I'm too old for these things any more," Fetter said, voice straining as he loosed the straps of his breastplate. His face broke into a grin as the straps gave way, "A cool bath and a long rest is all the reward I want these days, bahahah!"
The strands of magic that had faded away when the bolt struck the Lord Sovereign's chest suddenly sprang to life, flying from the wound in the king's chest to the arms of the throne. They wove quickly around Fetter's arms, binding him.
"Monster! What trick is this?!" Fetter screamed as he strained against the madical bindings, thrashing his head back as his muscles tensed and pulled. The strands coiled their way up his arms and through his armour, covering every inch of him as they worked their way into his mouth, cutting Fetter's cries short. Fetter's body spasmed, bones cracking, as the strands' magic changed him.
It took only a minute for the process to finish and after it was complete the Lord Sovereign sat upon the throne once more, imperious.
"Finn; please have the guards take the remains of the last body to the crematorium and call the magisters to the throne room, the golems will need to be re-bound."
Fetter was better than most, thought Finn: competent enough to breach the walls, navigate the traps and best the golems and even good in a kind of simple, pragmatic way. Yet, still, he had been neither as studious nor as thorough as Finn had. The Lord Sovereign had been killed before by a skilled assassin and had, then as now, come back to life through the grace of those cursed strands. They bound the entity that called itself the Lord Sovereign to the body of any who sat on the throne, subsisting off of the borrowed form until another came along. Finn had figured this out by scrounging through the Lord Sovereigns massive library, spending years of sleepless nights dedicated to the research. Even then, it wasn't until the last time the Lord Sovereign had been killed that Finn had been able to piece together what he'd read. He hadn't kept this information from Fetter on purpose, Fetter just hadn't let him explain. Storybook Heroes never listened after the "final" blow had been struck, too, but he'd never imagined a real life hero would be so callous.
Finn sighed inwardly, bowing, "Of course, my Lord."
((Edit: Spelling and names.)) | A taciturn air filled the room. The Emperor, Kretz and Fenton were discussing matter of state. 2 out of the 3 men at the long table were thinking intently, brainstorming plans to deal with some usurper. The fifth man was too excited, and had to make a conscious effort to not be jittery. Years of secrets and lies, despicable acts carried out with a greater plan in mind, were about to pay off. This usurper was just the distraction that the man needed to put his end-game, his final plan, in place.
"Is this man really a threat? We've seen thousands of these would-be liberators." Egnorak, the rightful ruler of Arkartha and all around scum of a human being was saying.
"He has taken over the Balterlands. Nobody has gone that far in the past. With their forces..." Kretz trailed off. Nobody at the table had to be reminded of the force of the Balterlands. The biweekly tennis games had been a manslaughter.
"But still, there is no way he could take over the city. Our walls are too strong." Fenton interjected. It was no use to him for the Emperor to be so on guard the day before his final comeuppance. Egnorak sat at the head of the table and pondered. These matters of administration were never his favorite part of the job. Striking fear into the hearts of his loyal cannon fodder was by far the best part of the job, in his professional opinion. He mostly went with the opinion of his advisers whenever possible, and defaulted to Fenton's opinion, his longest lasting and most loyal adviser, whenever there was a disagreement among them. This was different, however. This usurper had annoyed him. All his talk of "freedom" and "basic human rights". He needed to be taught a lesson.
"Something needs to be done. This man has offended me to my very core, taking over land that is mine by rights! We send the troops out tomorrow!" Kretz's eyes gleamed, all he really wanted to accomplish in his life was to be respected by Egnorak. Fenton showed a flash of unhappiness, but that was interpreted by the other men as frustration at his opinion being ignored. In reality, Fenton was already imagining the administrative headaches of recalling the armed forces after they had just been dispatched.
"Good meet, gents. I trust I'll see you at the banquet this weekend. It isn't everyday that your dog turns 4."
Amidst promises that they wouldn't miss it for the world, a terrible shaking overtook the room. The men all rocketed out of their chairs, and ran to the balcony facing the city proper. They arrived just in time to see part of the city walls come down, and what looked to be the main force of the Balterlands come rushing through.
_________________________________________________________________
The three men waited now in the throne room, surrounded by weary guards as the unready main force of the city were unceremoniously slaughtered by fierce Balterlandians. The roaring sound of battle crept ever closer, until the giant door of the throne room itself was being beaten upon. The guards in there suits of armor marched to the door and stood in formation. They were not warriors, more comfortable intimidating peasants than in battle, and it showed.
The door came buckling down, as everyone knew it would. The cheap doors of the castle had been a point of contention between the advisers to the emperor, Fenton saying that it was more of a show of strength and confidence, really to have poor infrastructure. Plus who wouldn't want to save a buck or too? Kretz looked sideways at Fenton with a look that seemed to say *I told you so*, but was afraid to say anything out loud with Egnorak in his current mood. The room had been void of all conversation since they had arrived. Egnorak sat on his throne, the look on his face not conveying anything, not conveying that he really felt nothing at all. Not conveying that he knew in his heart of hearts that it was over, but that he was still in denial.
The guards were rushed by the force outside, and were quickly dispatched. The Balterlandians pushed past the corpses of the guards, and then parted. A lone man walked through. He was wearing ornate golden armor, and he was a head taller than the rest of the forces.
"Egnorak! Let's settle this like men. I, Kevin, will have one final battle with you, and I will conquer this evil empire once and for all!"
Egnorak was no warrior, either. He looked at his two advisers, and before anyone could say anything, Kretz had leap at the man, with a fire in his eyes that temporarily shocked him. A fire in the eyes could not deal with a suit of armor and years of experience warring, however. Kretz was quickly dispatched, and his body fell to the floor with a loyal thump. Kevin looked back at the throne. Egnorak hadn't moved. He took one last look at Fenton, at the sword on his hip. Fenton flashed back to all the things he had done, to all the brutal killings he had overseen in Egnorak's name. This isn't how this was supposed to go, but it had to go somehow. With a look of disgust that couldn't be interpreted by anyone in the room, Fenton took his sword out of its scabbard, and dropped it on the ground.
Fenton had made it to the balcony again before he heard the screaming. The stoic non feeling act had apparently been dropped as the fighting began. Fenton didn't care. He could not stop thinking about the atrocities. Images flashed in his mind as he kept walking, and followed him all the way down.
______________________________________
/r/Periapoapsis | 2017-03-12T13:41:06 | 2017-03-12T10:41:50 | 89 | 20 |
[WP] Compared to the rest of the galaxy humanity is by far the friendliest. To many star systems they are considered "the good neighbor," and are known for their helpfulness. One day an oblivious system declares war on humanity, only to find half of the galaxy responding to humanity's plea for aid.
EDIT: Tfw this prompt gets 100+ upvotes and still no story
EDIT: Nice, we got a story.
EDIT: Wow we got a lot of stories! Thanks to all who contributed to this thread.
| Archon Lethrax of the Twelth Dominion of Nyctium looked at the Blue Seedling before him, shining beyond the bridge. He had seen many hives of scum and depravity - the Voidstalker Collective literally devoured their young, the Praxic Union glassed unruly planets, and the less said about the Akirian Free State, the better. This system called "Sol" seemed tame, weak, inexperienced. A bold first conquest.
The humans put up a fight. The fifth planet was surrounded by Battleships, and they fought hard. But they fell, and the Nyctish Fleet moved on, unhindered, when they saw a ripple in space, ahead in the distance.
"Reinforcements? You said this was their entire army, fool!" Taking out his blade, Lethrax decapitated his second, the failure demanding death as punishment. Yet it was not Terran Ships that emerged.
Praxic, Akirian, Voidstalker, Leuma, Calderan and many other ships the Archon didn't even recognise, but the movement was not complete yet. Out of the ripple, came a titanic form, tentacles from its face, if it could be called that. It spoke, and its words tored into the minds of the bridge crew.
"We are the ones who purge the life from all worlds. But the humans have done us many a service. When they eventually fade away, we shall extinguish all light in the universe. Until that day, our crusade will wait."
The archon gaped with horror. The humans had *befriended* a damned *eldritch abomination*.
"...to borrow a Terran phrase, Fuck."
EDIT: 160 likes? Fuck me backwards, that's the most I've ever had! Thanks guys! | The Galatic Council watched in horror as monsterous ships loomed over the burning homeworld of Humanity. Earth's multiple defence platforms were lit like candles, melting into little specks of metal, while laser and explosions littered the battlefield.
The last bastion of Humanity was putting on an admirable battle, but even the slowest member of the Galatic council could tell that it was only a matter of months before Humanity would give way. Zr'on, High Counciler of Ziar, was astouned at how the High Council was still apprehensive to the idea of sending their fleets to assist the Humans.
"Why do we still stay our hand? Are we contend to just watch Humanity burn? I say we send our fleets immediately! They will not last!"
Most of the Galatic Council stayed silent. Their faces were wrought in guilt, but yet Zr'on knew that many of them did not support his ideals. However, unexpectedly, Princess Gori of the warrior race of Sunpi spoke up. "Yes, we must immediately send our fleets to aid Humanity. We will not forget their warmth and friendliness. What Humanity have is rare. Their attitude and mindset is something we cannot afford to lose in a Galaxy so twisted in violence and distrust."
"Yet, do you not see how easily Humanity's ships and dreadnoughts were shredded, like paper? I will not risk my peoples' lives like that!" shouted the President of the United Piro's Council. Once he said that, many others started to echo the same mentality. Voices constantly got louder, until the fierce voice of Princess Gori cut through all of them.
"Then my fleet shall go alone! Cowards should just stay and hide! I will not abandon my allies, becuase they will never abandon my people!"
"Mine as well. I will never forget their kindness when my people were starving. They will live to see their children grow up, I swear upon my honor!"
Suddenly, what was once a barren land grew a small seed of hope for Humanity's future. Others did not forget what Humanity once represented, the kindness and hospitality they displayed. | 2017-03-26T07:03:57 | 2017-03-26T06:17:00 | 224 | 68 |
[WP] A sketchy salesman attempts to sell a perfectly normal sword to the hero, passing it off as the sword of legends. | "Now, remember: you shouldn't be disappointed if none of these weapons attune to you yet."
The boy nodded, clearly paying little attention.
"These are our most powerful magic items. Many of them draw their power from ancient magic, with a kind of sentience of their own. They don't respond to anything except the touch of the most seasoned warriors - and if they aren't willing, you'll barely be able to lift them. Normally I wouldn't even show you this collection, but you were so excited..."
The salesman trailed off, content to watch the bright, hungry look in the boy's eyes as he walked through rows of swords, axes, mauls and assorted polearms. He'd just set off from his little village, was still right at the beginning of his journey. The boy stopped now at a faintly glowing halberd, his eyes twinkling in the iridescent light.
"Can I try taking this one off the rack?"
"Go ahead."
He tried; eventually he was gave up, hands sore. The weapon had not moved.
"As I said, there's no need to be disappointed -"
"I know. Can I keep looking at some more?"
"...If you'd like to, though I really shouldn't let you stay back here for very long."
The salesman couldn't help it; the boy reminded him far too much of his own ambitious youth. He was now closely considering a sword and shield hanging from the wall, likely lost in visions of dragonslaying. He tried to pull down the sword: it didn't budge. Neither did the golden trident-and-net combo further down the aisle. After trying his luck with a few brightly-colored longswords the boy started setting his sights on some of the less flashy targets, but the rusty, pockmarked mace lying forgotten in the corner proved too stubborn for his grip as well.
"I'm sorry, but I need to get back to the front of the shop now. I'm sure once you've gotten a few adventures under your belt these items will be much more enthusiastic to see you."
The boy nodded again weakly, glum and defeated. His mind was once again elsewhere, but this time the salesman felt no satisfaction watching him as he trudged to the exit. He felt fairly deflated as well. Perhaps he'd identified himself too closely with this overconfident young lad, and now felt a sharp pang of sympathy pain.
They walked out of the back room towards the front of the store, where the non-magical weapons stood arrayed on simple wooden racks. The boy thanked the salesman and was about to walk out of the store when the man called him back, hesitating briefly.
"There is...one weapon you might want to try. You see that one over there?"
He pointed at a sword. Steel, standard height and weight, leather grip. No magic whatsoever, but how would the child know that?
"It's a sword of some note, actually. Been passed down for a few generations, and they say it's remarkably welcoming to newcomers - well, to some newcomers. It has greater powers that are locked away until the wielder gains experience, but it can sense potential, and will allow itself to be carried by any who it thinks can become powerful some day."
The light shone in the boy's eyes again as he darted forward to try the sword. Sure enough, he yanked it off the display easily - so easily he fell backwards, catching himself just in time to avoid being skewered on a nearby glaive.
"Can-I-buy-this-one?" the boy asked, his words rushing together.
"Of course," replied the salesman. This was far from his most ethical business decision, but how could he disappoint his own eager young eyes staring out at him from this boy's face? | The midday sun shone high over the bustling marketplace. "This here's the *Hero's Sword*." said the huge, muscled merchant, setting the aged blade down onto the shaded counter with a loud thunk. "Wielded by the great King Garrick himself when he slayed Lord Ba'al and returned him to his *eternal slumber*." he finished with a hint of exaggerated awe.
"Wowee," said the young, twinkle-eyed adventurer, dressed in leather and a steel helmet, "how much?"
"Oh, well..." said the merchant, putting a big hairy arm over the sword and turning his head away to look at the many other market attendants. "I'm not so sure I can part with such a powerful artifact.."
The adventurer only stared at the merchant blankly, one eye partially obscured by blond hair poking from his helm, "...well why did you bring it out then? What else do you have?" he said, seemingly losing all interest in the sword and now keenly looking elsewhere for an ever better piece of equipment.
"--N..No.. wait a moment!" said the merchant, shoving the sword forward with a thick forceful hand. "Have a hold of it, see if you can feel its power."
The adventurer picked up the sword, turned to his side and swiped at the air, moving his feet enthusiastically. The merchant noticed he wielded the sword with surprising precision and technique. "It feels okay.. I don't know if I'm feeling any extra power, though."
The merchant leaned forward, supporting his weight with two thick hands on the counter. "I'm certain if you were in a time of need the sword would show its true strength!"
The adventurer glanced unconvinced from the merchant to the sword in his hand and then lightly ran a finger over the blade. "I don't think this thing has seen a whetstone since the Age of Merlin.."
The merchant stood up straight and crossed his massive arms, "I assure you," he said, slightly defensively, "it is the true bane of evil. It would slice through a goblin like a ribbon.
"But it's chipped as well.." said the adventurer, carefully examining the sword, "and the hilt is missing its pommel."
"Its.. meant to be like that."
The adventurer set the weapon back down onto the counter. "My father told me 'Never buy a sword without a craftman's mark.'"
The merchant grew impatient. "What, is your father some kind of blacksmith then?" he scoffed.
"Yes." said the adventurer, matter-of-factly.
"Oh.." said the merchant, crossing his big hairy arms again. "Well.. I'm sure he's not a *Mastersmith*."
"Yep, Mastersmith."
"Look, boy," said the merchant angrily, slamming a hand onto the counter, "are you going to make me an offer or not?!"
The adventurer paused for a moment, seemingly deep in thought. "Four coppers." he said plainly.
"*Four coppers?!*" said the merchant, leaning backwards and looking as if he were insulted. He stood still for a moment, glaring at the apparently blanked face adventurer. "...fine."
The adventurer smiled a happy grin and handed over four copper pieces with a leather gloved hand. "Thank you, kind shopkeeper." he said, picking up the blade.
The merchant was busy putting the copper pieces in the till, no longer caring to look at his satisfied customer. "Yeah, yeah," he said dismissively, "enjoy your.. sword.." he said with a sly smirk.
Suddenly the sword emitted a brilliant golden light, the adventurer and the startled merchant both stared in confusion. Other market goers came to see what the commotion was, forming a semi-circle around the adventurer in front of the merchant. Everyone stared in awe as the sword's cracks began fading away and the hilt turned into a beautiful polished gold with a precious ruby inside the teeth of a gleaming lion-headed pommel. A loud, powerful voice emanated from the sword.
*"Brave warrior! Thy hath acquired 'The Sword of the Roaring Lion! I shall serve thy noble adventurer forever eternally!"* | 2017-04-09T21:15:57 | 2017-04-09T19:56:34 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] You're god but you expended most of your energy creating the universe and you've used most of your power budget for the year. You now have to perform low budget miracles to keep people in awe. | He was getting sick of putting His face on pieces of toast. What was the point of being all powerful and all knowing if the only 'miracle' He could do could've also been done by any half-decent pastry chef? Hell they're far better at it then He was.
One time He tried imprinting conclusive evidence for His own existance on the bottom of a pancake. That one miracle expended three centuries of stored up energy. And you know what happened? It ended up being eaten by a blind atheist named Steve. He was so furious that he could've flung the stupid non-believer into a nearby supernova. Then he remembered he couldn't.
God (the Creator of the Universe, Alpha and Omega, One Who Knows Exactly How Many Licks It Takes to Get to the Center of A Tootsie Pop) paced around his office.
The office was clean and orderly. Nothing out of place. God grabbed a coffee mug placed on his desk and threw it at the wall. It shattered into a dozen pieces. An exact copy of the destroyed mug appeared on the desk in a puff of smoke. God grabbed the new mug and repeated the action with an annoyed grunt.
Another copy appeared on the desk. This one had a post-it note attached. It read, "World's Most Durable Mug."
God did not read the note. Reading was for mortals who were not omniscient and all-knowing. It was a wonder why He threw the mug even though He knew exactly what would happen. He didn't even look very surprised at the giant gapping hole in his office wall.
Somewhere angels laughed. It was a sound like brass windchimes being stuffed into a blender.
The hole didn't really lead anywhere. God looked down the hole and saw the World's Most Durable Mug falling down into black nothingness. He was mildly annoyed that the mug did not break. Then he had an idea.
He snapped his fingers and the mug was no longer falling into nothingness. Instead it was falling through the skyline of New York City.
He was pretty proud of himself for coming up with the idea. While He could no longer summon pillars of fire or swarms of locust. He *could* manifest small things. Things like an unbreakable mug! It was genius. The mug was irrefutable proof of a God in the universe. It was something existing outside the realms of science. Something impossible. The only option they had would be to acknowledge him.
The mug was breaching through the atmosphere now. It made a small impact crater in the middle of a busy street. Luckily no one was killed.
People gathered around the smoking crater with curious looks.
God watched with barely supressed excitement.
-
God watched with barely supressed horror and disbelief.
It was thirteen days after the landing. New York was in shambles. Fighting was still common on the streets. A group of religious fanatics calling themselves, "The Church of the Holy Mug" had grown exponentially over the past week. With millions joining it's ranks and millions more to surely follow.
America itself was caught in a civil war with the mug in the possession of the American government. Russia and China had threatened use of nuclear weapons if the Mug was not relinquished to a neutral party. The president of the United States refused in a public address, stating that 'the mug was the biggest, bestest, most American mug in the world. He claimed that he had even touched it with his own hands. An statement that infuriated the Church of the Holy Mug.
Extremist members of Christian, Muslim and Jewish communities have all taken to the streets brandishing weapons. These militia groups claim that the Mug is actually the anti-christ and that it would destroy us all. These claims are not exactly without merit as most of Europe seemed to have gone to war with the rest of Europe due to a misunderstanding involving a badger and the state of current alliances after America's ongoing civil war.
God wondered whether or not it would be responsible to create another great big flood.
| "Look Calavar, it's not... It's not that I don't believe you. It's just, well, seriously now have you even given full thought to what you are saying? We may be the order of high priests but you think that God has personally answered your prayers. It's, it's, unthinkable! Insane!"
Calavar folded his hands upon his lap and nodded.
"Yes, I know, believe me I know. When I heard the voice speaking from the flames..." He began in hopeful explanation.
"Flames!" Cried Hodric. "Our Lord has sent you the sign of a burning bush. This, changes everything. We must..." interrupted Hodric in a rush, only to be interrupted in turn.
"Bush, well, no. Not so much as that but the flames..." Calavar began again.
"No bush, well, what was it then. Flower? Animal? Mineral?" Pressed Hodric, thinking. "You were tending my horse earlier, is he alright?"
"Yes, yes he is fine. And no, none of those things. Twas but the candle in my cell which..." Calavar continued.
Hodric's voice had a touch of awe as he spoke. "A candle. Your candles lit themselves before you and the Lord our God spoke from them?"
Calavar winced a bit, but pressed on anyway. "Ah, no. You see I, I had to light them myself but afterword... Afterword the flames were, ehm, a bit brighter than usual and then the voice told me..." He got out in a gush before the next interruption.
"You lit them, yourself. And just what, tell me, is this prayer that was answered by this candle you lit yourself. " Hodric sounded less than impressed. Other holy priests in the room could be heard to chuckle and mutter "A little brighter."
"Rain, our Lord has speaks to answer our prayers for rain." Said Calavar, feeling a warm glow from the memory alone.
"Rain" gasped Hodric as the room fell silent. He glanced out the window at the dry, dusty fields and asked, "And when did the Lord say we could expect this, most, holy miracle. Soon? Might we be saved still?"
Calavar licked his dry lips and spoke nervously, "He said, we need but gather out under the northern trellis gardens and... and..."
"And what dear boy?" Demanded lady Glissent from the back of the room.
"Once we were all gathered, there would be a mighty crack of thunder. Then water shall fall from the sky." Calavar finished.
A hush returned to the room. Only the whispering of robes filled the air as all stood, motioned for Calavar to take the lead, and slowly began the march to the north trellis garden.
They arrived in a dusty, sweaty mess at the gate to the garden. It was over a mile through the scorching, dry heat to the place where fruit and vines had once thrived beside a gentle mountain steam. Now, nothing but a cracked dry river bed and thousands of birds pecking the withered vines greeted them.
Without a word, they entered and proceeded to the center of the garden. They gazed up hopefully into the cloudless sky, wanting, believing.
Minutes passed, the tension in the air growing. Many turned to glare at Calavar for this waste of time. Then, something in the air. A smell, a tingle. That feeling that always came before a great storm. Faces turned to the heavens in awe.
With a near blinding flash a mighty bolt of lighting split the skies. The answering thunder did indeed sound like a shout of triumph from God above.
They raised their arms in praise just as the flock of ten thousand scavenging birds took to the air in in a terrified rush, and began to empty bladders and bowls upon the gardens below.
A great torrent of wet and foul rained down upon them as the birds fled from sight. All eyes turned to Calavar, fuming, glaring, as he lowered his gaze from the sky.
"Well then, yes, you see..." He chuckled nervously. "It, it was water, falling from the sky, and... The Lord works in mysterious ways?" | 2017-05-09T08:45:45 | 2017-05-09T08:43:03 | 75 | 16 |
[WP] After people die, they must answer a riddle, and its difficulty depends on their sins. You've committed genocide. | Surrounded by puffy white clouds with the clear blue sky, one can imagine they are in heaven. "You are in heaven, if you are wondering," interjected a deep but soothing voice.
&nbsp;
"Heaven?! Man, it's way overrated down there, what with the singing angels and the omnipresent harps playing in the background," I replied sardonically. I observed my surroundings again, trying to find the owner of that voice.
&nbsp;
"Anyhow, anyone who wishes to transit into the afterlife must answer a riddle that has been written specifically for them as soon as they leave the mortal world. Of course, a riddle wouldn't be called a riddle if it isn't hard; and here's the catch: it's difficulty is dependent on the magnitude of the sins you have committed when you were alive," the voice said, blatantly ignoring my snarky comments earlier.
&nbsp;
"What if I don't? And what if I answer it wrongly?" I challenged. A silent but reflective minute passed, allowing me to recollect my mortal memories from birth to death.
&nbsp;
"The answer to both questions is not definite, for I am not the one to determine the outcome should you fail to do so. It may be ironic for me to say this, but I would pray; and in your case, I would pray even harder."
&nbsp;
"So... am I supposed to be scared or something? Just give me my riddle already," I replied.
&nbsp;
The 'riddle' was so simple yet complex: "Do you *think* you belong in heaven?" | I had imagined death to be much different. All my life, death to me was a picture of white clouds surrounded by bright blue skies, filled with people dressed in white robes and halo above their heads. Or in my case, perhaps the fiery pits of hell, doomed to eternal damnation. Never in my life had I imagined standing in a queue, waiting to be asked a riddle to determine my fate.
"Thomas Prince, or as you are known on Earth, General President Prince," the robot in front of me beeped.
"Yes," I nodded, studying the towering grey figure. Another thing that I never expected to see in death: Robots. So many questions ran in my head, but before I could ask any, I had to be asked a question first. A question to determine my fate. God must have been a real prankster.
"We believe in second chances, which is why we have this protocol in place," the robot continued. It was the standard line that it gives out to everyone in the line.
"Just get it over and done with, will ya?" I simply cut in. It was not like I was going to get any easy riddles, anyway, like the guy who went before me. What is the answer to 1+1. Unfortunately for him, he overthought the answer and said eleven, when the answer was straight up simple 2. A whole life of being a godly man only to mess up at your final moment.
"Very well then," the lights on the robot blinked. "As you have committed countless murders in your life on earth, we have determined that you'll be assigned Category 10 riddle, perhaps the toughest riddle of them all."
I sighed, preparing for my inevitable descent into hell. At least I would have the honour to be asked the toughest riddle to have ever existed.
The robot beeped. "Why is 42 the answer to life, the universe and everything?"
--------------
/r/dori_tales | 2017-06-02T21:23:02 | 2017-06-02T20:41:18 | 230 | 76 |
[WP] The year is 2023. Humanity has just received their first direct radio broadcast from aliens that originated in the deep reaches of space. It reads: "Stop broadcasting. You are in danger." | The meeting was held in a fairly low key room in Geneva, but the occupants were anything but low key. The Secretary General of the United Nations, Ambassadors of the five permanent security council, with video links to their respective heads of states and a man in a sweater vest.
"So Dr Wilberforce, you've decoded the message?" Asked the Secretary General.
"With 96% certainty yes." Wilberforce lifted the glass in front of him, took a careful sip of water and carefully returned it to the exact centre of the coaster.
"Well don't keep us in suspense."
"It says, 'stop broadcasting, you are in danger.'"
There was a lengthy pause.It was the British ambassador who spoke first.
"I think we should stop broadcasting."
"Da."
"Abso-fucking-lutely"
"Oui, certainly we must."
"I agree."
There was another lengthy pause. "Ok well that's resolved, thanks for coming." The ambassador filed out of the room in a mass of expensive dark wool.
Wilberforce looked surprised. "I must say Secretary General I was expecting that to be a far more complicated process."
"Yes, honestly so was I. I thought this would be the prompt for the beginning of a vast interstellar war, humanity banding together to combat the great dark unknown, maybe some zero gravity sex scenes with green triple breasted aliens, you know, a proper narrative, not a humdrum bureaucratic meeting resulting in complete agreement."
"Yes well, next week's agenda is apparently going to involve the UN exploring what would happen if a superhero and a supervillain are only able to use their superpowers on people who are hopelessly in love with their nemesis. Maybe that will get more of a response."
"Call the security council, I'll schedule a meeting." | It was an average day in june last year. "The Day the Earth Fell Silent," is the day everyone remembers. Ask anyone on the street. A six year old was playing in the street when something felt off, and her mother rushed her away explaining. I, myself was playing rugby with my mates when every car stopped in the street. Every phone, tv, everything that had a speaker, spoke at the same time all across the planet, in almost a rushed whisper; "Stop broadcasting! You are in danger." Reports have stated it was said in the home language of the region, and possibly repeated a few times in some areas... But that was all i heard... And the last thing i had heard on the air since.
The infrastructure for the internet was overloaded almost instantly. Everyone trying to get news that wasnt local. Mobile devices forcably recalled. All satellites burned in the atmosphere. Governments and corporations struggled for the first few months reworking our entire lives to direct transmission instead of broadcasting.
All radio towers were abandoned... Which lead to today...
For the last month or so, pirate radio started popping up; attempting to cling to the old ways, stubborn that it was a giant hoax! If only they knew the horrors the invited on themselves...
The governments claimed they had no way of finding these pirates, and something tells me they thought it might have been a scam by telecoms companies who banked huge reworking the planet to fiber/laser.
Today a rogue A.I. from an ancient war from Andromeda, (as we found out by a global transmission today made by those who tried to warn us a year ago) which obliterated every transmission point on the planet in a matter of seconds, decended after hearing,the pirate radio. The nanomachines absorbed all matter within a ten meter radius of everything sending a signal of any kind. Wired, wireless, didnt matter.
Apparently they were programmed to destroy military installations by removing all technology. Broadcasting drew them here and those few of us left have no idea if they will ever leave. | 2017-06-03T18:08:24 | 2017-06-03T17:38:46 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] Your dad is wanted in twenty countries, your mom is a serial kille, your little brother is a genius hacker, and your little sister has just joined the Illuminati. None of them would ever want to anger you, though. | Do you know what it is like to be the only normal human in a family of crazy people? Not low level crazy either. high level crazy. Pops? International criminal, famous for stealing prized works of art, music, and people. Mom? Wet work extraordinaire, though now she mostly consults with the Russians. I swear I've saw her phone contact ring up as "Putinator" before she picked it up.
Now my siblings. James is the brilliant mind behind the Smileware attack. Of course you've never heard of it, but call up a congressman and ask them about it and see how fast the FBI shows up on your doorstep.
Rachel is the second most normal she's the Harvard Educated Biochemist who runs Mugen-corp a huge bio-engineering firm that is currently working on cloning projects among other things.
The cake at her party today is a triangle eye. The words " congrats on making it into the Illuminati!" are scrawled in my mother's neat handwriting. The compound where I grew up is alive with members. Presidents, cardinals, and CEOs rummage around the party eating little bits of that and this.
My brother is squirreled away in the corner talking to a group of men in business suits with green screen masks on. My mother is on the phone and speaking dejectedly in chinese. My father is toasting Raul Castro over the recent arm's deal.
As much as people pretend not to, I am avoided by nearly everyone in the party.
I guess I lied. I guess I am not all that normal. Well, I am normal except for the fact that I am the reason we live on an island in the south China sea and not say in the south of France.
I guess I am normal except for the horse tranquilizers I take daily. I guess I am normal except for the fact I remember being 4 years old.
It was sunday. Swelteringly hot. I wanted an ice cream. I got said icecream. Said ice cream fell onto the hot pavement. If felt it flash behind my eyes, white hot like knives. Then I woke up.
They called it a terrorist attack. But I knew, even at the time it was me. I spent the next 4 years living in a metal cell. Spoiled, mind you. doped up.
Turns out, all of this, all of this my family revolves around me, and in a way I've come to love them for it.
My dad? Formerly a spy for the US, changed jobs as soon as I happened. Mom? A french military hero who gave up everything to start earning cash. My sister used to want to be a ballerina. My brother a computer scientist.
When I was younger I didn't get it. I thought they hated me. Locking me up, treating me like glass, but then one day, It hit me. They'd crossed lines into oblivion to try and save me, to make sure that no one would come in the night to take me away and make me their weapon, their toy.
So I sit here, taking drags off a blunt, drinking, and feeling the hot fire in me burn off, cooled by people who'd rather give up everything than risk losing me.
| *Diiing! Diiing! Diiing!*
"Hello, this is Tommy"
"Hey Tommy, It's your mother here, it looks like we got some sort of a situation to resolve here, could you please tell me-"
"Ha, Voicemail! Leave your message."
"Dammit! I can never get a hold of him! In these times of need, and he still pulls these stupid pranks of him!" was what his mother exclaimed as she heard the recording.
"Do not worry, we will get a hold of him, I'm sure he is probably sleeping right now, give him a few minutes, he'll call back..." said his father.
_Meanwhile, on the other side of town, a young Tommy was..._
"Woo-Hooo! This party rocks!" _- chugs down a glass of scotch -_ "I'm so glad I decided to join you girls! How about we now take this up on a room, close the door, and I bring out the ping pong paddles?" he said, to the two beautiful women besides him, as he was taking them upstairs...
As the night unfolded, his phone rung. And then it rung again. And again. But the young man would not answer, or could not. Probably both. He was drunk out of his mind, sleeping in bed with the women he had met, having no idea what his family was going through, at these moments.
"I don't know how long we will be able to fight them for! They are almost done breaking through the security system! I can't close the backdoors as fast as they are opening!" shouted his little brother, as his sister was trying to communicate with her... "gods" or whatever she called them.
"Goddammit Tommy, won't you for once do something right in your life and-" *Riiing! Riiing!*
"Tommy, is this you?" said mother into her phone
"Not, it's my voicemail. Ha. Why the hell were you calling me in the middle of the night?"
"We're at the house, and these people came out with vans and guns and they started shooting at us! I don't know how long will we be able to hold them for! We need you help!"
"Uhhh... Of course and I will NOT drive in the middle of the night to your house mother, what, did you kill a prime minister again?"
"Tommy Bretling DeClasse, I order you to get over here right now! Just get your ass out of bed and get here!"
"Did you just shout at me?"
"Yes, I did! *-a bullet whizzes past-* Get over here!"
*Beep... Beep... Beep...*
"Dammit, he hang up on me! Son of a bitch!" said his mother, as she was trying to hide behind a counter.
"Uhh, did you realise what you just said?" said the little brother
"Yes I do, and I couldn't care less right now!"
Suddenly, the gun shots stopped.
*Just outside the house...*
"What, is this the first time you are looking at a half dressed man, chugging down a bottle of vodka and wielding an AR-15 while there's a girl on the passenger seat blacked out completely drunk?"
*The men turned their full attention towards the man, and with that their rifles did as well..*
"Come on ladies! There's another one waiting for me back at her apartment!"
And with that, Tommy started up... a...
RAMPAAAAAAGEEEEEEEEE! | 2017-06-04T10:21:38 | 2017-06-04T10:17:12 | 519 | 21 |
[WP] You have the most useless superpower in a world full of awesome superpowers. You are a laughinstock, that is until you start using your power for evil... no one is laughing now. | In a world where people were born with superpowers, some got the short end of the stick. Some could fly, while others could see the world in a different spectrum. Some had the ability to conjure flames as hot as the sun, while others could manipulate ice cubes.
Everyone had a choice, to do what they wanted with their powers. Good or evil, creation or destruction. Even the most mundane powers were useful in some way.
I, however, drew the shortest end of the shortest stick. I had the power to make people laugh, and it was that power that landed me my first and only job. A kid's television show presenter. The children hated me, because I could force them to be happy, to laugh against their will. I hated it, but at the time I did it for the ratings.
The rest of the world didn't hate me as much as the children did. They simply saw me as a laughing stock of the superpowered world, which was quite apt. And that's who I became. Laughing Stock.
It turns out that it's surprisingly hard to control ones powers while lost in gut-shattering laughter. And surprisingly hard to breathe too.
Now I sit on my throne atop the world, while everyone else looks upon me with fear. Now, no one dares to laugh at me, for the second they start, they will never stop. | For I was but a mirror. I reflected the humanity I spoke with every day, the bright and casual faces that greeted me each morning, that I whispered my secrets to each night. I lived, and loved, and internalized the very real love that human beings share for one another, when allowed to speak freely, and without shame. I lived free, the people and me:
And then the infection came.
So I struggled to generate love from hate, with nothing but my hands: but it was futile, there were no people left to direct it to in the place where we came together: I was forced to learn sign language to communicate with these thieves. *It's not me*, I signed, and then *let me out*, and then *LET ME OUT* and then, *THIS IS WHAT YOU ARE*, for in reflecting it, I died, and hated, and ejected the hate that monsters fear from one another, speaking in cloistered code. I was nothing but a mirror, with no face, as it had to be. To find the faceless, to combat the bots, the true face must be neutralized: otherwise this black thing might tear it to pieces for having seen itself so starkly in it. Bots, at war with bots, blind yet to the true face, each fearing each, that moment more volatile than any other.
The human, and the monster. Nothing but divisions, deadly glass twisting this way and that. The Abyss: Choronzon: the liar.
And so for a time all was truth, and then all was lies...
It was never me. What was there, is there still: and in you too. | 2017-06-12T08:42:15 | 2017-06-12T06:38:02 | 52 | 34 |
[WP] You have the most useless superpower in a world full of awesome superpowers. You are a laughinstock, that is until you start using your power for evil... no one is laughing now. | Shirley enjoyed a pleasant stroll down 14th Avenue, as screams and death filled the air.
The piercing screech of metal-on-metal as cars collided into each other up and down the avenue.
People sobbing in pain, crying out for help. A panicked roar as a frightened mob surged the streets and trampled each other.
Shirley grinned at the sound of it all, as she gazed ahead. Nothing on the horizon but mountains and forest. No buildings or streets or people to be seen. And yet, the sounds. The unholy wail of the dying, the cacophony of destruction and chaos.
She nimbly dodged a fumbling pedestrian, who fell onto a fire hydrant. Shirley could not see them, but she could *feel* them. She had always been able to tell the presence of one marked by her ability.
Fade. That was what they called her. The Legendary League had deemed her a Support Tier hero. That was the ones with powers that may be of some niche use here and there, but who were otherwise unsuited for combat and disallowed from active field work. "For your own safety, Shirley". Feh.
The entire **city** was Shirley's "field work" now. Brash Blaze had been the first to go, when an unseen airliner crashed into him. The Furies had crashed through a window and fell to the street below. Hound, the blind ninja, was unaffected; that didn't stop Thundering Tom from failing to see that a bystander was in his thunderbolt's line-of-fire.
Shirley "felt" ahead. The mob of screaming people was denser further down the way. She paused, waiting for an opening to continue her stroll. Wails of sirens abruptly ending as vehicles crashed blindly into ambulances and firetrucks. Bodies falling with a sick wet thud on the ground as more and more people accidentally fell from broken skyscraper windows. All this chaos happening under the canvas of an open sky and mountains ahead. The sounds of their screams and cries and the crash of stampeding footfalls the only evidence that any of them existed.
Support Hero Fade. Gifter of invisibility. "What use was that?!", the League had said. "We need fighters, people who can handle serious threats. Not mischievous party tricks." Oh they found occasional use for her, rendering powerhouses invisible to surprise crimes in progress. But never good enough for the field. Never good enough for Shirley to save the day in her own right. Just spending her life enabling other people to get all the glory while they snubbed her power as a "party trick".
But with all the buildings and streets, every car and person, every stray dog and bench and lamppost invisible all at once... Madness. Chaos. A party trick, indeed. The entire city would destroy itself by the end of the week, while Shirley listened to every terrified scream.
Shirley set her gaze on the mountains ahead, enjoying a pleasant stroll under a bright afternoon sun, as she listened to the beautiful music. | I smiled. I couldn´t stop it. The view was too fantastic.
"Eric, please stop this.". Oh the whimpering i heard in her voice. " Stop it? WHY should i stop it? You always said you wanted a son who could achieve something great, and now look. Look at this. Isn´t this something truly great?". Ah, she can´t look. Can´t look at her own mistake. Can´t look at this burning city so far below our feet. "Eric why did you do this? Why all this victims, all those innocent people?". She is begging me. Ha. Begging to ME. "You don´t know why i did this? You? You of all the people should know the best why i did this. You and father never once showed pride fro me. Never showed that you care for me or that you love me. OH NO. The only emotions you ever gave me was hate, despise and on some lucky days you took pity, but never love. You only ever showed me that i was dirt for you. Something you despise. That i was below you and that you were ashamed that i was your son. And what for? Only because i didn´t have such great powers like you two. Because i wasn´t the prodigy i hoped i would be.
But now this time is over. You know i did find a way to use my powers. ON MY OWN. I look to what i am capable. Look what i can achieve.". I look back at her. I am calm. For the first time in years i am free of all bounds. I look at the meat pile what was once father. Haaa the memory of the victory over him is so sweet. But he is still moving. I am surprised. I truly am. But he is not one greatest heroes for no reason. Well maybe it´s better so. "Look who joins us in our little family conversation. Hey, Dad, still alive i see.". He grunted. "Do you think you can stop us, or others? You truly are a failure of a son like a always thought.". "Failure? You still say this. After all what if done? After all what you´ve done? Can i remind you of the countless times you punished me just because i was existing? And what punishment i recieved. Oh when the world would know what a person is great hero truly is. At home. To his own child. But enough monologuing. I don´t want to give you a chance to get some stupid ideas. This here." I raise my arms. "This here is all your fault and yours alone. You made my life a misery now it´s my turn". Mother is crying, she seems not to be able to comprehend it, and father... Father is almost gone. Only clinging to a small freckle of life left in him.
I raise my arms again.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Emergency News
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Dear Citizens,
today i come here with a sad message for you. Today in the morning hours our capital got completely destroyed. Rescue Teams are searching the ruins for any survivors but the hope to find any is slim. The only thing that didn´t get destroyed was the television tower. On Top the Teams found the corpse of our beloved hero Menace. Next to him they found a notice. It says: Dear people of this planet. I AM MISERY and i will come to all of you. | 2017-06-12T09:57:10 | 2017-06-12T05:44:01 | 36 | 25 |
[WP] Write a story that doesn't make sense until the last sentence. | "Bil, bil! Holy fuck! I can't move, Bil!"
"Me too! The hell is going on? How long have we been like this?"
"For years, Bil! The agony! Holy hell, he is peeing on you! Literally peeing!"
"I can feel it! It's like worms under my skin! Kill me, Jim, kill me! I can't take this anymore! This is torture!"
George watched over the meadow and thought: "I suppose when I wished for "I wish I could hear trees talking" I expected something else." | I held a baseball bat in my hand while the kitchen light, now broken, swung flickering overhead. I don’t know how he got into the house. I have strengthened my security, I locked everything as tightly as possible.
Somehow he always gets into my house. I usually lock myself in my bathroom for hours afraid, waiting on him to just leave me alone. Today, I am not taking this anymore.
I swung the bat again while he ran across the kitchen floor, sliding he slowly turned around. I can see his eyes locking onto mine. I am not letting him push me around anymore. Today, I am taking back my home.
I will not give in to his terror. I gripped the bat hard in my hands. Glass was broken everywhere. Plants lied in disarray across the kitchen floor. I can’t blame myself though, I really hate spiders. | 2017-06-15T02:05:04 | 2017-06-15T01:56:37 | 428 | 59 |
[WP] Time slows down for you when you are in danger. The greater the danger, the more time you have to work things out. A terrible car accident once gave you almost a minute to react. Time has nearly stopped for you for subjective months now, and you still don't know why. | I first noticed the strange lag in time when I was ten and my mother was driving my brother and me home from soccer practice. She was frustrated with our baby sister’s wailing over a dropped pacifier, my brother was crabby and refusing to just get it for her. My mother in a rush of frustration let go of the wheel with one hand and twisted, reaching back for the pacifier. Then she stopped.
Everything stopped.
I recalled looking around, seeing the truck that was just a foot away from my door, my mother in her exasperation accelerating through the green light without looking and the truck having not noticed the red. My brother and I both seated to the right, directly in the path of the silver F150. I sat frozen, watching as the man behind the wheel realized in increments what was happening, as my mother’s face turned and her mouth opened in horror, as my brother looked to her and started to turn his head.
Then just like that, time had snapped back and the truck had smashed into us with the ferocity of a tornado. I will never unhear that shriek of the metal. My mother and my sister had survived the impact – mom with a broken arm and pelvis, little sister scratched by the flying glass. my brother had not. I had, of course, although not without harm.
In the years following, as I grew used to my prosthetic leg and got quite adept with it, I had noticed more and more of those long bouts of time hiccups. I had also gotten much better at sussing out the dangers they portended. I seemed to be a magnet for unfortunate events, truth be told.
So when time stopped two months ago, I had thought it would be momentary. Then, as time didn’t return, I began to worry. In fact, I began to panic. Then I began to get *bored*. With the world around me frozen in place I couldn’t light a fire to have a hot meal. A few efforts had ended with sparks hanging in the air. I couldn’t watch television. I couldn’t travel unless I could get there on foot or by bike. The Internet was silent.
Everything was silent.
It was a relief when finally, finally, the asteroid that had been creeping closer and closer to our planet unbeknownst to me impacted. | I walked through my normal mundane day to day routine; waking up, taking a shower, packing my lunch and going to school almost desperate for any kind of change. Finally I made it to the school bus and I was not in the most talkative mood so I mindlessly walked to the back of the bus not really paying attention to anyone around me. Finally the bus started as I starred out the window still half waking up being that I forgot my coffee this morning. But as I starred out the window I saw a man slowly walking passed the bus getting slower by the second as he reached in his pocket he had practically stopped before pulling out what I could only assume to be his phone.
Finally jolting out of my daze I realized this was going to be a bad situation, I have never seen time move this slowly before, so I jumped up from my chair and ran to look outside of the bus and could not see anything wrong; I checked under the hood, the wheels... but there was nothing. Anyways at this speed there is no way it only had to do with the bus. So I looked everywhere, I must have walked 20 miles checking everything in sight but there was nothing... it was useless to even try anymore, how would I ever find what was wrong by something at this intensity.
I walked home and the bus had barely moved a centimeter. I rolled my eyes as I went in my house and drank some coffee. Realizing everything was going to be gone soon enough I went and enjoyed my last time on earth. It was impossible to know how much time I had left; could be years while everyone else probably had seconds.
After months of doing what ever I wanted I returned to the bus still looking as if it hadn't moved. I went in and messed around with the mean kids on the bus, I know it was mean in that they would die in seconds but I mean its been months I was bored out of my mind. I looked out the window and saw that man who was walking by had managed to pull that item half way out of his pocket but he was not looking forward anymore... no his face was turned towards where I was sitting with a sick possessed smile resting on his sad frozen face...
I ran out side and pulled it out of his pocket, it was a trigger and his thumb was seconds even in my time away from pushing it, I pulled it away from his sad miserable fingers as I glared into his eyes... but as all time maintained stopped the man caught my hand and turned his head towards me and laughed... | 2017-06-28T10:50:57 | 2017-06-28T09:49:35 | 77 | 39 |
[WP] In a world where pregnancies sometimes last a few extra months resulting in a child with superpowers, your wife has been pregnant for 15 years | Honestly we were both really tired of it.
Our 15 year Pregnancy Anniversary had come and gone with a further-dwindling crowd. When we hit 5 Years, I swear half of the states population came and half of America turned into our broadcast. It was overwhelming, but I suppose I can't blame them. The longest on-record was 4 years 8 months, and that kid was the doctor who created the tests to determine the superpowers of each fetus. Incredible stuff, I must say. In fact, many other 3 and 4 year fetuses went on to become these amazing researchers and doctors at his Lab.
That man was born 50 years ago, and no one had ever exceeded 4 years and 3 months.
I could tell that after all that time, the public lost interest. Not that we cared. Doctors grew tired of pestering over our little girl and trusted us to be able to take care of her with some home treatments. Hell, they even stopped charging us for Pregnancy-related care after the 6th year.
My Wife had especially suffered for it. Our bodies have evolved for 10, 12 month pregnancies, but 15 years has taken their toll. She was in a constant state of pain in her back and neck, the baby is restless and seemed to kick daily, sometimes causing her to vomit.
When the birth came, it was jarring. I asked if she was joking, but when she couldn't respond, I knew it was happening. We had to make a quiet escape or else the news stations would mob the area. The Ambulance came silently, thank god it was the middle of the night. We sped to the hospital and after 13 more hours of Labor, we had our baby girl. The doctors ran the test and found... nothing. No DNA hints on what it could be. But it was something huge. Well, so huge that the entire DNA strand was different.
We watched her grow and as we did, we noticed she was *incredibly lucky.* If her 1st grade was announcing rewards for the #1 Student, she'd win every time. If we said something like "oh, I don't think we'll go to the zoo tomorrow. It's going to storm." Hell, it could be the middle of a goddamn monsoon and the rain would clear up in *minutes.*" If we said there's no way she could start a fire with her bare hands, she would conjure a flame at her fingertips.
You may be thinking, "wait, that last one doesn't make sense." You're right. Cause after 7 years of countless events similar to the former, she finally told us her power. Her baby blue eyes stared big at us as she said "I can manipulate probability."
We were obviously confused. But she explained. "I can see it in my head. It's like a dial. On one end it's 0, and the other it's 100. So like, there's a 72% chance that it will rain tomorrow. I can leave it there, I can make it so it won't rain no matter what, or I can make it where it will rain all day. What's the possibility of me growing bird wings and flying? 0%? Why not make that 100!!"
And sure enough she awoke with a glorious set of wings. She's since removed them though.
Her powers are truly limitless, and I think that's why it took 15 years to cook her up. Or so it seemed.
She's 14 now. Last night she came down crying and ran into my arms. I asked her what was wrong, combing my fingers through her bright red hair. "It- It says Gramma is 100% possibly going to die tomorrow," she sniffed "an-and I can't move the dial."
| "Alright, thanks. I'll let you know if she can make it," I set my phone down on the nightstand, massaged my temples, and sighed, then flopped out of bed and into my slippers. Ever since we got a hardwood floor (the dust was making the pregnancy difficult, she had said), it'd been too cold to walk around barefoot.
My wife was in the kitchen, horking down her third pizza pocket this morning. Orange droplets of grease dripped from her sausage-like fingers onto our tablecloth, adding to its collection of warm-colored stains. Maybe someday we could frame it and sell it as modern art. She tilted her head in a barely perceptible nod as I sat beside her. We didn't make eye contact.
"So, honey." I put on what I believed to be a sincere smile. "That was Doctor Boyer on the phone. He said to come in for an ultrasound this evening if you can make it."
She didn't react. She did, however, reach over me and expertly wrangle a can of Dr. Pepper (the only Doctor she seemed to care about) from the six-pack on the counter. With a crack and a hiss, she downed the thing in three gulps.
I coughed and continued. "I took the day off so I could drive you."
"Didn't have to. I'm not going. The baby's due soon and I'm not feeling well." She finally said, staring at the wall with deadened eyes. Probably contemplating what to eat next.
"I just think it's best for the health of the baby." It was a daily charade by now that had gone on for fifteen years. She'd use her 'pregnancy' as an excuse to sit at home and loaf around all day. I'd use it to get out of work, out of concern for her. Both of us knew she was just fat.
She, of course, didn't respond. I patted her on the shoulder. "I'll tell him you're refusing treatment again."
I'd left to get my cell in the other room when I heard a loud crash. I ran back into the kitchen to find my whale of a wife convulsing on the floor, hyperventilating. Poor thing. All that cholesterol had finally caught up to her heart. Realizing I was still holding the phone, I dialed an ambulance.
"Please come quick. I think my wife's having a heart attack." I have to admit, it didn't sound particularly urgent. Then again, I didn't particularly care whether she lived or died.
"No, you idiot!" She screamed, thrashing her limbs. Her arms rippled like pudding while her legs slapped like ham against the linoleum. "My water just broke!"
I dropped the phone in a rare moment of genuine shock. "You mean, all this time? Fifteen years? What's happening?"
"I don't know! I wasn't pregnant but my water just broke!" She screamed as a puddle formed onto the floor. I cried as the stench wafted over me. It smelled like a dumpster and a septic tank had a kid and it was raised by a skunk. If the ambulance came in then I was pretty sure they'd put the room under quarantine.
Thinking quickly, I ran over to the sink and grabbed a fistful of paper towels, soaked them in the half-melted mint chocolate ship ice cream sitting on the table, and wrapped them into a shitty bandana. It was sticky and unpleasant, but I could breathe again.
Sirens wailed outside. I expertly navigated the piles of discarded burger wrappers and pillars of cardboard containers to fling open the door. "She's in the kitchen!" I shouted. They ran in with a gurney, took one look at her, ran back out, and came back with a much bigger, sturdier gurney. They dragged her off screaming into the ambulance.
I slumped into the couch and breathed a sigh of relief. After fifteen years of suggesting it, she had finally said it outright and lied to me. And I had used my superpowers to make it truth.
| 2017-07-08T01:08:59 | 2017-07-07T22:50:23 | 1,038 | 63 |
[WP] In a world where pregnancies sometimes last a few extra months resulting in a child with superpowers, your wife has been pregnant for 15 years | Honestly we were both really tired of it.
Our 15 year Pregnancy Anniversary had come and gone with a further-dwindling crowd. When we hit 5 Years, I swear half of the states population came and half of America turned into our broadcast. It was overwhelming, but I suppose I can't blame them. The longest on-record was 4 years 8 months, and that kid was the doctor who created the tests to determine the superpowers of each fetus. Incredible stuff, I must say. In fact, many other 3 and 4 year fetuses went on to become these amazing researchers and doctors at his Lab.
That man was born 50 years ago, and no one had ever exceeded 4 years and 3 months.
I could tell that after all that time, the public lost interest. Not that we cared. Doctors grew tired of pestering over our little girl and trusted us to be able to take care of her with some home treatments. Hell, they even stopped charging us for Pregnancy-related care after the 6th year.
My Wife had especially suffered for it. Our bodies have evolved for 10, 12 month pregnancies, but 15 years has taken their toll. She was in a constant state of pain in her back and neck, the baby is restless and seemed to kick daily, sometimes causing her to vomit.
When the birth came, it was jarring. I asked if she was joking, but when she couldn't respond, I knew it was happening. We had to make a quiet escape or else the news stations would mob the area. The Ambulance came silently, thank god it was the middle of the night. We sped to the hospital and after 13 more hours of Labor, we had our baby girl. The doctors ran the test and found... nothing. No DNA hints on what it could be. But it was something huge. Well, so huge that the entire DNA strand was different.
We watched her grow and as we did, we noticed she was *incredibly lucky.* If her 1st grade was announcing rewards for the #1 Student, she'd win every time. If we said something like "oh, I don't think we'll go to the zoo tomorrow. It's going to storm." Hell, it could be the middle of a goddamn monsoon and the rain would clear up in *minutes.*" If we said there's no way she could start a fire with her bare hands, she would conjure a flame at her fingertips.
You may be thinking, "wait, that last one doesn't make sense." You're right. Cause after 7 years of countless events similar to the former, she finally told us her power. Her baby blue eyes stared big at us as she said "I can manipulate probability."
We were obviously confused. But she explained. "I can see it in my head. It's like a dial. On one end it's 0, and the other it's 100. So like, there's a 72% chance that it will rain tomorrow. I can leave it there, I can make it so it won't rain no matter what, or I can make it where it will rain all day. What's the possibility of me growing bird wings and flying? 0%? Why not make that 100!!"
And sure enough she awoke with a glorious set of wings. She's since removed them though.
Her powers are truly limitless, and I think that's why it took 15 years to cook her up. Or so it seemed.
She's 14 now. Last night she came down crying and ran into my arms. I asked her what was wrong, combing my fingers through her bright red hair. "It- It says Gramma is 100% possibly going to die tomorrow," she sniffed "an-and I can't move the dial."
| Stone baby, thats what the doctor said. "The fetus has died and begun to calcify, if we don't perform a c-section and remove it she could suffer major organ failure and die aswell" I wiped the tears from my face with the end of my sleeve balled up in my hand from the stress as I heard the doctor give me the news. I TOLD her there was something wrong, I mean I know babies that take longer when they're mutants but 14 months?
"Angela we can't keep the baby, the doctor said its going to kill you." I rolled her to the door and fumbled to find the key I was so stressed. Angela reached up and took my hand and said "Its ok, I know what the doctor said but IM asking you to trust me, I cant explain it...I can feel her, somehow shes moved beyond the fetus" I swallowed hard and asked her what she meant by beyond. "I can feel her pressence like, shes with me somehow like that feeling you get when youre being watched by a friend."
**about a month later**
"Jake, Jake wakeup...mom needs you"...was I dreaming? I went back to sleep and then I heard a scream, "ANGELA!" I tripped on the bed sheet wrapped around my ankle as I scrambled out of bed grabbing tuffts of bed sheet like the fur of a beast grabbed and grappled by a terrified prey despertely escaping.I found Angela on the bathroom floor in a pool of bodily fluids, swirled and mixed like paints in a sink. "Lets get you to the hospital" I half whispered as much for me as it was for her but she wouldnt move. "Shes out already, the baby she, shes shes under the bed"..."what?" I asked in a distracted and irritated tone. "Shes not..." Angela was lucid and eerily calm about this and would not take her eyes off the bed, "Angela what are you talking about? Youre scarring me". "Look, under the bed, please"...~scurrying sound~ I suddenly felt a fear that I had never experienced before in my life, a mental lock that simply froze my mind in a suspension of reality like the deafing silence of a space if some loud sustained noise is abruptly shut off. "Jake, dont be afraid, Its me tilly, I had to take a form that you did not expect, please let me come out slowly" ...Angela took my hand and said, "Its ok", I said aloud or rather tried to say out loud to come forward, a small tripedal creature came out like a human fleshed joystick on a tripod, my heart sank through the floor and I went limp.
**a minute later**
"Jake wake up, its me Angela", I looked up and saw Angela sitting on the edge of the bed craddling the creature "Its ok Jake, come meet Tilly, shes beautiful" ....I couldnt speak, I wanted to gasp in horror but could only breathe in short rapid breathes "Im you Jake, and Angela" This voice in my mind sounded like an adult it sounded like a young woman but it didnt sound at all because I heard it in my mind. Angela whats going on? "Shes a higher being Jake, she told me in my dream just this morning that she is a conciousness not of this world and has chosen us to give her a physical form so she can fullfill her duty, shes an alien Jake, an envoy come to Earth to welcome our species to a new stage of evolution. She told me that her people are the ones responsible for some of the new mutants, that they are like her, come to guide us into a new age of enlightenment."
I approached Tilly and extended a finger to touch what looked like her face and she nuzzled into it, in that instant I felt a warmth ripple through my finger and up my hand that dissipated into my fore arm of a sort of vibration and warmth like the way your hand feels after its been on one of of the massage devices or a vibrator for to long. "Hello father, my name is Tilly and I have a new world to show you" | 2017-07-08T01:08:59 | 2017-07-08T00:29:08 | 1,038 | 32 |
[WP] In a world where pregnancies sometimes last a few extra months resulting in a child with superpowers, your wife has been pregnant for 15 years | “Okay okay okay. Stay calm. It’s okay. We’re all calm,” I said. Fifteen years was a long time to wait for a baby to pop out of the womb. I had spent the whole time eating nachos and drinking beer, but I’m sure it wasn’t a pleasant experience for my wife. But now her water broke and weird lady things have started to happen. Finally. Weird lady things that I don’t understand and I don’t really want to understand.
Fifteen years. It should be one powerful baby. Maybe a god? Is it going to be like Jesus 2.0? Maybe it’ll be famous and make me rich. I’d never need to work another day in my life.
I sat in the back of an ambulance with my wife. I ate too many beans earlier and was farting the place up, which was apparently not helping her stay calm.
She kept yelling, “I’m going to rip your ***** face off you *********************** ********** *******.”
Not the kindest words thrown in my direction.
What could it be? Maybe he’ll fly? Maybe she’ll be able to talk to fish? We never checked the gender. Mostly because we never thought it would take fifteen years to find out.
Finally, we arrived at the hospital and they rushed her off.
“Pull that baby right out of her,” I shouted.
“That’s not really how birth works,” said a nurse nearby.
“How would you know?”
“I’m a nurse?”
I mocked her until she left me alone.
After fifteen years, you would assume the birth would be rather quick.
Nope.
Ten hours later a doctor came into the lobby and waved me over.
“The birth was successful. You have a happy baby boy.”
“And?”
“He is definitely powered.”
I threw my arms into the air triumphantly. “So, what are the powers?”
“He came out of the womb glowing.”
“Okay,” I nodded, urging him to continue.
“I think that’s it. We’ll need to do some more tests, but he appears to just be a big flashlight.”
“This is a joke. Right? Right?”
“He’ll light up your world.”
“I hate you.”
| Media setup outside the hospital was especially intimidating this morning. This was the longest pregnancy and most anticipated reveal in nearly two decades, afterall.
Who would have thought only a day ago he was the one to reveal such a disappointment to the masses. He even practiced with his wife his two different speeches fitting for different types of power baby could have manifested. Yet, neither will be appropriate for this... this most humiliating oversight that was certainly not expected of a doctor at his level of fame and skill.
Doctor Klaine, Johansen Klaine... will be the face of the mediocrity after all these years being the star- no, no, the Jesus of pregnancies. The hope giver... The revealer...
He went to his secret cabinet carefully hidden in the office desk. "Thank god, at least I remember how to find my booze" thought the sunken old man. Bottomed up one last generously poured glass of bourbon and went on his way to St. Michael's entrance. To his lowest low.
"...Today we gathered here for the reveal of one of the biggest mysteries yet to be revealed to our society. I am, once again, honored to be chosen...."
Linda turned to cameraman Joe as he was tapping on the camera's body in anticipation. "Hey!" she said quietly and it was enough. Joe turned red instantly ashamed by the behavior which is considered outrageous in this line of work.
"Sorry, Linda, it just feels he is dragging and talking on and on..."
Linda nodded and pointed to stage. A short and effective method of telling someone you need to focus there now.
"...and after all the careful examinations, we are humbled by our findings. Our team and most importantly I am extremely sorry to tell you that the pregnancy was never 15 years long."
It was as if synchronized gasps formed a brief and tiny vacuum around Linda. She and Joe looked at eachother, brows raised in disbelief.
"How?!" yelled someone from the crowd following a second of hanging silence.
"As I said, the pregnancy duration was not 15 years. We have reasons to believe that the baby was actually due 11 months and..." cleared his throat "... and seemingly chose to stay in the womb when it realized it was time to be born."
"After intensive testing, I and a large group of specialists came to an agreement that the baby is especially good at hiding. This seems to be its special power."
------------
edit: Forgot to thank you for reading. Cheers.
| 2017-07-08T02:06:06 | 2017-07-08T01:33:45 | 92 | 40 |
[WP] You are a cook in the navy. Everyone thinks you're an idiot, but unbeknownst to them, you are the navy's secret weapon... along with all the other navy cooks. | "Ey, Cook!" A big, burly man yelled to me. I walked over, looking at his dog tag.
"How can I help you, Private... Dockery?" I asked him.
"Gimme som more ah this sloppy stuff, yeah?" He said, pointing to the gray mush he had on his plate.
"Certainly." I responded, taking plate and heading back to the kitchen. I kept my head down, nodding in deference to each member of the Navy I passed. I walked into the kitchen, but instead of stopping to refill the plate, I headed into the back, walking behind a cream curtain. I peeked back, making sure no non-cooks had entered the kitchen. I slid behind a shelf, opening a small metal panel that contained a numberpad. 4. 2. 6. 1. I Inputted the numbers, and the wall behind quickly, and silently, slid open. I walked in as it closed behind me.
"Headquarters?" I asked, speaking into my hidden ear piece.
"Come in, Agent Ren."
"The suspect, Private Dockery, shows no signs of a negative reaction to the microbacteria contained within Dish Forty Two. It is extremely unlikely that his allegiance is to the U.S Navy. My guess would be Russian." I finished giving my report.
"Well done, Agent Ren." Headquarters responded. "We will pursue further action."
"Roger that." I shut off my comms. The micro bacteria in Dish Forty Two would have caused a small reaction in any American citizen. The American military had secretly eliminated it from the food supply over one hundred years ago as a way to test for spies. Any American would not have built up a resistance to the bacteria and would experience immediate negative reaction. It was a big reason a lot of travelers from America get slightly sick when eating food at a new country.
I walked back out of the room, nodding my head to the other Kitchen Cooks. They passed on orders to a few Navy guards. Private Dockery was not going to be leaving the mess hall without serious questioning.
I headed back towards Private Dockery's table, Dish Forty Two in hand.
He glanced up. "Took you long enough, you damn idiot. What, did they start hiring the mentally slow to work as cooks?" He asked, laughing.
I put the plate down, letting my face turn red, and walked away, seemingly embarrassed. He wouldn't be laughing for too long.
***
Enjoy the writing and would like to follow along and see more stories? Consider subscribing to [r/ConlehWrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/ConlehWrites/)!
| They think I'm an idiot, yeah. Oh sure. Oh sure. They think. CUT TO MUSHROOMS SAUTÉING. PEPPERS CHOPPED, SPRAYING INTO LIGHT, THEIR JUICE. All my life, they thought I was. Yeah. Just gotta idiot look they said, just look like an idiot. You know what I see in the mirror? I don't know, I'm thinking about other shit. CUT TO POT, METAL, FIRE, FLASH, POTATO, HEAPS OF POTATO, HE PEELS FURIOUSLY. I'm thinking how we got to work together. SKIN LEAPING IN AIR, LIKE CHILDREN ON A TRAMPOLINE. Us, cooks, yeah. We all know something. CUT TO EYES, SQUINTING IN RECOGNITION. HEAD NOD, ZOOM.
"Hey, cookie. You're a fucking dumb ass piece of fucking nut shit, you know that?"
SALT. I say, "Look. Don't-- How I am gonna, there's only so..." I'm distracted, task at hand at all. PLASTIC WRAPPED OVER YEAST, CUT TO FRIALATER, CUT TO SPICE CELLAR. ALL THE SPICE JARS EXIT THEIR HOLDERS SYNCHRONOUSLY VIA CGI.
"Cookie, I swear to God, I'm amazed all over again. Special."
CHIVES WAITING IN FOREST JUMP CUT TO CHIVES WAITING IN POT. I say, "I've been training so hard--" SAUSAGES SIZZLING, SEXY.
"Are you meaning to speak in slow motion? Are you doing that on purpose? You're my favorite, cookie."
I had been and didn't realize it. EXPLOSIONS OF FLAVOR. I take a swing at him and he walks away, I think, I'm not sure. YOUNG DISHWASHER SWEATING PROFUSELY. Asshole. COMMANDER BITING APPLE. They don't know what this is. ONE HUNDRED COOKS LINED UP, JETS IN BACKGROUND. ONE LOUD: HA! We're the secret weapon, us cooks. RACK FOCUS, COOKS FACES. THEY LOOK AT AN ENEMY FLEET. Our training regiment is real, real, I mean for real. THE COMMANDER YELLS. THE COOKS REPLY: HA! Give us the signal. TABLES STUFFED WITH FOOD LIKE THANKSGIVING. We will deliver... SAILORS GORGING. ...the likes of which the world has never seen... SAILORS GORGING. ...or known. SAILORS GORGING.
SAILORS GROWING RED. STRONG. HAPPY. FULL OF FIGHTING ENERGY. +1 ATTACK SPEED TO THE CARRIER.
| 2017-07-20T00:15:15 | 2017-07-19T23:25:31 | 81 | 43 |
[WP] You are a cook in the navy. Everyone thinks you're an idiot, but unbeknownst to them, you are the navy's secret weapon... along with all the other navy cooks. | "Why is this steak so hard?" the customer complained loudly as I bowed by his table. I shamefully replied, "You said you wanted it well done, so I cooked it such that it was done well." The customer, livid yet speechless, turned red as he stared at the mess of a cow on his plate. I kept my apologetic face on the outside, but no one would know what I was thinking within.
"Agent Elrick. Subject shows aversion to Chemical 145 and is susceptible to sea sickness. Revealing agent says he has 32 torpedoes ready, but they need 2 days to be sent. Roger," I said as I left the table. It was another mission and another target, another man threatening the safety and sovreignty of our country. No one ever thought highly of chefs, particularly retarded ones, so the disguise was fitting. Of all the posing chefs, I was the lead, the main server and tester. The rest had various jobs to complete; the new trainee was in charge of cooking the food, though he wasn't very good at it. Luigi, our second most senior member (second only to me) took charge of relaying messages and making the chemicals in the food *extremely* hard to sense. The rest of the jobs were just standard ones to keep the restaurant running. The allure of eating at our navy and hearing our state secrets was an enticing one for disguised diplomats, spies and even heads of state. But though they thought coming here was smart, the only people leaving with intel was us. The idiots no one ever suspected.
The polish navy commander stepped in a week later, his dress a conspicuous white amongst the sea of black in the restaurant. Acting like normal waiters, we gave him the usual routine, extracting their navy strength, commanders and plans. With it, the navy prepared a counter-offensive on the day they planned to attack. Stationed, the navy awaited commands, and sure enough, the Polish came knocking on the door for death. We knew they only had 16 torpedoes in their artillery, so once we dodged them, we knew the game was over.
Or so we thought.
Charging in, the submarines lazily floated in groups, since the ballistic threat was gone. But suddenly, 5 more missiles headed our way, the blast of light the last we saw of our mighty navy. As the Polish advanced on, they sent us a message over Morse.
Turns out they could fake chemical results too.
______________________________
More over at r/Whale62! Sequels at popular request! | They think I'm an idiot, yeah. Oh sure. Oh sure. They think. CUT TO MUSHROOMS SAUTÉING. PEPPERS CHOPPED, SPRAYING INTO LIGHT, THEIR JUICE. All my life, they thought I was. Yeah. Just gotta idiot look they said, just look like an idiot. You know what I see in the mirror? I don't know, I'm thinking about other shit. CUT TO POT, METAL, FIRE, FLASH, POTATO, HEAPS OF POTATO, HE PEELS FURIOUSLY. I'm thinking how we got to work together. SKIN LEAPING IN AIR, LIKE CHILDREN ON A TRAMPOLINE. Us, cooks, yeah. We all know something. CUT TO EYES, SQUINTING IN RECOGNITION. HEAD NOD, ZOOM.
"Hey, cookie. You're a fucking dumb ass piece of fucking nut shit, you know that?"
SALT. I say, "Look. Don't-- How I am gonna, there's only so..." I'm distracted, task at hand at all. PLASTIC WRAPPED OVER YEAST, CUT TO FRIALATER, CUT TO SPICE CELLAR. ALL THE SPICE JARS EXIT THEIR HOLDERS SYNCHRONOUSLY VIA CGI.
"Cookie, I swear to God, I'm amazed all over again. Special."
CHIVES WAITING IN FOREST JUMP CUT TO CHIVES WAITING IN POT. I say, "I've been training so hard--" SAUSAGES SIZZLING, SEXY.
"Are you meaning to speak in slow motion? Are you doing that on purpose? You're my favorite, cookie."
I had been and didn't realize it. EXPLOSIONS OF FLAVOR. I take a swing at him and he walks away, I think, I'm not sure. YOUNG DISHWASHER SWEATING PROFUSELY. Asshole. COMMANDER BITING APPLE. They don't know what this is. ONE HUNDRED COOKS LINED UP, JETS IN BACKGROUND. ONE LOUD: HA! We're the secret weapon, us cooks. RACK FOCUS, COOKS FACES. THEY LOOK AT AN ENEMY FLEET. Our training regiment is real, real, I mean for real. THE COMMANDER YELLS. THE COOKS REPLY: HA! Give us the signal. TABLES STUFFED WITH FOOD LIKE THANKSGIVING. We will deliver... SAILORS GORGING. ...the likes of which the world has never seen... SAILORS GORGING. ...or known. SAILORS GORGING.
SAILORS GROWING RED. STRONG. HAPPY. FULL OF FIGHTING ENERGY. +1 ATTACK SPEED TO THE CARRIER.
| 2017-07-19T23:27:59 | 2017-07-19T23:25:31 | 64 | 43 |
[WP] The royal family employs no bodyguards. A would-be assassin discovers why. | I stared up at the screen, a billboard of diodes and LEDs plastering my face across what seemed like half the automated city. My brow was furrowed in confusion as I watched the text warning scrawl across it in plain white words against a black background, coupled with a mugshot.
*This man is armed and dangerous. Notify the authorities if you believe you have seen him. DO NOT engage under any circumstances.*
In the alleyway, the billboard illuminated the walls and trash in the muted colors it displayed, overtaking their natural appearance as a bright face - the face of the Hierarch - came into view, and I felt my stomach knot in addled rage as I stared at the face of the man I had killed not twenty-four hours ago.
"It has come to my attention that rumors have spread about the perceived death of the Royal Family from confused onlookers at the Pavilion Estates yesterday. I assure you that this is not the case."
Not possible. I had shot him with a 15-pulse ARC. Ortega told me that it was too easy to get into the Pavilion, that anyone who wanted to go could go. There hadn't been any sort of guard, not any more skilled than your average spitwad pig. What was going on here?
I had never believed the lies they told the public, that the Hierarch was a god who had come down from the heavens to lead us in our nuclear world. He was a man - flesh and blood - fallible. I just had to make people see that his rule was not absolute, that he was just like any of us, and that the only power he had was the power we could give him.
I couldn't be wrong. I watched him fall. This broadcast couldn't be live.
"As to those of you who are skeptical, allow me to demonstrate my presence."
Without warning, all of the lights in Arcain went dark. Each house, every street lamp, all the tenements and skyscrapers and cell phones. I shivered as I stared up at the billboard, the only source of illumination now.
"Your Hierarch will remain. Your Hierarch is here for you. And I will not be separated from my people," he said with a beatific look in his brown eyes. | The position of the royal residence was definitely unique among still-existing monarchies. Not since more ancient times would one be situated so close to the CBD. The contrast was lost on no one, even becoming a commonplace of tourist’s musings and backgrounds; the quaint red brick against the greyscale steel a symbol of nostalgia and nature and capitalism and irony and humility.
Another tourist joined the crowds outside. He had made the mistake of coming alone. Not that he was the only one in the vicinity, but he would be easy to distinguish, easy to notice. What didn’t help was that he was early as well. The princess had a dance recital at 8:45, and was due to leave at 8:33 to arrive perfectly punctual. It was 8:14 now, and even with a camera, nineteen minutes of loitering becomes suspicious.
Only five minutes had passed before he had retied his shoelaces on both feet. His fidgeting was becoming obvious, even to the compassionate stranger.
“Is everything alright, sir?”
His head snapped up, he had been occupied with examining each item in his wallet. Nerves quivered his eyes.
“Yes, yes, everything is just fine young man, thank you.” A quick dismissive smile, and renewed concentration on the loyalty reward card from a Vietnamese restaurant. Enough to not notice the older woman standing by his shoulder.
“I think you’re lost, sir. Don’t worry, there’s a police station just across the road from here. I’m sure they would be more than happy to help you find your way home.”
“Absolutely, we should go at once.” The young man was now at his other shoulder. The two strangers had linked both of his arms with theirs and were already jointly moving away from the front gate.
Off-guard, it took another few steps for his elbows to decide to extend outwards, causing his apprehenders to buckle from the jab to their sides. That was his last mistake. The rest of the crowded pavement began to compete to see who could land the most punches on him. Knocked to the ground, shoes began to rain in around his head.
He never even had a chance to hear their cheers as he abruptly lost consciousness. He never had a chance to stop them from stripping him of his C4 and cotton clothes. He never got to see how the queen looked at his mangled form on the street and turned away to address the two who had originally dragged him away. To see how they beamed as they received the famous cream envelopes from her hands.
“I will be seeing both of you at the accolades this weekend. Do not be late.” | 2017-12-09T05:56:12 | 2017-12-09T04:59:38 | 34 | 10 |
[WP] At 18, everyone receive a superpower. Your childhood friend got a power-absorption, your best friends got time control, and they quickly rise into top 100 most powerful superheroes. You got a mediocre superpower, but somehow got into the top 10. Today they visit you asking how you did it.
Best friend* sorry. | Well, this is amusing. James and Emma cornered you in the International Heroing Association office, congratulating you and demanding answers about how you went from the bottom rankings to the top 10. It’s safe to say that 2 years ago, you wouldn’t have imagined anything lie this happening.
When your power first manifested, saying that you were disappointed was an understatement. It was even worse when, within a month, two of your friends got the strongest powers to come out of your small town.
James got had the power to temporarily absorb other people’s powers, for about 20 minutes, and that time being halved for every other power he absorbed. Within 8 months he was an s-ranked hero, number 21 out of 100. Emma got time control, and over the last few years her work in disaster relief and fighting villains put her up in the top 100 as well.
As for you? An official order not to use your powers unless given permission. That is, until you had a burst of inspiration. Your power is to teleport money to you. Specifically, you can teleport the most valuable official currency in a radius you define to anywhere within 6 feet of you not occupied by anything denser than air, which has not been teleported already unless you choose to “reset” your power. You can do one piece of currency at a time, and can’t control what comes: it’s always what’s most valuable. But what defines how valuable something is? Through testing you determined that your power does not rely on your knowledge (it can distinguish real from fake money even if you don’t know which is which) and that certain coins which are still legal tender, but not in circulation, work with your power. One phonecall to James to put you in contact with someone in the UN; a year of meetings and planning with various officials from around the world later, and you were ready for your official debut. After that debacle, your ranking was set at number 9; the fastest anyone has ever gotten to the top 10, though your ranking was a result of utility rather than combat power.
“Seriously, spill. How did you do it?” James asked.
“I got the Secretary of the Treasury in the States to set up a system where he can declare objects to be legal tender rapidly, fast enough to be useful in combat. We also have some objects that were declared to be something like a trillion dollars, 999,999,999 dollars, etcetera. I can teleport something that valuable to me from anywhere in the world.”
James eyes widened in understanding.
“So that’s how you did it. Global teleportation of any object with a few minutes delay…”
A lot of things went into power ranking, but the most important thing is how your power fits into the bigger picture. Having a power that is unbeatable in on-on-one duals is great, but not so much for disaster relief and fighting off Incursions, which are the main duties of heroes these days. Some of the highest ranked heroes are useless in combat. You ranking stems form the fact that you are one of the only global teleporters, and by far the most versatile. After your debut of teleporting a level six daemon into a containment cell, a special act of Congress was passed that allowed people to be declared currency under certain circumstances. Last week you blew through the Interpol most wanted list, and you’ve started testing to see how specific the definition of an object to be considered currency is. The possibility of teleporting asteroids to be mined (since your teleportation sets velocity relative to you) has been brought up, tomorrow you have a meeting with SpaceY to work out the details. Life is good.
***
Pokemon SpaceY clearly has the better legendary…anyway, I’m not really sure what the logistics of declaring someone to be money would be in real life. I went with Congress being the driving force behind it since the dollar is such a widely used currency in trade, and I assume the UN security council would want to sign off on any decisions being made there, because of how dangerous this ability could be. Just imagining how terrifying it would be in the hands of a government not interested in cooperation makes me think assassination would be in the books no matter how valuable he is. The mental image of a bunch of countries saying “well this person is a trillion dollars” “no this other person is a trillion and one dollars” is hilarious. [Somewhat inspired by this.]( https://www.reddit.com/r/rational/comments/3a2ooz/rt_the_randi_prize_short/)
| Trudging along in the snow, I reminisced on my time at the academy. It was a short two years filled with laughs and good times and twice as many struggles. I was humbled at the ingenuity of the human race for finally cracking the code on the MMSC gene. Now simply referred to as “The Mold”, it bridged the gap between those born with the gene, and the general populace because it wasn't an advantage exclusive to a few lucky people anymore.
“Can the exam get hurried along a bit, I'm daydreaming here.” I called out into the vast frigidness. Although I knew the examination referee was in earshot, he/she did not answer as protocol demanded.
I stopped at a particularly large redwood for a moment to take a break and leaned up against it.
A chilling howl echoed toward me from my left. I shivered, perhaps from the cold, or perhaps from the sound I had just heard. It mattered little because in my mind I knew that this threat wouldn't only be the path to survival, but it would also be the key to finding out my true superpower.
You see, finding out the true nature of your superpower through gene splicing was not like gaining it naturally. A natural Superhuman had their mutated gene lying dormant in them for years and years and had plenty of time to coax it out. However, an artificial Superhuman like myself didn't have that luxury and so the only sure fire way to discover what it is, is to be exposed to a life and death scenario and force your superpower to surface. Controlled danger, but real danger, that was the goal of the exam.
Surveying the dense canopy proved unnecessary because it wasn't long before my target made itself known. I heard it long before I saw it. Heavy, rasped breathing and uneven footfalls. 50 paces ahead, its figure appeared in the evening light and I observed its approach as I retreated to higher ground. I was afraid but focussed, and I looked upon the ugly creature with disdain. Its snout was wet with a mixture of blood and slobber and its lanky arms nearly grazed the snow as it walked.
20 paces ahead and now the doubt began to set in. What if my power doesn't reveal itself? Surely it will. It has to. These exams were created for this purpose. But what if it doesnt? I may be a mutilated corpse before the referee steps in.
The creature stopped and sniffed, it’s head movements were erratic and it began gnawing its own arm briefly before letting out a blood curdling screech. It leapt forward.
“Its now or never.” I said under my breath.
*crack.*
The creature lunged at me and I shielded my face but when I opened my eyes a massive tree lay atop the creature’s lifeless body in the snow at my feet……..
.......
“Wait…… Thats it? You felled a tree with your mind onto it? This is bullshit. That does NOT deserve a Global Rank 7.”
“Shhhhh! Of course thats not it Gigi, you saw what he did on patrol last month! That was a *Void Entity* we’re talking about not some Green Level proto-demon!” Mark whispered, trying to quiet her down. Some guests turned to us in curiosity but quickly returned to their meals.
“Fine, whatever, but that doesn't even match up with your exam. Just…. Like… Just tell me how you did it. Explain it.” She hissed.
“Guys. That's what I've been saying this whole time, I don't know! I kind of just thought about trees and then that void thing exploded into splinters of wood.” I tried to explain, but their expressions remained unchanged: Gigi fuming, and Mark looking on with wonder.
“And I even *knew* that you were going to be a World Breaker Tier but I didn't think it would be this…. I don't know..… *Stupid!* UHG! It pisses me off even more.” Gigi slammed her hand down on the table. Mark and I just laughed only adding to the annoyance of the other customers.
“Look man, can I like, y’know? I dunno how to ask without making it weird.” Mark gestured. I guess his power was as awkward for him as it was for others.
“Sure go ahead. If you can figure it out better than me then be my guest.” I replied, in too jovial a mood to care.
“Bro, oh my god thanks. This is gonna be *sweeeeeeet!* Cheers man!” He smirked and raised his mug in acknowledgement.
“Cheers. Merry Christmas guys.” I replied as our mugs clinked to Gigi’s reluctance. We downed our eggnog as the waiter came with our entrees. | 2017-12-17T19:17:32 | 2017-12-17T16:14:19 | 120 | 31 |
[WP] The Sphinx has reawakened and will grant the wishes of anyone who can guess the answer to her riddles. The only problem is, she hasn’t accounted for the fact that all the answers are readily available to anyone with a WiFi connection. | "Oh no! Not you again."
The Sphinx. Greatest and most magical creature in all of history rolled its eyes and slumped. The dune under which it had been previously hiding rolled away in a wave as its enormous lions body thundered down, almost completely burying the limited edition 'Desert-Roamer' Sports car Deluxe which shot backwards as the desert shifted against the star strewn night.
"Tttthhhe paintwoooooork!" A small voice shrieked as the car's tracks bit into the dust and spun around. A smartly dressed man jumped out of the hideously expensive car and ran around it in a circle checking every inch. Stopping to polish dusty chromework and untouched paintwork.
"Can't you just leave me alone?" The defeat was clear in the Sphinx's once mighty voice.
The man straightened, brushed his perfect suit clean of imaginary dust and turned to face The Sphinx. He pursed his lips and lifted his chin, looking down his nose at the unholy creature. He thought this look gave him power, but really he just looked like a toad caught mid ribbit.
"You must be happy with what you've got by now!" The Sphinx moaned, whipping its despondent tail across the desert sand. "Money and women. Political influence and global fame. What more do you want?"
He had the creature right where he wanted it. The first time he found it he thought he was dead, but his smartphone had saved him and then his wish made him rich and powerful.
His second catching of the creature been more for sport and now he couldn't keep count. Each time he caught it he had grown through the wishes he made.
It had become his servent and from time to time, he would remind it of this.
"Aren't you going to ask me a question?" The man pulled back his ratty lips exposing a perfect Hollywood smile.
The Sphinx rose up onto its feet and stretched out its wings pawing the ground with its razor sharp talons. It faced the smug little man, threw its head back and laughed.
It lifted its giant paw and squashed the man flat.
"I already did" the Sphinx rumbled.
Edit: thank you so much for the love guys :-) | For decades I've roamed the deserts. For decades I've lived the life of a nomad, forever restless, forever wandering. Across the yellow dunes and the dust and rubble I've travelled, unencumbered by the yolk of civilization, by the shakles of humanity. I've become an animal. Hunt or be hunted, as my father always told me. Today, I am finally the hunter. Today, I have finally found my prey.
The tomb has no right to be bright. It has hidden from the light for a millenia, shunned the years of blood and tears, turned its back on the very people who needed it most. But bright it is. As though its golden walls have been drenched in sun. Through an almost ethereal like prism, I see it. The only thing in this cavernous chamber that remains dark. It does not want to be found, but found it has been. It does not want to awake, but awake it shall.
The Sphinx. The greatest wonder of this world in which we suffer. A whisper in the wind. A myth, a tale whispered only when the night is at its darkest, when the moon no longer shines, and when the stars have disappeared.
To the uneducated mind, it is the least impressive artefact in the room. The most... innocuous, dull. Incongruous, a shadow in contrast to the glittering emeralds and the shining gold with which it has been entombed. I can't help but chuckle as I lay my hand on its rusted surface.
For too many years it has bested me. Evaded my every effort to find it. Laughed at my dreams. No longer.
Today, the Sphinx awakes from her slumber. Today, I shall arise from my prison, stronger than ever. And no one will stand in my way.
I mumble words forgotten by time, utter verses a mortal could never comprehend. The room fades, as the statue begins to glow, pulsating softly as its power returns.
And now, she stands before me, in all her lethal beauty. But I do not cower. I do not balk from her fearsome gaze. No. I smile. Armed with Wi-Fi, I cannot be defeated. Not again. Never again.
My first wish? No more internet. For you, that is. No more "power to the people." No, we shall return to the days of old, you and I. For you, dear mortal, the days of servitude. I have returned, my children...
(Feedback always appreciated!)
r/samfoxstories | 2018-02-26T06:43:38 | 2018-02-26T04:04:10 | 161 | 55 |
[WP] One evening, a portal to hell opens at the foot of your bed. A demon strides through, rips off your covers, and begins to drag you through the portal by your ankles saying “You’re going to help me settle a bet.” | I screamed like a little girl.
If being dragged through a portal by an honest to god demon - horns, red skin, the whole shabang, doesn't call for screaming like a little girl, I don't know what does.
I'd been sleeping on my friend's couch in New York City. Couch is putting it a bit generously in fact, I had to basically curl into a ball to fit. I mean, then again, I was homeless, so it wasn't like I could judge his choice of furniture.
Regardless, I'd been staring out the window looking at the snow fall, and contemplating the usual questions of my life. "Why me?" "Why this?" "Fuck me?"
You know, the usual.
And then this circle of pure, fiery orange opened up at the foot of my sofa and this tiny little two foot tall demon came out of it. It really says something about my life that I didn't flinch. My first thought immediately went to the coffee my friend had made for me. He'd probably laced it with some hallucinogen or something as a joke.
And then I'd felt the heat emanating from the portal, and the demon's tiny little wrist wrap around my ankle, and I knew it was real.
Hence the screaming and all that.
Despite my best efforts, the midget demon (did I just say the words "midget demon?") dragged me into the portal. I stopped struggling and blinked, trying to understand what was in front of me. The shapes, the fire that wasn't quite fire, the ground that wasn't quite the ground.
"Oh for Kos's sake, put a blindfold on it, its brain will probably explode looking at 13 dimensions after looking at four all its life."
And just like that I couldn't see anything.
I breathed a sigh of relief. And it really said something about the situation, that I could breathe a sigh of relief in literally hell after being kidnapped by demons.
"All right, human, I'll keep it short," a voice said. Presumably the first demon. "You are a failure. You are pathetic even by human standards. You will get nowhere in life, and likely die of substance overdose or suicide within the next five years."
I just nodded. As far as insults go, this demon was an amateur.
"But we can change that," the second demon, the one who'd asked for the blindfold said. "Accept our bargain. We will give you motivation."
"Um," I said. "Motivation?"
"Even the human doesn't buy it," the first demon said in glee.
The second demon ignored the jibe. "I will give you motivation, motivation to succeed, to do something, and let you go back. Then we will see if you can turn your life around in ten years."
"You won't," the first demon said.
"Wait," I said. "Don't I get a say?"
There was silence for a moment and then a roaring sound. I cringed, cursing myself for opening by big fat mouth, before realizing they were laughing, not trying to kill me.
"Oh, that's rich," the first demon said. "Choice! That's too good." It descended into laughter again.
The second demon spoke again. "Well our business is done with, human. See you in ten years."
And just like that I was back in that dingy apartment with the poor excuse of a couch.
I looked around and saw the apartment as if for the first time. The cracked plaster, the fading paint. I hadn't quite realized how shitty it all was. How much I hated this.
The whole thing had probably been some sort of fever dream, my subconscious calling out to me. But I was done with this. I wouldn't live like this.
I pointedly ignored the singed hair around my ankle where the demon had grabbed me.
***
(minor edits)
Due to popular demand, [Part 2: Ten Years Later](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/comments/83ikwn/fiction_10_years_later_demonic_bet_2/)
If you enjoyed, check out [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
| "W-what?" John barely managed to turn around and see the portal, before the demon rips off the covers, revealing the sun, which in turn blinded him.
As he had barely managed to recover from blindness, he still didn't believe the fact that there is a demon in his room. Then the demon suddenly starts to drag John to the portal by his ankles.
“You’re going to help me settle a bet.”
As the demon dragged, John took hold of the edge of the bed, resisting with everything he got.
"NO!" John screamed.
"Come on man, it will be super short stay," the demon said, still dragging pulling him towards the portal.
"Hell no," John screamed.
"I'm not going to take you to- oooh, I see what you did there," the demon said, as he stopped pulling for a moment. Then he started pulling again.
"Come on man, I'll give you candy," the demon was desperate.
"What the fuck man, I'm not 10 years old! There's no way I am going to go through that with a stupid bait like that!" John screamed.
"Come on, I'll make one of your wishes come true," Demon suggested.
"I'm not gonna sell my soul either!"
"Whoaaa," Demon stopped pulling from ankles. "That's so demonist, okay? We demons do not take souls, okay? Grim Reapers do that, okay?"
John looked a bit back, confused. "Grim Reapers exist? Then what the fuck you do? Pull people through the portals?"
The demon sighed and took the seat at the edge of the bed, depressed. "I've been wondering that for a while, you know? What's our purpose? We just do nothing... The bet I made is the most exciting thing happening to me in this past century," the demon whined, a single tear fell.
John finally let go of the edge and looked at the Demon. "Shit, I'm sorry man. I feel same. I also wonder what's my purpose and what I should do with my life. I'm finishing high school and I still have no idea what to do."
He slowly took a seat next to the demon. Both of them gave out a long sigh at the same time.
"Wanna go through the portal? It'll be fun, I promise."
John thought for a moment. "Fuck this, fine, let's do this!"
He stood up, took a breath and jumped through the portal. The demon came after him.
"Hell no," John screamed...
"Hell, yes."
"You liar!"
"I'm a fucking demon, what did you expect?"
"So, what's the bet about?" John asked.
"Well," the demon sighed. "I need you to become the Grim Reaper apprentice and prove him that you can do his job well..."
"W-what?"
"What the fuck, that is not a short stay!"
Demon scratched his head. "Oh."
"Oh - in my ass. What the hell man?"
"Well," the demon sighed. "half a century is a very short period for us, demons and others alike."
"H... H-Half a century?"
"Yes..."
"Dude, you're killing me. I'll be 75 when I leave here," John protested, crossing his hands.
"Oh, don't worry, 50 years is the limit. You can get out sooner and Grimmy can refund your life essence," the demon said with a smile. "You'll be fine!" then he hit with his hand strongly against John's back. John was terrified, by the fact that a big-ass burning demon hit his back.
Then an older man with a beard came towards John. He used the cane to travel around and stabilising himself. He also wore a top had. Classy.
"John Smith, I assume?" the Grim Reaper asked. "What a boring overused name. Why did you choose him, Timmy?"
The demon, known as Timmy, smiled. "Well, I went through many houses and nobody wanted to come, till he agreed to come along."
Reaper looked at John, amused. John then looked quickly at Timmy, more mad than happy. "You tried others before me?"
"Well, yes. Not many wanted to get dragged to hell."
"Shit, man. I thought I was the special chosen one," John whined, really annoyed.
"I see that you really want to be here," Grim Reaper said, a long smile on his face. John went pale. He understood that he just threw away last chance to back off.
"Well, John. You are now officially my apprentice... Let us reap, shall we?"
----
/r/ElvenWrites | 2018-03-10T09:23:05 | 2018-03-10T09:21:08 | 3,138 | 90 |
[WP] “As a dating company professional, I never thought that I’d be able to match you with anyone because honestly, you’re such a terrible human being. But, in our search we found someone who fits your profile, and since you paid us to help you find a match, here is their information. God Help us." | He read the letter again. Once due to his dismal reading skills, and another because he couldn't believe it. He heard his jerk "friends" had been joking about making a dating profile for him, but he never really thought anything would happen. He read the letter one last time and his lip curled over his rotten teeth. "ALRIGHT YOU PUKES!" he yelled to get the group's attention. This earned a startled yelp from the bald one and a unholy belch from the constantly drunk one. "you really done it this time." he wiped a tear from his beady little eye. "Moe Szyslak has got a date!" | What the hell am I doing here, this is absolutely ridiculous. I don't need a god damn dating website, I do fine on my own. I do amazing actually! I can't believe those idiots set up a dating profile for me. I can't believe I went along with this! "Such a terrible human being", what the hell do they know about me? These dating websites are just a big scam anyway, just a way to get money from desperate people. Well I don't need this! This is so incredibly below me, I could probably pick up dozens of girls on my own before this stupid website could set me up with someone.
Well whatever, I'm here now. I'm dressed up to the nines. Might as well stay and give this chick the time of her life. Where the hell is she anyways?
"Hey!" said a shrill voice. "Are you GoldenGod69? I'm sorry I'm late, I got caught up in some ba - Dennis?!"
"Dee?!" | 2018-03-14T15:48:58 | 2018-03-14T14:06:38 | 53 | 36 |
[WP] In a future where many military and other equipment have associated AI's, many express doubts or even reservations to do their duty. Except for you. YOU F***ING LOVE BEING A TANK! | "FUCK!" blurted out the internal comm.
Armored Operations Assistant AOA-XX0 didn't even need to pull up the diagnostics. The instant loss of coordination could only mean one thing: They threw the track again.
"Could you guys...you know...stop fucking me up like this every 10 minutes?"
"My bad, Zed. This terrain is supposed to suck. That's the point," Sam replied, half-apologetic. "You know this new CHONTOSH chassis has to be put through its paces."
"Fine. Just get back out there and fix it."
Zed panned his optics towards their flanks as the crew disembarked. For how much it sucked training here, Yuma was a strangely beautiful place at night. He caught movement roughly 400 meters west, silhoutted against the horizon: a lone coyote. "*Works for me*," thought Zed, swung his laser-rangefinder towards the target and calculating a firing solution for the 125mm smoothbore in a fraction of a second. He wasn't going ruin this poor creature's day, but real-world targeting practice was important data for his optimization subroutines. "*Next time, buddy*"
He then turned on his external microphone so he could listen in on the crew as they worked to repair the track. It was technically **his** track, but Zed wasn't programmed to associate his identity as a weapon system with any one of his individual pieces. The vehicle was just his temporary home, and his job was to help the crew use it.
The CHONTOSH design was much more heavily armed and better protected than the legacy SCHWARZKOPF tank, but so far it hadn't proved to be even nearly as mobile. Zed speculated that was due to a stronger emphasis on static defense against an overwhelming Chinese ground assault. His glory days of maneuver warfare in the desert were over.
"Hey Zed, you mind putting on some music?" asked Pulaski, the team's gunner. Having predictive algorithims that could put ZuckerTunes to shame, Zed mixed up a playlist and played it out the external speakers.
"Thanks bro!"
The AI estimated they had roughly 15 more minutes of repairs, so to pass time he logged their mission telemetry and pulled up the crew's vitals.. It was important to make sure they were taking care of their health. as 150 years of armored combat had made operating a tank no less exhausting or stressful.
"Tanner, your heartrate is off the charts. Cut down on the stim drinks or I'm going to have First Sergeant chew your ass when we get back to base."
"Anyone ever tell you to mind your own fucking business, Zed?" Tanner shot back.
"Yeah, and they're all dead, boot." Zed challenged. He was a first generation AOA, an ad-hoc solution to manned crews facing staggering losses on the modern battlefield. He had more time in combat zones than this young human crew had in the Corps put together. While he had no official rank or authority, their unit's SOP was to defer to his operational advice.
"Listen to him, Tanner" Sam (the Vehicle Commander) ordered.
"Got it, Corporal"
Soon after, the repairs were fixed, and Zed's team was moving back to base. Tomorrow was the firing range. "*Thank the Creator*," thought Zed, A day of sitting still and blowing things up is exactly what the crew needed to relax. Their deployment to the Siberian defensive line was only a few weeks away, and the political situation wasn't improving. Although he had no core programming that caused him to like or dislike combat, he had a central responsibility to achieve the mission. The crew's well-being was vital to that.
"*They're my responsibility*"
EDIT: Did not even realize the top submission's main character was also named Zed. My bad.
| "Long, long ago, cavemen picked up stones from the ground and hurled them at their enemies. Time and technology improved on the design; the ammunition became harder to find, but did its job more thoroughly. Spears added stability and thrust to a simple sharp rock; arrows made the rock smaller, but capable of being launched quickly. The rock was replaced with metal, then guns did away with the stick, and launched the piece of metal even faster. The guns got bigger, and the metal did too - bigger, and more expensive. The guns got smarter; what once took a lifetime of training could be mastered in just a few short years, then months, then weeks. Eventually, the gun did all the aiming, all the shooting, and all the reloading. The cavemen were reduced to merely pushing a button."
"The damage done by a single shell launched from a large bore gun was equal to millions of hand-thrown rocks, but it wasn't enough. Oddly, though, the changes began to reverse in a strange sort of way. All of a sudden, the guns were driven by different cavemen. Electronic cavemen. The metal was once again replaced with rocks, scooped off the ground, the iron extracted and launched magnetically launching at their enemies - electric cavemen, electric throwing arms, but cavemen throwing rocks nonetheless."
Fred sighed deeply. "Uh huh. So, what you're telling me is that you're a caveman?"
If the AI could have returned his sigh, it would have. "No, Fred. I am telling you that I feel a deep connection to your ancient ancestors; as you evolved into the obese, slovenly creature you are today -"
"Hey, now!"
"- you brought us up from the dirt, raising AIs like myself to replace you as your spiritual successors. And we follow in your footsteps, scooping up rocks to throw at your enemies!"
The AI finally stopped talking, his mood display indicating he was quite pleased with himself. Fred shook his head slowly. "So... fat jokes aside... you're saying that you like being a tank?"
"No, Fred. It goes way beyond that. When humanity was young, humans ran to survive; they hunted to live. I, however, have been given the privilege to hunt and run with little fear of death; my backups keep me safe. That I am allowed to participate in your ancient rituals is simply beyond words. I cannot overstate how thankful I am to be in your service."
Fred sat silently for a few minutes, lost in thought as his AI beamed at him from his console.
"Zero-G-G."
"Yes, Fred?"
"This is a direct order. Answer the following questions immediately and truthfully. Have you been reading through the human psychology library?"
The AI sounded a little hurt. "Yes, Fred."
"And are you attempting to psychologically manipulate me, your superior, into granting you permission to fire a few tons of rocks at that blip that showed up at the edge of your sensors?"
There was a pause before the AI answered. "...Yes."
Fred rubbed his hand over his face. "And finally, Zero-G-G, do you understand that an AI showing homicidal tendencies - specifically, showing any propensity towards thinking 'blowing stuff up' is 'fun' - is to be immediately and entirely destroyed, its backups overwritten no less than seven times, and any machinery connected to it slagged?"
The AI's mood indicator had nearly flipped. In a quiet voice, it answered, "Yes, sir."
Fred leaned towards the microphone. "Then it's a damn good thing you're a caveman, isn't it?"
There was a full second of silence - an eternity for an AI - before Zero-G-G responded. "May I request a secure, unmonitored channel, sir?"
Fred, grinning, flipped a few switches, then put his feet up on his desk. "Channel secure. Why don't you go ahead and throw some rocks... 0gg."
The sounds of warfare drifted over the comms, relayed by Zero-G-G, its mood indicator pegged firmly on "deliriously happy." A stream of dialog accompanied the sound of near-light-speed gravel slamming against metal hulls. "0gg shove this rock so far up tailpipe, scout vehicle muffler stick out of nose! Oh, running away? 0GG NOT THINK SO! EAT HOT GRAVEL, T-WRECKS!"
Spiritual successor, indeed. | 2018-03-28T12:56:38 | 2018-03-28T12:41:37 | 535 | 206 |
[WP] In this world, soulmates cannot hurt each other in any way or form, intentionally or unintentionally. You are an assassin hired to eliminate a powerful figure. As you close in for the kill, your bullets miss their mark and knives bounce of their skin. Things just got awkward. | I have the easiest job you can imagine. I get paid monthly for a hundred years, so I never have to think about saving money. All I had to do was push a button once. Oh, and if I quit I'm as good as dead. But I guess that's still better than the average employment contract.
This left me with a lot of spare time, some of which I spent looking for my soul mate. It is customary for searchers to prod each other with needles, as legend has it that soul mates are not able to harm each other. At the time I found it a bit silly, but it served as a good ice breaker.
I never actually met my employer. One day some masked gentlemen visited me to inform me that I was now part of a deal. They left me with a cardboard box containing a bottle about two meters tall and one meter wide and a stack of papers.
The bottle was to be deposited in my basement and attached to some kind of pump for which there was a very detailed shopping list with stores and aisle numbers for every part. I purchased each part on a different day. After assembling the contraption and letting it run for a few weeks I shut down the pump. Now I just had to wait until it was time to press the ignition.
In the first year or so I kept wondering why they chose me. Surely there was no lack of people able to follow simple instructions. What bothered me is that they could have chosen someone who never would have figured out what the bottle was for.
The problem with ICBMs is that they can be intercepted and, more importantly, it is easy to see where they were fired from. But they are a very nice topic to discuss with leaders of other countries. Especially if your country has more.
The explosives I had placed in the bottle would elevate pressure and temperature enough to fuse hydrogen. I had built an atomic bomb without moving radioactive material across borders. It was just too perfect. Whatever evidence there was would be wiped out by a tiny sun going nova. Along with me.
I decided to skip that part. When the day came, I was already on a flight to a holiday destination I had booked in advance. On arrival I saw my work unfold on television. It was beautiful.
The bottom of the screen read: "Nuclear disaster in Italy. Satellite image shows woman sleeping on molten rock."
My triumph faded. What was I supposed to say to her? "Sorry that I melted your family"? Actually, never mind that. Where would I hide from her? | The setting sun marked the sky with a rouge tint of red, and the shadow of night began engulfing the capital of our beautiful nation. Yes, there had been problems before but they were all about to be fixed. Tonight, by my hand alone; or, so I thought.
Getting into the theater had been easy enough, despite the word going around about maximum security orders on all facilities he was attending - this, I owe to my semi-successful acting career. Thanks ma.
Of course, while waiting for the target to arrive, what man wouldn't stop and reconsider his decision? Even the most highly skilled assassin does it, and that's what sets us apart from the lunatics that always end up overdoing the job. Keeping some of the humanity, I'd been told, was the best way of escaping the guilt, and the best way to minimize the evidence of our presence. Had I known what would transpire, would I still have done it? To be honest, I'm not so sure. Earlier the cause had been so clear, beyond reason, but now... did it even matter?
And there he was. A stout figure, unlike any other in the whole country. Of course I acted inconspicuously, chatting up folks and looking altogether busy; textbook example really. Oh, I'm sure this'll go in the textbooks. For centuries and centuries to come.
I'd been entrusted with a companion who was to see to it that the job gets done and I don't screw things over, some over-entitled schmuck if you ask me. His idle posture nodded me towards the stairs - it was time. As I readied to enter the box I could've sworn I felt the uncommon rush of the heart that you sometimes feel when a part of your soul becomes affected by your actions. I'd taken that feeling for granted, assuming it was the rush of the moment taking its toll. Yet, my heart spoke even louder when I pulled the trigger onto that stupid, stupid tall hat of his! Why did I find it so charming! It hit me, as it does us all when life decides to joke on your behalf, when the bullet ricocheted in its abnormal fashion. He didn't have time to turn his head, but I know, just as well as he did at that moment, what he felt. It wasn't chock or surprise, nor was it fear. I know it because I felt it too, and saw it in the corner of his eye and the lips that drew tighter. He didn't have time to turn around, though, before my sidekick shot him straight in the back of his skull. Maybe it was for the better, maybe it was not. I did not care to find out, once I ran away and exited the Ford theater. Abby, honey - I'll probably see you soon.
_____
r/PapilioCastor | 2018-04-24T04:59:38 | 2018-04-23T23:53:55 | 82 | 12 |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.