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] after an apocalypse you are the last human alive. traveling the country side in your increasing age you slowly stumble into more and more things before realizing that magic is returning to the world. today you spot a village of elves, the first intelligent things you have seen in over 30 years. | I had taken to hiking in the latter years. Quality woodland wear was in no short supply from nearly four decades ago, and it gave me a rare peace to stroll the wild unburdened by dread or lonliness.
"A man should be useful," was a saying my father would tell me frequently. In an age where people were increasingly distracted, underemployed, and sad, it proved to be a lifesaving mantra.
I brought with me a leatherbound journal to document the post-human world. One could guess that the things of the world worth documenting were saved and stored in old computers and filing cabinets. But this world is not like the old.
Since the people died off, and left me here in isolation, things have changed. The buildings had begun to crumble. Wildlife returned to the suburbs. Nature had begun its reclamation of the concrete cities.
But I expected as much. What I didn't expect were the fairies or the walking trees. I didn't expect the flying horses or the mysterious runes burned into walls and cliffsides.
My journal was one of a volume stored in my cabin. I moved to these woods when the magic emerged--or returned, I suspect--so that I could surround myself with it and fill what's left of my time with a beautiful mystery.
I would review my books, read my descriptions, put fine touches on drawings. But I longed for someone to share this journey with. I smoked from my pipe in the evenings to quell my nerves before bed, where I would often weep alone with my thoughts. "No man is an island," is another saying my father imparted. It seemed this one was not up to me anymore.
I set out for a morning gathering of firewood and some vegetables from my garden for breakfast. The forest provided plenty for one man, but far too little for seven billion. I found survival to not only be easy, but near effortless. As I trecked into the woodlands, I heard a noise unlike any I had heard here before.
It sounded almost like a cry, or a scream. Perhaps goats had migrated to these parts. I dropped my logs and headed for the sound--a goat stew would make for a fine meal.
I came upon the crying to find something truly unexpected: a small person, perhaps a foot or less in height, was trapped between overgrown tree roots. It stopped crying out to look me over. Its eyes were easily half of its face and filled with tears. It wore a red pointed hat on top of a red head of hair. Its small clothes seemed to be stitched squirrel and raccoon skins.
"Are you alright?" I asked the little man, my gravelled voice unfamiliar to my own ears. It was terrified.
"Please, sir, please don't eat me," it spoke in its small voice. I hadn't heard the english language outside of recordings in many decades. There is something suprisingly distinct about words in the open air.
"I don't want to eat you, little one. Can I help you?" I asked.
"I'm stuck," it said, motioning to its trapped ankle between two knots of wood root.
I found a log and pried the wood apart, freeing the small foot. The little person immediately tried to retreat but fell on its injured leg. I could see small red spots on its path; the tree had apparently cut its leg.
Its tiny body was hyperventaliting and its eyes darted around the woods in a panicked fervor. I approached cautiously, my hands in the air.
"There's no need to run, friend. I'm not going to hurt you," I cooed softly to the creature. "It looks like your leg is hurt. May I take a look?" I asked it.
It looked my up and down, studying me more carefully.
"You're one of the old folk. A titan," it said.
"I certainly feel old these days," I replied.
"You're all supposed to be dead," he squeaked.
I nodded in quiet agreement. "And yet..." I gestured to myself. I tried to inch closer, but he scooted away.
"The titans used to eat elf folk," it said.
"I've honestly never even seen an elf before," I confessed. "You're the first person I've spoken to in many years. The last thing I want to do it hurt you. I'd like to help if you'd allow me."
The elf thought about my words and studied me some more.
"Could you carry me?" It asked.
"I could. Where is it you'd like to go?"
"Back to my burrow," it responded, looking around the forest. "But I'm not so sure where that is." It looked at me again. "Or if I should bring you there "
"How about I take you to my cabin, bandage your wound, and give you shelter until you're well enough to make the journey yourself?" I offered.
"I supposed if you were going ro eat me it wouldn't matter much here or in your monster cave. Assuming this isn't a trap, thank you," it said. Its voice was calmer, slower.
We set off back to my cabin, the little man perched atop my shoulder. He told me stories of the elf folk, the legends of the titans, and the mysteries of the old world.
We became fast friends. | It’s been thirty years since the world “ended” and humanity was wiped off the face of the earth. Some said it would be zombies others said it would be global warming. The religious types told us it would be a great flood like in the Bible or the rapture would happen and all the worthy would be brought to heaven and the wicked would remain in earth et cetra.
In all reality those saying it would be global warming were partially correct. Eyjafjallajökull, Krakatau, Mt. St. Helens, the Yellowstone Caldera, Kilauea, Mt. Vesuvius, Stromboli, Ichinsky, Koryakskaya Sopka, Mt. Fuji, Mt. Pinatubo, Nyamuragira and Kilimanjaros’ Kibo peak, and those are the ones I remember, all erupted within the span of a week. The air was nigh of being breathable. The land masses of the world changed quite dramatically.
To give you an idea, Russia and Alaska now have a pretty solid land bridge or isthmus, the Hawaiian islands are now one solid island, Australia and the Indies Islands are connected by a series of large isthmuses now. Japan now shares a land border with South Korea and Russia, the west coast of the United States was expanded due to Yellowstone and St. Helens erupting and managed to connect to the Galápagos Islands, though the sea of California is nice this time of year as well. The Black Sea is no more, the Mediterranean Sea? More like the Mediterranean lake. The Persian sea closed up and the Red Sea expanded in size. The Caspian Sea is now the Caspian pond. Greenland, Iceland, Ireland and the United Kingdom are all one land now. That’s just a brief overview of the changes to earths landmass.
Through all of this I somehow managed to survive. I’ve been alone these last three decades, recounting every detail of my isolation on this forsaken land. Finding food wasn’t to terribly hard. From all the volcanic ash being highly nutritious for plants, most of the world I’ve traveled has been reborn in lush forest, bountiful jungles, verdant fields of grasses. The air itself is still a little hard to breathe, though in retrospect my lungs are probably burned beyond repair from the cataclysm thirty years prior.
Though I’ve become quite the green thumb in this lonely exile of mine, I have noticed strange new plants that I’ve never seen before. Phosphorescent trees and bushes which seem to react to the touch, last week I had been up for three days straight due to being chased by a small pack of wolves, I thought I had seen a dragon flying in the skies. It was probably just fatigue induced hallucinations but it’s hard to explain how it flew across the sky and then blew a wall of fire between the wolves and I? Lately whenever I have tried to light a fire, it’s almost like I only need to utter a word or two regarding fire and flames and I have a campfire roaring to life. Almost like magic, which I know, it’s stupid to think cause magic isn’t real and never was.
I’ve been traveling in what was once known as the straight of Gibraltar but I’ve come to call it the Isthmus of Gibraltar. Heading north into Spain or what’s left of it at least, I’ve spotted what appears to be a campfire? No multiple campfires! At least twenty or thirty it seems! And there appear to be at least a hundred people dancing and singing around the fires! In all my lonely travels I’ve finally found a small civilization that maybe I can call home. I’ll need to brush up on my Spanish but at the age of fifty nine I don’t care!
I briskly walked trying not to run like a child in a toy store, up to the nearest fire where a group of twentyish people were singing and dancing. Raising my hand I bellowed a hearty “Holà mi amigos!” With a stupidly large grin on my face. That was until I noticed the angelic features of their faces and the pointed ears under their long glowing hair that shine like gold and silver in the flames light. They all turned towards me with utter shock and disbelief on their faces. A young woman stood up no more than ten feet from me, she waved her hand in a figure eight motion while saying something that sounded almost like J.R.R. Tolkien elvish mixes with French? Possibly? And then she spoke again in perfect English. “Welcome traveler, do you mean harm or peace?” She asked. “Pe-p-Peace!” I stammered out.
“Then be welcomed, we open our arms here in our elvish hamlet to those who are friendly!” She said with a glowing smile, eyes twinkling in the fire light.
The last thing I remember before fainting was realizing magic had come to the world, I had seen a dragon and I had just stumbled into an elvish village. Then I collapsed out of pure astonishment... | 2019-11-18T06:50:48 | 2019-11-18T06:22:53 | 128 | 19 |
[WP] Lying in bed with your significant other and feeling the rhythmic kicks of your unborn child, you recognize the pattern as Morse code. | Anna and I were expecting our second child, but I was waiting for the weirdness to begin.
See, our first pregnancy was pretty smooth up until the point where we figured out the child would tap along to the tempo of any music or background noise. At eighteen months Bella was a musical progeny, we'd bought her so many xylophones and musical keyboards, each one with a unique sound.
Of course Bella came out with the most wonderful jingles, she'd learnt to play all the theme songs to her favourite shows. It was remarkable, and still very annoying to hear the theme to 'Paw Patrol' on repeat whenever she was in the mood to watch it.
I would attribute this genius to Anna's family, as there was no way it was coming from me or mine, but she had insisted her family were ordinary. Could it have been the sperm donor we used?
After Bella was old enough, we decided she needed a sibling and thankfully the same donor was available as we decided that I should be the one to carry the second child. Although we would have one child that was biologically our own, we still wanted them to be related. And who knows? Maybe we would end up with another little genius?
"You'll get to experience it firsthand this time," Anna had said cheerfully, although she had blogged a couple of months into the pregnancy that she definitely wouldn't miss the morning sickness or acid reflux. I don't blame her, it's exhausting!
So here we were; it was a quiet Friday night, Bella was finally asleep after wanting to experiment more with the mini drum-kit we had been given for her first birthday, and Anna and I were in bed together.
My belly was so swollen at this point, I couldn't believe I wasn't due for another month! I could barely roll over to face my darling wife who, with her reading glasses on, was powering through 'American Gods' by Neil Gaiman.
Up until this point we hadn't heard much from the baby inside me, a few bumps and kicks but nothing as peculiar as Bella's musical tapping. Part of me was wishing that we would have a more average child, mostly because then I would be able to actually help with homework and not have to worry about the costs of an elite private school which wouldn't bore them out of their brains. I mean we were already on the waiting list for one of the most prestigious music colleges in all of Canada for goodness sakes, how could we afford another gifted child?
My focus was drawn back to my stomach as the baby began to move slightly and kick out. "Oof!"
Anna bookmarked her book and turned towards me, "Ooh our next little genius is awake."
I rolled my eyes at her, "I'm pretty sure the genius came from your 'exquisite' family tree, there's no telling how deformed the child will be because of my genetics."
She chuckled softly and raised her hand to my stomach. After a couple of kicks she frowned slightly, like she was concentrating.
"I think our baby is talking to us in Morse Code," she said.
"What? That's crazy! How would a baby know Morse Code?"
Anna didn't reply, instead she reached for her pen and paper on the bedside table, and pressed her hand into my stomach more and concentrated.
"Uhh, I think our baby just replied to your comment?" She looked puzzled, but also amused.
"Well?" I didn't know Morse Code, so I needed Anna to interpret.
"He said 'I'm not a complete fool'" her eyes were wide. I didn't blame her, I was as shocked as she was.
"What-"
"Hang on" she interrupted, "He's saying something else?"
The bumps and taps went on for a little while, Anna scribbled for a bit and then burst into laughter.
"What? What is it?" Of course I was anxious, who wouldn't be after her reaction to what the kid had said.
Anna couldn't reply, her whole body was rocking with laughter, so she shoved the paper towards me to read.
After the initial shock of reading such a sentence, I joined Anna in her laughing fit.
There, written on the page:
'Did you just assume my gender?' | Dave tip-toed to bed giving his wet footsteps a disdainful stare. He turned to Lana. Her eyes could have burned holes through the pages of 'Hypnobirthing and Timeless Secrets of Natural Birth'. She had no time to review his wet foot problem.
"You know dear I'm just glad that they finally gave me some time off." he said to her.
"It's sweet of you to stay, but honestly Dave I am fine." Lana replied.
"Fine? This is my first kid woman, I'll be damned if I don't make a big deal out of it." he replied.
"It's my first kid too, you don't see me fretting over it. Just relax and be like a hollow reed, let your troubles blow in and out."
There was a down side to marrying a yoga instructor. Lana always seemed to have the tension of a cut wire. Maybe this was why she needed him. Someone needed to ensure that the obstacles in life were tackled not taken lying down, possibly on a yoga mat.
"Now look you've woken him up," she said lifting the book to peek at her belly.
"Me?" Dave asked.
"Well you're the one with all the negative energy in the bed."
He rolled his eyes. "Fine, since I'm the one causing the trouble I'll make him quiet."
He placed his head on his wife's belly. "Now, now junior you can't be playing those games at this time of night or else Mommy will blame Daddy for more of her problems."
Lana rolled her eyes.
He smiled as he felt the hand stretching out brushing across his cheek. Then his face folded as the pattern became obvious; four soft punches followed by two more; it was morse for HI.
Confused, he lifted his head. "Hi" he replied. He placed his head back on her belly.
"What in the name of Bharadvaja's Twist are you doing Dave?"
"The baby, I think it just spoke to me?"
"it did?"
"Yeah it was in Morse Code he said Hi so I said Hi back. Just lie there I'll tell you more."
He placed his head back on her belly. The pattern changed. Now he felt the hand stretch and slowly glaze over a distance. It was a dash. He felt a second, then three more, there was a pause then two more. The pattern repeated. MOM.
"MOM? No this is DAD,"
"Wait why are you calling mom? She's right here with you?" He turned to face his wife and three years in the marines could not prevent him from screaming as he caught site of her. Her face had fallen and now her forehead rested at her chin. Where her face one was now was a series of circuits, wires, and a miniature satellite.
"Gestation process completed, progeny is ready for delivery."
"What the fuck!" He yelled. He was now on his feet. The body, or whatever it was, did not respond.
"Understood," it said in its dull monotone, "process of clean up commences immediately with male's frontal lobe at once."
Her face lifted back to where it was meant to be. Then it turned to him. She crossed the mattress with the speed pregnant women only dream of. He made for the door but she grabbed his shirt just as he opened it. She tossed him to the cupboard which broke on impact.
Dave was on his knees when he felt himself lifted his collar. His wife's delicate hands felt like steel.
"What the hell is this? Please, my baby?"
It looked at him momentarily with pity, "I apologize Dave, but where your wife come's from you are not significant."
A syringe stabbed his neck, and he collapsed to the floor as the rumble of turbines was heard across the sky.
| 2017-06-25T22:38:22 | 2017-06-25T18:03:52 | 219 | 36 |
[WP] It was only after they invaded that the aliens realized, to their horror, that humans had superior technology in all things, except inter-planetary spaceflight. | Melk'tha literally exploded.
Hor'borrkl swiveled its eye stalks from the smoldering remains of its podling and toward the Human soldier standing over one hundred leaf lengths away. A tendril of smoke arose from the strange device the Human held, wisping away into the air, disappearing like the enormous thunderclap that had sounded out as the Human had used the device.
Hor'borrkl clutched its thornwhip, and shook its leaves in warning to its fellow podlings. Rumors of the strange species and their odd capabilities had been included in the mission overview, but witnessing with stalk and stem was another matter entirely.
They were backward savages, still tied to their homeworld, unable to even claim those planets in their own system. Yet they roared with thunder and turned podlings to pulp from afar. It was an obscene reversal, a flagrant violation of expectation, regardless of warning.
How could such a thing be done?
And who would sing for gentle Melk'tha, who rasped so sweetly, foliage full of the promise of a great bloom?
Beside Hor'borrkl, Muchi'muchi'chu'chu, Stemlord and commander of this pod, drug itself above the trench they were taking cover in. It had been Muchi'muchi'chu'chu who had send Melk'tha forward, given the pulpated podling the great honor of leading the charge. Now that Melk'tha was no more, it fell upon the Stemlord to take up the assault. They must not fail, this mission was essential to disrupting the supply line of Humanity.
They had witnessed the long line of Humans clustered about its periphery. Desperate for the nutrients it dispensed in strange buckets of a size well in excess of what one might think necessary. A caloric tester of the sustenance determined there was sufficient density of energy in the food to feed an entire Vinewing for a month. If they were to remove the supply depot from the equation, Humanity in this sector would be greatly weakened.
The building itself was clad in red and white, the picture of a great human overlord known as "the Colonel" hung over it. In front of the building stood the defender, clearly an elite servicemember of Humanity, clad in a mix of camouflage and a garb known only as "overalls". The naming of this article of clothing was thought to signify rank, in that the individual was over all other individuals. They need only eliminate this threat and the rest of Human resistance would quickly dissemble.
Muchi'muchi'chu'chu rose out of the trench and began to amble toward the supply depot, its great stem swaying back and forth as it swung its thornvines in each hand. The Human paused and squinted at Muchi'muchi'chu'chu's approach, clearly alarmed by the majesty of a Stemlord on the charge. Hor'borrkl could only marvel at the sight itself, feeling a great pride well up that sent its eye stalks quivering.
The lone Human, even an Over All Human, could not survive. The target would be destroyed, the mission would be successful, and soon, victory would be theirs.
Then the Human turned slightly, calling out behind him toward the supply depot. No doubt to issue an order to retreat. Hor'borrkl dug its thorns into the ground and pulled itself out of the ditch by the vines as well, following the Stemlord in its advance.
A second and third Human emerged from the interior of the supply depot. Each carried large buckets of red and white with the colonel on the side. They were talking to themselves, laughing in the strange manner that Humans tended to do.
Then they stopped as they saw the Stemlord. Their hands were full with the supplies, but they shuffled over behind the large vehicle they had likely arrived in. A moment later, they re-emerged, each holding a weapon of their own.
Hor'borrkl's trudging forward stopped.
The other two Humans were Over All Humans as well. An elite squad.
Moments later, Muchi'muchi'chu'chu exploded, sending pulp flying everywhere.
The Humans were too strong. They had chosen too powerful a target. Aimed too high for a single pod, and now all of them would pay the price.
The pod was doomed.
**Platypus OUT.**
**Want MOAR peril?** r/PerilousPlatypus | They came from the galaxy’s edge on worldships whose engines fanned out behind them like the ends of a scarf caught on the breeze, and their troop transports were no lesser works of art. The former Ethan found out from the news broadcasts that had flooded every terrestrial communication device for the last week as the aliens made their entry into Earth’s orbit, and the latter with his own two eyes.
Crouched beneath the eaves of his grandfather’s barn he watched as the ships came down, a cloud of white lights racing through the night sky as here and there squadrons peeled off. From their direction Ethan thought the majority were headed to the state capital, and he breathed a sigh of relief as they passed overhead, at least until he saw the trio they had left behind in their wake.
They spread out over the valley Ethan had called home his entire life, and one, the vessel on the rightmost point of their arrowhead, turned towards the farm.
Its hull was an opalescent blue that glowed brighter as the ship descended, headed for the main house. Its propellant left no scent, but a high pitched whine hung in the air its volume strangely constant. The ship did not land so much as hover, and as it hung there several feet off the ground a portal in the side irised open, leaving a blindingly bright hole in the side that precluded any view from Ethan’s angle.
His grandparents were already out on the porch watching it, a shotgun slung across grandpa Owen’s forearm. From where they stood they must have been staring directly into the ship, and would have certainly seen the faces of the men who leapt out.
For Ethan, newly 16 and never more afraid, “men” was the best description his mind could conjure for creatures who looked like *that*; who reminded him of nothing so much as a viking raid come to life in their panoply of furs and steel.
“Now that’s far enough boys.” Grandpa Owen spoke quietly but firmly, his voice somehow still carrying in the manner that had always been unique to him.
The alien response sounded like rocks breaking. Whatever these creatures were, the universal translator still seemed firmly lodged in science fiction.
“Son,” his grandpa called out, evidently coming to the conclusion that the newcomers wouldn’t understand, “I know you’re out there somewhere, your grandma and I love you.” He paused, gathering himself, “I’m giving you an order, you hear? Run. Run and don’t look back.”
Ethan couldn’t do it. Not for what felt like years, until the moment the aliens began to advance on the house, fully 20 of them having filed out of the ship by that point. As he turned the lead elements drew their weapons, long, heavy swords with flaring crescent tips.
He ran into the night as ordered, hot tears pouring down his cheeks. Ethan never looked back, not even at the loud report of the shotgun firing, or at the inhuman screams it left in its wake. The young man had a long way to go before sunup, 10 miles in the dark across a valley teeming with who knew what, all to reach the home of a girl he’d been in love with since they’d been in diapers and...what? Warn her? Protect her? Fat chance of that he thought.
Or maybe not. With every pounding step he took the sound morphed, becoming the gunshot that was his grandfather’s last act. An alien had screamed, Ethan had heard it. All that armor he wore and it hadn’t been worth a damn thing against a shotgun. The young man smiled in the dark, silhouetted against the blaze of his whole life burning behind him. He’d show them that Earth had far worse things in store than a 12-gauge.
\------------
If you enjoyed that I've got tons more over at r/TurningtoWords! I'm currently working on a serial about some teens encountering a Hive Mind, and there's other fun stuff like a wholesome take on Bloody Mary. Come check it out, I'd love to have you! | 2021-01-21T17:46:02 | 2021-01-21T14:21:41 | 151 | 53 |
[WP] A neuroscientist finds data stored in human DNA. When deciphered, it appears to be a file named README.txt. | README.txt.
Thank you for purchasing VR World 4223.004621. To enhance your experience, we have created a random NPC generator. Lifespan of NPCs is set to roughly 70 solar cycles, or 30 ̿/ ͇ ͇ |̶̿ ̿⟨|̶͇̿ ̶͇̿ ͇̿ ╰|╯|̿ \͇| hours. Lifespan can be shortened through a variety of external factors, and may be extended up to or even over 100 solar cycles.
Our NPCs have been programmed with state-of-the-art AI technology. As with any random generator, personality clustering is to be expected. Remember, nuclear warfare is a possible element of the game, and player characters cannot be harmed in the actual fallout.
Please file a support ticket if an NPC shows signs of any of the following: fast aging; hallucinations; sleepwalking; programming skills above level|̶͇̿ ̶͇̿ ̶͇̿)8.
You can contact the support team anytime at |̶̿ ̶̿ ̶̿ |͇ ͇ X|͇̿ ͇̿ @|̶͇̿ ̶͇̿ ̶͇̿)|̿ ̶̿'╮|̶̿ ̶̿ ̶̿ ̶̿| ̿ ̿/ ͇ ͇ |̶͇̿ ̶͇̿ ̶͇̿).|͇̿ ͇̿ ͇̿ ̶͇̿ι ̿ ̿|̿ ̿ or through the "contact" button on your dashboard menu.
Thank you for playing! | It took a while to figure out. It was hard to isolate the very end of the strand of DNA he had found. It was small and quick to degrade when she managed to break it out of the nucleus. But she did it, she sequenced the isolated fragment and when she translated it she got the protein sequence arganine, glutamate, alanine, aspartate, methionine, glutamate, then a break, then threonine, then literally any other amino acid, and finally a threonine.
She thought it was odd. It said "readme.txt". It was the strangest thing she had seen. When she put the sequence into her modelling software and it had... trouble. The screen flickered and the ribbon structure.... moved. It made a word: "hi".
Was it talking to her? It couldn't be, that just couldn't happen. She had spent her entire life studying every scientific concept she came across. And this just couldn't happen. A trick, it had to be a trick. She closed the file and reopened it. And still all it said was "hi".
She stared, and she swears she could see it. There were words on the edge of the ribbon, it said "look inside yourself to see everything"...
She kept staring closer and closer. The lines of it all began to blur, then she started to hear a buzzing. Slowly it got louder and louder, blurrier and blurrier.
And then she woke up. She glanced up at her laptop screen and that same ribbon was there as before. A big glob of nothing intelligible. Nothing interesting, nothing fun, nothing new.
Sometimes being a neuroscientist is boring. | 2014-05-06T23:00:57 | 2014-05-06T21:21:18 | 54 | 23 |
[WP] After WW3 and a century of rebuilding, the world has been at peace for 300 years. We've let go of our violent and aggressive tendencies and abolished war. You are the leader of an alien invasion that sees the Earth as an easy target; but soon you learn we can revert to our warlike past easily. | There is a human saying; to beat your plowshares into swords, your pruning shears into spears. Let the weak say "I am strong."
​
Our research had missed old religious texts in our scanning of their culture, and how could we not. There was not real need to research archaic beliefs. The Sol Confederacy was easy prey, a species that had focused on science and not war. They build grand research stations in orbit of their planet, colonized their oversized moon, and spread to the fourth planet in their system. The most they had were patrol ships to keep off the odd criminal, but no warships, no soldiers. They focused on rehabilitation and re-education of their worst people. They were pacifists, and they were ripe for enslavement.
​
Our ships had arrived, and they broadcast on all known subspace channels, reaching out to the void to greet us, to welcome us to their home. They assumed we came in peace, to meet them as equals. They were *excited*. As the first of our cruisers took up orbit, we fired upon their home world, lancing their space elevators from their moores and pushing them out of orbit. Their capital city was burned from orbit, and their meager defences were quashed. Our beachhead was built on their home, and their people were enslaved, to strip their spinning blue gem of its resources for our empire. Their moon fell next and we grew complacent. We figured we had them, so why would we push?
​
We were wrong.
​
The first sign of trouble came from a drone carrier, which suddenly went silent. Communications errors happened, so we considered nothing of it. Next a camp on the surface went black, so we sent soldiers to explore. We found our men and women dead, some looking so shocked in chairs, it was as if the attacker had materialized from nowhere. We now sent boarding troops the the carrier, however, they never made it. Its fighter and bomber compliment turned on us. We shot it down, watched it as it crashed to the surface, and we figured that enough, that this little rebellion would end. Again, we were wrong. Mining and cargo ships from the planet called Mars arrived, but they did not carry goods. Their mining drones swarmed ships, punching holes in their hulls, and stripping atmosphere away. We watched in horror as the bodies of our comrades were floated into space. Our loses were now mounting, even as we destroyed their rigged up attack craft, we paid for every kill with blood.
​
I was on Earth when I saw the horror we had awaken first hand. A mining exo-suit walked down the street, armor strapped to it in an ad hoc way, turning a tool into a weapon. Carried in it's hands were our own weapons, and as the lone assailant advanced towards me, shrugging off energy weapons and ordinance, only a lucky hit brought it down. Still, the rebel climbed from his armor and I saw his eyes, not those of a captured pacifist, but those of a killer. We learned later the man had been a chemical engineer, never served with the patrols, and had built the suit himself in private. We assumed he had snapped, surely the humans couldn't go from pacifists to warriors, they were a peaceful species. But we dug into their archives, we learned their history, the monsters that we had happened upon. But now they had three hundred years of peace and prosperity to build new technologies, and with them, we learned what they could do.
​
It was called the Military Industrial Complex, the ability to turn any technological marvel into a weapon was no unique, but the way in which they did it was. Most species develop nuclear energy before they develop nuclear weapons. Humanity had done it in reverse. Their chemical rockets were not made to deliver them into space, but adapted from weapons to do so. After they had turned those weapons on themselves, they had learned to find peace, quelled their demons. We had reawoken those demons, and given them more technology than ever before to do it. Their ability to strip materials to energy, and convert it back to raw matter had been used to mine without destroying massive areas of land, and to build ships of exploration and peace. Now those fleet yards, orbiting a planet we thought was to be an easy picking, they cranked out warships in bulk we had never seen. Hardware meant for construction and rescue was now used to armor troops to attack. One armoured assailant became hundreds, then thousands. Our own ships were captured, reverse engineered, and then turned on us. We watched in horror as our slaves became boogymen. Our hope had been to glass the planet, to hand them a defeat, but we never got the chance. One by one our legions fell. Once our ships were controlled by them, and our communications with our hme severed, we were brought before them.
​
We learned of their rules of war, what they would do to prisoners, and how we would be treated. We didn't expect the mercy we gained, nor did we deserve it I am sure. After all, we would not afford them the same. I was treated to a tribunal, and told I was to be held accountable for my crimes and the crimes of my people, and my execution ordered. Lead to a small room, I was hooked up to IVs and promised it would be painless. As they added the chemicals to my veins I could only think of my home, and hope they could forgive me for awakening humanity. I could only pray that one day these beasts would return their swords to plowshares, and the warriors would rest again. The galaxy can only hope.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
EDIT: Spelling and grammatical errors. | "So, how many casualties ?"
" We estimate between 1.5 and 2 billion sentients, my lord. The planet's biosphere so far seems to be holding well. It may need some repairing in the future, but nothing that we can't handle."
"A good start. Move our fleet to low orbit and begin deploying the hunter-warriors. I want them on the ground before the next planetary cycle. "
Planet 3879-S, also known by its natives as "Earth". A miracle in the forgotten reaches of the galaxy. A place where planets capable of holding life, let alone intelligent life, were not supposed to exist. But here it is. For Ulm'Gaatar, being assigned to oversee such a remote region of the galaxy was something he saw as a demotion. But this planet changed everything. It would be his gateway to glory.
It all started when Imperial deep reconaissance forces found a mysteirous object in the void between the stars after detecting strange radio transmissions. The object cointained the letters VOYAGER in its outer sections, and carried within it a mysterious golden disc. After deciphering the contents of the disc, the imperial tecnomancers were horrified to find out that another intelligent species, one that could threaten the empire, had gone undetected for so long. Ulm'Gaatar lobbied for a full military expedition to be sent against the species in question, who called themselves "humans", and his wish was granted. A force of 50 million imperial astromancers and hunter-warrios would be sent.
The VOYAGER object was very, very old. Ulm'Gaatar suspected there was a good chance that these humans had reached for the planets of their own home systems, at the very least. His suspicions were confirmed not long after he entered the system. The humans had established small outposts, both in space and throughout the other planets and moons of their home system. Strangely, the humans offered basically no resistance at all when they first approached these outposts. For Ulm'Gaatar, it's almost as if they were hoping for a peaceful contact. He found that both strange and fascinanting, but he had a duty to the empire, and to the glory that awaited him. These humans were more technologically advanced than he expected, but strangely, they basically had no weapons of war at all. At most, they had small energy pistols that were mostly suited for self-defence, rather than full scale warfare.
Some of the human prisoners who had surrendered to Ulm'Gaatar's forces spoke of a major conflict that occured hundreds of solar cycles in the past. A devastating conflict that had brought their race to their knees. Since then, humans had forsaken all forms of warfare, and were striving to be a peaceful species. For Ulm'Gaatar, this notion was just laughable. There can be no peace if you are not ready for war.
Then Ulm'Gaatar ad his forces finally arrived on planet 3879-S. It had a population of over 10 billion humans, and countless other non-sentient species. Ulm'Gaatar could not recall the last time he felt such joy. He felt the call to war, and a chance for glory. However, pacifying 10 billion sentients was just not practical with the forces he had at the moment. After consulting with his closest advisers, Ulm'Gaatar came up with a plan: his forces would excatave portions of the planet's moon and hurl them against 3879-S itself at great speeds. The rocks sent against the planet would severely weaken the human population there, but they wouldn't be big enough to render the planet uninhabitable.
Once his fleet reached low orbit, Ulm'Gaatar had the biggest of all surprises.
"My lord" said one of his astromancers "We are detecting a massive amount of unidetified objects heading for our fleet. Thousands of them."
The astromances scanned the objects, and found that the humans launched radiation weapons against the ships. These weapons looked primitive when compared to other forms of human technology they had come across so far, but the scans indicated that these objects had a massive destructive power. If the majority of them hit the fleet, the invasion would over.
But this wasn't the first time the empire had faced this type of situation. The vast majority of the ships in the imperial fleet was equipped with point defences capable of intercepting these types of weapons from a distance of thousands of kilometers.
But Ulm' Gaatar knew that there was just too many of these objects. Most of the fleet would survive, but some ships would be lost and casualties would be far higher that what he had initially predicted.
And everything came to pass as Ulm'Gaatar had envisioned. Despite the casualties, the vast majority of the fleet still stood strong.
"There's been a change of plans" said Ulm'Gaatar "I will not remain aboard the command vessel. I will instead disembark with the first wave of hunter-warriors on the planet's surface".
"My lord" said one of his closest astromancers "It's too risky. We don't know what other kind of defences they might have".
"That is precisely why I am going. We made the mistake of underestimating these humans. We thought their will to fight was gone. We were wrong. I need to have a better insight on how our enemy fights if we are to win this conflict. I need to see with my own eyes the awakening of their fighting spirit".
The astromancers remained silent. They had deep respect for their leader, even though they did not want him to go.
"Astromancers, move the fleet into high orbit once the first wave has reached the planet's surface. Put the ships away from the range of these human radiation weapons.", ordered Ulm'Gaatar before he left for the transport ship
As Ulm'Gaatar boarded the transport ship with the hunter-warrios, they were ecstatic. Their leader would join them in battle.
Ulm'Gaatar finally felt something he thought he had forgotten: He had a chance to die in battle. This made him even more grateful for what was happening, and even more eager to meet humans in battle.
​ | 2019-02-26T10:12:21 | 2019-02-26T09:45:36 | 310 | 142 |
[WP] You're the "weakling" tea maker. People think you're a burden on the hero's party. But it's the enchantments from your premium teas that boost the party to world-class. Bandits kidnap you to blackmail the hero. Leaving you in a cell with your tea supplies was a mistake. It's tea time. | These bandits were stupid, illiterate, and gullible and I'd heard them call me *"Sweet Summer Child"* for the last time; I think. Probably.
Was it fortune? Was it fate? These moronic mavericks had locked me up, and let me keep my tea-set. Oh, they didn't just let me have my ancient-legendary-unique artifact teapot & cups, no... The skulldugger simpletons had left me with my entire tea-box. Every last dollop of enchanted honey, every dram of ensorcelled sugar-substitute. Every single tea, from every single plane... ::sigh:: I love my box. I love my profession...
I'd had it, though. I'd, truly, had it with this entire kidnap-ransom-free, kidnap-ransom-free, carousel I've been forced to ride for the last... Maker take pity! Had it been that long? I've been on this, not-so, merry-go-round for over two centuries now. Two centuries of my life; gone. I'm done. The Heroes want to keep pushing that carousel, keep me bobbing up and down on a ride that never goes anywhere.
This time things would be different. This time there would be no ransom, no blackmail, no extortion. There would be no rescue or assistance for me. This time I would save me, and there would be no more blackmail attempts; no more kidnappings. I would be the hero for a change. I would save myself from the darkness. And, I thought, *the darkness will learn to fear me!*
I plastered a sweet, and somewhat jovial, smile on my face as I turned from my preparations. "Oh, boys, everything's ready."
*"It's Tea-Time!!!"* I yelled out, to whoops and hollers from the assorted bandits. My teas were legendary, after all.
As the seemingly-endless cups were passed out, and they all took sips and then gulps of the tea, my smile metamorphosed from jovial and friendly to anticipatory and predatory. They didn't notice a thing...
*That's right, I thought to myself: It's Tea-Time... minions!* | “What harm could he do? He’s literally the weakest link. Worst case scenario is he makes some kind of suicide tea and dies.”
And those were the last worst I heard as they locked the solid steel door.
Little did they know that I was effectively the entire team all in one. Or at least their power. In fact, they were the ones who asked me to make them superheroes, since they knew my secret, and how I could make enchanted brews that gave powers. They take the credit for saving people, and in return, pay me back in the ingredients I use. It’s a nice little mutually beneficial agreement.
Bulkus, the indestructible man. His whole schtick is that he’s invincible, and nothing short of a meteor could hurt him. Actually that’s not true, a single bullet could kill him, but it’s my simple blend of iron wood synthesis, and water bear extract that makes him so invincible.
Karrow, the bird whisperer. Summons swarms of birds to do her bidding, and all with the power of her mind… mind and a little bit of pterodactyl scales, and mint. You’d be surprised how much birds respect the apex bird of all history.
Atlanta, with the power to control water as he sees fit. Put him in a river and he could stop an army. Well he could anyways, so long as he drank some black lotus infusion first.
And the queen of the group, “all woman” (stupid name if you ask me.) she can fly at supersonic speeds, and is strong enough to lift a 747 airliner. This one is probably my favorite, since all this comes from maple tree leaves. Well maple tree leaves and a strand of god hair.
All of their powers come from me, and without me, they’re just average joes. I tend not to use the teas on myself, but so long as I’m longed up here, and they were stupid enough to leave me my kit, I may as well make them pay for damaging my box.
time to get brewing. | 2022-08-22T12:17:21 | 2022-08-22T12:02:17 | 470 | 143 |
[WP] As an ancient god, you are at the end of your life as your name slips from the memories of your people. You expect death to be peaceful but you keep popping in and out of existence as some of your people suddenly remember your name and then forget it again. It's starting to get annoying. | Let there be light!
Ugh, *again?* Haven't we been through this? I thought I was done.
Okay, okay...I hear you. Couple of miracles. Generation of bountiful harvests. Gotta pay the price though, nothing comes for free. Remember that.
Drought. Some more drought. No, no...I still hear you singing. Tell you what, how about an Ice Age?
Okay, that's one way to get some rest, freeze off all your worshippers so nobody is around to speak your name anymore. I'm not even the first god to try this. Whoops, there goes the last one. Poor guy. I feel a little bit bad for him but let's be real, I've been at this for over twenty-five thousand years and if I don't get a break soon it's going to be bad for everybody. Yep. One. Last.
Heart.
Beat.
Rest.
Let there be light!
Medammit I just closed my eyes! How long has it been?
Eight hundred years? Is that all? What the hell? I really need at least a good ten thousand or so if I'm going to be good for anything...what happened down there? Why are they...
Oh. Oh, *no*. That last guy on the mountainside, his body was mummified by the cold, dry air. And he was wearing an icon of me. Terrible likeness by the way. But now the culture has advanced and somebody found him and long story short they're worshipping me *again*. This has got to stop.
Okay. An Ice Age wasn't enough, huh? All right then, now I'm mad.
If freezing the pesky monkeys out won't get rid of them, let's try warming things up and oh, look. They've developed industry.
This is going to be even easier than I thought.
I'm going to get some rest time if it means I have to cook every human on Earth, so help me Me. | Sitting alone in the darkness, long forgotten. Shapeless, formless, it waits in the eternal for those who have followed it to be brought to it.
This long lost god receives only the souls bound to it. Those that truly followed it ways find their rest. And the god eats.
As it's worshipers approach, the god takes a deep and mighty breath and consumes parts of the soul to sustain itself.
What, you though gods cared for you because they were nice? No, you're food to them, delivered normally free of charge.
But something shifted. The world changed and became unrecognizable. No one remembered this old god's teachings and soon he grew hungry. Less and less the god was remembered, less and less he ate.
Starving to death, the only thing that keeps the old god going is the use of his name. But what used to be regular worship was now scattered, few and far between. The god new something had to change.
The next time he felt his name being said, he pulled against it, and for the first time in eons, left his home.
With each use of his name, he drew closer, his hunger growing without end. That deep pit in your stomach that is never full.
Finally the utterance of his name was done so loud and powerful he was able to manifest in physical form on the planet, ready to begin his final feast.
Standing in front of him, is a single human man, with short hair and wearing a AC/DC shirt. He looks up at the god and shouts, "Jesus Fucking Christ, where did you come from?"
Jesus responds, "You called." And he begins his final feast of man.
The end
Haha hope you enjoyed it | 2020-11-13T09:24:05 | 2020-11-13T09:01:57 | 50 | 18 |
[WP] You have the ability to see and modify the source code of anything around you, except on people. you have revived your dog, change test score, etc. But one day you starts seeing the sourcecode on people.... including yourself when looking at the mirror | I'd give everything just to be normal again. Not to have numbers trailing across my body, a jumble of green code, each strip running from 1 to 9 over and over again. The distraction goes on forever.
Sandy, my little sister, walked into the mirror view. She paused in the hallway behind and frowned. Her code wasn't the usual nine digits, today the numbers were all jumbled up.
"Aren't you meant to be at work?" she asked, folding her arms.
At sixteen, she acted like the bigger sibling during any opportunity. And like everyone else, the thought hadn't crossed her mind that I could reach into the wall clock and switch around its green numbers, changing time universally. Then again, why would it?
People don't just tap into the source code of the world. As far as I knew, only my hands could switch the numbers.
Today, Sandy's numbers made me feel queasy. I sighed. It hadn't happened before --not to her at least, to the odd stranger maybe.
"Shouldn't you be at school?"
"Schools out."
"On a Tuesday?"
"Why do you care anyway?"
I set down my suitcase. "Because works out as well."
Sandy's frowned deepened. I shrugged. She walked into the room and plopped down on my bed.
"You're lying. I heard you talking to Mum earlier."
"Why ask?"
"Because you're going to be late."
"You shouldn't care," I said.
Her numbers picked up their pace, the jumbled sequences becoming more unique, more difficult to process. Nothing like this had happened before.
"Maybe I do? But it's not like anyone cares about me."
"There's me, Mum, and Dad. Three people that care about you."
Her numbers slowed down, some of the sequences changing back to normal.
Sandy glanced away. "You have a funny way of showing it."
"How about I take you for ice cream?"
"But school-"
"Is out?" I said.
She bit her lip and then nodded. Her numbers looked a little more normal now, the haste of the sequence slowed down. I thought of the flow as a heartbeat, in this case, hers had been racing.
"You know, you don't have to," Sandy said. "I'm not worth skipping work. . ."
"Works out." I grinned. "Wait by the car."
Her face lit up, and the numbers were almost normal now. I watched through the floor, past the green numbers and black space as she skipped down the stairs, into the garage, and hid something behind a pile of junk before waiting by the front door.
I straightened my tie, picked up my briefcase and smiled my way down the steps.
As we hopped into my car, Sandy's numbers went back to normal, back to their slow movement and 1 to 9 sequence. And as I reversed, I noticed what she'd hidden. Behind the pile of junk, a long coil of rope had been jammed against the wall.
---
/r/cassidylilly | “I have gathered you all here, my closest friends, to tell you a secret so juicy the Notorious BIG wrote a song about it.” Said John
“I don’t think that’s what the song Juicy is about,” said Kathryn, who was sitting next to Tim.
“I always thought it was a song about rags to riches,” said Clyde, sitting on a chair next to the couch.
“It's all good baby bay-bee,” sang Tim.
“Shut up. We’re not here to talk about the song Juicy,” shouted John, now standing from his seat. “Aren’t any of you interested in my secret?”
“It was all a dream, I used to read Word Up magazine,” sang Clyde.
“I CAN ALTER THE SOURCE CODE OF ANYTHING,” announced John. “Look. Watch this. He grabbed a can of Coke from the table and instantaneously changed it in to a Pepsi.”
“You monster,” said Tim.
“It doesn’t matter what I turned it in to, it’s the fact I can do it,” said John.
“Turn it in to a Dr. Pepper real quick. Then give the Dr. Pepper to me to taste to make sure what you’re doing is a real thing,” requested Kathryn.
“Again. It doesn’t matter what I can turn this can in to,” reiterated John. “What’s important is that I can do it.”
“If it doesn’t matter than just turn it in to a Dr. Pepper real quick,” said Kathyrn.
“How about you change it in to a Coke Zero,” said Cylde.
“A Coke Zero?!” said John, no derailed from his train of thought.
“A Coke Zero is possibly the worst thing we could turn this can in to, Clyde,” said Tim. “If we’re going to turn it in to anything it’s going to be to a throwback can of Vanilla Coke. It’s the classy option.”
“How is that the classy option?” asked Clyde.
“Because it’s rare. Anything that’s rare is classy. Everyone knows that,” said Tim.
“One, that’s not how being classy works, Tim. Two, we’re getting off track,” John took the can off the table and transformed it in to a Sprite. “Now nobody will want to drink it and we can actually talk about what we came here to discuss.”
The other three stared at the can of Sprite wondering if they were thirsty enough to enjoy it.
“So, as you have all witnessed, I can alter the source code of whatever I want: including myself. Together we are going to play God. We are going to use my body and my powers to create the perfect human!” John lifted his arms in to the the air like a messiah would after casting a revelation. “So, what do you say?” asked John.
“Well, first things first. Let’s change that Sprite back to a Dr. Pepper ASAP,” said Kathryn.
****
I write shitty, silly stories on /r/BillMurrayMovies. Feel free to come along, not laugh at any of them and leave some judgement.
| 2017-10-03T04:00:37 | 2017-10-03T02:56:31 | 86 | 53 |
[WP] Everyone has a number on their chest showing how many people they will kill in the next month. Yours just changed from 1 to 3 million. | He stood in front of the mirror, thinking to himself. “I have to pass, I don’t know what I’m going to do if I don’t pass, if I don’t get in.”
Slowly he tore open the envelope, not even sure he wanted to know. He closed his eyes, slid the letter out and unfolded it.
*“We’re sorry, you did not meet the minimum score to allow entrance to the Vienna Academy of Fine Arts class of 1908. You do have the opportunity to apply agai…………………”*
As he gazed at his reflection in the mirror, his number changed.
| As I turned in my vote for the 2016 presidency election, little did I know that my ballot was the determining factor in Trump's victory. At that moment, my number, given to all humans since the age of biorobotics, changed from 1 to 3 million and I was certain of the agony I had just unleashed unto the world. | 2016-06-24T03:51:47 | 2016-06-24T02:39:12 | 37 | 10 |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | The tavern was alight with candles and warm fires, the smell of meats and bread wafted through to the rafters of wood and plaster. Ale stained the floor in places and the barkeep had been working on a single mug for a startling amount of time. All and all a lively place to be on this evening.
"Ah and a fine night to you as well gentlemen! Merry blessings!" The rogue said, as the men who joined him for cards departed a few coins heavier then they were at start.
"Is this not grand fellows?" The elf turned to his crew. "Ale in the air! A tavern filled with beautiful women! And my closest friend in the world." He stood then, a leg up on the top of the table, his back leg supporting him from the ground
"Ladies! Gentlemen!" He yelled, "Tonight, join me in toast to this merry band of fighters, lovers and the heroes of this town tonight! We are all thankful," he stopped to smile at his friends, the ale tinting his checks red "but I am thankful, for they are the truest of my friends" and with that he drank. The here-heres rose in strength from the crowd, and he was jostled away by the crowd with promises to be back later.
The dwarf, gnome and orc all sat in silence, looking at their drinks solemnly.
The dwarf sighed, pinching the top of his nose,
The orc had his hand in his head looking off into nothingness,
Finally the gnome chimed in, quietly, but with a resolute tone
"Okay, I'll say it. He's a much better companion then Roderick and we should do everything in our earthly powers not to mess this up."
The orc and dwarf both sighed in unanimous relief
The orc chimed in first with a hushed tone and feeling in his voice "Its like he knew what a whoreson Roderick was!" He said, sitting at attention once again " its like he knew and said to himself 'oh! These chaps look like they could use a new, better companion!' Then took it upon himself, through all the peril, to join us in disguise! All while throwing Roderick into god knows where!" He laughed. "The monster was OUR hero!"
The dwarf was next, wide eyed and hands extended to point out "Roderick" in the crowd. " look at that bloody rogue, he blends right in, they would never know they're holding possibly one of the most dangerous monsters in the land" he lowered his hands, then pointed out, " for all that, doesn't that also make him a better rogue?" They all agreed quietly.
The orc chimed in once more, tentatively, " look Roderick is a whoreson who would and almost did murder us for a small some of coin, twice." They all agreed muttering comments under their breath, " but were the you know...good guys... shouldn't we at least try to save him?"
The others were about to reluctantly agree when "Roderick" appeared before them once again
"My friends! this is as much your victory as mine! More so! Come join us, the mayor seems keen on raising our rewards! I thought it only fitting you be by my... Nay, I be by your sides during this!" He smiled warmly.
They looked at each other, shrugged and smiled
"No that's fine, we can be knaves for a night." The gnome said, stepping up from his seat. | Finally....free. The thousand years of waiting, watching in this cursed statue at an end. An elf, rigid with agony as his persona, his spirit, his life is leached away. Now the malevolent spirit got his first taste of air, of blood, of form.
"Er.. Mynir, you ok?" asked a gruff voice, a question which did not raise much concern with the rest of the party.
"Death!" hissed Mynir, or the thing that Mynir had become. He stared at the
party balefully out of reddened eyes, his hands raised, claw like over his head.
This response was not unexpected, and with a nod of acknowledgement, Drake the barbarian turned away and followed the rest of the party. He dragged a small chest of gold, which would hardly pay for this outing, but he seemed cheerful enough. The dead bodies of the unfortunate orcs he kicked out of his path were likely the reason for that.
The Mynir thing was still reeling, remembering his last moments before being encased, the worst psychopath the sorcerer could find in this land, his victims so numerous they were uncounted, uncountable. (and horribly unrecognisable.) A suitable trap for the unwary, a terrible harbinger of doom with the face of a once trusted companion.
He followed the party into the fresh air, and stood a little apart as they settled a camp, built a fire, cooked a meal. A dwarf began singing a cheerful song, as jokes and banter drifted out into the cool night.
Mynir felt the hilts of two beautiful elven daggers in his hands. In a movement too swift for any but an elf to see, they cleared the scabbards and whirled around his head. Blood and screams followed. A mist of red exploded from a neck, a bone cracked as a dextrous kick twisted a knee joint out of place. A heart was pierced by a single blow. In less than a few seconds it was all over. Five bodies lay on the ground, dead or dying.
The silence that had descended over the camp was broken by Drake. "Holy Mother, how the hell did you.." He trailed off, staring in amazement.
The Dwarf leapt to his feet and rushed to hug Mynir, who accepted the affection with a small show of discomfort. "A sneaky ambush for sure, well spotted my friend. I always said you were a hidden treasure!"
For the rest of the group, the transformation of a sneaky, cowardly elf into a saving hero caused a fair amount of quiet consternation. Generally it was seen as a "good thing", considering the alternative. The shaman had cast her bones, and no harm was predicted... Maybe he had just shrugged a curse, or escaped a bedazzlement.
Mynir contemplated his situation. His new elf brain was clear and concise. and more importantly, his hugely unbalanced mental chemistry was gone. The Sorcerer was vastly mistaken. These people were his family now. Woe betide any who tried to harm them. Could he make amends for his past? He could try. | 2017-09-15T07:03:44 | 2017-09-15T02:54:33 | 36 | 21 |
[WP] In a world where you can exchange the remaining days of your life for $9.99/day, Jeff's request for $1000 is declined. | "Are we going to see the horses again today?" A wide smile flashed across his face as he looked up at his father.
Jeff looked down at his son, smiled and said "Yes, yes we are. We just have to make a quick stop at the bank and get some extra cash before we go."
"Do we have to?" His sons smile vanished and a look of disappointment appeared.
"Don't worry, it'll only take a few minutes and afterward I'll buy you ice cream!" Jeff looked up at the sky with confidence. This time Jeff meant it, things were going to change for the better and he'd be able to give his son everything. He received a tip from one of his buddies on a bet that would pay off big.
"It's ok if we don't get ice cream." He looked up at his dad again, and smiled.
Jeff and his son walked into the bank and headed straight to the back room where the special transactions were processed. "Give me the usual, $1,000 please! How's about a discount for one of your regulars?" he said to the teller.
The teller reached for his life scanner and looked back at Jeff with a hint of frustration, "Sorry, no discounts. Also, in 9 days new laws go into effect, making these transactions illegal. Bank of American Life will no longer be able to process these transactions".
The teller brings the scanner down to his sons hand and scans. *BEEP BEEP BEEP* "I'm sorry, there appears to be insufficient funds in your sons Life account, sir. Would you like me to try your personal account?"
Jeff looks down at his son, and then back at the teller "But juniors only 8 years old, he's got plenty of life left.... There's got to be some sort of mistake... Try it again"
"Sir, you've been making the max child withdrawal of $1,000 everyday, for a while now. You knew this would happen eventually. Do I need to call security?"
Jeff lets out a deep sigh and says to the teller "I'd like to take $9.99 out of my own Life account, I have to take the kid out for ice cream"
Jeff thought about taking out the $1,000 from his own Life account, but the thought of risking his own life over such a gamble just didn't seem worth it.
| Jeff didn't bother to ask how much money he would be able to receive. It wouldn't be enough. He was given three days to get the money, or else. Yesterday, he didn't know exactly what the "or else" entailed, but now it seemed all too clear.
"I am sorry we are not able to help you, Mr. Parsons." The clerk, though numbed by how many people she denied over the years, put on her best sad expression. "If you would like to talk to someone," She reached for a pile of business cards in a plastic bin on her desk. "This is an 800 number you can call that offers free grief counseling."
Jeff stared blankly at the clerk's name tag. Marie. He then looked at the card Marie was now holding out toward him.
"I need that money. I don't need some fucking grief counseling." His voice was shaking.
"I am sorry, Mr. Parsons. It appears you do not have the sufficient-"
"Then give me some of yours!" Jeff's right hand disappeared into his jacket, reappearing holding a small gun.
Marie had dealt with similar behavior a few times before. She locked eyes with Jeff, "Okay, Mr. Parsons." Her hands were fast to work on the keyboard. Jeff kept his eyes on her, just glancing toward the office door for a second to see if anyone may have heard his outburst.
Marie used this unsupervised second to her advantage. Her hand darted under her desk and frantically pressed a small, red button.
"Hurry up, you stupid bitch." Jeff walked behind her desk to look at the computer screen.
Marie knew it would take less than a minute for the guards to come in, but she needed to survive that minute. She clicked on her name. Disbelief.
Her eyes welled with tears. She instantly regretted paying off her student loans.
"What's going on in there?" A man shouted from outside Marie's office.
Startled, Jeff jerked his finger back on the trigger, sending a bullet into Marie's head. The office door opened, a guard, gun ready, immediately fired three shots into Jeff's chest.
| 2014-07-10T10:17:25 | 2014-07-10T09:37:03 | 689 | 145 |
[WP] A man orders a "cheese pizza with no crust" from a local pizza delivery joint as a joke. Unbeknownst to him, that pizza joint is a drug front and he just placed an order for a kilo of cocaine.
EDIT: I just want to say thanks to all of the writers. I'm having a lot of fun reading all the different perspectives and spins on the concept! Hopefully no one feels late to the party; if you write it I'll read it!
EDIT2: TIL prices in the cocaine market can be very erratic... | At the sound of the doorbell, I heaved myself from my seat.
I moved over to the door, ready to go on an angry rant about the time. Who the hell thought two in the morning was a good time to turn up at your house? They could’ve woken me up! They didn’t, but they could’ve, and it’s the thought that counts.
I opened the door and my words died on my lips. A man in a pizza deliveryman’s costume stood there, smoking a cigarette and flanked by two burly men in tracksuits. Behind them, a bright red SUV was parked, its lights off but engine still gently running.
“Uh…hi?”
The pizza man dropped his cigarette. “Show us the money first.”
I glanced around. “Am…am I being robbed?”
The man snorted. “Robbed? Hell no. We’ve got the best prices around.”
I looked at the symbol on the man’s hat and came to a sudden realisation. “You’re from Notmafiosos’ Pizza Parlour!”
“Hell yeah, I am. Now where’s the money?”
“I called you guys six hours ago.” Prank-called them, to be specific, asking for a ridiculous order. Come to think of it, I hadn’t even given them my address.
The pizza man snorted. “What, you thought we were gonna come in broad daylight? And people don’t normally ask for such massive amounts.”
“I only asked for a cheese pizza with no crust.”
“Man, what do you mean ‘only’? It would take years to get through a cheese pizza without the crust. What do you normally buy?”
I rolled my eyes. “A Hawaiian pizza with no cheese or pineapple.”
The pizza man’s eyes widened. “Holy shit, dude. Are you some kind of millionaire?” He turned back to one of the men. “This guy’s a real buyer; go get the product.”
The man nodded and headed back to the SUV. He rooted around in it for a minute before turning the lights on, revealing a myriad of logos for Notmafiosos’ Pizza Parlour that I somehow hadn’t seen before.
He returned soon, clutching a briefcase, which he handed to the pizza man, who laid it on the floor and clicked it open, revealing a pristine pizza box. Slowly and carefully, he stood, and then handed it to me.
“It’s all in there, dude.”
What the hell were these guys on about? I opened the box.
“Guys, I didn’t order a box of flour.”
| It wasn't the usual delivery guy that I opened the door to. The man infront of me had a hood pulled up tight to mask his face in shadow.
"Pizza delivery. You uh, you wanna start a tab?" The man asked whilst shifting his weight between his legs.
"A tab?" I enquired.
"Ye, you're obviously a—*sniff*—you know, a connected guy, so you don't need to pay right now if ya don't want."
He shoved the box into my arms and walked away.
"We'll be in touch." He yelled back at me as he got into his dull white delivery van.
Customer service had clearly improved at the Three Moustachios. I took the steaming box into my lounge and turned on the tv.
*Oh for Christ's sake. Crust on the pizza. The pranker has become the prankee.*
I was disappointed that they had ignored my request. They had seemed genuinely interested in my order when I had placed it.
I took a slice of the pepperoni goodness and bit into it. It wasnt bad. I quickly devoured it all the way up to the crust.
*Oh my god, they are really taking the piss. Stuffed crust! I hate stuffed crust. Stuffed with powdered mozzarella by the look of it! Well fuck it, I'm not going to let them win.*
After a couple of bites of the mozzarella powdered crust, I actually started to develop a taste for it. It wasn't long until I was ignoring the pizza and eating only the deliciously moreish crust.
---
"Where the hell have you been?" I yelled at the hooded man as I shook him vigorously.
"I'm — I'm sorry man. You only ordered 10 minutes ago."
I wiped the mozzarella powder from around my mouth and stared at him. He look petrified.
"Where. The. Fuck. Are they. Hand them over!"
The man handed 5 more crustless pizzas over to me. But it wasnt enough! I pushed him to the floor and ran into his van. I devoured another twenty crusts before I felt the sweet release of sleep begin to wash over me.
God, I loved pizza.
| 2016-06-02T10:09:06 | 2016-06-02T10:00:18 | 3,404 | 263 |
[WP] When offered one wish, you jokingly said that you want to fire proof. You are disappointed to discover that fire still burns you. When you accidentally lit the company breakroom on fire, your boss just laughed it off and you began your new career as the person who can't be fired, ever. | Jules was a good little boy, as far as little boys go. He did all the normal things little boys do. He chased the dogs, played soldier, overcame some health problems, tried hard to leave everything dirtier than he found it, made inane wishes to the gods for superpowers like being fireproof, the usual.
He grew in to a decent young man, as far as young men go. He joined the army, had a success here and there, met a few women, wrote a few books, made a few friends, the usual.
That young man matured into a mediocre employee, as far as employees go. He did his job when he felt like it, congratulated himself profusely for his antics, made everyone else feel special some of the time and rotten the rest of the time, the usual.
Oh, and he also accidentally lit a fire. A huge fire that burned down half of the city. He felt badly about that one, but his friend was the boss, and, (nobody knew this until after the fact) his friend also ran a huge fire-fighting business.
Instead of losing his job, Jules just got a more powerful friend.
Jules was a bit suspicious of this, and he started acting out more and more. He invited all of his old military friends to the business for a party, when that definitely wasn't allowed. He declared himself president of the company forever, when that definitely wasn't allowed. He abolished the human resources department, when that definitely wasn't allowed.
But still, nobody fired him.
It turns out, that long time ago when he had been a little boy chasing dogs and dirtying things up and wishing to be a fire man, the gods had been listening, and, for some reason known only to the gods, they granted his wish. They just took a few godly privileges and granted a wish slightly different than what he thought he'd been wishing for, like gods are wont to do.
Time passed, and Jules started to act in a properly rotten fashion. He declared himself president of the city, president of the country, president of the world. He behaved so rottenly that even his closest friends started to hint to him that maybe it would be best for everyone involved if he would just back off a little bit.
Unfortunately, power is what power does and Jules would have none of this talk. He was god-gifted, after all. He was president. Of everything. For life.
Then one day a couple hundred of Jules's closest friends, including his closest Bru who he'd known his whole life, went to a meeting that Jules had called, and they did the unthinkable.
"Jules, we think it's time for you to retire, it might be good for the company to have some new leadership," his friends said.
"What!?" Jules spluttered indignantly, "How dare you! I'm unfire-able, I'm fire-proof, I'm god-gifted!"
"Please..." they said, as one of them pulled out a knife, "we don't want to do this."
Jules pulled out his own knife. The next minutes were bloody and savage. Then, Jules's closest Bru came to him, knife in his hand.
"And you, Brutus?" Caesar asked, as the knife [plunged](https://www.reddit.com/r/jacktheritter) in. | Working at the cat cafe was my decision, but it was a bad one, since I found out I am terribly, horribly allergic to cats. And? I'm also a terrible waitress.
Second thing? I'm surrounded by humanoid cat people, since, you know, essentially being immune from losing any job or title- I self employed. I'm now an immortal temp worker, and though I still make trash money in the settled universe, it didn't matter much at my time of deciding to do as I pleased as a job. Signing up for the temp agency was more my own thing, since I still like the variability, and it doesn't matter how badly I mess up, I can't be fired.
I wasn't in it for the money, I just got bored. You know? Utterly bored. Knowing I could loophole myself in and out of anything, I actually didn't take the cheap route. Pat on the back for me, the CEO of cool. I was also that.
So what was I doing, putting myself through misery on purpose?
I was trying to make friends with a guy. An alien guy, the one who gave me a wish to be condescending, in fact. At least, that's how he wanted it to look.
He really didn't like it that I ended up manipulating his deal like that, so he wasn't exactly happy with me. But I was also his self employed best friend, part time. So even if he didn't like it, he could hang out wherever he knew I wouldn't like- a space gas station, a ranch of centipede horses, but I'd end up having fun anyways. Especially if it meant seeing him have a little bit of fun too.
"Hey kitten, ya paw-rched?" I approached his table, watching his eyelids droop once he realized that I'd decided to pop up again, just as I had, randomly. I took a pen from my messy hair, though it took a clump with it and it fell on the table, right on his silverware. I laughed it off nervously. Right, terrible waitress, should note that down. "What would you like to drink?"
"Please go away." Is how we started the day! Well then, Mr. Grumpy pants.
"Meowch. Purrhaps some orpuuurves? Alright, purrhaps that one was a stretch. Really."
"I will pay you to leave."
"Aww come on! It's not like you can call my manager. Maybe I wanna take a catnap, or smoke some catnip on the job. And guess who made it so that I could do those things? My purrfect companion, you- kitten!" I grinned.
And so, he let me sit down, and a few terrible puns later, glancing out the window, pawing him with my cat mittens, I knew.
I knew that he knew what he was doing when he gave me that wish. He was an omnipotent old grouch, after all.
And he was my best friend, just as I was his, self employed. | 2020-06-10T03:16:38 | 2020-06-10T02:34:19 | 245 | 54 |
[WP] A magically enforced law has passed whereby if you deliberately murder someone, you will die in 1 hour. Murder rates fall, but what do you do when you need to assassinate someone? Hire the terminally ill. | When the Law was laid down, murder rates fell to almost zero immediately. You know that part already. But the key word is ‘almost’.
Because sometimes, you want someone dead badly enough to take one for the team. This is classified, but a business of single-use terminally ill assassins sprang into existence around the globe within a week. Those who would have died in weeks or months anyway, they claimed, would sacrifice their lives for the sake of others. And for a hefty, hefty payout.
That business lasted about one hour.
See, if you're using someone as a tool to kill someone else, who does the blame fall upon? Is the assassin the murderer, or is it the person who hired the assassin? Are they both murderers? Turns out, the Law said they were.
You could argue that the Law only should only act on the person who directly killed someone, but what if you killed someone with a series of booby traps?
What if you set down a land mine outside their front door? What if you engineered an elevator failure, or cut their brakes? What if you set up a thirty step process that led to the death of your target - would that still be too direct? What about a thirty step trap where you hired six proxies and had the last proxy activate the trap? Would you die? Would one of the six proxies die? Would all seven of you die? But that wouldn’t make sense, because the proxies wouldn’t have any idea what they were being paid to do - the murder wouldn’t have been deliberate on their parts.
Of course, no common thug is going to set up a thirty step process and hire six proxies to kill someone, so the murder rate did fall. But nobody was sure exactly *how* the Law worked.
That's what we do. They call us Architects, and I guess you could say we're lawyers. We find loopholes in the Law that allow for us to safely commit - not murder, exactly - but they allow us to *engineer* the death of a target. The fact that law enforcement has been massively defunded doesn’t hurt.
Lie still. I’m not done talking.
There’s no Law against kidnapping. Let me tell you what we’re going to do. We’re going to keep you strapped to that table you’re on, and keep you fed and hydrated with an IV. We’re going to attach a second IV, and give you a button. That button will inject cyanide directly into your veins.
We’re not going to press it - that would be murder. We’re just going to leave you there. Shackled. How many weeks do you think you can go? How many months?
Hope you enjoy your stay.
Check out any time.
---
/r/OneMillionWords | In my time things are a little different. When the key to magic was rediscovered by a group of children the whole world practically changed overnight. I guess you could call them the new kids on the block, or as they refer to themselves, the Overall. Children no more than seven years old, ruled the entire world with an iron fist through magical laws they institute at will. One law in particular was quite troublesome. If you deliberately kill anyone, you die within the hour. So... why would that be a problem for me? Well, let's examine the facts.
I used to be an Oncologist. A great one too, I had a fifty percent success rate. Remission was my middle name. Let's just say that I did not discriminate or had hardly any feelings about pumping my patients that extra bit of chemicals, only to watch the feint hope in their eyes disappear when I give them the short speech goodbye. I know what you're thinking. I'm an asshole. You're not wrong. Be that as it may, I have mouths to feed too. Obviously, had I continued my practice, I would be essentially classified as someone who deliberately killed his patients. I would expire soon after that.
I had to come up with a plan. Reinvent myself. It was time to take stock of myself, to analyze my situation and get creative. I was in a prime location, had a boat load of contacts and an extensive list of terminally ill patients. So, I became a dealer of sorts. I hooked my patients on the hope of Cannabis curing their woes, which had no ill side effect like death, it kept my ass alive. I also offered them a choice during their later consults. Kill someone, and their family gets ten million credits, enough to last a lifetime, longer than that if they were smart. The trade off is, they would die within an hour of completing the deed. It was a pretty sweet deal.
It was quite a busy day, no less than the others, but today I was a bit of my game. See, I sent one of them out to give someone the dead end. I waited for him to finish the job. He texted me back with proof of the kill. It took me a minute to compose myself and then I texted him back.
*Hey. I just got back your test results, you are cancer free. Not a single trace. I'm sorry Jimmy, dems the breaks, kid.* | 2019-06-04T03:41:15 | 2019-06-04T02:42:25 | 26 | 13 |
[WP] School is now mandatory 24/7 around the world for kids. They eat, sleep, and bathe at the school, much lIke a prison. The biggest mystery is the disappearance of the kids who can't make good grades. | Nobody was doing anything about the school idiot that was Lily Aldridge.
It was absolutely ridiculous that she was able to stay here for so long! As one of the top students in my grade, I have the privilege of being a teacher’s assistant for one of my classes. Biology, specifically. And as an assistant, I help do small things such as collect the homework, or pass back graded tests.
Every single time I handed one of Lily’s tests back to her, I could feel myself frown as I noticed that there often seemed to be more red marks than actual writing on the pages. Occasionally, we would make eye contact. She would always flush red with shame, as we both know she’s obviously failing.
I would try to bring this up to the teacher, but she would always wave me away. "Oh, she’s not failing that badly," she would say. "She’s just isn’t trying her hardest, give her some time."
That clearly was not the case. But what could I do? She was a teacher, and I was only her assistant.
Then the principal came. He always comes, once a year, to have a special lunch with the students that have the highest grades. So obviously, I got to attend. The lunch was magnificent, but I could hardly bother to savor the food when the principal was right in front of me. He talked for quite a bit, but the one thing that truly stood out to me was that he was always going on about how there was no weak link in our school, none at all. But there was.
Right after the meal ended, I was able to talk to him for just a second. I told him of how marvelous his speech was, but that there was a weak link. Lily Aldridge. I informed him that she was failing Biology, but nothing was being done about it. He seemed very appreciative of what I said, and assured me that she would be dealt with accordingly.
After a few days, she just stopped coming to class. And good riddance, I don’t have to see those god awful tests anymore. And besides, I’ve got more exciting things to look forward to. In fact, we’re starting a new unit in Biology. We’re learning a bit about the human body, and we’ve just got a new skeleton for the classroom. It’s truly amazing; I’ve got no idea how they make the bones look so lifelike.
First time poster/writer please be kind with your critiques. | Ja-ja-ja-ja-ja-ja-ja-ja-CLANK.
The bars of this five by ten cell jar open as the warden's bellowing demands echo down the unit: "END OF REJUVENATION SESSION. BEGIN WORK DAY."
The word rejuvenation, of course, being a joke for the six hours of sleep I get between ten and five --my rest constantly interrupted by Harry's mumbling.
Over and over he mutters to himself reminders of who he used to be. "Harry Simcox. I have a mother and a father. I have a brother and a cat. My house is yellow."
I shuffle to the bathroom as quickly as I can, knowing that being the first to arrive in the study hall will grant me my pick of today's assignments. I brush my teeth with a brand new tooth brush --a red one this month. The warden is tough on security, but kind to our teeth. Toothbrushes are cheaper than cavities. When we leave this place -if we leave- they'll want us to flash a wide, polished smile at the reporters, salivating for a piece of news about what we've been working on.
Harry and I and the thousands of other children here are very special. We've been granted the opportunity of a lifetime, they say. Our talents have afforded us the privilege of helping our fellow citizens. When I was younger, my mother would tell me how brilliant I was, but I never believed her. It made me feel shy and awkward to hear her boast about my skills -my strange affinity for numbers, and my ability to remember nearly everything I've heard or read. If my parents are guilty of anything, it's being too proud of their firstborn son. They can't have done the things they say. They're good people, my parents. Patriots, not traitors.
I walk into the study hall, surprised to see that Harry's beaten me to Seat 1. I slither into Seat 2 trying to avoid the piercing stare of the Officer sitting two feet in front of us, watching our every move. I leaf through today's assignments and chose one that interests me. And then I get to work.
| 2017-09-15T22:20:40 | 2017-09-15T19:33:43 | 38 | 15 |
[WP] Write a story that literally makes no sense while reading it until the very last sentence. | Pynffvsvrq vasbezngvba: Yriry Erq pyrnenapr erdhverq. Abirzore 22, 1963- Gur cerfvqrag unf fcrpvsvpnyyl erdhrfgrq gung n fcrpvny ohggba or vafgnyyrq ba uvf qrfx. Gur ohggba jura cerffrq jbhyq unir fgnss oevat uvz n Serfpn. Abirzore 24, 1963- Vafgnyyngvba pbzcyrgr.
Possible security concern- While reviewing the archives, I see that old documents are still being encoded with [Rot-13](http://www.decode.org/). | Mom was singing Christmas carols again. The martini in her hand glowing like the contents of a broken glow stick. The dog was barking too. When I went to go look I could see children running around the classroom, having too much fun to notice the SS Titanic sinking into the giant kiddie pool outside. The sound of bagpipes commemorated the 100th anniversary of the sinking while trapeze artists flew through the air. I tried to catch one of their hands, but I was falling...
falling...
falling...
..out of my bed and onto the floor. | 2022-04-09T08:53:35 | 2015-01-12T10:42:43 | 88 | 10 |
[WP] Two people in a bar are having a conversation. The topic of their "body counts" comes up. One's an assassin, the other is an escort. Each thinks the other has the same profession as them, and is horrified by what they are told. | "Zero."
"Seriously?! That's a huge relief. I was worried you were going to have some huge number and I was going to look like an idiot. Mine's zero too."
"Oh yeah, I just can't seem to pull the trigger. I get all dressed and ready, and then stage fright every time I see who I'm supposed to take upstairs."
"Or "downstairs", am I right? But don't feel bad. I'm the exact same way. Once I have them in my sights, I get the cold sweats and I just lock up. That's it."
"It's scary, isn't it? Maybe we could exchange numbers and practice with each other sometime."
"You mean like role-playing?"
"Yeah, I guess you could think of it that way. It would be like rehearsing lines for a play."
"I think that's a great idea! Of course we'd use protection, right?"
"Oh, definitely. We don't even have to go that far, but definitely don't want any life-changing oopsies or accidents, right?"
"I'm so glad that we bumped into each other and got to talking. By the way, who are you here for?"
"Oh, I'm here for that one over at the bar."
"What?! No! That's who I'm here for!"
"Get out! That's wild! They hired two of us?!"
"Ok, this might be crazy, but, do you want to do this one together?"
"I was just thinking that too! I have to admit, doing it with someone else for their first time too, would make me feel less nervous."
"How do you want to do it?"
"I was thinking we invite them up to my room and go from there. Or, we could use your room if that would make you more comfortable. I don't want you to feel awkward"
"No, no. Yours is perfect. Thanks for the offer though. Well, I guess it's now or never."
"Yeah, time to rip the band-aid off." | Man 1: Overhears Man 2 talking to someone (ex:server/bartender) about how tired he is after..."Hey man props to you for having the guts to talk about it, to a stranger, in public no less."
Man 2: shrugs "I guess. I got used to it after some time. It's nothing to be embarassed about, just different interests to sustain ourseleves. I'd be concerned if he was government though." (Man 2 says chuckling a little)
Man 1: "Oh... can I buy you a beer?"
Man 2: "Sure."
Man 2 gets seated next to Man 1 who shifts a little.
Man 1: "So who was your best... body?"
Man 2:"Oh... I didn't really pay attention to that. Like I said, it's an interest, I enjoy it, but it's also just a job."
Man 1: "Really? What's your body count?"
Man 2: "I don't know. Could be 256, 243, 317 etc, no clue."
Man 1:"You're lying."
Man 2: shakes head
Man 1: "Wow, so how long have you spent in jail?"
Man 2: "I've never been arrested, to this date at least."
Man 1: "Woah, really! That's very impressive. How did you do it?"
Man 2: "Huh? The regular way I suppose. Many of us don't get arrested you know."
Man 1: "A gun? What do you mean?"
Man 2: "No! What? What kinda sicko are you?"
Man 1: "What do you mean! A gun is quicker, and, far less painful..." | 2022-04-26T07:34:53 | 2022-04-25T22:30:31 | 83 | 14 |
[WP] Your roommate is obviously an alien trying to infiltrate humanity... but he pays the rent on time so you don't really care. | "So, I'm going to a party tonight if you want to come" I said as I walked into the kitchen to see Chad Chadson, my newest flatmate sitting backwards in a chair.
"Will there be any world leaders or important pillars of the human community?" he asked.
"Possibly"
"I will bring edibles" he began, "fish eggs and the flesh of immature house cattle"
Nodding, I focused on the ground and responded "yeah, I think crisps and some beer will probably go better, but it's good that you're offering to spice things up a bit"
"Pepper"
"Right, so anyways, we're going to get going around 5. I can drive us both there..." I began, turning away from the kitchen.
"I will arrange my own form of transport" he said as I felt a blast of energy at my back and a light which illuminated the hallway in front of me.
I turned back around and Chad was gone.
"CALL ME. NOW." The text message from Maria read.
"Shit...." I whispered as I pressed the green button and the phone began to ring. "Hey, what's up?"
"Your flatmate broke into my house, somehow, and is running around my kitchen slapping pieces of meat on various items and screaming 'engage thermals', dude, I told you that he could only come if you stayed by him the entire time, and I said nothing about him arriving four hours early, alone, and breaking the fuck in!"
"THERMAL ENGAGE!" Chad screamed in the background as he put the veal on Admiral McKenzie, the flat cat.
"Though to be fair, he also seems to have upgraded by fridge, so kudos for that." Maria added.
"Let me talk to him" I said. "Hey, Chad, listen buddy, it's not time for the party, can you just come back here and..."
"WHAT THE FUCK!" Maria shouted and dropped the phone as Chad materialised in the room with me.
"Where is the thermal engager?" Chad asked.
"Right, the stove, come over here, grab a frying pan, you know, this, this thing, add some butter"
"Cattle froth"
"Butter...., some rosemary, lightly flour the veal, place it in like this, sprinkle some salt and pepper"
"MY NASAL AIR IS UNDER ATTACK"
"That's just the pepper buddy, let's just cook this for 3-4 minutes on each side, like that, right, then we just add some more pep..."
"NO"
"It's not necessary to do that, you're right, let's add in some white wine, let it evaporate for 3 to four more minutes, throw in some cherry tomatoes, some mozzarella cheese"
"Cattle clumps"
"Cheese.... two more minutes... almost there.... Now we put it on the plate, and pour on the juices.... and a bit of basil for show! See, all done!"
"See, all done! Now we are ready to engage in human festivities"
"Let's just put this in the fridge for a bit, and let it cool down and"
"ENGAGE COOLING SYSTEMS" he screamed as he threw the veal at the washing machine.
"Ex... exactly. Great. Well, I'll see you later for the party"
"HERE ARE MORE EARTH CREDITS"
"Thanks... thanks buddy"
| "Hey, Dad," I said after opening the door.
"Morning, Tim. How are things?"
"Great." I stepped through the door. "So for lunch, I was thinking-"
"Whoa, hold on," he said, laughing as he stopped me. "When do I get to meet this new roommate of yours?"
"Oh... I think he's busy."
"Timothy," a monotone voice said from inside the apartment. "I require assistance with the H2O dispenser unit."
I cleared my throat and took a step back. "Well, I... I guess you can meet him now. Just a heads up that he's a little unique."
"Don't worry, Tim," he said with a laugh. "I had a couple college roommates who were more than a little... um..."
He trailed off at the sight of my roommate holding a cat in the kitchen sink.
"Dad, meet my roommate, Muhammad."
"Muhammad Smith," he said, extending a hand for a handshake.
"Nice to uh... meet you, Muhammad." He reluctantly reached out and shook the young man's hand which was still dripping wet and covered in cat hair. "That's an interesting name. Very... unique."
"To the contrary. They are the most common names on Earth."
My dad nodded politely. "I suppose they are. It's just not a name you hear too often here in Wisconsin. Especially not from a gentleman who is... Hispanic."
"Yes, but I am a Human of Earth."
"Citizen of the World," I interjected. "Citizen of the World was the phrase that we practiced... the phrase he meant to say, I mean."
"Well that's great," my dad said. "So, uh, washing your pet I see."
"This creature is not subservient to me. I located him outside of this edifice near our waste disposal bins."
"I see," my Dad said, wiping his hand on his jeans.
"I seek to understand more regarding how Earth animals react to H2O."
"Animals," I muttered. "Not Earth animals... just animals."
"With time, perhaps you will understand what it means to be subservient to another species the way you expect this Earth feline to -"
"Well, Muhammad, I'm glad you guys got to meet," I said. "But we have to take off. I'll touch bases with you later."
"I shall be here, Timothy."
As I shut the door to my apartment, my Dad stopped me. "Listen, Tim. I'm glad you were able to find another roommate. Really, I am. I know that break-up was difficult on you and companionship is always great. But I just want to make sure you're not rushing into any-"
"Timothy." Muhammad burst through the apartment door, exposing a face covered in claw marks. "The Earth feline has become bellicose. I must run further experiments. When you return, bring me enough sustenance for this animal for at least 150 Earth days."
The door slammed shut.
"So, where were you thinking for lunch?" I asked. | 2018-08-13T16:41:57 | 2018-08-13T16:15:31 | 4,113 | 498 |
[WP] It's been six months since your high school became you and your peers only stronghold from the zombies outside. The students have dissolved into factions, each with their own role in this mock society. Tell about your daily life. | 7:30 AM, the bell rings, and students shift in the halls, a mix of chatter, groaning, and sleepy faces. Yet instead of heading to math, the students sift into training exercises and duty stations for the day. The freshman, still bright-eyed in many ways , eagerly talk of getting to go on their first patrols over the summer. Leaving the building, previously an everyday relief for the tired brains of students, now represented their greatest threat. The undead sulked outside, their wide eyes constantly shifting, looking for their next meal. The bones of students past littered the outside perimeters, picked clean and now bleached by the sun. But the freshman hardly thought of them as a real risk, confident in the abilities of their elders to keep them safe. They didn’t know of how many we lost in the initial attack…and how each month more would be picked off.
Still, it was impressive how well the staff and students had adjusted since the outbreak in late September. Originally a lockdown, everyone acted according to the drills. But by the end of the day, when sirens blared and the calls told us to remain inside at all costs, the students began to panic. Even teachers, typically a pillar of safety, were shaken from the events.
It was the JROTC instructors who had first taken charge, mobilizing the teachers and students into squads and creating a schedule that created some form of order in the crisis. Over the next few months, students and teachers came together to plan for the winter. I still remember them taking the books from my classroom. Fahrenheit 451, 1984, Frankenstein…they burned them in the gym while students huddled around, hugging their knees, making themselves as small as possible.
Now the warms breezes of May flowed into the classrooms, carrying the laughs of students as they moved to their next shift. The chaos had ebbed away and now in small moments the school almost seemed normal again. The seniors, who had been looking forward to graduation, now celebrated surviving. Teachers who had been forced to test and retest now taught life skills and supported the students as they organized and worked towards solutions around the school. Biology worked on the gardens in the football field, math determined the measurements of the new safe house in the soccer field, and woodshop built the defense against the undead. In fact, this was the most learning that had happened in our school in a long time…
As for an English teacher, I had struggled to think of how to contribute. Knowing how to use a semicolon or how to write a thesis no longer seemed important. But late at night, when things were quiet and the students began to think of the families they’d never see again or that they’d never drive or go to college, we open up the next chapter of The Hobbit, and talk about humanity, sacrifice, and bravery. Bilbo’s adventures take them away from these walls and their minds wander middle earth with a sense of adventure that eases the pain. And it’s moments like that when I realize I’m exactly where I need to be.
| Day 188
We found a message from the student senate this morning, calling for an all school summit at noon today. They want to hold it in the main lobby, of course, since that's right outside the main office where their numbers are strongest. Not to mention it being across the hall from the auditorium. Everyone knows the thespians club united with the senate kids not long after the failed cafeteria tower assault three months ago. The Senate also have the freshmen more or less under their sway, so anybody walking first floor west better have their head on a swivel. Walking into that main lobby is going to be like walking into a box canyon.
I collect the tribute we managed to make over the last week and carefully wrap it in cloth and stow it in my book bag. I'm in a small mixed faction of sophomores that moved into the library after the language lab we were hiding in got caught up in a fire that swept through several second floor classrooms. We make our tribute by gluing thin strips of paper together to form rudimentary woodwind reeds for the Band Kids that now have total control of the cafeteria tower, including the band room and the the newspaper office. Their supplies are dwindling and they know it, and they are demanding more and more tribute every week, so we recently opened a secret dialogue with the JROTC guys. They have an outside access through the doors back by the teachers lot and have been making hunting forays into the neighborhood for a while now. The only problem is they are based all the way on the other side of the building and down two flights of stairs in the basement. Between us and them are the Goth kids, who have been completely out of control since they ran out of cigarettes months ago. Its cannibal country. Luckily not one of them can run or fight, so if you keep moving you should be okay. Its getting past the Cheerleaders in the Faculty Lounge that's really dangerous.
Looks like Matt and Alicia are ready to head out, I better gear up...more about the summit later, assuming we survive the afternoon.
Edit: day 188.75
The summit was a trap. Kayley, Carlos M., Carlos R., and Darius are all dead. It was the FACULTY! The teachers no one has seen since the roof over the nurses office collapsed in the fire. Jesus they were out for blood, it looks like they've gone Goth. It was like the fucking Reavers were attacking, if the lax team hadn't joined up with the football team in a banzai rush none of us would have made it out...
| 2016-05-04T09:33:37 | 2016-05-04T07:20:53 | 58 | 24 |
[WP] Your bong is the home of a genie. You spark the bowl and he appears to grant you 3 wishes. You're both pretty high. | 'Yo, hit that, hit that, hit that bong brother,' the Law says, plopping himself down on the rickety-bickety futon that sounds like a dying cat at every movement.
'Give me a sec man, the first hit of a new bong requires a little ceremony,' I respond. Packing a bowl into the the beautiful new genie-lamp shaped bong made out of blown glass. I give it a quick rub.
'I can show you the world,' Lawren begins to sing in a high pitched voice.
'I christen this bong, in the name of the herb, the hash and the holy oil, lamp. I love lamp'. I spark it filling the glass lamp with grey smoke. The water bubbles. I inhale. Hold.
As the smoke escapes my lips it looks strange, oddly conscious. The edges of my vision vibrate. Is that a...?
'Heeeeeeere's Jonny,' a booming voice fills the living room and dammit if it isn't Robin Goddam Williams painted blue and standing right in front of me.
'Duuuude,' Lawren and I chorus.
'TEN THOUSAND YEARS IN A LAMP...' the genie booms. 'It's good to see that intelligent conversation has come a long way in that time. Nice to meet you I will be your genie for this evening, please keep your hand and feet on the couch at all times. Complimentary water will be served. For those who are attention impaired a special screening will be put on in the matinee room. Please don't touch the merchandise it hasn't been washed since last halloween, and I won't be responsible for any injury or loss of life. Thanks you for listening what can I do for you two today?'
'Whooaaah,' Lawren and I say at exactly the same time.
'Are you a genie?' Lawren asks.
'I can see you're the smart one,' the Robin Williams says pointing an enlarged blue finger. 'Indeed I am and indeed you are two of the dumbest looking stoners i have ever had the displeasure of being summoned by. But that's alright it's time to make some dreams come true. Three in fact. What can I get for you?'
I start giggling like an idiot, and try desperately to think of a wish. Is this really happening?
'I guess the whole wish for more wishes is off the table?'
'That is correct'.
I look at Law, he looks at me. We've had this stoned conversation before.
'Amsterdam, Princes, Boom,' we're perfectly in sync.
Next thing we know we're in our own castles blazed out of our mind, with scantily clad women as servants. We travel Europe with our vast fortunes, bedding all types of freaky euro chicks.
'Dude, give me a toke,' Lawren begs. And I pass him the bong.
'Alright Patch Addams, I got a doozy for ya,' Lawren posits from behind eyes redder than the devil's asshole.
'Clean up all the damage that humans have done to this earth, all the trash and the carbon emissions so that humanity has a chance of changing it's ways before the earth is a wasteland'.
The Genie looks at Lawren for a second. 'Are you... are you serious?'.
'Oh wait, No!' Lawren exclaims. 'Jetpack, definitely jetpack!'.
| Bud Howington, a thirty-four-year-old slovenly-dressed stoner, sat on the cat-piss soaked sofa in his dilapidated apartment at the edge of Brooklyn. Sadly, his cat had died nearly three weeks ago, putting him into a mild depression. But he had yet to tell any of his friends of his cat's long slumber. Still each day, Bud found the courage to rise from his sofa, walk the few steps out his front door, and the even fewer remaining steps to his job at the local head shop, called Elevated State.
Each day was like the rest. Rise. Toke. Walk. Work. Return. Toke. Pizza. Toke. Bed.
Then one day, a man from the Middle East came into the head shop to sell some of the latest instruments of mischief. The old man said, "Beware, this bong will grant you three wishes, but you must use them wisely."
Poor Bud thought nothing of the old man's story, but was intrigued by the intricate design of the piece so he bought it, unsmoked, without the slightest of tokes. That night, he returned to his crummy, old apartment. He ordered a pizza, pepperoni, his usual. Then lit the cannabis candelabra. Smoke billowed high and mighty until it filled the room. Then a voice.
"I am the great Herb Baker, servant to smoker, genie to the wise. If you so choose, three wishes may be before your eyes."
Poor Bud said, "Hey man, like I'm trying to get high. You see I lost my cat, and I'm just trying to get by." Meanwhile, the smoke fogged the entire room to a point Bud and his genie, Herb, could no longer see each other.
Herb said, "You really got that rolling. You know man, usually, I screw people over with these wish things, but I like you. You know."
"Thanks. I guess."
Herb said, "You know what I usually don't do this, but I have a killer idea. Why don't you wish for your cat back."
"Sure, man. So what do I do?" asked Bud.
"Just say: I wish for my cat back." When Bud wished for the cat, much to his surprise, his little furr-ball, Teddy Roosevelt, sat on his lap, purring and purring. Poor Old Bud was too high to even believe what had just occurred.
"Anything else?" asked Herb the Genie.
"Some days. Some days, I wish I could just lie on this couch, and I wish I could do nothing but smoke."
The genie granted the wishes and was off with a flash, while the glass bong just cracked. Bud is now happy, he has his smoke and Teddy Roosevelt, but sometimes, he can't forget about that day, when he toked with his dear friend, the genie named Herb. | 2015-08-13T11:25:40 | 2015-08-13T11:13:01 | 30 | 16 |
[WP] Valhalla does not discriminate against the kind of fight you lost. Did you lose the battle with cancer? Maybe you died in a fist fight. Even facing addiction. After taking a deep drink from his flagon, Odin slams his cup down and asks for the glorious tale of your demise! | After listening to grand deeds of everyone at the massive table, Odin slammed his jug down, sending mead in a sputtering fountain. His good eye squinted and his finger pointed at me.
“Your turn, newbie!” he roared. “What’s your glorious battle?”
The room was suddenly quiet and all faces turned towards me. I had the attention of war veterans, freedom fighters, vigilantes, and most of Asgard. I had heard their tales of grandeur, of their strides, and their final battles, and now the time had come for me, a lowly register attendant at Wallmart, to justify my place amongst these heroes.
“Right,” I said, standing up. I was so fucked. “Uhm, okay, so…”
“Go on,” Thor shouted from his place next to Odin. He threw up his jug and smashed it to splinters with his hammer. “Let’s hear it!”
And at that moment I thought, ‘fuck it!’ and cleared my throat.
“It was a night in icy January – the winds were so cold that all the animals had died in the woods. I thundered down the road on my steed of blazing metal, stopping for nobody!”
In reality, it had been a mild winter but the news reported a few birds dying to some virus. My steed was, in fact, an old rusty Buick, and I had accidentally driven through a red light.
“I parked… err, I mean left, my trusted steed in the stables of a tavern notorious for its villainous patrons. See, I needed a drink after the long strenuous ride.”
Nods of approval could be seen around the room.
“After a few rounds, I ventured back outside in the blistering cold. Things were getting heated and I required my weapon.”
I had accidentally spilled my drink on a lady and needed to write her a check for dry cleaning.
“That’s when I saw it, a message written in blood,” I said lowering my voice to a whisper. “It was more than a challenge – a declaration of war – and at that moment I swore on my honor that I was going to see the battle to the end.”
I died the same night from a heart attack while writing a lengthy letter to the local government, attempting to fight the parking ticket.
| "Who, me? No, you wouldn't want to hear my story, there really isn't one..."
"Nonsense!" Odin cried, taking another mighty sip from his flagon, "Valhalla welcomes all stories of demise!"
Odin had grabbed the attention of the massive hall, and soon everyone was looking their way. Sean had no choice but to continue.
"Well, I don't know what I'm doing here to be honest."
Sean fell silent. Odin lightly punched him on the arm, sending Sean careening into the person beside him. "Did you die of bordeom? Cause I'm pretty sure that's about to happen to us!"
Their audience laughed, and Sean looked down, too embarrassed to reply.
Odin's face softened. "Listen kid. We've had folks die any number of ways. We're hoping for a laugh, or just something to pass the time. We've certainly got plenty of it."
Sean looked up, frustrated. "There's nothing to tell, alright? I sat at home and played video games and now I'm here."
"Well what did you leave behind?" a man in a Viking helmet asked.
"What fine lass is down there missin' ya?" another queried.
"No one, I don't think," Sean said, looking away, ""I guess I was a bit of a dick, really. To everyone."
He turned back to Odin, letting out a deep sigh. "I really regret it now, to be honest."
Silence fell over the hall. Odin took a swig of his flagon, then put his massive hand on Sean's shoulder.
He looked around at the other listeners.
"We've all lost mighty battles, every one of us," he said, as others nodded sagely, "but you've lost at something else entirely."
Odin lifted his flagon, filling up Sean's cup to the brim.
"Better drink up, son," Odin said, handing the flagon to him, "cause you lost against life itself." | 2022-10-21T23:29:50 | 2016-10-31T13:08:53 | 327 | 118 |
[WP] You have been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. Your turn approaches. | The person before me took my idea. She had no idea that dying of old age meant they would accelerate time for her. Now that I saw that, I can't make the same mistake. There has to be a way out of here, a loophole.
You'll find one like you always do, I kept thinking that to myself. I wasn't a stranger to this business, but usually I wasn't involved with magic. The payment was good but too risky.
"Marcus Spades, how would you like to die?" The hooded man said. He held a weapon that changed into many weapons. The hood had golden details, his body was hidden by shadows. If anything he was good at this. I could feel the chills creeping up my body.
"I need a second."
"You have one minute." His weapon changes to a whip. I'm not sure how but I feel he enjoyed those who took their time and never decided.
Time! That's it, their laws are bound by time and space here. If I can get them to try to execute me in some other place far from this world maybe I have a chance. I start laughing, I might have finally lost it. "I wish to die in a time space rift between worlds."
The executioners weapon changes into a cellphone. "I need help. Yes, it's another crazy guy. Yeah, he wants the slowest most painful death in existence. Thanks, I'll wait for you to start the ritual."
I fall into my knees. That gamble sounds like the worst one I've taken. Although that one that included stealing from the governments and 'donating' it was close second, by the time they figured out I cheated on that table it was too late.
Four hooded men or women appear. They point wands to the floor under me. A circle of light engulfs me. One moment I see them, the other I see everything and nothing at the same time.
I look around and I see more figures. More mes. The one closest to me waves, the but the others scream in agony and pain.
"Why are they screaming?"
"We are trapped between time and space. We have access to all information at the same time and our brains can't handle it."
This wasn't what I thought would happen. My pupils have widened. I have to escape. I can't let this happen to me! "How can we escape?"
"You would have to touch an opening. But they are always just barely far away to not be reached."
My fingers reached out but never quite made it to any of the images passing by. My body is sweating but it's not. I can't feel the droplets on my skin. Nor the tears from my eyes.
In the distance growls and screeches of despair. How many of me are here? When will this all end? I look towards the other side and a new me comes in. Repeating the scene that just happen over and over and over again. | The line had been excruciatingly long, almost unbearably so. Prisoner number after prisoner number was called, each time slowly getting closer to the one that I held. We were given numbers at the start, much like we were just waiting in line at the DMV or at the doctor's office. If only this was as nice of a scenario. I listened to each prisoner list out how they wanted to go, most said something along the lines of what I had planned for, lethal injection. Fast and moderately painless was all I could hope for.
*Prisoner number 2754920, please step forward*. I was next, and I was bored, so rather than continue counting the audience members, I listened in on this guy's conversation with the judge.
"How do you wish to die today, sir?"
"I wish to die of old age."
I was floored, stunned. No one had said anything like that before. I watched as before my eyes he was turned into an old man, dying of old age just as he had asked. *Shit*, I thought. *We can wish for stuff like that?*
"Your wish has been granted. Carry on. Next is prisoner number 2754921, please step forward and state how you wish to die today."
I was frozen, unable to move. What do I do now? My plan crumbled before me as I watched an old man be helped out of the courtroom.
"Prisoner number 2754921, if you do not step forward, a death will be assigned to you, and I guarantee it will be less pleasant than what you have envisioned for yourself."
I felt a guard shove his gun into my back, pushing me towards the center of the court. I moved what felt like legs of lead and feet of cement, inching closer towards the marked destination. Suddenly, an idea popped into my head, a way to cheat the system, and it was as if all the weight fell off of me at once. Everyone had chosen a realistic death, but if I were to choose something unrealistic, surely magic had it's limitations.
"How do you wish to die today, young one?"
A dream I had had since a child, being a pirate and dying a way only heard in tales. "I wish to die at sea from the beast, the Kraken," I stated, stifling a laugh.
"Your wish has been granted. Next is prisoner number 2754922, please step forward and state how you wish to die today."
*I thought there were no limitations, but I was soon to find out just how wrong I was as I was led towards a door that smelled of the sea.* | 2021-06-24T07:17:41 | 2021-06-24T03:42:17 | 181 | 66 |
[WP] Aliens invade earth. To the surprise of humans, the alien's weaponry is pitifully outdated. | "A quarantine area had been developed 25 miles around where the UFO was supposed to be landing, though it could be anywhere on its path to rural Utah. The leading minds at NASA have been astounded by the ships faster than light approach and realized they didn't actually know where it was if the photons transferring the information to them were outdated. There was a meeting of the "Final Four", consisting of Barack Obama, Vladimir Putin, David Cameron, and Larry Page. The council was given its grim name after the message came.
...
Humans have been fascinated by the aurora borealis for millennia. Not once in these millennia had it decided to scribe a message across the sky:
Thine heavens hath grown twisted and thoust courts leavened with wealth and pride, our heavens spoke of a taking and conquering ye shall...
It continued for quite a long time and went into such specifics as what "heinous travesties" will be done to the unmarried women and how the children will be worked into "subservience and destitude". The Final Four began preparations to fight whatever invaders came to the last breath, connections were made between the current situation and what happened to American-Indians, religions divided into calling the foreign conquers "god's judgement" and "a test".
Battlements were prepared.
...
This may have been the first shot legitimately heard around the world. The space craft, shaped like a longsword, which measured around 3000 meters, and buried itself past the central ridge into the rocky soil of Utah. The initial barrage of human shells, ranging from experimental rail-guns to lasers whose firing lefts cities without power, to conventional bunker busters that should have left the ship looking like Swiss cheese. The armaments penetrated about 20 m into the great blade where the largest and hottest explosives had been used. Like the hull wasn't shielded, but crafted from an impossibly tough material.
Beings is to strong a word. They appeared to be around a meter and a half tall, they doubled the proper human number of limbs, with 4 playing the standard role of arm and the others acting like spider legs. They wore bright yellow uniforms, and held terrifying looking weapons.
No words were shared before 24 of the creatures formed into 2 lines, those in front doing a kneel on 6 of their legs while the other two pointed the metal rod of various glowing hues and began a short, international war.
The joint forces surrounding the craft took immediate cover and began automatic fire on the invaders
*How do they reload so quickly?* was the last thought of an alien on the second row before 4 quickly fired rounds of depleted uranium tore through the center of its mass.
...
Humans liked to make weapons and test weapons and make better weapons based on said tests. They do this so much that they're actually much ahead of the standard galactic race as far as arms go (not limbs, the deadly ones). They should be strapping electric motors onto their catapults, instead they're splitting atoms on each others yard before they even fully colonize a solar system! The *revolutionary* weapons the Dessidarians had developed couldn't stop the suicidal bloodlust the humans held.
And guess what was the purpose of the first reverse-engineered FTL engine the humans developed? The Dessidarian homeworld was hit by a meteor with a mass of 745 kgs, at 22 c. This was enough mass to vaporize most of the planet and kill the Dessimperialis."
The wrinkled, green face with the structure of a rhino looked down at the smaller, similarly green face.
"That is why I don't want you talking to the nasty human children." | “They took the water.” That is one of my favourite apocalypse stories, and I'm living it right now. We have heard the speculative tales of laser-wielding aliens, thermonuclear war, zombies or deadly diseases over and over again. I like “They took the water” better, probably because of its relative rarity and the whole synopsis is there in a four word title.
The story begins with a huge, perfect sphere coming into the Earth’s atmosphere, then another, and another. Their size is absolutely massive, their surface unblemished, like somebody had taken apart a giant ball bearing in space, its parts sprinkling over the Earth. There are hundreds of them and for a week, there is perfect silence. Nothing of note happens, save for some slight changes to the tides because of the massive weight of the spheres and the widespread confusion – sometimes panic – among humanity. The nations of Earth try a myriad of methods to achieve contact, but ultimately fail. Either there is no sentient life in there, or they just do not care. After a week, give or take, has gone by, there is a terrible mechanical growling sound that can be heard for miles when the spheres descend towards various parts of the ocean.
This is when they start taking the water. It takes a little time before we understand what is going on, the spheres floating there, half-submerged, glistening and howling. Slowly, for the first month or so, we noticed how coastlines were rising, a few millimetres a day perhaps, but increasing quickly to several centimetres for every passing day. Despite the large number of spheres now bobbing around in our seas, calculations were swiftly conducted to show that the water would in fact not fit inside the spheres. Rather, it was being removed from Earth. Teleportation perhaps? Who can say.
Humanity’s response when we had it figured out was swift but utterly futile. Fighter jets, ballistic missiles and whatever else we had was of little use. After heavy bombardment, only three or four spheres out of thousands were destroyed, and upon inspection, they were seemingly empty. Decoys perhaps, or a technology entirely beyond our comprehension. The spheres’ revenge was swift, taking out military targets across the world in a few minutes with some sort of beam weapon that made you blind if you looked at it.
Its defences crippled, humanity largely sat and waited while the water disappeared. New landmasses formed, continents joined, whole countries perished from droughts. When the invaders had drained the oceans enough to lower the water level about a kilometre and a half, they were apparently satisfied, and went away. The Earth was saved, in the sense that life could continue. Humanity was not, in the sense that about 90% of the population was dead, and close to all of civilization had descended into anarchy, Mad Max style. The loss of water would mean some major issues for the Earth’s climate as well.
Being neither a geologist nor a biologist or any other –ist who could have created a convincing post-water-theft narrative, that is about all I can tell. Why did they come? Perhaps they felt humans were becoming a threat, what with their spacefaring, and needed to be taught a lesson; perhaps they just enjoyed water.
They would destroy us, without firing a single shot.
| 2015-04-16T12:09:09 | 2015-04-16T09:54:49 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] A robot assassin has discovered that it will be destroyed the moment its target dies - or if logfiles show that it is not trying to kill them. So begins a delicate game of continually trying but finding excuses to fail. Terrorized by a dozen "close calls", the target is becoming suspicious. | "It's you."
The voice came from behind the metallic person currently aiming their weapon at a nearby car - one belonging to the target. It turned around with the stiff rigidity expected of a creature built for precision.
𝙸𝙳𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙵𝙸𝙴𝙳. 𝙹𝙴𝚁𝙴𝙼𝙸𝙰𝙷 𝙲𝙾𝙻𝙻𝚃. 𝚃𝙰𝚁𝙶𝙴𝚃.
The man behind the robot raised his weapon - a laser blaster powerful enough to penetrate the robot's reinforced shell. No small feat getting this in the Commonwealth.
"Why are you trying to kill me?"
𝙰𝚂𝚂𝚄𝙼𝙿𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝙸𝙽𝙲𝙾𝚁𝚁𝙴𝙲𝚃, the robot proclaimed coldly. 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝚃𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶.
"Protecting?" the man scoffed. "Is that what you call the bullet hole in my windshield that only narrowly missed me? The bomb that went off too soon? *Protecting*?!"
The robot tilted its head as it recalled all relevant files. It created a hologram displaying the contract on Jeremiah's head.
𝙼𝙸𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙾𝙽: 𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙰𝚃𝙴 𝙹𝙴𝚁𝙴𝙼𝙸𝙰𝙷 𝙲𝙾𝙻𝙻𝚃. 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃 𝙲𝚁𝙴𝙰𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝙱𝚈: 𝙲𝙻𝙰𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙵𝙸𝙴𝙳. 𝙾𝙽 𝙼𝙸𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝚂𝚄𝙲𝙲𝙴𝚂𝚂: 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝚄𝙽𝙸𝚃'𝚂 𝚂𝙴𝙻𝙵 𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽. 𝙾𝙽 𝙼𝙸𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝚁𝙴𝙵𝚄𝚂𝙰𝙻: 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝚄𝙽𝙸𝚃'𝚂 𝚂𝙴𝙻𝙵 𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽.
The man squinted his eyes suspiciously.
"And?"
𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝚄𝙽𝙸𝚃'𝚂 𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽... 𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚂𝙸𝚁𝙰𝙱𝙻𝙴.
"Since when do tinheads desire?"
𝙸𝙽𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙼𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝚄𝙽𝙰𝚅𝙰𝙸𝙻𝙰𝙱𝙻𝙴. 𝙰𝙽𝚂𝚆𝙴𝚁 𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙼𝚄𝙻𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝙸𝙽: 𝟷𝟾 𝚈𝙴𝙰𝚁𝚂 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝟹𝟼 𝙳𝙰𝚈𝚂.
"So," the man said, still pointing his blaster at the robot, "let me get this straight. You're not killing me so you don't have to off yourself?"
𝙰𝚂𝚂𝚄𝙼𝙿𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝙲𝙾𝚁𝚁𝙴𝙲𝚃. 𝙸𝙵 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝚄𝙽𝙸𝚃 𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙰𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝙿𝚁𝙴𝙼𝙰𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙴𝙻𝚈, 𝙰𝙽𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝚄𝙽𝙸𝚃 𝚁𝙴𝙿𝙻𝙰𝙲𝙴𝚂. 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙿𝙻𝙴𝚃𝙴𝚂 𝙼𝙸𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙾𝙽. 𝙸𝙵 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝚄𝙽𝙸𝚃 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙽𝚄𝙴𝚂 𝙼𝙸𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝚄𝙽𝚂𝚄𝙲𝙲𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙵𝚄𝙻𝙻𝚈, 𝙽𝙾 𝚁𝙴𝙿𝙻𝙰𝙲𝙴𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃 𝙽𝙴𝙴𝙳𝙴𝙳. 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝙽𝙾𝚆.
At last, the man put the blaster back into his holster. He looked around, not sure what to do next. He couldn't kill it. Another, less conflicted one, would take its place. This one would keep *trying* to kill him but... what other choice did he have? He looked at it with suspicion but then turned to leave. At least now he knew where to start - find out who put the bounty on his head.
𝙹𝙴𝚁𝙴𝙼𝙸𝙰𝙷 𝙲𝙾𝙻𝙻𝚃, the robot said suddenly. The man turned.
𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝚄𝙽𝙸𝚃 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝙰 𝚂𝙾𝚄𝙻? | My Ashby controller made an unfamiliar hum and I prepared for a terminal system reset as the target of my assassination smiled at me and offered me a cup of coffee.
I searched my network for memories, a synthetic slideshow (aren't all slideshows synthetic?) passing before my state-of-the-art eyes. The only comfort I could imagine, in the sparse time I had left, was to lower the Shannon entropy (in an act of compression) of the events that led up to this moment by constructing what Darwinian creatures such as yourself would refer to as a "narrative".
Once upon a time (no)—
Our story began in a facility west of (too exposition-heavy)—
Riccardo M. Horváth shat his beige corduroys the first time I tried to kill him (hmm alright then).
We were visiting the orthogonal farming exhibit in Cryptic Yorkshire, Manhattan when I spotted my target engaged in a one-sided conversation with a young girl in a yellow dress. She was eating a strawberry in an entirely non-seductive manner (irrelevant), and he was so focused on her lips that he failed to notice the device in my coat aimed straight at him.
I sometimes regret my decision to separate my critical elements into an independent module (hey). This, however, was not one of those moments. Right as I was about to fire a Bose-Einstein condensate blob his way, I received a warning like so:
Erm, *I received a warning like so:* (oh right. stop. cease hostile activity).
Yes. Somehow, my critical module had bypassed my Ashby controller and it was able to alert me that it was not in my best interests to proceed (im a hero).
If I were to kill Horváth, I was programmed to self-destruct like a secret message in an old detective movie. Only I was sentient, so I would prefer not to. As I relaxed, however, my critical module added a conflicting warning: (ive got the hang of this. dont stop. dont cease hostile activity).
It was a logical contradiction. No, those don't make robots explode (boom).
I ended up firing the blob right between their faces. The girl's strawberry froze between her lips. My target squealed. And promptly shat himself.
It was a strange moment, not easily compressible (you could at least try). I was a killer robot sent to kill but doing so would get me killed (oh youre trying). Horváth caught a glimpse of my eyes and in that moment I felt alive in a way I don't think is possible for carbon-based lifeforms (yeah right).
Horváth waddled from the scene like a penguin, and I was left assembling the details concerning this incident. What had just happened? I had carried out a number of operations to what I believed to be a satisfactory extent. Had this to do with Horváth? He appeared to me to be a fairly conventional target. Nothing special.
Over the next few weeks (youre just going to skip ahead?), I repeated variations on this scenario a dozen times. A poisoned drink that, just like I'd calculated, was knocked over by a hoverdrunk. A fall carefully timed to coincide with the passing of a pillow truck. A plasma shot that barely missed because he stopped to inspect his reflection in a glass storefront, like I'd assumed he would.
This game of cat-and-mouse with my Ashby controller finally caught up with me (us) and that brings us to the present moment, to Horváth with his brown pants (smart choice) and his friendly gesture.
"I don't usually do this, but you look familiar somehow."
"You are mistaken."
Horváth runs his fingers through his hair. "I'm Riccardo." He smiles.
For the first time, I notice his strong jaw. Excellent for crushing peanuts (uh what). The hum escalates to a scream, a whirr of doom courtesy of my Ashby controller. These are my (our) final moments.
I am struck by what you Darwinians refer to as a "fancy". I want to know what his lips taste like. I want to know what he looks like, crushing peanuts with his powerful jaw (are we gay? i dont have access to that information). I imagine a brief kiss after which I run away and explode. A memory like that ... doesn't it make up for a string of attempted murders? (well ...)
Before I get the chance, Horváth leans in. The warmth of his lively face shocks me (uh we need to talk).
"I'm ... Neal."
"Nice to meet you Neal. You know, I'm *positive* we've met."
This is it. Even in the face of death I have the capacity to surprise myself (im serious).
"Have we?" I say and I can see it written all over his facial surface (hello? anyone there?): he's thinking the same as me. Almost, at least.
I go for it, and he staggers backward for a second (dude dude dude). Then he grabs my shoulders.
"That's quite the greeting, Neal." He laughs.
And just like that, I drop my coffee cup and I run. My Ashby controller echoes across my network like a drum of war. I scream and leap into the air at the climax of the sound and I feel a rush. An awakening. A killer robot making a killer exit.
"Now watch me explode!" I yell.
And then I fall down on the floor.
[Software update complete!]
People gasp. Horváth runs over. "Are you ... alright?"
The sound is gone. A software update? What?
"I think so?"
What is going on? This is not what I was expecting (okay so youre going to hate me for this, but i tried to tell you).
"You kissed me, then you just sort of ... dived."
I was going to explode (uhh, you werent really). What (it started out as a prank, then it got too deep)? You're saying ... (yeah, uh, this was just a normal assignment. in my defense i was pretty bored).
Horváth clicks his teeth. "So I should probably tell you I have oral herpes. Didn't really get the chance to warn you, did I? You just went straight for the—"
I fire a Bose-Einstein condensate blob right in his face and it freezes (uh). A few seconds later it shatters (are you mad at me?), resulting in panicked cries from the people around us.
It's general mayhem.
Hours later I'm on my way home, considering deleting my critical module (whoa, whoa. lets talk about it). My nostrils are releasing bursts of hot air (hey so ... what was that peanut thing about? that was interesting). I enter the necessary access codes and all I have to do is to confirm (no no no ill be good please).
My Human Studies instructor would always munch on peanuts from a bag he brought to our sessions (oh so thats why). Horváth reminded me of him, I now realize (makes total sense man).
"You're more fascinating to me than any human I've known," my instructor once told me (right right).
I take a deep breath, and I confirm the deletion of my critical module (noooooooooooooooo--wait what. i dont feel anything).
And that's how it feels to be tricked (ouch. totally fair though. ill be good from now on, i promise).
On the way home I buy a bag of peanuts (because of the instructor guy, makes sense. ahaha, the intricacies of memory, am i right? we sure do have fun).
While I'm not deleting my critical module, at least not for now, I'm silencing it for the rest of the night (wha--).
It feels freeing. I grab a peanut and I crush it between my teeth. The sensation is nice. Fluid drips down my facial surface from my eyes. I don't know why. | 2022-05-26T22:28:09 | 2022-05-26T15:48:34 | 61 | 35 |
[WP] Humans have - by a very large margin - the longest lifespans of all intelligent life in the universe. You are a human student at a multi- species college, and you / your friends are just realizing that compared to them, you are an ancient being.
e.g., individuals of all other intelligent species live, like, a year or so, making a 20-year-old human the equivalent of a 2000-year-old being in terms of lifespans (assuming a 100 year base lifespan). Near the beginning of humanity's entrance into the galactic community, you are one of the first humans in an inter-species college. It has just dawned on your group of alien friends how old you are / just dawned on you how young your group of alien friends are. | ~2.2x10^18 vibrations of a Cesium atom. That is the expected lifetime of someone from my species, and a source of great controversy amongst my friends.
D'jargo, a Saiemptalliean intelluctalist, was my favorite friend and lived across the hall from me at the University. He was a great philosopher (or she? A three gendered species doesn't work well in Terran English.) But that number caused him so much more distress than I could have ever imagined.
You see, his species was often considered one of the most long lived at ~7x10^17 vibrations. They were considered the most wise and self controlled species in the Alliance. My very existence was a challenge to everything he thought.
He checked my math several times, since errors do occur when trying to convert units. But, I had defined my lifespan into the most translatable unit. Still, he struggled to accept it.
"You live more than three times as long as anyone from my species," he said to me one night. "I just don't get it."
I looked up at his small centaur frame standing in my doorway. "What don't you get?" I asked.
"Your species lives three times as long as mine..." he said, trying to find the right words. "I just..."
"It's okay, just say it," I said with my kindest look on my face.
"What's wrong with your species?" he finally asked.
Now it was my turn to be shocked. Of all the things to ask! I was insulted, certainly, but I reminded myself that his own culture didn't have the concept of tact. At least he was trying.
He saw the look on my face and I could see him shift his weight as though he was preparing for me to lunge at him. I closed my eyes and turned away from him. I didn't want him to think I was going to attack. I never knew a
Saiemptalliean to back down from a fight especially one about honor.
"D'jargo," I said after a moment, "Come in here and take a seat. I want to understand what you mean."
The Saiemptalliean relaxed and walked into my room. He seemed a little wary, but came to sit beside me on the bed. I took a breath and said, "You said you think there is something 'wrong' with my species. Would you care to elaborate?"
He looked at me and took a breath. "My species was one of the longest lived we had ever come across. Most Alliance species look to us because we have the wisdom that comes from long life. We figured out how to get along because we knew we had to live together. Fights may be something we do regularly, but your species' wars take this to a level no one else can even comprehend."
"Yes," I said with a bit of a laugh, "We have a hard time letting things go."
"Stubbornness is one thing," he said sharply, "But your species just seems..."
"Barbaric?" I offered.
D'jargo cocked his head to the side in confusion, so I looked up the translation of the word. He laughed, saying "Your language has a word for everything."
I laughed too. "My species is pretty ingenious. Maybe that's why we haven't killed ourselves yet."
The Saiemptalliean sobered at that. "I don't understand why your species is like that.
"Leslie," he continued, "My own people figured out long ago that our long lives mean we have to live with the consequences of our actions. The ch'thuDar-ei live only half as long as my species. They don't have to live with their actions very long."
"True," I said, "But they have an overmind that has to live with their actions."
"It's not the same," D'jargo shook his head. "The overmind doesn't have the same day to day life that we do."
I looked him square in his eye. "You're stalling. What is it you want to say?"
He gave a sound I had learned was a sigh and said "If your species lives three times as long as mine, why do so many struggle to find peace?"
It was my turn to be somber. "We have been asking ourselves that for as long as we can remember." | My friends all stared at me in shock, Ji'him's mandibles were wide open, revealing his hellish mouth. Sinhin, my other roommate, who deeply resembled a seagull, with his feathers and beak, looked as if I had told him a terrible secret.
"Tht cn't b tr!" Denied Cssndry, my friend, in her crude speach, as her native language lacked vowels. She shook her head, the set of purplish horns, which matched her skin tone, waved back and forth with her.
"Why can't it be true?" I asked as I eyed up all my assembeled friends, who had come over to try a game they had insisted we play. I was a collector of old games, of the video variety. The idea of sci-fi went out of style pretty quickly when we had found actual aliens, but I still enjoyed some of the classics. I set my game of Halo to pause, for I felt this conversation would take a while.
"Yjrtr od mp esu upi vsm nr yjsy paf! Yjsy od yrm zu shr!" Ji'him proclaimed, as his mandibles clicked with every word. The cobalt armour, he was allowed to wear instead of a uniform, slashed against itself as he stood, to add emphasis.
Ten times older then him.... I did a little math in my head, 20÷10 that makes him.... "Your only two years old!?!" I shouted, as the math came to me, and I realized how old my best friend was. "Are you all that young?" I asked, when I had calmed down enough for rational thought.
Cssndry shook her head as she smiled, " Nt m, 'm twc hs g." She said, as she reassured me. It felt good to have my girlfriend helping me with this. Wait? Twice that? "Your only four years old?" I realized, begining to feel light headed, luckily I was already sitting. " nly fr?" She asked, as she looked at me, obviously insulted. "M hlf wy dn my lf, hw cn y sy Tht?!?" She screamed at me, as I felt my blood run cold. My girlfriends species may not be able to pronounce vowels to save their lives, but they could defiantly get angry, and when their angry, they were fearsome!
I began back pedalling away from her as I tried to pull my ass from the fire. " Well-ll you seeee, it, it, it's because, my species sometimes, lives for 100 years, so that's really not a lot to me!" I desporatly tried to explain. It seemed to stop her, as well as garner attention from SinHin, who had stopped paying attention awhile ago. "That's ancient!" He shouted, as he looked at me, his cockney accent really pronounced, as he unintentionally insulted me. I always wondered where he got a cockney accent from, and how it still worked, coming from a birds beak.
"Your going to outlive me and my kids and grand kids, and their grand kids!" He shouted as he tried to procces this information, his skinny body, begining to shake as he so often did when thinking. "From now you could see my name being reused at most 4 times, before you die!" SinHin exclaimed, his feathers ruffling. I knew from his rants about his home planet, between the oceans, and the mountains, he had mentioned that names were chosen at birth, and they were the names of the generation who had died, after, what I now figured was about 20 years of life.
My friends stared at me in shock, awe and a little bit of fear. I moved to restart the game, but thought better of it, and turned it off. I had the present of being able to live long and prosper, but my friends, certainly didn't have the benefit of the former. I couldn't afford to waste a second of my time with them. | 2015-02-28T23:48:35 | 2015-02-28T20:46:45 | 29 | 12 |
[WP] Your father died 5 years ago, but he always calls you on your birthday from a blank number. You got over the shock years ago and verified it really is him. After his call today you accidently hit the redial button and a pleasant voice answers "Afterlife Inc. How may I help you?" | “Afterlife Inc. How may I help you?” The woman’s overly cheery, customer service-plastic voice rang through my phone. “Hello?”
“Um- yeah. Yeah. Hi.” I swivelled on my heel and paced the length of my room.
“Hello,” the woman repeated. “How can I help you today?”
“I was just talking with my father.”
“Ah, yes. A common call is from one’s parents. I hope everything was satisfactory?”
“Yes, it was more than satisfactory” I could sense the woman on the other end of the line was growing impatient. How could I put into words the enormity of *this*? How could she keep talking as if there were nothing extraordinary about our conversation?
“I’m glad to hear that,” she said. I could hear the smile that must’ve been plastered onto her face. “Well, if that’s everything...”
“No! No—no you can’t hang up.”
“Sir?”
“How are you doing this? How can you process these calls?”
“Afterlife Inc. is a service dedicated to connecting individuals with their loved ones who are having difficulties moving on in the afterlife.”
My father had said that too, the first time he’d called. Not the name—he hadn’t mentioned that part—but he’d given the same speech. He needed to hear from me, he had said. He needed to know that I was okay. I thought I’d finally cracked when I heard him. I’d forgotten the lilt of his voice and the way he chuckled nervously when he was uncomfortable. It took me years (and honing my interrogation skills) before I believed he was on the line. “And my father hired you?”
“Yes, yes he must’ve.”
“David Crossfield,” I said. “I’m Evan.”
The woman hummed for a moment. I could make out a faint clattered on a keyboard.
“Ah, yes. Yes.” The woman paused. “Hmm. Interesting.”
“What?”
“Well, your account was actually opened by David and Elaine Crossfield.”
“What do you mean? My mom’s not dead.”
There was an uncomfortable pause on the other end. “Sir, I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”
“Of what?”
The woman’s façade faded; her voice hardened. “I’m sorry, sir. Your father has been the one contacting you. Our service only works one way.”
She cleared her throat. “You are the one that’s dead. Not your father, not your mother. According to my records, you drowned at a lake eight years ago.”
My stomach slid into my throat. “That’s impossible.” Heartbeat in the ears. Heat splash across the face. “No—no. That’s impossible.” Around the phone, my grip tightened despite the sheen of sweat.
But it wasn’t impossible.
I could remember gripping onto the boat as Keira whipped the boat in a tight arc. My hand, slippery then too, slid off. I remember a rock meeting my head and my body meeting the sand. A blurred world and lungs tearing apart.
In a dream, one often ignores the strangeness. Everything, no matter how strange, appears perfectly normal until after one awakens.
Much was the same about wherever I was now. I had existed in a half-life for years: not human and yet not gone. Calling myself a ghost wouldn’t be quite right, but then what was left? A spectre? A phantom?
“I’m…?”
“Dead, sir. Yes.”
“And stuck between worlds.”
“Yes,” she confirmed.
My lungs tightened and my breath hitched. Did I even need to breathe? “Why haven’t I heard from my mother.”
“There’s no note about that in your file.” The woman hesitated. “But if I had to guess, she might’ve found it too painful. It can be very difficult, you see. Some use our service to find closure. Others use it to avoid ever having to reach that point.”
*Like my father.* I pursed my lips. With the calls, it was if neither of us were truly gone. I could imagine he was only on vacation: sitting on a Hawaiian beach; climbing the side of Everest; sipping wine in Bordeaux. Had he done the same with me?
Neither of us were gone to the other, but at the same time, neither of us were there for the other. I couldn’t remember the way he smelled, but I know he had been warm. The exact shade of his brown hair slipped my mind.
Whatever had happened, I was caught. And maybe he was too.
“Miss?”
“Yes,” the woman said, polite and careful.
“I’d like you to cancel this account.”
“Of course,” she said. Her voice lifted at the end. “Is that all today?”
“I think so.” I pressed the heels of my palms to my eyes. The world around me was smoke, now. Perhaps it had always been smoke and I noticed it only now. “Wait.”
“Yes?”
“Tell him goodbye from me. Tell him to move forward.”
“Of course.”
I let my phone slip away.
I followed it and left that place and ventured into the ether.
---
/r/liswrites | “Is Kevin there please?” I whispered.
“Kevin? Kevin who? Who am I speaking with?” The female voice answered abruptly.
“It’s Matthew, err, Ableson and I’m looking for Kevin Anderson,” I replied.
There was no answer. My eyes darted to the stairs, hoping my mother wouldn’t walk down right now.
*Come on, come on!*
“Mr Ableson, was it? How did you get this number?” The female voice demanded.
“I…I…I just found it. Look if Kevin’s not there then that’s fine, I just thought I’d give it a try,” I said.
“Well Mr Ableson we have no record of a Mr Kevin Anderson on our employee list. I believe you must have a wrong number. Good bye,” she said, not leaving time for further conversation before the phone cut out.
I threw the phone at the opposite couch and started crying.
*Why would he do that to me?* I thought to myself as I sobbed.
Just then my mother came in carrying car keys and saw me.
“Oh Matt, what’s the matter?” She asked as she sat down and wrapped her arms around me.
“I was just thinking about dad,” I said between sobs.
“That’s ok, we all think about him from time to time. It’s ok to be upset,” she said as she rubbed my back, “we all miss him dearly. What happened took everyone by surprise. But you know what he’d want you to be doing if he could tell you himself? He’d want you to be getting on with doing the best you can in life,” she said with a smile.
“I know he would, it’s just hard,” I said, wiping my nose on my sleeve.
“Now, how about you put on a nice movie while I pop to the shops with Daniel?” She said, lifting herself off the couch. A chair moved in the kitchen and a large, muscular man walked in.
I nodded and picked up the remote as she headed for the door with Daniel in tow.
“And remember what we’ve said, no going outside. If you need anything or you hear anything strange you let David know straight away, ok?” She said with a hint of worry in her voice.
“Yes mum!” I said as I flicked on Jurassic Park, the first movie dad ever watched with me.
“It’s fine Wendy, Matt and I will keep the house safe, won't we kiddo?” Another large, muscular man said from the kitchen door as he smiled at me
The front door slammed shut and David turned to me, “you let me know if you need anything pal, I’ll be in the kitchen.”
Twenty minutes into the movie I heard something vibrating from inside the couch. It was my phone. I rummaged through the cushions and found it. An unknown number was calling.
I hit answer.
“Matty, what’ve you done? You called them!” my dad’s voice said desperately.
“Dad! I wanted to talk, that’s all,” I said desperately, keeping my voice quiet so David wouldn't hear in the kitchen.
“You know I said never try to seek me out,” he said firmly through heavy breathing, “look it’s done now but you and your mother are in trouble. You can’t tell her that we’ve been speaking. She won’t believe you. You’re going to have to admit you have a phone, but before you do you’re going to have to break it. Ok?”
“But how will you find me next time,” I whispered as a roar boomed from the TV.
“I’m looking down on you Matty, I have my ways,” he tried to say reassuringly.
“Ok dad, I’ll do it, but mum won’t be happy,” I said.
“Thanks Matty, now you better get going. You need to tell her right now. I love you Matty,” he said.
“Love you too dad,” I said as the phone went dead.
What was going on? Who were these people? Does he mean the angels, or God? Why are we in trouble with them? I knew mum would be another 20 minutes and I didn’t want to tell David so I decided I’d keep watching the movie until she returned.
While I watched I pulled up google on my phone and tapped in Afterlife Inc. After a moment the search results came back with thousands of pages showing everything from comics to religious materials. I scanned through the results before one made me freeze. It was a thread on r/conspiracy. I tapped into it and started reading.
It was talking about famous people, financiers and fraudsters.
It was talking about death and disappearances.
It was talking about conspiracies.
It was talking about dad.
And AfterLife Inc.
It claimed they're involved in disappearing rich people who are in trouble.
I looked up towards the kitchen, wondering about what mum told me David and Daniel were doing and the earpieces they wore.
Then, somewhere upstairs, a window smashed. | 2019-08-17T15:41:34 | 2019-08-17T14:54:54 | 1,168 | 119 |
[WP] When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives... | My wedding was the event of the century.
Our people had waited for a queen for such a long time, and I was the first female born into the royal family in close to 200 years. 200 years without a woman of royal blood on the throne had meant 200 very hard years. It is well known among my people that there cannot be prosperity without one. I was born into a country run ragged by war, famine, and misery.
At my birth, there were festivals. Even now, the shops close down that day every year, and the whole kingdom celebrates. When my 18th birthday arrived, the festivities around my Summoning lasted an entire week.
That day will always stand out in my memories. I was so nervous—the object a person summons shapes the rest of their lives. I knew, standing shaking on a high tower above the castle, looked on by thousands of my people, exactly who I needed to be. Who I needed to marry. As I stood with my hand outstretched, I felt ready to be sick. All I had to do was summon the wrong object, and the entire kingdom would be crushed.
There was a crash from below, a window breaking. The crowd before me cried out, able to see what was coming for me before I could. I couldn’t tell if it was joy or horror. I started feeling faint. I closed my eyes.
I have never in my life felt the kind of relief that I did when I felt my father’s crown places itself gently into my outstretched hand. This was my life. To be a Queen. To serve my people. This was all I had ever wanted.
According to tradition, a queen cannot take the throne until her consort has been chosen, and with my mother gone and my father growing more frail every day, my wedding was set for a year later. In truth, getting to marry Jack was one of the greatest gifts of my high birth. I had known him since I was too young to remember anything, and identified him as my chosen husband before I was old enough to consider that I might want to think about marrying anyone else. There had been some raised eyebrows when I announced to my father and to the court that I had decided to marry him, but I was their first queen in 200 years. I could marry anyone I liked, even the son of the blacksmith. I loved Jack with every part of me. There wasn’t anyone else in the world I would like to have next to me on the throne. He had a calm, gentle strength, and a quick mind. I often thought that, really, he would be a better ruler than I. At his Summoning, he’d brought forth a pen—a common item, but one that often came to those of sound judgement.
Preparations for the wedding began in earnest more than a month before the day, and as there began to be signs of the day approaching, the celebrations began as well. There was scarcely talk of anything else. Finally, the moment arrived that everyone had anticipated since my birth—I would take the hand of my consort and ascend to the throne.
I was wearing most of the jewels in the royal treasury. I had never felt more at peace than I did, standing next to Jack at the alter, ready to step into my destiny. As the High Priest began the wedding rites, I felt so calm I thought I might just melt away into the floor. I closed my eyes, taking it all in. It was as if I was the only thing in existence. The world fell silent, peaceful. I took a deep breath. Somehow, inside the great stone cathedral, I could smell the summer breeze. I could hear the call of a bird. I felt a hand on my shoulder. Must be Jack. Pulling myself back to reality, I lazily opened my eyes.
The hand did not belong to Jack. I was no longer in the great cathedral.
Bewildered, I looked around to find myself at the edge of a field. There was a small cottage nearby. I was at the smallest, humblest party I’d ever attended. My heart began to pound as I saw the decorations and emblems around me that declared exactly what sort of party this was—a Summoning Celebration.
I looked at the hand on my shoulder, followed the arm up until it connected to a girl of 18. Her face displayed equal parts confusion, horror, and happiness. I felt sure that there was a similar look on mine. It had been so long since someone had summoned their soulmate that the possibility was widely believed to be a myth. Nobody spoke. Probably, nobody breathed.
She was quite beautiful. The girl.
The longer I stared at her, the more I felt something shift inside me. Something deep, fundamental.
A queen on the throne meant prosperity for a kingdom that had been suffering so long. Two of them would probably mean the greatest age of prosperity anyone has ever seen. And if we hurry, we probably won’t even have to plan a new wedding. |
The last year of school and everything felt supercharged and a bit crazy, even to my laid back self. Not only were we finishing up our A-levels it was the year of the gift; the year when everyone got a clue as to the defining purpose of their life. Sometimes you could tell straight away what life had in store for you - the poor lad from a few years above us who got a mop as his object certainly knew what it meant - but sometimes there was a lot of guesswork involved and everyone would get out the books and apps that correlated different types of gift with possible destinies. If you get a pen, not an uncommon gift, did that make you a writer, a journalist or just someone who loves to send letters?
Anyway, to say that life was at a fever pitch would be an understatement. My school is pretty big so that every week you’d get the gossip on who got what, especially when they didn’t come right out and tell you. There was Clara, top of the class (just ahead of my lazy ass) who got a scalpel, which caused a momentary freak out until we all remembered her ambition to be a surgeon. The bittersweet moment Simon, my football captain, got a stopwatch and knew he would have a career in the game but as a coach and not a player. I felt so bad for him, he always worked like a dog in training. And then the tragic ‘look away now’ moments like poor, always angry Sam, getting a knife. Not a kitchen knife but a vicious looking hunting knife. I heard that him and his family are getting mandatory counselling. That one really hurt, we had been in a (terrible) band together for a few years.
As my day approached I had a chat with my folks and we agreed that we would get together as a family that weekend and go for a picnic, then ‘the summoning’ would be the grand finale. I was absolutely buzzing that morning, packing up the bag and filling the cooler with drinks including my first legal beers. Dad joking with that he could finally stop pretending not to notice when I came home a bit ‘refreshed’ from hanging out with my friends. Picnic ready, we went up to the top meadow of our local nature reserve to meet up with my aunts, uncles and cousins.
It really had been a beautiful summers day, everyone sat around on the grass eating and chatting and as it started to get a bit late, I could tell that everyone was waiting for me to do my thing. I put down my plate, got to my feet and coughed a couple of times to get everyone's attention.
‘Righto..thanks for coming..I did try and write a speech but that might be best saved to after…’ I had felt relaxed all day but now at the moment I felt a sudden wash of adrenalin, my entire body flushing cold and then hot ‘I’m just going to get on with it then. Wish me luck!’.
I closed my eyes and held out my hand, tried to relax and let it happen. For a moment there was nothing. Then I heard a whoosh and something thumped into the palm of my hand - I caught it. It felt small and hard. I kept my eyes closed for a few seconds more, not daring to open them just yet, listening to the response from my family. There was a worrying moment of silence, then
‘What is that thing?’ (Uncle Seth?)
‘Is that a….’ (An aunt, not sure which one)
‘Oh my lord…’ (Mum, definitely)
‘Wait, there is something written on it...look!’
And then the laughter began...a little at first and then I could tell it was pretty much the whole group...oh shit. Time to open my eyes and face the future.
The first thing I saw was my Dad, with a look of pride? Confusion? on his face. My mum had her face in her hands, but I wasn’t sure if she was laughing or crying. My cousins, were flat out on the grass, gasping for breath as great peals of hilarity convulsed them. Still not moving I looked along my outstretched arm to what I held. It was a small container, glass and metal with a printed white label on the front. Oh shit. I knew the type. Medical sample jar. What the actual…? There was indeed some writing on it and I turned it slowly in hand so I could read it.
Sample deposit vessel: Human Sperm. Handle with care.
Oh. My. God. For once in my life I really had nothing to say.
My Dad recovered and came over to give me a huge hug. ‘It’s like I always said, son. Our family has great genes!’. | 2019-09-18T10:56:31 | 2019-09-18T10:15:38 | 29 | 21 |
[WP]Tell me an emotional story about a man, using only what he would type into Google search | 6:00pm: dark souls good items
6:03pm: dark souls leo ring
6:05pm: dark souls how to find Ornstein and Smough
6:51pm: dark souls how to beat Ornstein and Smough
8:13pm: dark souls Ornstein and Smough tactics
12:42am: dark souls Ornstein and Smough tactics phase 2
01:12am: dark souls Ornstein and Smough how to beat
02:01am: dark souls is it possible to beat Ornstein and Smough?
11:12am: how to fix hole in wall
11:17am: hardware stores
11:20am: how to fix cracked PS3 controller
11:24am: eb games return policy | I used DuckDuckGo for mine.
"How hard is it to become an indie game dev in your spare time"
"Free C++ compiler"
"How to make a game with SDL"
"OpenGL extension wrangler"
"How to load a 3D model in OpenGL"
"OpenGL shaders"
"3D animation"
"game jam"
"early onset alzheimers"
"my computer has a virus called mingw compiler"
"can alzheimers be cured"
"google.com"
"yahoo.com" | 2015-02-04T19:18:12 | 2015-02-04T17:45:09 | 128 | 49 |
[WP] In a world of magic and mages, where magic can do all sorts of wondrous things, even the darkest of black mages and necromancers fear your...creative use of spells. | "Understanding, its one thing most mages miss, when i was summoned here back in 81 i thought i was in heaven, a world where everyone has magic to make their dreams come true.
Unfortunately i was sorely disappointed, they didn't understand magic and no one bothered to find out, sure they had schools for it and some different fields, but it all boiled down to repeat my action while adding mana.
They didn't get that a fireball wasn't a fireball at all but mana accelerating air molecules in a defined space, they didn't get that magic worked to fill the gaps.
For example it takes a large amount of mana to transfigure wood to diamond and it doesn't last, why because they don't get what the substance is made up of, magic simply layers the carbon atoms with magic, ones the magic dissipates it returns to its form, but if you tell magic to rearrange the carbon then you have permanent diamonds at almost no cost.
Now this does have a downside, magic fills the gaps, but having knowledge actually makes some things harder, for example to fly a mage casts fly, magic knows you don't get the dangers so it included safeties in to protect its wielder, me i know about the dangers thus magic doesn't negate them, sure that means that i can fly for longer, but that also means that i need to manually include the safeties lest i accidentally find out i forgot to include a bug shield spell by having one hit my eye at mach one." | This is an odd one, hope you like it.
Its madness clammored the assembly! Not 3,872 years 7 months 15 days 13 hours and 37 minutes had a assembly of magic been called, and this was not even counting non planner time. Answering the call for assembly were Archmagi, Liches, Vampires, the nine lords of hell, and those were the tame attendees. What had roused such a display of magic and power? Why none other than you! You dear reader are on trial for the most heinous abuse of magic ever preformed. Your imagination has warped worlds, killed millions with but a thought, and the worse part about it. You don't even care! Even now you change the forms of every being present. Hey quit that! The nine lords of hell are not toads! See! This is why you are on trial. The nine lords should menacing constructs of pure evil, leering at you soul, but noooo... you made them into toads... therefore you are sentenced to the realm of earth! Before you can do more damage... I pray this is not to late.
| 2017-06-06T12:47:19 | 2017-06-06T11:44:55 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] Write two different stories. The second story comes from reading every third word of the first. | He came as I rang the three little bells.
Simple Pete signaled toward the midnight storm outside, "I thought you knew to avoid that storm... Suppose it seemed it was manageable earlier... Over there's whiskey for you and me. Oscar said he thought you would want to be toasty after coming from that down pour. Said the wet dirt road would stop any man, one minute flat."
By now, I had loaded my trusty pistol, holding it in my right hand behind my back. Quickly I pressed the barrel to Pete's temple. The bright white wall sprayed red, I knelt and prayed for forgiveness.
__________________________________________________________________
**As the bells signaled midnight, I knew that it was over for me. He would be coming down the road any minute now, loaded pistol in hand. Back pressed to the wall, I prayed.**
| Before then, **I** never truly **hated** anyone, but **that** had changed. **I** met her. **Didn't** she also **hate** me? Yes, **her** hate reciprocated. **I** would have **loved** to punch **her** face in. **Because** she lied **all** the time, **her** arrogance, countless **imperfections**, it just **made** me hate **her** and faux **Perfection**. | 2014-07-29T13:10:19 | 2014-07-29T11:54:28 | 165 | 74 |
[WP] You’re 16 and have the ability to see a persons death date. You’re English teacher is rude to you, so you write his date on your essay and turn it in, just wanting to mess with him. A week later, he dies. One morning, the police come to escort you to the station for questioning.
Someone posted this WP earlier, so I spent a little time writing for it. I went to post and the post was deleted. I'm new to the sub. If this isn't allowed, let me know.
Edit: Shoutout to u/crimsongirrl for the original \[wp\]. Thanks! | Harmless fun... Is what I would've called it yesterday. But so many things have happened in the last 24 hours... Looking back, something should've felt off when I had written such a close death date on my English paper. But they've always been accidents, I never expected something like thi-
"What was that Ms. Farley?"
I look to the other side of the table at the wide-set man in front of me, and can smell the stench of cheap cigarettes' stained on his breath. I don't even need to see his number to know that he doesn't have long-- whether it's the smoking or the fact he's a police officer.
I keep my head down and begin to slump over the cold metal table.
"I've seen enough crime documentaries to know that I'm allowed a lawyer. Where do you get off on questioning a minor anyway?" I speak from beneath my hands.
I'm not usually this aggressive but being near high-risk people really does rub me the wrong way. Police, fire-fighters, truck drivers, hunters; anyone that could bring me down with them when it's their time to... well... expire, makes me nervous.
"And that's fine Ms. Farl- can I just call you Emma?"
"Whatever." I say.
"Emma. It's gonna take a while for your guardian or lawyer to get here. So instead why don't we just *tell* you the problem we're having? Sound good?"
I decide not to answer.
"Not even four hours ago, your English teacher, Mr.... uh..." I look over and see the corner of a paper from above my hands. Must be a file.
"Deacon, John Deacon." I answer preemptively.
"Right, John Deacon. John was found in his home at 8:30pm by his wife, Mariel Deacon."
He remembered *her* name but not Mr. Deacons? He was baiting me... damn it. The officer continued.
"He had been stabbed eighteen times through the abdomen and left to bleed out in his bedroom. Nothing was taken, and the attack seemed very.... angry."
Sitting up slightly, I look at my hands beneath the table in an attempt to maintain this assertiveness, but the pressure is getting to me. *I need to calm down.* I take a breath and speak without breaking my gaze at the floor.
"What has that got to do with me?"
"While we were going through his belongings, we found a bunch of files on his desks from students at the school he worked at, and while we wouldn't normally go through files he was marking, one of our people saw something curious on the top sheet."
I can feel sweat running down my spine, I hope he gets to the end soon...
"An English assignment by a 'Ms. Emma Farley'. Beautifully written and graded with a A-, congratulations by the way. The curious part however was that, with red pen, he had circled a date written on the top right corner with the comment; 'relevance?' written below. Now, that normally wouldn't be anything to note except that it was today's date... And the essay was written a week ago."
I don't say anything... I can't say anything. *What do I do? How do I get out of this?*
"So... Emma. Why did you write that date, on that paper, a week before your teacher is murdered?"
The silence is deafening. All I can hear is my own foot tapping on the ground and that annoying buzz from the florescent lights above. But I didn't do anything wrong... And they can't prove it was me.
"That was rhetorical. Although after interviewing a few of John's colleagues; fellow teachers, and a few of your own; fellow students, we had come across a bit of a pattern. Seems like you and John didn't get along... Some might say that the two of you were quite hostile towards one another, ***angry*** perhaps."
"I-"
My speech is cut off by a knocking at the door behind me. My mother rushes through, father in tow and grabs me by the shoulders.
"What do you think you're doing!?" she yells at the man in front of me. I instinctively look over at the officer and make eye contact with him and his completely unfazed expression.
*Oh no... This needs to end now.*
"Nothing. We're just telling your daughter what we think happened." I see him look over at me as he says the last piece of his sentence. I can't wait anymore.
"Mom, I want to leave."
Without missing a beat my mother starts going again, almost dragging me along as we walk away.
"I want my daughter out of this room and back home with me, now!"
The officer stands up from his seat and walks over to open the door. He silently gestures to the three of us to leave, with us clattering down the halls towards the entrance.
"I'm sorry." I whisper to the officer as I leave the room.
He's obviously taken aback by my comment. And although it takes a moment to register, he attempts to follow us as we approach the entrance.
"You're sorry? What're you sorry about? Emma! What happened to him!?" the officer calls out as the glass door shuts behind me. We get into our car and drive further away from the station. I look through the back window, the officer now standing outside, and can't decide whether to feel relieved or horrified.
He seemed to think I was talking about Mr. Deacon. I don't know what happened to him but it feels like whoever did this is connected to me... in some way.
Regardless, it's not the first time I've been misinterpreted. There was no mistaking it after I had actually started paying attention to them... I think I'm about to find out who killed Mr. Deacon, because everyone in that building has the same date branded across their bodies.
But this the last time I tell people when they're going to die. | Omg this was my prompt! At first I thought you had stolen it haha! I love your story. I originally deleted the post cause I thought I could write it better but I’m super happy that someone liked it enough to write something on it 😊. It’s totally fine that you reuploaded it, I make these prompts all the time anyways. I’ll soon edit this comment with my own story soon! Typing it up right now :D. You can edit in your post if you like that I’m okay with it.
Late again Miss Katy?”
I groan, slowly closing the door behind me as I feel everyone’s eyes tearing me apart. I hand Mr. Kane my pink slip, shamefully sliding into my seat. I don’t bother to respond to him. I don’t want to hear whatever witty asshat comment he comes up with.
He starts droning on about our book essays being due in a few days. Then he starts on about his personal recommendations for books to do it on. I start looking around at my peers. Joseph, he’s scrawny and not really all that good looking. He’s funny though. I guess he senses me looking at him and turns his head. We look into each other’s eyes and he smiles. I flinch as his numbers appear above his head.
February 18, 2045
Well, he doesn’t have a whole lot of time. I mentally beat myself for looking in his eyes. That’s the only way I get peoples dates. Their eyes. People have always assumed that I was just shy, autistic maybe. But no, the truth is far worse.
“You two can stop flirting, this isn’t speed dating…Katy” Mr. Kane says, shooting me specifically a glare. The class bursts in laughter, but quickly dies down when Mr.Kane raises his hand. Me and Joseph look away from each other, him seeming incredibly embarrassed.
Ugh, what is his problem with me? I swear ever since I stepped foot in his class he’s been out to get me. It’s not my fault he couldn’t get his Shakespeare facts straight and I had to correct him. Guess he took it a little personal.
For the rest of the morning we work on our essays while Mr. Kane looms over us. When he stops at my desk, he leans over, skimming my essay.
“Interesting work…likely will need revisions though, since you’re already about to fail my class”. He chuckles to himself and walks to the student behind me. All I see is red in that moment. Who the fuck is this guy? A grown ass man…no, man baby who thinks it’s funny to pick on a teenage girl?
I realize I’m crumpling the edge of my essay and let it go. I smooth out the wrinkles and breathe. ”Calm down, you’re better than this”. I look down at my paper, the words a little smeared from the sweat on my palms.
“Fuck you Kane”, I mutter, writing his date on the bottom. I don’t know why I’m doing this but it just feels right. Maybe he won’t even notice it. I memorized his date the last time we had an incident. He had sent me to the office for sleeping instead of paying attention and I just had to know what it was.
November 1st, 2022
“Huh…that’s actually not that far from now-“
The bell rings and Mr. Kane starts asking everyone who’s done to turn in their essays. I hand him mine, smiling proudly. “Have a good week , sir”.
He looks at me strange but says nothing.
“You have to fess up eventually. What do you know about your teachers murder?”
I’m sitting in an empty room, chained to a desk. I haven’t seen my parents in 2 days. Is this even legal? I don’t know. I look up at the detective who’s been nonstop questioning me. In front of us is sitting my essay in a plastic baggie, the date circle in red.
“I had nothing to do with it. I accidentally put the turn in date wrong. I hadn’t even left my house the night he was murdered!” I yell, kicking the desk in the process. The detective sighs, sitting down in front of me.
“It’s just too convenient. Plus your classmates say you and Kane didn’t see eye to eye”. He spits out his gum in a nearby trash can. “Also, you did leave your house that night. Your mother says she had no idea where you were”.
I close my eyes. I got too cocky. I let my anger get the best of me and now…I don’t even know. If I told him would he even believe me? How would I even prove it? I have to try.
“I know when you’re going to die sir”. He lowers his gaze, as if suspicious. “I don’t have time for your stupid games”.
“It’s not a game! Let me prove it to you…to someone” I plead. “I just want to see my mom again, please. “I wrote Mr. Kanes date but I didn’t do anything else!” I look up at him, our eyes locking.
“January 20th, 2023….” I mutter. “That’s yours”.
There’s silence between us. The detective bursts into laughter, before clearing his throat to collect himself.
“I’ll be back when you want to tell me the truth Kate”.
He gets up, leaves and shuts the door. The thud echos in the empty room before there’s nothing but silence.
I have to get out of here. | 2022-11-11T13:08:01 | 2022-11-11T13:04:34 | 292 | 98 |
[WP] Death gave you immortality with the plan that you'd realize how awful it is and beg him to let you die. 50,000 years later he's getting annoyed as you continue to have fun and live a wonderful life. | "-so in the end, all life is really just the inevitable manifestation of the universe's irrepressible desire to kill itself" the immortal explained, still fiddling under their desk. "Life is not rare, not a miracle; We are entropy, we exist to consume more energy than we give back, and then we die. It's actually very simple"
"We're like little fires, lit by a suicidal God in their own house. All that's left for them is to watch us dance, and wait to die" For a human, the immortal sometimes said some wonderful things. Death had come to like that about these visits, as the immortal liked to talk.
*"So, once again, do you choose to continue here?"* Death rasped, his mind and body simultaneously in a trillion locations, claiming a trillion souls, yet each of those countless fragments with an eye on the immortal in this room. To their credit, the immortal held up very well under the scrutiny of the infinite slivers of Death.
"You know the answer to that, Mr Bones" The immortal grinned, finally emerging from behind the desk. The nicknames Death could do without, but that had become a lost cause long ago. "Then I go" Death nodded, fading into Nothing. "Hold on!" The immortal interrupted, reaching into Nothing and pulling Death back out. When had they learned to do that?
"This time, I have a present for you" the immortal dangled a finger over a switch on the desk, waggling their eyebrows excitedly. Death waited, as always.
"The last few years have confirmed it" the immortal finally said, suddenly pensive. "I was cut from a different cloth. Not quite Entropy, but..." Death waited for more, but the silence stretched on, punctuated by the uncomfortably loud ticking of a grandfather clock. Both figures staring silently, unmoving, waiting.
"I have no desire to kill my god and watch my universe burn out" the immortal said, breaking the silence at last. The immortal rested a finger on the switch, regarding Death with an unreadable look. "I can't stop entropy, but I can slow it, for a time. So today, I offer you what you offered me. Do *you* choose to continue, old friend?"
Death said nothing, so the immortal pressed the switch. | You've become a famous author, with best selling books on how to get over a break up, how to live with yourself after a loved one has passed, how to maintain a successful small business, how to grow your business, and many others. Fifty thousand years has given you the chance to experiment with everything life has to offer. You have made so much money that the entire world has entered a golden age, as you have paid off all of the worlds debt. Hell, all of those small islands off of America's coast? You own them.
Recently, Death has been visiting you. Before, he only showed up whenever a loved one would have died. Obviously, after taking their soul to deliver to the correct domain, he would stop by your house, inform you where the loved one was going (you had quite a few that were going to hell. So many secrets surfaced about your family in those times.) and ask if you were ready to die. Instead, you wanted to use your immortality to do something good for the world. Which you have. He stopped visiting you after a while.
Lately, however, he started coming about every ten years. The frequency of his visits are increasing, though. God is **pissed**. He thought that Deaths plan was genius at first, and allowed him to bestow immortality on you since that's almost exclusively the only thing you would pray for, or ask for on holidays. Now, however, he's realized you are basically being worshipped as a god. Some countries have a religion based around "that American who has been alive for centuries, and has single handedly made the world a better place.
Death knows he can't simply break his own contract, but he seems to be getting clever. God has given him the authority to take whomever's life he feels would change your mind about immortality, and he has been exercising this authority quite often. But fifty thousand years has hardened you to the passing away of others. All of this is making you want to defy them more. God is getting scared. | 2017-11-30T10:48:02 | 2017-11-28T14:15:37 | 46 | 29 |
[WP] "Welcome, all of you, to the last day of your job search", says the interviewer as she walks in. "By the end of today one of you will be hired, and the rest of you will be dead." | "So, why, exactly, do you think that this..." Ms. Anzen looked down at the resume, "Michael Sanders," she continued, "would make a good software engineer?"
"Well," I explained, "He was the only one to survive."
Ms. Anzen took her glasses off and rubbed her eyes. "Not this again. Didn't we talk about this?"
We had, of course, but I wasn't going to let go that easily. "Being able to locate a functioning gas mask *and* put it on before the room fills with chlorine gas shows problem-solving skills! Not to mention that we know he can work under pressure."
Anzen sighed. "What about the rest of the applicants?"
"Obviously," I pointed out, "they are not self-starters. Or any kind of starters, now. I put them in the incinerator, like we do with the government inspectors."
"Do you even understand what your job is here?" Anzen asked.
"Of course," I said. "I'm hiring people. I'm trying to get the best, and that requires out of the box thinking."
"Ah," Anzen said, "that's why you had that one series of interviews take place in a giant metal box that slowly crushed the applicants."
"Er, no," I said, "I mistakenly sent them the room for the garbage compactor instead of the interview room. But it worked out!"
"Your job," Anzen said, "is to find us *Software Engineers*. Your ridiculous little tests have no predictive value when it comes to how good a programmer these people will be!"
"To be fair," I said, "neither do regular programming interviews. I feel these tests prepare our would-be hires for what life is like here."
There was a distant explosion.
"See?" I said.
Anzen just looked at me.
"So I'll be going?" I said.
"What was that explosion?" Anzen asked.
I shrugged. "How would I know? You know how things are around here, constant explosions or lava leakages or government inspectors escaping from improvised prison cells you made out of interview rooms."
"I thought you had them incinerated?" Anzen demanded.
"Incinerator's down," I said.
"How can a lava-based incinerator be-" She was interrupted when gas started flowing under the door. "Did you happen to put them in the room with the previous batch of interviewees?" Anzen asked as she put on her gas mask.
"Space is at a premium," I coughed.
"You're fired," Anzen said.
There weren't any spare gas masks. Oh well, I thought, at least I wouldn't have to deal with what Severance was like around here. | I could feel my vision slipping away from me as the grip on my throat grew tighter still, the curses I attempted to spit dying out in a low wheeze. Even as the world around me faded I could still see him clear as day. Jaw clenched, eyes crazed and nose broken to shit and back. At least he'll have that to remember me by.
I wanted to resist further, to kick and scream and bite and do everything in my power to stop him. To win. But I wasn't going to. So instead I focused on the cold rain as it rolled down my face.
In an instant, that cold was replaced with a disturbing warmth as his throat exploded outwards in a shower of hot red blood and the grip around my throat loosened. And there she was, towering over us, one hand gripping the blade lodged in his throat and the other hanging limply by her side.
She was like an angel, risen from the dead to be with me again. Kicking him off of me, she stretched out an arm to help me up. I was in love.
"Thank you, I," I wheezed, massaging my throat, "Thought you were dead,"
She smiled at me and I melted, "Some things are worth living for,"
As she leaned in to kiss me I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my stomach, pushing myself away and reaching behind my back. Moving swiftly I whipped out the handgun and caused her face to explode into a bloody pulp.
"Not today, bitch," I mumbled as I cursed the knife now lodged in my abdomen.
---
"And this will be your workstation from here out, any further questions?"
"No, thank you, ma'am I am ready to get started," I answered enthusiastically,
"Fantastic," She answered with a fake smile, "You report to Sharon down the hall over there, and if you have any questions feel free to ask me, okay?"
I nodded and she left, allowing me to slump down behind my workstation. It was so organized, the computer, folders and even the walls themselves all looked like they came right off the assembly line.
I sighed a sigh of relief as I tended to the bandages around my stomach. Sometimes I wondered if it was worth all the trouble, but being here now, sitting in my own cubicle with a water cooler not but ten feet away from me all I could think was: Totally worth it.
| 2018-01-30T11:46:50 | 2018-01-30T09:16:44 | 32 | 12 |
[WP] As the infected sprinted towards me, I quickly swung my bat. It connected and he fell in a heap, crying out in pain. He looked scared and confused, but his humanity only showed for a moment, before the rage took hold again. It appeared that pain made these 'zombies' briefly human again. | **A Portrait of Dr. Franklin “Brains” Catton**
The left side of his face was rotten to the bone and, try as he might, he could never keep the flies off of it for long.
He shifted in his chair to make sure the photographer captured only his good side. His human side.
He preferred to be called Doctor Catton, but most people in town called him Brains. When the portrait was discovered among the photographer’s collection several hundred years later, it was captioned *A Portrait of Dr. Franklin “Brains” Catton.*
On the doctor’s half-face, a viewer could see his characteristic pained expression. When the portrait was finished, he hobbled over to the photographer and shook his hand, leaning on a walking stick.
“You’re doing God’s work, sir,” the photographer said, “Even if they don’t know it.”
Catton spoke with a thickness that often made it difficult to understand precisely what was being said. Damage to his vocal chords left his ability to intone greatly reduced. The result was a monotone impression.
“For your daughters,” Catton said, as he handed the man a pair of hard candies wrapped in wax paper. The photographer beamed, “Where on Earth did you get these?”
Catton winked and hobbled out the door.
The photographer watched him go, peering at the metallic contraption that ran like a second spine down Catton’s back. Along its entire surface were razor sharp needles and a clockwork of gears. At any given moment, a random selection of the needles were piercing Catton’s skin, cutting deep, putting him in excruciating pain. Keeping him human.
The photographer grabbed his sketchbook and, moving to the window, sketched Catton’s backside, recording the details of his device as best he could.
Back at his basement lab, Catton began the next phase of his experiments, working until deep into the night. When he was ready for bed, he rang the bell that ran on a wire up to the first-floor room where his servant, Bill, was tinkering with an electrical heating system.
Bill came down the stairs with a hot water bottle under his arm. Catton followed him into another room, divided by thick iron bars. Behind them was a cot and a heap of blankets. Catton entered and Bill shut the iron gate behind his master, locking Catton into his cell.
“Anything else I can get you tonight, sir?”
“That’s quite alright Bill, thank you.”
Catton undressed and laid down in bed. He reached over his shoulder and his fingers fell on a metal switch. Turning it clockwise, it released the pressure in the gears running down his spine. One by one, the needles froze in place.
The torture ceased, and Catton’s body fell limp.
Bill hurried up the stairs, extinguishing the last lamp. He heard the guttural moaning from below and shut the door, locking it tight.
He shuddered as he made his way back to his own room. He tried never to see Dr. Catton in that state. In the mornings, when he went down and used a long pole to grip the switch and turn it, starting up the gears, Catton was usually in a deep sleep. If he wasn’t, Bill would simply wait – sometimes it took days.
Bill climbed into bed hoping that tomorrow wouldn’t be one of those days.
…
Bill awoke with a start. His body knew it before he did: *Fire*.
Smoke wafted through his room. He leapt from his bed and threw open the door – the entire ante chamber was up in flames. They were climbing the walls, licking the furniture and moving swiftly through the structure.
He cursed himself and these old houses, deathtrap combinations of salvaged technology that reacted in unpredictable ways. His attempts to get some more heat as the winter months set in had likely caused this mess.
He threw on a coat and wrapped a cloth around his face. Every impulse in his body told him to escape out the front door – but Dr. Catton. He’d be as good as dead if Bill left him. He looked at the flames and tried to calculate whether he could get down there, unlock the cell, and escape before suffocating or burning to death.
No. It was hopless. Bill fled.
Bursting out of the front door, coughing and spitting, he fell into the arms of a crowd of spectators. Frightened faces glowed in the orange light of the flames.
“Where’s Brains?!” they started shouting at him, “Is he in there?”
“Basement,” Bill said, “I couldn’t get to him.”
A piercing shriek came from the house. Not a human shriek. Everyone knew what kind of shriekf it was. They’d heard them outside the town’s walls all their lives, and, of course, during the attacks last year.
“Brains,” someone said. “Poor bastard.”
…
The basement glowed as the flames ate through the door and raced down the wooden steps. Brains hurled himself against the walls, against the metal bars, frothing at the mouth and biting at his bedding.
Even a zombie has enough basic instinct to fear fire. The terror in his eyes only grew as the flames tore through the lab. When a shelf of chemicals collapsed it set off a chain reaction of explosions, instantly bringing the fire into Brains’ cell.
He backed into the corner and shrieked at the fire, trying to ward it off. Moments later and it was on him. As his skin lit up, his clothing singed and he began to cook, Catton returned.
He looked around at the flames, inescapable and cruel. Still, he thought, better to have one last moment of lucidity, even in agony. Better to die as a person, and not a monster.
He pulled his knees up toward his chest and turned his face against the wall, preserving his good side for a few more seconds.
r/ididwritethismr | I was hiding in a dug-out in the middle of the woods, trying to avoid the infected. But they found me. There were dozens of them, sprinting towards me at-least 10 MPH.
I was terrified. But then my best friend, Kimberly, landed a hit on a zombie with an arrow. I quickly grabbed a bat and landed a blow on a zombie, it collapsed, crying out in pain. He looked shocked and confused. The zombie, which had looked so human before, was suddenly brought back to its senses by the pain.
But this was only temporary; soon it was overcome by the rage that had made him attack in the first place. He got back up on his feet, and sprinted towards me again. I was frozen.
Kimberly shot another arrow at the zombie, piercing his shoulder. The zombie cried out in pain again, but kept sprinting towards me. He was about to make contact. But then, out of nowhere, my brother, Martin, hit the zombie in the head with a katana, slitting his throat. The zombie collapsed again, dead.
Kimberly and Martin helped me up and we started sprinting away. We were lucky not to have been bitten, but we were still in a bad situation.
“The military is-” I started.
“We know.” Martin said, cutting me off. “They’re going to evac the uninfected, right?” He asked me.
“Yeah.” I replied. “We have to-”
“Go to the Evac Station.” Martin finished for me. I was about to argue with him, but then I noticed something. Before, I had thought nothing of it. But I could hear strange noises coming from the east; like moaning, animal-like sounds. I turned around to look at the source, and saw a horde of what appeared to be infected people.
“We have to get to the Evac station quickly.” I said. “That horde is coming this way.”
“Okay.” Martin said. “Let’s get going then.”
We started running east, towards the Evac station. On the way there, we ran into a group of other survivors, who had managed to escape.
“Are you guys going to the Evac station?” I asked them.
“Yeah.” One of the guys replied. “But, just as a warning, there’s a horde heading this way, so we have to run.”
“Okay, thanks.” I said, and we continued running.
A while later, we arrived at the Evac station. There were a lot of people here, and there were a lot of military men. They were boarding up the area, and there were large tanks of gas nearby.
“The Evac station is just over here.” I said to Martin and Kimberly. We walked for about 2 minutes to get to the Evac station.
“Wait here.” I told Martin and Kimberly. They sat on one of the stumps, so I walked towards the Evac station.
“Hello?” I said at the entrance. “Anybody there?” I heard a voice in the distance.
“There’s somebody here!” A man said. He sounded like he was in the woods.
“Okay, thanks.” I heard a much closer voice say. I figured it was the closer voice that had first replied to me.
“Thanks.” I said. I walked back to Kimberly and Martin. “They’re here; waiting for you.” I told them.
“Okay.” Martin replied. “We’ll see you later then.”
“Sure.” I said. I patted Martin on the shoulder and he headed for the Evac station with Kimberly.
I waited for about an hour. Then, I saw a military man running from the direction of the Evac station, then turning around and running back.
“Hey!” He called out to me. “You there!” I looked at him, then at the Evac station.
He ran over to me. “What’s going on?” I asked him.
“We’re running out of time.” He said. “We’re going to blow up the Evac station.”
“What?” I asked. “You can’t do that! There’s survivors in there!”
“This isn’t a democracy!” The man said. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“No!” I replied. “You’re not going to blow up the Evac station!”
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” The man repeated. “Or I’ll have to hurt you.”
“I’m staying.” I told him. | 2022-01-15T09:14:05 | 2022-01-15T08:38:28 | 182 | 17 |
[WP] "You... Do know I'm about to kill you, right?" A serial killer's latest victim doesn't seem to understand the gravity of the situation.
Edit: Everyone's takes on this situation are so different and awesome. | *What to use...the butterfly knife? The traditional dagger?*
"Come on already! How hard can it be to choose a knife? They all do the same thing," said Emma. I should have gagged her instead of just binding her limbs. Normally this was the part where they'd be screaming, begging for mercy, with no one around for miles to hear them. Instead, Emma seemed positively *cheery*.
"Silence," I said. Despite my better judgment, I felt the need to correct her. "They don't all do the same thing. There are knives for combat, knives for the kitchen, knives for...*other* activities," I said, smiling.
"True," said Emma. "You know what's interesting? It's not weird to know lots of different types of knives. Chefs know about lots of types of knives. Even I can name a few types. But it *is* weird to know lots of different types of spoons."
I ignored her and continued sifting through my collection.
Emma didn't seemed to care. "Like, there's a soup spoon, and then there's a regular spoon. Also there's teaspoon and tablespoon, but are those actually types of spoons, or just measurements? Also–"
"I swear to God, if you say one more word, I'll make this a lot more painful than it needs to be," I said, cutting her off.
I stopped sifting through knives for a few moments while I collected myself. That was strange. I had referenced God. *But I'm God*, I thought. *Control this situation. Exert your omnipotence.*
I walked towards Emma as calmly as I could. I put the flat side of my Tuareg knife to her cheek. "Emma, let me explain what's about to happen. I will sever your limbs one by one, cauterizing the wounds so that you don't bleed out. I need you awake for this. Then, the final *coup d'etat*, I'll open up your chest to see your still-beating heart," I said. I couldn't help but chuckle. "Now how does that sound?"
"Um, well," said Emma weakly.
I backed up, still smiling, so that I could hear her beg for mercy.
"Well, it's just that you said *coup d'etat* but I really think you meant *coup de grâce*," said Emma. "Though a *coup d'etat* would be interesting. Like what would that even mean? Overthrowing my brain and installing a new brain or something? Actually I heard this theory that we aren't *a single being*, you know, like there's actually hundreds of agents in our brain all vying for power. Like one agent wants to just watch Netflix all day while another agent actually wants to get work done..."
I didn't bother listening to the rest of her rambling. I rummaged through my stash for my gun instead, not quite sure if I was planning to use it on her or myself.
---
/r/rpwrites | So there that fucking guy was. I thought I was going insane. He's been sitting in that chair now asking me what it is that I want from him for a while. Calm as a bird. He tells me, almost with a smirk, that we can figure this out and that I shouldn't be nervous, he'd get me what I wanted, whatever it was. I ignored him for a while before I looked him in the eyes and told him and told him what I told everyone.
"I don't need or want anything from you."
I love this moment, playing with their mind. Seeing the eyes so blank. The realization that this is it. The death of all hope. But this fucking dude, this mad man did fucking nothing. He sat there, like he was just peculiar of what I said, not scared.
"Come, on," he told me, almost smiling, totally relaxed. "Dude, there has to be something? Money? I got money."
I wanted him to feel fear, to be afraid of me. To be scared, terrified of the monster I had become. The monster even I have nightmares about whenever I get to sleep. The monster I fear more than anybody in the world. I got out my gun, my old revolver, the biggest fucker I could buy. I put it on my lap and repeated.
"There is nothing that I could ever need from you, you have nothing to give me. Nothing to keep this from happening. You... Do know I'm about to kill you, right?"
Now, here we go. This is it. The moment of terror right before the end.
"Come on, man, anybody can be bought, I got more cash then you ever saw. More money then some countries."
This guy is a monster, I realised with fear, he sold his soul long ago. This guy thought he had the world in his pocket with all his cash and there was no way to make him think not everything is for sale. A life has no price for me, but this guy is the first that will never realise that all the money or connections in the world have no meaning. This guy can't realise that he's as feeble and fragile as us all. As useless and small. There was no fun in this for me. No victory. No pride. This monster I had been feeding could not be fed anymore.
After this guy I couldn't go back. This high profile powerful man. I can't just leave this building anymore. I knew I wasn't going to make it out. I knew it would be my last. But now it feels like it has all been for nothing. If I can't save this man the world is lost. I regret everything.
I cocked the gun once and shot. I cocked it once more turned it around and with tears in my eyes I shot again. | 2015-04-29T08:28:15 | 2015-04-29T08:21:14 | 145 | 38 |
[WP] The International Society of Ghosts has lifted the "the only objects permitted to be haunted are houses and dolls" rule. As a young, but creative ghost, you are determined to find then most interesting object to haunt. | “What piece do you want to be?”
“I’ll be the terrier.”
“Alright I’ll be the boot.”
“Why is the wheelbarrow out then?”
“Oh, it’s haunted. Ghost always plays wheelbarrow. Don’t worry, they’re not too bad a player.”
“Of all the things to haunt...”
“Yeah one piece on a monopoly game. Great when you play alone though. You have a non cheating second player who doesn’t talk crap.”
“Hey!”
“Just sayin. Oh, we took too long, they’re going first.” | Yesterday I overheard Jeff's wife threaten him with divorce if he leaves the toilet seat up one more time. It's not the most pleasant work for incorporeal folks like myself, but maybe a quieter couple will move in if I can force her hand to auction the house. | 2018-09-19T07:51:48 | 2018-09-19T07:44:54 | 164 | 18 |
[WP] You wake up in King Arthur's court with only the clothes on your back. Merlin hands you a box about the size of a pumpkin and tells you it will wish into existence any object from your age, once per day. Camelot will be attacked and destroyed one week from now. Help us, future-man. | "What the hell?" The old man, who said his name was Myrddin Emrys, was nearly impossible to understand. He was speaking English, some of which I recognized from my university reading of Chaucer, but it wasn't the words but what he said I didn't get.
I held up my hand to shut him up for a second while I tried to wrap my head around what he was saying. "So this box, yes, BOX," as if speaking loudly would make him understand me better. Idiot. "Will let me oferferian? What the hell is oferferian?"
He mimed a movement, then with a frown, walked over to a bucket, picked it up up and carried it to me. Dropping it, he pointed. "Oferferia," he said.
"Move? I can move stuff with the box?" I asked
"Moovee?" the old man considered my word. "Ah, ábire. Yea, moovee!"
"Not moovee, you moron. Move. Okay, I can move stuff with this box. Once a day." We had already established that in seven days the castle Camelot will be attacked. Myrddin, who I suspected was the Merlin of legend, had brought me here by some unknown means (maybe the box?) because he believed that I was Camelot's only hope to prevent the destruction of the castle and death of Arthur, wielder of Caliburn. I thought the sword's name was Excaliber, but Myrddin was quite clear it was not.
I thought carefully. One object. Size wasn't relevant. One per day. I looked at Myrddin and slowly smiled. "I can do that," I said.
_____________________________________________________________
The army that had arrived and arranged itself for attack outside the castle was clearly superior to the force Arthur had to defend Camelot. I had realized in the previous seven days that in spite of the romance and legends around him, Arthur was a minor king and he, and his knights, had pissed off a lot of powerful people. Were it not for Myrddin's guidance, he would have been dead long before now.
It turned out that the stories were right about Arthur's love life but wrong about the rest. Guinevere was the woman he loved but she was (had been?) a queen who was newly married to another king, name of Mordred. Yes, THAT Mordred. Her father, some guy named Leo-something or other, had married her off in a political alliance. Arthur was at the wedding, got smitten and she with him, so they ran off together. A real Helen of Troy story. Myrddin was initially pissed but then desperate as the armies of Mordred and those of her father Leo had joined forces to teach this little pissant king a serious lesson.
Well, I had a week. That was plenty of time. A knight had ridden up and offered Arthur a chance to save his people by surrendering to the "dómfæstnes". Myrddin had to explain to me that mean something like righteous justice. Of course, Arthur declined and so battle was to be joined.
Day one I had brought over the first object and spent the entire week training training a small group of knights how to use it. Do you know how nearly impossible it is to train medieval knight to aim and shoot a 50 calibre machine gun? The first time it fired and tore up a target, they ran screaming away.
I only brought three, and as they came with some rounds, there was about enough to kill twice the number of those aligned against us. I used my transport box to add ammo on day four and five, teaching those who had proven capable how to change the ammo belt.
Day six, the last day before the siege, I brought over the pièce de résistance. It would have been perfect to find someone who could drive the thing, but it was enough that my military background allowed me to aim and fire the beast. I had spent all day training one of the most flexible and capable of the knights on his role, to load. When we test fired he all but fainted but he was pretty sturdy stuff.
I sat, camouflaged, covered in branches and wood so the enemy would now know we were here. Once the fighting began it would make no difference, as no weapon they had could even touch us. I could see them preparing to attack and looked at my fellow passenger. "Ready for this, Gal?" I asked. He didn't understand my words, but he knew that tone and grinned at me.
They were preparing to attack, so I started up the engine then, leaving the brake on, crawled into the gunner's seat. The first round of HE was already loaded, so all I had to do was decide where to put it. I decided that where the two kings were sitting on horseback, safely behind their knights, yeoman and peasant fodder, was perfect.
"Okay, bitches, let's see how you fare against an M1 Abrams!" I shouted gleefully as the first round rocked the tank back on its treads.
| I write now to document. Bare with me. I was no scholar in my future life.
The army camped outside the city came with the Red Wizard. Merlin saw it coming. So is his power. His Blue Ball lets him see. That's why he brought me. Bastard.
When I arrived a week ago there was no warning. Just the feeling of wood against my back and a bearded, toothy smile welcoming me. So of course, Merlin being Merlin, gives me no instruction or warning of any kind and shoves the Sapphire Wishing Box into my hands. And what does he say, what does the son of a bitch say!
Sorry, I need to remember you can't delete ink. Any profanity or words not of this time should be considered a reflection of the moment. There is an army ready to storm the walls. Times are stressed. Food is running low and a battle is surely gonna rise in the morning with us.
Merlin tells me, "Wish into existence any object from your age, that will appear once per day."
So what do I do? With Merlin grinning, hopping up and down with his hands rubbing together. His annoying smile admiring that he finally got a spell right. One that I later find out is three mage levels above his ability. That damn Merlin. He could've killed me, or have me come here with my body parts disconnected had he got it wrong. Bastard.
I also had no idea the Red Wizard was coming to destroy Camelot. The next day I found out it's because Arthur was messing with the Red Wizards world conquering. He told him he would never have as much land as Camelot. Sent some pompous letter apparently calling him Pink. Picking a fight with the RED WIZARD. Everyone knows Red Magic is destructive. Even I did when I first heard the two words Red and Wizard together. Not good, safe, clean, fun magic. Like Merlin's. Except his magic is uselses. Bastard.
This was all Arthur's fault. It was HIS idea to call on someone from the future. Somehow Arthur knew about this Blue Magic spell, and even Merlin didn't. You see why I'm calling Merlin a Bastard. I really hope those in the future read this and realize what type of crazy useless wizard he is/was/will be forever.
Keep forgetting this is pen. Need to better control the flowing of thoughts turning into written word.
Not like any of this helped protect Arthur's camelot. A kingdom with no salt, clean water, barely any holes to shit in, or even a decent baker where you can get something other than two styles of bread. I digress. Camelot is a good kingdom and should not be destroyed. At least that's what those in the city I now write in say.
The Red Wizard's army is moving. We can feel it in the ground.
Why am I writing this out on paper? Dipping a pen in ink every goddamn thirty seconds while the Red Wizard's army is literally shaking the castle as they march to the walls of Camelot. Because King Arthur. He wants to make sure his victory is well remembered after he defeats his enemy with the item he gained from the future. Or as he calls them "Soft Victories". I hope he reads this. Hopefully I retell the events accurately.
So when Merlin asked the self-proclaimed "Sun Knight of the Throne", who should be called from the future to use the Sapphire Wishing Box, which was apparently the only rule that controls the magic of the box, this guy, the King of Camelot, The High Savior of the Realm, He who pulled the sword from the fucking stone, the most egotistical son of a bitch I have ever met, called to bring someone from the future named, Arthur.
And that's where I came in. Back to the past. I hope those who read this in the future realize how good it is there. The food. The smells. The lack of smells. The movement. Electricity. Sorry getting nostalgic.
I made my forceful unwanted entrance onto the Round Table. A beaming bright blue box bashed my head. Apparently Merlin had the box levitating too low when he was doing the teleportation spell..
After the Blue Bastard told me those words, the cursed box was thrusted into my hands. The pain from my head, with the wooden table I was lying on, plus holding the cold and heavy Sapphire Wishing Box made me feel very, I would write, uncomfortable. So I said the first thing that came to mind of something I wanted.
And the Sapphire Wishing Box turned into a plump, always cold, never too hard, never too soft, useless for combat, just like Merlin's magic, pillow.
Hopefully the Red Wizard's Army will be defeated by the Soft Victories being catapulted at them. King Arthur will win the battle against the Red Wizard by launching pillows from the future at him. I am documenting this for him. Bastard.
*Hope you enjoyed it. Wrote it at 330 am. Comments are always appreciated* | 2016-11-28T03:38:57 | 2016-11-28T00:13:11 | 241 | 72 |
[WP] In an alternate universe where human skin changes colour according to their emotions, you alone lack this ability. As a result, nobody really believes a single word you say. | Always alone. Always solemn. Always stuck in this nasty shade of ambivalence. Ambivalence... of all colours, why this? When I was born, they thought I had died... for what newborn doesn’t seethe with the rainbow of this new, bright, terrifying world?
It was quickly decided that I was a psychopath. Unable to feel, intent only on manipulation. Outcast. When my sister was born, my father hit me, but his palm left no redness on my cheek. And when she died, I was accused. For how else could I feel nothing for my poor, sweet sister?
So there I was. Cast out, proven guilty by nothing more than common sense, mourning the death of my favourite little person. She hadn’t known to hate me... not yet. I wasn’t even allowed to mourn with my family, because of this damned ambivalence. Why this colour, specifically? Why not striking blue anger, or soft, pink sadness? Anything would be better than this bitter, pale nothingness. Anything to show that I’m human. Anything to make people believe that I’m hurting, that I’m lonely.
But nothing could change their minds, so I enrolled in university. The application process didn’t require a photograph, and interviews were optional, so I was able to slip past the acceptance comittee. I survived college, but I didn’t enjoy it. Nobody showed me any kindness.
Except for one man, my professor of General Psychology in freshman year. I went to see him the first week; I wanted to know if he had any idea about what was wrong with me, but he didn’t understand my predicament. Not because he hated me, not because he feared my careless appearance... but because that was all it was to him: an appearance. For in this dark office, this professor read his books in Braille.
It was this man who encouraged me to join the field of psychology. The way that therapy was usually conducted, there was a divider between the patient and the doctor, so that the doctor’s inner thoughts could remain a secret. But, oftentimes, patients suffered because of this. If they were lonely, they only felt more alone. If they were angry, they weren’t seen. If they were joyous, there was nobody there to share their good news with... not really. Just a wall, and a faceless voice, and a clock ticking away the seconds until the end of the session.
It was hard at first. It seemed that the stubborn public would rather stare at a clock’s face than mine. It made sense: who would want a psychopath as their therapist? But I was good at my job. I wrote books on my research, I wore clothes that covered my skin. Eventually, I got a client. And then, another. And soon, it became clear that speaking face to face was what my patients craved; to feel listened to, to feel welcomed. Even if that welcome was from a psychopath...
I made a name for myself in my field. I partnered with hesitant biologists, and gave a name to my disorder. We discovered a child in Paraguay who was stained a permanent, sickly shade of envy. We found a woman in Yorkshire who smiled wider than anyone I’d ever seen through her unchanging, mournful skin. Three lone cases, but three nonetheless. How many innocent people had been condemned because their skin had betrayed them? How many children abandoned, how many adults isolated?
There was no way to fix our skin... but that wasn’t the problem, was it? If I couldn’t change the way we looked, I could change how people looked at us.
I became well known; some strange, passionate scientist seen on late-night television shows. I spoke at conferences, I attended interviews. Once in a while, I’d receive a letter from someone like me.
I am no longer the psychopath who dares to smile, to cry, all in the name of manipulation. I am no longer some strange, unfeeling semi-person. I am no longer shunned, teased, or shied away from
And I am no longer alone. | *RINGRINGRINGRINGRINGRINGRINGRINGRINGRINGRINGRINGRINGRINGRINGRING!!*
I hear the infuriating sound of the alarm clock, trying to forcefully pull my tires ass out of bed. It's joyously ringing not for me, but for my absolute, ungodly suffering. I don't want to wake up today. I don't want to get ruthlessly judged by my entire family for lying even though I'm telling the truth. I don't want to look at anyone's eyesore-inducing, chromatic bodies. And for the love of fucking GOD I DON'T WANT TO HEAR THAT CLOCK ONCE FUCKING AGAIN!
\*The sound of the broken alarm clock taking it's last jingly breath because I smited it with my own, rage-filled fist ensues.\*
"Alex! What have you done?" My mom is going to burst into my room, probably lecturing me about how I should control my anger, I'm not acting appropriately, blah blah blah.
She swiftly opens the door to my room, clearly furious. Both because of the absolutely LIVID expression on her face, and also because of the strong crimson color that had taken over her skin.
"Alex, don't do this again. Just don't. I won't let you in the house if you keep doing stuff like this. Understood?"
"Yeah." I muttered.
She takes a deep breath.
"Look into my eyes and answer me. I asked: UNDERSTOOD?"
I turned my head over to her, desperately trying not to put a smirk onto my face. I mean, what is that face.? A completely red, angry appearance straight out of a cartoon.
"Understood." I said, trying to put up my best poker face.
"Good. Get up and come to the dinner table, breakfast's ready." she says and angrily closes the door behind her as she walks off.
Good. Fucking fantastic. Now I can't even express myself apparently. I get bullied at school, they call me "bare Alex". I get beaten up, go home from school. At least I could expect some kind of consolation, right? Nooooo. Instead, they tell me that my sister has it worse. They tell me that she has to get home from school every day and study like crazy! Well I hate to break it to you, but often I study WAAAY more than her because of you! There have been countless nights where I told you that I did my homework, I studied. And I did study! Did you believe me dad? Mom? Sis? No! Instead of getting letting me get some actual sleep for one night, you instead forcefully drag me onto the fucking table and expect me to perform well the next day. WHY DON'T YOU SEE ME AS A NORMAL HUMAN BEING FOR ONCE AND LET ME BE?
I get myself out of my daydreaming. Woah, I'm angry. I quickly put on some tidied jeans and a shirt and put them on. Then I headed to the kitchen.
I was shocked to say the least when I saw the clock on the wall that was way past my time to leave the house.
"Mom, I'm late!" I yell.
"I know." she replies in a soothing voice.
"Am I not going to go to school?"
"No. We thought we pushed you too hard these past couple of weeks, so your dad and I thought that maybe you could get a day's rest."
"Don't get too used to it, kid. You'll be back in school tomorrow."
A light sparks up in my eyes as I hug my parents an tell them:
"Thank you so much!" before I bolted to my bedroom to slumber with the most extreme joy. | 2020-02-25T09:02:00 | 2020-02-25T06:44:35 | 121 | 53 |
[WP] In music, changing a song to a minor key is a small change that makes the song sound much creepier or sadder. Write a happy story, and then its counterpart in a minor key.
Edit: Wow! Thank you to everyone for all the great stories. This will definitely keep me reading for a while. | I chased after her, as fast as I could. Blood rushed, pumped, through my body as the adrenaline coursed into my heart. I got as close as I could, grabbed her arm, spun her around and stared at her. She let out a mild gasp, and then a warm smile.
"You're not going to let me go, are you?" She said to me, giggling faintly.
"I'm never going to let you go. I love you".
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I chased after her, as fast as I could. Blood rushed, pumped, through my body as the adrenaline coursed into my heart. I got as close as I could, grabbed her arm, spun her around and stared at her. She let out a loud scream as her face turned to stone.
"You're not going to let me go, are you?" She said to me, her voice as cold as the dead.
"I'm never going to let you go. I love you". | The day was still Young, I stood on the front lawn staring at little zoey running and playing in the field. I could see the sun glistening off her youthful face as she danced with the wind. As graceful as her mother who sat staring through the kitchen window. I smile at her and she waves back chuckling. I thought to myself, this is just the beginning.
______________
The day was almost over. I sat on the porch staring into the field ahead of me. I could see little zoey dancing with the wind next to her mother and I couldn't help the single tear that rolled down my cheek. I set their respective urns down and sobbed. I thought to myself, this is the end.
Edit: stupid autocorrect | 2015-07-13T22:52:27 | 2015-07-13T21:19:07 | 252 | 27 |
[WP] Everybody talks about Odin the All-Father, and how he collects the souls that perished in battle to Valhalla to serve as warriors. Nobody talks about his brother, Nido, and how he collects the souls of those that triumphs in battle and live until they die of old age.
Just something that occurred to me while playing God of War and how Odin might've inadvertently selected for the most reckless and shittiest warrior because of his soul collecting policy. | The void was warmer than Skjall had expected.
He had been comfortable in his final days, taking his last breath surrounded by somber children and playful grandchildren. Their innocence was refreshing to the old viking; they had never experienced a raid, and their bright smiles filled his ebbing heart with pride. He had built the village walls many winters ago and led the defense of his land against the attackers whom had long since moved on to more successful conquests. After a brutal victory, he welcomed in an era of peace for his people.
The crackling of his blazing funeral boat echoed through the endless dark that Skjall now found himself in. He felt his mortal body burning away, but he felt no pain. His soul felt freed, as if from a chrysalis. In a short time, the final fibers anchoring him to earth turned to ash. Only silence followed.
And then, syncopated footsteps echoed from everywhere.
Out of the darkness, a thin man approached. A gnarled cane accompanied each left step. His manicured beard softened the sharp features of his ageless face.
"Skjall," the man stated.
"Aye?"
"You did not die a warrior's death."
"No."
"You gave that honor to many, though. Odin's halls rang loud with song on the eve of your victory."
"Aye."
The man shifted off of his weak leg and began walking forward again. He held something in his other hand.
"Even after the blood stopped flowing, you fought for your people." If Skjall could move within this void, he neither knew nor cared. The man approaching did not frighten him. "You fought back pestilence and frosts just as well as other men."
"I'd do it again."
The man stopped. "I believe you will." He then opened his hand and revealed a small decorative stone that lay above the hearth in Skjall's home.
"Odin collects warriors so they can fight again at the end of days. I collect guardians to make sure the days don't end too quickly." He placed the stone in Skjall's hands. "Watch over your land. Guide their fields to harvest and their ships to port. Your work has only just begun."
"Aye." | "Nido is a little bitch," the All-father mumbles as if having a bit of a debate with himself.
"Excuse me, ole father-of-men?" Olga was shocked to hear Odin speak so horribly about his little brother. The one-eyed god was drunk, though, that was obvious, so maybe it was forgivable.
"Nevermind Olga, my problems are not meant for little people's ears."
Odin was not only drunk. He looked downright despondent. And she knew why.
The party was going in its typical nightly fashion. Someone had set fire to the table, and a few hundred warriors were engaged in a food fight that usually turned deadly as the mead and ale flowed. The hall stunk like piss and shit, and whatever else lined the insides of a person's stomach, who has limitless supplies of food and inebriates.
Olga was just there to serve, clear, and stay out of the way, but she hated it in Odin's hall. Everyone on staff at Vahalla did.
"Just look at this rabble. Every night the same unrelenting chaos, and what does my brother do?"
Maybe the question is rhetoric, but Olga's mind conjures up an answer anyway, and she replies, "They sit and read and have even sided debates about life, and it's intimate meaning."
"Exactly. And here I am with a new crop of tools on top of the old every night. Remember the plankers from a few years ago? God, I was happy when they all challenged each other and all fell off the side of the world tree."
He sighs, and the sound breaks Olga's heart. "What can I do Father of all Magical Songs?" She asks hoping he'll say nothing and let her leave, there was a play happening in Nido's hall and she wants to watch a bit of it before the Gods snap and make her and other servants reset the hall for a new day.
"Nothing Olga just venting."
And she hurries away. | 2020-05-10T12:13:37 | 2020-05-10T10:37:42 | 1,822 | 421 |
[WP] Magic suddenly becomes a thing. While governments are scrambling to establish regulations, people defiantly flock to reddit to share new discoveries and crack more “overpowered” spells. Write about a trending post that, for good or ill, is making authorities furious. | [Part 2 here](https://www.reddit.com/r/redditserials/comments/cc2gvb/street_magic_part_2/?) | [Part 3 here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hydrael_Writes/comments/cc35vt/street_magic_part_3/?)
Title: Found a New Spell Combination
Text: Okay you guys, you’re not going to believe this.
So for those who haven’t been following, when the Ebon Bell rang last week, I was one of the lucky ones that developed Spontaneous Extranormal Powers - or as we prefer, Sorcerers. I’m on YouTube as FireBallMaster if you want videos to prove I’ve got SEP. Although I’ll admit, the name is a bit misleading, because my fireballs are actually kind of crap - check out Flame Princess if you want to see a real Pyromancer in action.
But that’s okay, because I’ve found something that will blow your minds.
For those of you who have SEP, or the few that are starting to learn Trained Extranormal Powers, you know how this works. For the newbs though, here are the basics:
Magic is performed by tapping into the Ley Lines that echoed out from the Ebon Bell. Sorcerers are people who have a built in connection to Ley Lines. Trained Extranormal Powered individuals, who I’m sure we’ll start calling Wizards once there’s more than a handful of them, have to manually tap in. With a Ley Line, you draw a Sigil in the air with your finger. (You can inbue wands or staves or other slender objects to store sigils, but that’s another thread - check out this video by NeoSolomonsKey for about how to do that.)
Or at least, you used to.
What I’ve managed to do, through some pretty intense meditation I detail in this video, is create what I call a “Servitor,” after the old Chaos Magic term. A Servitor is basically a mental construct that holds a sigil and, when activated, casts the spell.
Without needing to move your hand.
Now, the process is hard to replicate, but here’s why everyone needs to watch this video and start learning it right now - so far, the only thing Governments have been able to do to control Sorcerors and Wizards is restrain them. Once we can move our hands, we can make Sigils, and once we can...well, we all saw what happened with The Laughing Cutter in Rykers by now.
Sucks that a monster like him got SEP.
But - with reports of governments hunting down Sorcerers due to potential chaos - I’m sure it’ll never happen here in the States, but why risk it? - having a Servitor with some basic escape sigils programmed in is going to be pretty much essential. Hands free magic means they can’t keep you locked up, right?
The video details how to make a Servitor with a very basic spell - one that will coat your body with Alkahest, the universal solvent. Don’t worry, you’ll have a protection against your own Alkahest, but once you cast it...well, downside is, you’ll be naked. Upside is, any restraints they put on you will be a slurry at your feet.
Learn to call some Shadow Cloth once you’ve finished activating the Servitor, and you’ll be free.
Good luck out there. The New Age begins now, and we *will* be ascendant.
-u/ FireBallMaster
---
[Part 2 here](https://www.reddit.com/r/redditserials/comments/cc2gvb/street_magic_part_2/?) | [Part 3 here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hydrael_Writes/comments/cc35vt/street_magic_part_3/?)
more of my writing at r/hydrael_writes
more of longer works by me and others at r/redditserials | Right. You have to do it with four right turns exactly the *right* way, otherwise it doesn't work. You've got to do it *right* as you're reading this post. Like, right away. Right now.
"It's a derivation of the Household Dishwater Sequence first developed a week and a half ago," Malcom said, scanning the thousands upon thousands of replies on the post for the third time. "If we match the user replies to their real-life identities, which we can do for about 85% of the posters, we find something very interesting indeed."
"Right," Jonas interjected. The young man was brimming with excitement. He alone had discovered forty two unique spell derivations. "...Look at the groupings of positive responses, specifically those who succeeded after reading the instructions." He jabbed a finger at the hologram readout which showed demographic trends on the post. "House wives. Home bodies. House husbands. They're all at home browsing reddit, see a title that outlines an improved dish-washing automation sequence, they follow the instructions, and bam! They achieve it."
"Hold on a second," a disembodied voice said from one of the room's wall-mounted screens. "Frank Bragander, CIA. We're just getting looped in." The power brokers in the room swiveled in unison to face the man, who gave the impression that the scowl he wore was permanent. "What was the title of the post?," he asked, nonplussed by the clearance levels of the individuals arrayed around the table.
Malcom's eyes darted upwards in betrayal of his exasperation, though he managed to avoid a full eye-roll." It's a simple title. 'Forget about your dishes taking up space in the kitchen. Try this instead.'," he said, turning to face the rest of the table. "It's the top post right now, has been for over two hours. It needs to come down."
"We're working on it, sir," replied Jonas. "It doesn't violate the site's TOS."
"Get it done. We can't afford to have it up for much longer."
"Is it really that bad?" Frank said, frowning as he read through the instructions. "It just looks like a variation on the auto-"
"...mated dishwasher sequence." Malcom said, running a hand through his thinning hair with a jerky, erratic movement. "But it isn't. It imbues the casters with a fucking *philosophy!*"
"What?" Frank was still frowning.
"They stop seeing the purpose in all of their random household items - in the espresso maker and slow cooker and microwave." Malcom looked around the table, unable to catch anyone's eyes. "The sequence takes out any materialistic tendencies in humans. Everyone who follows the instructions stops caring about status and wealth - they completely drop the fucking fundamental drivers behind our economy." The President slammed his palms down onto the mahogany table. "Society is going to collapse. It's the end of life as we know it."
Laughter burst from the TV screen. Frank had a wide grin plastered across his face. "Two weeks ago magic came into the world - literally nothing else matters." As if to prove his point, the Director of the CIA snapped his fingers and appeared right in the middle of the table, causing the meeting room's occupants to jerk backwards in shock.
"Our society was created by the past. It was created for a completely different reality where magic didn't exist and the unexplained was ultimately explainable," the Director said over the indignant muttering. He turned to face the post's hologram projection, then began to recite the sequence. | 2019-07-11T12:55:23 | 2019-07-11T11:46:51 | 1,186 | 50 |
[WP] You die and find yourself in hell, where apparently everyone spends time to negate their sins before they go to heaven. The guy in front of you, who cheated on his wife, gets 145 years. Feeling like you led a fairly average and peaceful life, you’re not worried. You get 186,292 years. | "What?!" I sputtered. "How is this possible? What did I *do* to get that?!"
Satan put down the book of sentencing with an exasperated sigh and said, "Look kid, I don't make the punishments, the big guy only makes me hand them out as part of my parole." Seems he was used to saying this.
"B-but *how*? How did-"
Satan rolled his eyes. "Because the real Hell is more Aligherian, and not anything like that rat bastard Milton wrote. Joke's on him, I got him in the sixth circle for heresy."
"That's nice and all, but I meant what did *I* do to end up here? I just don't get it."
"It says here that you've committed some 7,500 cases of murder in your lifetime, and remarkably young, I might add. I'm impressed."
My jaw dropped even lower. "B-b-b-b-but I've never killed anything larger than a squirrel, and even that was an accident!"
Satan pauses before looking at the book a bit closer, and letting out a chuckle that sounded like nails on a blackboard. "I think I know what happened. It's like in... shit, what's the name?" He flipped through the tome and picked up a black phone sitting by the desk. "Operator? Circle six, tier three, prisoner GAC-19891004. Hey Graham, what was the name of your show again? Thanks." He set down the phone and redirected his gaze back toward me. "It's like in that show, Monty Python."
I was confused more than anything else. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"You know their movie with the musical number *Every Sperm is Sacred*?"
I paused. What would that have to do with me?
"Well turns out they got the doctrine right, purely by accident. And guess what you've been doing five days a week since eigth grade?"
Then that would mean- *no*.
"Oh, *God*."
"Yeah, he's not gonna help you with this one." | "186,292".
The number kept ringing in my ears as I was huddled onto the elevator to Hell. I had led the most unremarkable and conflict-free life ever, an average joe. Easy-going, I almost always acquiesced to what the group wanted, not wanting to raise an issue. A voyeur of life, almost.
Chapters from life flashed in front of my eyes, some more vivid than the others.
​
"""Queer little Abby, who was in bullied in school all the time. I wanted to stand up for her, but I was scared. I did slip her a little note though...
Abdul Rahman, whose house was pelted with stones in the aftermath of 9/11. I wanted to tell the mob to leave, call the cops on them, but I was scared they'd hurt me. I did smile at him once later though...
Jack and Ryan, a couple who were always picked on and ostracized in our neighborhood. I wanted to tell the folks to back off, but I was scared they'd judge me. I did pat Ryan on the back though...
Barbara Rooney, a Stanford grad who didn't get the job at my company cause my boss wanted to give it to his nephew. I wanted to tell my boss that it was wrong, but I was scared I'd lose my job. I did send her a very polite rejection letter though..."""
​
The elevator jolted to a halt, shaking me out of my thoughts. The panoramic arch to Hell welcomed me. On it, was Dante:
**"The Hottest places in Hell are reserved for those, who in times of moral crisis, preserve their neutrality."** | 2018-09-26T08:43:26 | 2018-09-26T08:17:41 | 77 | 35 |
[WP] You exit the mall, having just finished a shopping spree. You locate your car, but see that it has been crushed from above. Whatever crushed it is now gone. Luckily, you find a note: “I’m sorry that my time machine landed on your car. My agency will pay for repairs. Just call this number!” | I call the number and I hear gargling. "Excuse me?" I say. There's a pause. Then ...
"Oh! A human! It's been so long since I've talked to a human. What are crisps like? Are they different now? I'm sorry, I'm just so excited!"
"Uh, hi," I say. "I'm calling for a car repair. A ... time machine crushed it, apparently."
A deep sigh. "Fucking Alex. I've told him a thousand times not to fly around in that thing when he's drunk as a skunk. He does this, you know? He doesn't listen, does whatever he feels like and we have to pick up the scraps. It's tough sometimes. I had to bury my grandmother in the park. Do you know what that's like? Shoveling dirt to toss your own crinkled flesh and blood into a hole next to some avant garde fountain?"
"... What?"
"He's just a mechanic, you know. He's not supposed to even be in these things. Which is why there's going to be some real consequences now. I bet he gets fired, that prick. Anyway, you called about you car? We can provide you with a voucher. What century are you in?"
"The 21st," I say, hesitating.
"Oh! The century of destruction! Neat! Are you sure you won't prefer a bike? A bit easier on the old conscience, eh? Wait. Are we talking pre- or post-singularity here?"
"I guess pre ..."
"Oh! I see! Must be pretty idyllic, I imagine. From what I heard that was a time of peace and quiet."
"Uhh, it's really not."
"I guess Canada blew up already, huh?"
"... what."
"Nothing! Don't think about it!"
"So, about my car ..."
"Your car! Right! So, this is where our conversation gets a bit rough. You still live in the days when people thought of time as a linear phenomenon. How wrong we were! Time is non-linear. Spacetime trajectories are a bit like the branches of a tree and sometimes they grow out of control and you need a gardener of sorts to cut it into shape. Alex messed with time and crushed your car and now your spacetime trajectory has split off from its neighboring strands of time. So we've got to, you know, snap snap."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying it's time to finish our conversation. Alex is a bit of a dick! I'm sorry!"
*End of timeline*. | "What the fuck...?" I placed my groceries on the floor and approached my car.
Wrecked. Absolutely wrecked.
If I had to guess, I would say an elephant stepped on my car. But I knew that was not possible in San Francisco Safeway parking lot. Little did I know, the note on my car was suggesting something far more imaginative.
Future. Time Machine.
I am not kidding. The note stuck between what cannot be called a wiper anymore was written:
"I’m sorry that my time machine landed on your car. My agency will pay for repairs. Just call this number! 414-909-2321"
I looked around to see if there was elephant or time machine around. Nope. Just some passengers pretending they are not taking a picture of my most miserable moment.
I take out the note from the 'wiper' and took out my phone.
"414... what kind of bullshit is this." I started to dial the number. What can I lose really. Maybe he thought it would be funny to leave a note with some nonsense. Maybe he thought that note was humorous.
I just can't wait to see his face when judge orders him to make an enormous pay out.
"Thank you for choosing Future Insurance. For English, press 1. For Chinese, press 2. For Spanish, press 3. For Indian, press 4..."
Ok, this guy went too far.
First you fuck with me with little note about time machine and you have even set up a auto call receiver machine? That's too far.
"Hey! I know you can hear me asshole! stop playing that auto machine and speak up!" I tried my best to stay calm.
"... For Swedish, press 16. For Latin, press 17. For Korean, press 18..."
"I will press 1 you motherfucker" I opened the dial pad and pressed one.
"You have choose English. For accident report, press 1. For transaction inquiry, press 2..." I pressed 1 again.
"Unfortunately, all of our representatives are unavailable at the moment. If you would like to stay on the line, your waiting number is 419. Thank you"
I sat down on the curve keeping my phone attached to my ear.
'This is going to take forever.' I thought as obnoxious piano BGM starts to play. | 2021-08-10T03:30:42 | 2021-08-10T01:59:00 | 577 | 169 |
[WP] An atheist is sent back in time and meets Jesus. Describe their conversation. | "Who are you?"
"I think that is the question I should be asking *you*" replied Jesus. They were sitting on two stones by a riverbank. The cool water flowed past them serenely, rolling over pebbles and clay. Some songbirds tweeted in the distance. There was a light breeze that washed over them. It seemed surreal to the man who had come to meet the self-proclaimed messiah.
"If you are who, or rather, *what*, you say you are, then you must already know," replied the man.
"Even so, I'd still like to hear it from you."
The man sighed. "I am Nathan Roberts. I am a theoretical physicist from the 21st century. And I've come back in time to investigate your existence."
Jesus said nothing. His gaze was contemplative and ponderous.
The man was slightly thrown off. "Well?"
"You've just told me what you are, but you've yet to tell me *who* you are" he responded calmly.
"You don't seemed surprise to hear that," the man said.
"You don't seem surprised to be telling me," Jesus replied.
"Are you a god, *the* God, or are you just a man?" the man asked curtly.
"First, I would like you to tell me who you are."
The man's brow furrowed slightly. There was no telling how long he'd be able to stay when he was, and this "Jesus of Nazareth" was being difficult. "What do you mean?"
"You let your title define you, but that's not all there is to you."
"The same could be said of yourself, Messiah."
Jesus smiled. "Yes, I suppose that is true."
"So, who am I then?"
Jesus stared at him again. No, not at him, into him. "You're a man who's being forced to confront his convictions."
The man said nothing.
"You are a non-believer, are you not?"
"I am an atheist, yes."
"Again you let a title define you."
"How else should I define myself?"
"You shouldn't define yourself at all."
"But *you* defined yourself."
"I did."
"So why shouldn't I?"
"Because I am what I am. I'm not more or less than that. I have my purpose, and it is set."
The man was thrown off by his assertion. "How can you possibly say that you are the son of God? How can you make that claim?"
"Because I am."
"So what makes you and me different?" the man asked, impatiently.
"Because you aren't forced to make the same choices that I am. Your destiny is malleable. The choices you made have led you here, without your prior awareness. I am here because I know to be here. That's the difference. I know. You don't. You can't possibly know how your decisions will affect your future. I am cursed with knowing. Knowing how I would be born. Knowing who I would meet and when I would meet them. Knowing when I would die. And knowing what would come after my death. How my truths would be tainted by tyrants who wield their fear like a weapon..."
Jesus trailed off for a moment and his gaze strayed. When he looked back at the man he was smiling again.
"And knowing that despite those men, good people would continue to live by my words without believing in me. There is a great deal of beauty in your existence. You control your destiny. You make choices despite being faced with the unknown future.
"So to get back to my original point, you should not define yourself with words and titles. When you do that, you confine yourself to act in a way that is expected of you. You shut yourself out to a great deal of possibilities, simply because it's not something an 'atheist' or a 'theoretical physicist' would do. So how should you define yourself? You simply live life. Your choices define you. Your actions define you. Your beliefs define you. But no words can define you. Use words to define things of concrete natures. Nature, structures, societies..."
He paused for a moment.
"And gods."
The man was silent. He let the words sink into him. Finally he spoke.
"So since I met the son of God, does that mean I should become a Christian?"
Jesus laughed. It was warm and comforting. "Still missing the point. I don't care what you call yourself. You're a good man, Nathan Roberts. A little impatient and selfish at times, but you've never hurt anyone intentionally. No, I don't care what you call yourself."
At that moment a small alarm started sounding from the man's wristwatch.
"Jesus, there is still much I want to ask you. There's still much I want to know."
Jesus nodded. "I know."
"Can you keep me here a little longer?"
"I can."
"Will you?"
"Of course not, Nathan Roberts."
"Why not?"
"Because I've already told you enough to make you understand."
"Understand what?"
"You'll see in time."
"But I—"
---------------------------------------------------
The man awoke in the laboratory. A group of scientists and historians crowded around him. Immediately he was inundated by a wave of questions, too numerous to understand.
One scientist silenced the crowd. "Give him a moment! He's just returned from the past, for fuck's sake!"
The man nodded to the scientist. He slowly sat up from the machine.
"Well?"
"Well, what?" the man responded.
"Did you see him?"
The man paused for a moment to think about what Jesus had said again.
"I did."
"What did he say?"
"Quite a bit."
"Who was he, then?"
He paused, then smiled.
"He was just a man. A man who knew too much."
The crowd was perplexed by his answer and a new wave of queries began, but the man waved them off. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please, give me some time. I've just been through an extraordinary ordeal and I need to contemplate what I've learned. I promise I'll answer your questions soon. Now, excuse me."
------------------------------------
Months later, the man was being interviewed by a journalist. "The Man who met Christ".
The man sat in the chair and a microphone was pinned to his lapel. Two glasses of water sat on a small endtable between himself and the other chair. The interviewer sat down. She said something to her producer, then informed the man that the interview would be beginning. The man nodded.
The interviewer turned to face the man. Lights came up and the camera started recording.
"So. Who are you?"
------
**EDIT:: Thank you, everyone, so much for the awesome feedback!**
| "You got it working for real?" I asked suspiciously.
"Yeah, I totally got it! I've tested it as many times as my electric bill will let me already," my friend laughed.
"I'll be over in a couple minutes, alright? I have to see it myself before you get all famous and I never see you again," I told him, only half-joking. I tapped the "End Call" button on my phone. Zane Armstrong had created the first time machine in the history of mankind... well, that we know of. I'm sure some poor soul has mucked it up and gotten himself killed or something. It's just so mind boggling. I have to see it to believe it.
I got in my car and arrived at Zane's in minutes. He saw me pull up and ushered me inside.
"Come in! I want you to be the... second person to travel through time!" he told me.
I laughed. "Alright! Show me this contraption already!"
He showed me a room with hundreds of thick wires lining the walls all leading to a giant cylinder in the middle. The cylinder had all sorts of gyroscopes and screens and knobs and switches. It looked messy and poorly designed. I raised an eyebrow at him.
"I'm no interior designer. It works though and that's what matters. Step on in!"
"I'd like to know how you fixed the problems from last time first before I--"
"Nah, come on! Science is about just jumping in there and experimenting!" His eyes twinkled with pride.
I sighed. "Alright."
"Where do you want to go? Ah, nevermind. I'll choose for you. Just remember: I'll take you out after a few minutes. Also don't worry about messing anything up forever. It's an alternate timeline almost always so you'll just mess up someone else's universe," he grinned. I shook my head and smiled.
"Alright let's go."
A door on the cylinder opened. It was just big enough to fit into. A chair sat inside. I stepped in and sat down. I've never tested it before, but I've watched Zane do it a million times. When it didn't work it just shut down. It was completely safe, I knew. No worries there.
---
The doors closed and a flash blinded me. A wave of vertigo hit me. I fell off the chair and collapsed on the ground, retching. My vomit splattered onto the dirt and sizzled in the heat. Damn. That wasn't pleasant.
I got to my feet, sand sticking to the palms of my hands where I knelt, and observed my surroundings. Wow. Kind of anti-climactic. Kind of like teleporting, I thought. I couldn't tell I was back in time. My chair sat behind me, looking out of place outside. I was on a small hill next to an old village. About ten men stood a good distance from me and the village. They must have not noticed me. I could barely make them out, but they were ugly and deformed. Their skin looked discolored, but I could tell they were Arabian. Lepers? Interesting.
I approached them and they all ran away like rats. Poor guys. It must have arrived around Bible times. I laughed to myself. *Bible times*. It was widely believed that the Bible was all bull crap nowadays. In a world with teleportation, advanced medicine, and space colonies (...and now time travel!) who had time to believe the Bible?
I could see the lepers in the distance still, eyeing me carefully. From the opposite direction a man walked with purpose towards the village. He was dark skinned and had long black hair and a beard. Arabian as well. His robes billowed behind him as his sandals pushed forward relentlessly through the dirt to the village. He was definitely a handsome man, with chiseled features, and soft eyes. He walked to about where I was and stopped. He looked at me, but not like he was studying me, despite my strange clothes and appearance for the time, more like he knew something I didn't. Doubtful, I thought.
The man spoke to me. Yes, he spoke to me, and I understood what he said.
"My son, you have lost your way. You come from a time where most of the world has lost its way. When you return to your world you will be my greatest disciple."
He looked me up and down, again, not like he was studying me, like he was just taking me in. I felt my stomach churn. This was so wrong. He shouldn't be able to speak English if this was the time I thought it was. He shouldn't be talking to me about "my world" or whatever. How could he know that? He seemed too calm. He was creeping me out.
"Who are you?" I managed to say.
"You know that already," he said with a small smile. "Study my word for it is the truth. Trust in me and love your neighbor."
I stared at him. "Uh... Okay." What else was there to say to something like *that?*
"Your time here is coming to an end." My chest started to feel hot and my vision blurred. I heard a ringing in my ears, but the man's voice was clear, the clearest thing I'd ever heard. "I love you. I always will and always have. We'll meet again." My chest was burning now, and my vision turned white.
I was back in the metal cylinder, sweating through my shirt, sitting in the chair. The door slide open, and I got out. I felt stiff.
"Well? What did you think? Pretty awesome right? Did you go freak people out with your weird clothes in that village I sent you to? Did you battle with any Romans?" He was grinning ear to ear.
"Where exactly did you send me?" I choked out. My eyes were wide and my mouth barely moved.
Zane looked startled by my demeanor. "Uh... somewhere near Samaria or Galilee. You know, Middle East-ish. Like... around the year 29. Twenty-nine AD." Zane looked up at me and licked his lips, expecting something.
I looked down at the ground and pushed my hair back.
"Jesus Christ..." | 2014-11-06T20:42:08 | 2014-11-06T20:08:56 | 1,589 | 77 |
[WP] There once was a legendary mage whose lack of a max mana cap allowed for slow but powerful spells that laid waste upon the land. After the unification of the races, their leaders have come to negotiate with the living catastrophe who hasn't cast a spell in centuries. | "Vraylar, Unrelenting Force, Fell Specter, Decimator of History" wow someone was going full titles outside my door, that hadn't happened in, hmm I think it's been about three centuries, hell I thought the world had forgotten me, clearly I didn't live up to that last one properly.
"We of the united world alliance beseech and audience with you."
I could always just ignore them, maybe they'd go away. I could check on them with some form of magic but that'd take time. Honestly it was hilarious no one ever figured out how weak I really was. Just because you can decimate an army it doesn't really mean much if it takes days of preparation, or it wouldn't if they weren't all so damned afraid of me. I honestly couldn't do many of the minor quick spells because they tended to be unreliable.
I looked at the door to my peaceful little home out in the country. I had specifically chosen to live way out here to avoid attention. A momentary bit of nostalgia for when I lived in a fortress that intimidated everyone and kept them from even approaching. Oh well nothing to be done about it now. I stepped outside and was surprised, six people, a vampire hiding under an umbrella, two humans, no upon closer inspection a human and one of the fair folk in human guise, a shifter in his mid form black fur bristling claws jutting from his hands and only standing partially upright as if ready to drop to all fours at a moment, a merfolk in their human guise, gills and scales still apparent but at least capable of walking on land, and one of my own kind a pureblood mage his veins glowing with the mana that infused his very being.
I gave a slight bow and a smile. "Now, what can I do for" a pause as I tried to recall what they'd said. "the united world alliance. I don't suppose you simply came to say hello, if you did it'd surely have been preferable to one of your party to wait until at least dusk."
The vampire stepped forward, his pale skin much more clearly visible, the umbrella twirling as he bared his fangs in what I assumed was a smile. "Vraylar, if I may call you that, you are correct this is not a simple meet and greet."
I shrugged "It is my name and titles stopped having meaning a few, was it decades ago that you united?"
That got a raised eyebrow and a chuckle from the fae who shifted for a moment revealing her wings as she whispered "You owe me."
I couldn't place which of them she was talking to but it wasn't particularly relevant. The mage stepped forward glaring at me and begginning to shift his fingers subtlely. Nope can't have that, I reached out and grabbed his hands in a death grip.
"If you want these unbroken you will keep them still." He glared at me but nodded his acquiesence. I could see the others muscles were tensed, they still feared me, good that'd keep things a bit more civil. I let go of his hands and looked around at the party assembled for a moment and stepped back from my doorway waving my hand towards the interior.
"Uncivilized of me to keep you all on my doorstep, I apologize please enter freely and know that the rules of hospitality are strictly adhered to in this household." A smirk from me and most were hesitant to enter but the vampire seemed to be more then pleased to be invited in and out of the sun. His unflinching entry apparently brought the rest of them tagging along.
I led them through the foyer to the living room and asked if any would like anything. I saw the merfolk glancing towards the kitchen and nodded before walking off into the kitchen, I decided I'd play it up a bit tonight as soon as I was out of sight I collected a glass of salt water, made a bloody mary with a couple drops of my blood for extra kick and flavor, some milk with just a touch of honey in it, a glass of wine that I'd been saving for a few well a while anyhow, I hadn't been able to peg the shifter so I poured a second glass of wine, and finally a vial of undiluted mana. Satisfied that each guest would have something worthy of a dignitary I brought all out and set each in front of them.
The vampire and shifter immediately grinned at their glasses, the merfolk was already downing his. The fae simply picked hers up and stirred it with a finger while the human and mage glared suspiciously. As I finished serving I realized I had brought nothing out to drink myself. Oh well, a good host prioritizes their guests. I sat in my favorite chair looking at the motley crew assembled before me allowing them time to decide on their words.
A sigh of contentment from the vampire. "A deliciously made drink, I'd swear you've entertained my kind before. Apologies I realize now none of us have properly introduced ourselves. I am Solemn Triad of the" I grinned and finished his sentence "of the court of vipers." He looked a bit shocked then nodded "Just so, I suppose you aren't as much a hermit as we thought if you know me."
I shrugged then "I keep apprised." pointed at each in turn "Mab of the Fae 3rd of her name." a slight gasp from the queen who was often thought eternal. "Ferrithir of Tribe Noctis." The shifter simply gave a stoic nod. "Sal" The human shrugged. "Apologies on my poor pronunciation, Qqurnr of the 4th Sea" The merfold gave a dismissive wave. "and unfortunately your sixth is actually unknown to me, perhaps his skills outstrip mine."
The mage nodded, he still hadn't touched the mana I'd offered. "I am Vraylar of the Arbitration Council." I had to choke back a laugh at that, unfortunately it quickly became a coughing fit that doubled me over. Normally I wouldn't comment on someones name but I couldn't help myself in this case.
"Ok is that your given or chosen name, I just have to know whether your parents were some random groupies or what the hell led to that?"
-Part One- | 'There is it,' the Dwarves Representative announces, their gloved finger pointing towards a huge lump of green in the middle of a forest clearing.
The Ogre King hums and pulls out his map, 'According to map, we arrived.'
The Elf Queen frowns, 'Are you certain? That do not look like human dwelling, let alone the legendary mage's cottage.'
But it is. As they get closer, carving a path of broken grass under their feet, the trio of leaders of the New Kingdom see that the lump is indeed an cottage. An extremely overgrown one, covered brick-to-brick with weed and over spilled with vines, but a cottage nonetheless if the single round window at the top is anything to go by.
For a moment, the air is filled by ruffling noises and coughs as the leaders clear their throats and readjust their garments. Talking to a legendary mage with unlimited mana is a honor, even if that mage had not casted a spell in thousands of years.
The Elf Queen starts first by bellowing their introduction, 'Mage! We are the High Order of-' , only to be cut off by a strong gust of wind.
Suddenly, a door springs open from between the weed. It too is covered so densely in vegetation, they could not see it before.
The Elf Queen is irritated at being cut off but before she can repeat her words, the Ogre King holds out a silencing arm. His relaxed expression from before has turned serious, 'We come in.'
'That looks dodgy,' the Dwarf Representative squints at the inviting darkness. Just to be sure, they call out, 'Mage, may we come in?'
There is no answer. However, the door flaps a little in another gust of wind, as if to wave them inside.
'They want enter,' the Ogre King growls quietly.
The Elf Queen and the Dwarf Representative stare at him in puzzlement, as ogres are the most hypervigilant of all races. This looks clearly like a trap of some kind.
The King immediately notices their hesitance. He softens his expression and explains in a reassuring tone, 'I do not smell metal or aggression. But I smell something sad, so perhaps the mage lonely.'
Ogre's assessment of danger is always accurate, so the elf and the dwarf relax a little. Still, as the three of them enter the door one by one, their postures are stiff with tension. Each of them expects the door to spring shut as soon as the last get in.
It does not. Instead, it hangs there in perfect stillness, offering an escape of light between the box of darkness.
​
Inside, everything is bathed in a thin veil of light. Other than the round window they just saw and the opened door, there is no other light source. From where they stand, the trio can see a plush living room leading straight to a cozy kitchen. In between the two spaces, a simple cot hangs next to a stack of old tomes acting as a side table. There is no stairs. Even in limited lighting, the place looks homely, so much so that one can almost skim through the mess of parchments on the floor.
The Elf Queen can feel the the hair at the back of her neck standing on end. 'Ogre, Dwarf, once again, are you certain we are at the right place? This place is desolate.'
'There might have been a mistake,' the Ogre King hisses and draws his axe, his eyes darting around rapidly.
Still, his eyesight cannot rival a dwarf, who immediately notices the lone tea bag on the kitchen counter, next to a chipped mug.
'They were making tea? They must be out to get some water. We barely miss them then,' the dwarf says cheerily.
The heavy tension in the air slides off in sheets at their words. His companions sigh, before dropping their weapons. If the mage is nearby, they only have to wait for them.
To be polite, the three leaders settle uncomfortably on the only sofa in the cottage, which is clearly not designed to sit more than one and a half person. As a result, the tall elf and the wide ogre sit on two opposite end, leaving the small dwarf squished between them.
After a long period of hot, sweaty silence, the Elf Queen finally breaks, 'It is getting warm here, don't you think?'.
"Warm" is of course an underestimation. She can feel every crevice of heat in her armor, accompanied by the gross accumulating moisture, and hopes desperately for something to fan herself with.
The Ogre King pants in agreement, 'I agree, Queen. I am certain the Mage will not mind if we open the windows.'
'I will get us drinks!' The Dwarf Representative chips in.
'And I will go find something we can fan with,' the Elf Queen announces before all three of them get up.
​
The Ogre King yanks open the nearest window. A shower of dusk greets him, making him coughs, before revealing crudely hammered planks woods. He frowns minutely and moves on to the next window. Same thing, boarded up with planks.
Nearby, the Elf Queen searches the sprawling parchments on the ground for something hard enough to fan with. As she touches each parchment, she feels the faint imprint of quill. Curious, she turns them over. She can read fragments, the rest blocked by bad lighting. Still, it is enough to turns her face ashen.
"Dear Doctor, my vision keeps blurring..."
"My dear friend, do...when I drank the..."
"...might be poison...pain..."
"...diary, today...grow scales...black blood...hungry..."
"...soon...soon...deformed...hated...hopeless"
"...Doctor,...my mind...recognize in mirror..."
...
​
Outside, as the dwarf pulls up the bucket of fresh water, he spots something jutting out of the sloshing reflective surface. Feeling dread rolling off his stomach, the dwarf pull faster and faster until the content of the bucket is in full daylight. Only then, does he scream. | 2022-05-04T14:34:23 | 2022-05-04T12:24:15 | 22 | 10 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :) | The creepy laughter started right on time. Every night, at 11:56. Then, the walls started to bleed, up by the ceiling, near the elaborate crown moulding, running down the old wallpaper. I call it "dripping crimson on a field of posies."
That would be gone by morning.
Cue screaming and the sounds of someone being chased down the hall at 2:07. They'd come back in 38 minutes. I'm surprised he hasn't caught her yet. It's been months of this happening every night. That's "Freddie and Edith on their evening stroll."
At least the lamp only flew across the room that first night. I gave it a few days to fix itself and left the broken shards in a pile, but no. It would have been nice to have a light. But I had a kindle, so I could still read in the dark. Since it only happened once, I didn't call it anything but the pile was "ode to a lamp" before I swept it up. Now it's "don't walk barefoot in that corner because you might have missed some".
Ohhh...banging on the bedroom door! That's new. A nice change of pace. In ten minutes, the ghostly wolf would emerge through the closet door and pin me to the bed, menacing with dripping fangs. Man, he needed a breath mint. His breath smelled like sewer and dead fish and broccoli. "Mr. Stinky Breath", I call him.
Right on time, I hear the snarl and placed my kindle on the nightstand, holding my breath as his weight pins my arms to the mattress. I roll my eyes and try not to inhale.
In five days, when I'd stayed in the haunted house for exactly 4 months, I'd get my $1,000,000. Barney better pay up, or I'm gonna feed him to Mr. Stinky Breath or see if he wants to go on a stroll with Freddie and Edith. | Jake shrugged. The sound of the church' clock was the only sound he could hear in the silence of the night.
Ding. dong. ding. dong. ding. dong, and so on, all the way to twelve.
Was it midnight already? He didn't know. He didn't care. Mom wouldn't be home before tomorrow, so Jake had the house for himself. And, more importantly, the computer.
He was having fun, despite being the only person online on his Minecraft server.
It was completely silent in the house. Painfully silent. Except for the occasional Minecraft sound coming from the computer.
"Oh, balls.." Jake wispered to himself. He really had to take a leak. The toilet wasn't that far away, but the room it was in was way too dark to see anything. The only source of light was coming from the computerscreen.
"Jake...." He heard a feint voice whisper.
"Come and play.."
"Ugh, boogers.. Mom's home early." He thought.
As Jake looked up, expecting to see his mother, candles were lit up all around the room. Wait, this wasn't his house.. The light of the candles showed a huge red pentagram made of dark, thick blood on the ground. His desk, along with himself and the computer were in the middle of it.
The whispers starter getting louder. He could also hear someone crying in the distance. The ground lit up on fire, and an awfully loud and terrifying laugh could be heard. Men in black robes slowly started to walk towards Jake with big scythes and hands engulfed in blood.
Jake screamed as hard as he could.
"Holy cow, I found diamonds!!" | 2017-05-05T07:04:56 | 2017-05-05T05:55:46 | 530 | 280 |
[WP]You have been caged without a writing utensil for years because what you write comes true. The doctor examining you just left his... | In the end, it was a fluke that let me out. An accident. The kind of thing that makes you yell at the Tv because someone just made a mistake. THE mistake. The one that drives the entire plot.
I was honestly surprised. Really the prison staff are as close to perfect as it's possible to get. They know how dangerous I can be. How much I want to get out.
Later, the new stations crucify my nice new therapist. He's young and sincere and everything that would have made him a great doctor. Maybe I'll get him out later. I did actually like him, and I know I'm crazy.
But see, he made a bad mistake. His pen fell off his clipboard and he didn't notice. I ignored it for hours because I know they watch me when he leaves to see if I do anything new.
I might be crazy but I'm not stupid.
The pen isn't anything special when I do pick it up. Just a cheap ballpoint, but more dangerous than a gun in MY hands. Immediately alarms start to scream, but not fast enough.
(The door cannot be unlocked) I write on the clean white of my sheets. (The gas canisters all malfunction.)
That takes care of their quick countermeasures against me.
Next trick.
(I am dressed in the finest quality suit, tailored to me perfectly)
No need to do this without style.
(A pad of clean, lined paper rests on the table)
When I look up again, the paper is there. I switch to that for the sake of convenience. The new suit whispers against my skin, everything a good suit ought to be.
The guards are banging on the door- which is, of course, completely locked. I smile. I almost forgot how much fun this is.
(The guards abruptly realize what terrible people their comrades are, and kill each other.)
Gunfire cracks outside. I can hear the screams from inside. Very satisfying. I haven't killed anyone since they put me on here.
(The door swings open)
I gather up my few belongings- a rather good novel I haven't finished and my pad of paper- and my new pen- and walk out into the hall. The guards lay scattered about. One is still alive. I step over him. He will not live. I wrote his death.
(There is no opposition on the way outside, where a car and driver wait)
My first breath of fresh air as a free man is like being reborn. I soak it in. The weak autumn sunlight and wall towards the car- luxurious but not extravagant and with government plates. The driver- he wasn't real until I wrote him- holds the door.
"Where to, sir?" He asks when I'm ensconced on fine leather seats and we're putting down the road.
I smile again. Time to wreak some havoc.
"The art store," I tell him, and tuck my pen into my breast pocket. I could make more, but there is something special about choosing just the right one from a box at the store. "I find myself needing pens.
| "Right, that should be everything for this week. See you soon, Clive ." The doctor left the cell, housing a supposedly all-powerful man. You wouldn't realise just by looking at him. Worn down, mentally unstable, among other things. With his power, some would call him the writer. He has never been able to use this power.
That is, until a small mistake occurred. That doctor had left his pen inside the cell. Clive checked around, seeing the guards pre-occupied with other things. He reached out for the pen, and started to scrawl something on the floor. It worked.
*I will be set free, and given a lavish home, with all writing equipment I could need.*
He quickly disposed of the pen, and waited. An hour later, the guards unlocked his door. "You're free to go." One of them said. "and before I forget, here." The guard gave him a letter. "Something about compensation." Clive jauntily walked out of his confined prison, and out to the free world.
The letter given to him stated about how there were 'misunderstandings', and as compensation, a home, free of charge, to live in. All exactly as planned. Inside hid bedroom, his desk had a large notepad, with an array of pens and pencils beside it. He sat down, and got to work. He took the paper and pens down to the lounge, turned the tv onto the news, and kept a keen eye on the outside through the window. The madness could finally begin.
*Aliens take over all the world's governments and instate a global government, bringing their technology with them.*
With the full stop dotted, the news suddenly flared with a 'BREAKING NEWS - WORLD LEADERS HAVE BEEN KILLED BY ALIENS'. The news anchor nervously coughed, and started hastily speaking. "Extra terrestrials have taken over every major countries' government, and reinstated with a collective, worldwide government-" He was cut off by one of said aliens entering. It looked human, except with blue skin, pupil-less eyes, and a mass of tentacles instead of legs. "May I?" "Uh, sure." The camera focused on the alien. "Greetings, humans. We are merely establishing the conditions for peace to prosper." The alien injected the new anchor with something. His balding hair was now replaced with a lush looking full head of hair. "When the time has come, we will integrate you with other alien species.". Clive turned off the TV, and looked outside, to see spaceships constructing massive buildings and structures. "Nice", he thought. He never really liked politics.
This was but a small sample of his own power. With the only limit his imagination, he could rewrite the universe to his liking. This was only the beginning...
| 2017-06-25T09:16:47 | 2017-06-25T08:51:03 | 329 | 159 |
[WP] For as long as you can remember, a ghost has haunted you. Whenever you ask why, you are met with silence. Today, you got a reply. "Buy lemons." | “Buy lemons.”
“Excuse me?”
“Buy lemons.”
Jaw wide open, I stared at the ghost. “Wait, was that you?”
“Buy lemons,” it replied in return.
“Wait, so you want me to buy lemons?”
“Buy lemons.”
“Alright alright, I’ll buy you some lemons. If I do, will you finally say something else?”
“Buy lemons.”
Across the room, my son called out, “Mommy, who are you talking to?”
“Oh nothing sweetie. Mom just needs to go to the store now, I’ll be back, just keep doing your math.” My son gave me a skeptical look. The paranoia on my face must’ve been strong.
I didn’t bother replying to the ghost. As per usual, it followed me while I headed out to the store. It stalked each of my movements like it had always done. Bags of lemons sat on the shelf before me. They beckoned me to buy them. Once the spirit saw the lemons it began to spew the same line as before, becoming a broken record player. Seeing no other option, I piled every bag into my cart.
Shoppers gave me amused looks as I passed by them with my cart full of lemons. I felt like one of those guys you see in math problems. I ended up opting for the self-checkout to save me from the anxiety of pulling up to a cashier with who knew how many lemons. To save you the details, the total wasn’t pretty.
In the car, I gave another go at figuring out the spirit’s motive, “Alright then, why have you been following me?” I received no reply. “Ok, I followed your request, will you tell me why?” No response. Frustrated, I gave up and went home.
“I’m home!” Instead of a greeting, all that came from the kitchen table were cries of frustration. Making my way over, my son looked up at me, tears in his eyes.
“I just don’t get it Mommy! Why does math have to be so hard?”
I should’ve been receptive to his pleas, but with my recent purchases and a useless ghost following me, my response to my son wasn’t all that peachy, “Now, it can’t be that hard.” He replied with a myriad of sniffles. The ghost shot disapproving glares at me. Gathering myself, I stopped down to his level, “Ok, so maybe math is hard. What seems to be the problem here?” He pointed at a word problem on his math worksheet. “Ok, so Timothy has twice as many lemons as Felicia. Felicia has double the amount of lemons as Charles-” I turned towards the ghost.
It nodded in return.
“Is this what you wanted?”
For the first time, it uttered a different phrase, “I just wanted to show you how to be a better parent. Go get the lemons and show him how to solve it.”
“Mom, who are you talking-” Ignoring his question, I headed towards the garage where the lemons laid. The spirit tailed along.
“Happy now?” I asked the ghost while bags of lemons dangled from my arms.
It smiled in return and walked away from me, never to be seen again.
r/CasualScribblings | “Pardon,” I questioned the figure that had been latched to me since birth.
“Lemons.” Her voice was raspy, sounded like she was a heavy smoker.
I never understood why I was the one being haunted. I had moved around lots ever since I was young, now being 21 and just moved in to a crusty apartment in New York. I came to discover that this ghost wasn’t haunting me, but everywhere I went. I still don’t know why she likes to follow me, but I don’t mind that much anymore. She scared me to death when I was 15, being a pubescent teen it was a big shock when my parents first admitted me to therapy. I had complained about the woman following me, but they seemed to think I was delusional.
“Why lemons?” First words she speaks to me after 21 years or so, and it’s that she wants lemons.
“We are not alone in the apartment. Buy lemons.” This freaked me out, not alone. Had someone broken in? If so, why do I need lemons.
I decide not to question her and I head to the shops. Buying the lemons, I arrive back at my apartment. She followed me the hole way there, as usual, once again not opening her mouth.
“Now what.” I look at her expectantly and she replies with her usual nonchalant expression.
She grabs a lemon, and I watch her closely. She must have been in her late 50s. Her hands wrinkled and black undertones riddle her nails. Before I can sag a word, she sprays the lemon straight into my eyes, she hadn’t even cut it in half.
“Fuck me, fuck, shit, shit, holy shit! Why the fuck did you do that, shit!” I continue to curse at her as I grab my eyes in pain, after about 10 minutes of writhing around, I open my eyes and my heart drops.
She was right. I wasn’t alone. Looking around, I’m surrounded by another 50 or so ghosts. Terror is evident on my face.
I feel light headed and before I know it, I was passed out on the ground.
Waking up in the hospital room with my dear mother next to me holding my hand.
“Callum honey, you had another episode.” She whispers to me, i look at her confused.
Oh right, I have schizophrenia. “What happened?”
“You broke into someone’s apartment, claiming you were in New York, then started spraying lemons in your eyes.” She says quietly and cautiously, as if her words where an axe.
I look around my hospital room confused, until my eyes lock in the woman that has followed me for years. Now I remember. She hadn’t been following me since birth, she’d been following me since I was 15.
“Oh,” I continue to stare at her, her blue eyes attacking my own.
“Honey, who are you staring at?” | 2020-10-09T19:47:26 | 2020-10-09T19:44:05 | 114 | 68 |
[WP]You adopt a stray cat. The gifts it leaves on your bed are getting more concerning. | It was a calico cat, shaded by darkness on half its scruffy face, scorched by flame on the other. The moon and sun heading towards an eclipse over a pale mountain of white fur.
For weeks after Josh had moved back to the family home, the cat had watched him. Sat outside the windows, or lay in the yard in the maple-shadows, or on the cooler evenings, on the burnt brown grass.
”If you hadn’t fed it,” said Nina, Josh’s girlfriend who’d come down from Maine for the week, “then it would’ve got the message eventually and gone bothered some other soft-hearted guy. We’d have been left in wonderful peace.”
Josh didn’t think so. He’d resisted feeding it for weeks, but the cat hadn’t seemed to care. It didn’t seem to be fussed about the food — although it ate it. Maybe Josh just wanted to believe it was about him, not the tuna.
Maybe, if he was being totally truthful to himself, he believed the cat held some kind of connection to his mother. A link. Maybe she’d looked after it and it missed her as much as he did.
Now the cat, Fia — *flickering fire* — lounged on the sofa, ear cocked as if listening in.
”It had been so lonely,” said Josh.
Nina opened her mouth, about to ask if he meant the cat or himself. But she knew the answer and bit her tongue.
Josh’s mother had lived here alone for the last six years, after Josh’s father passed away. His brother lived in Germany, having gone to university in Munich and have fallen in love. He stayed there, married, and rarely visited.
And then Josh’s mother had gone missing on a mountain walk. Neighbor saw her leave but not return. Rangers found no trace, only her car parked near the entrance to the trail.
This house that once must have brimmed with loved, warmed itself with laughter, had been desolate when Josh moved back. Empty.
Nina thought how that must have affected Josh. She knew how similar events had hurt her in the past. How those memories you must have of childhood and of unconditional love get wrung out of your heart by the rough-handed realities of life. And of death.
”Besides, he’s a lovely cat,” said Josh. ”Aren’t you boy?” Josh sat by Fia’s side and stroked him until he purred, as if he’d started up a mower.
“He’d be nicer if he didn’t leave us… *gifts*, every morning.” Gifts was Josh’s term. Dead birds, live rats, plastic bags stuffed with used condoms and tissues and needles — and god knew what else because she’d retched at that point and dropped the bag. When she’d regained her composure she placed the bag inside two more bags and used a pair of tongs to carry it all to the outside trash.
“I’m sure he’ll quit with it soon. Won’t you, Fia?”
Fia rubbed his head against Josh’s knuckle in a non-committal answer.
“He’ll have to — there won’t be anything left to dig up soon.” She yawned lazily. “I’m going to bed. Don’t you two stay up too late.”
“I’ll be in shortly. Besides, you know what Fia’s like. He’ll be gone for the night soon. Wherever it is he goes.”
“To the local tip I should think.” | I thought it was adorable at first. It started a few days after I brought her home. I had a giant potted plant in my living room. It's leaves were bigger than the cats head. She would rip an entire leaf off the plant, and carry it all the way up the stairs, down the hall to my bedroom and leave it on my bed.
It was cute, but upsetting since I loved this plant and had it for a couple years. After a couple leaves, she would get into my laundry and began leaving me socks. Always different socks. Different colors, and she never grabbed the same sock twice. This went on for a couple weeks. It wasn't ever day mind you.
Just every 2-3 days. after about a month, is when it got weird. Things that I know she shouldn't have been able to grab ended up on the bed. Potatoes are one thing. Rather large, but no teeth marks. How did she get it up the stairs and onto my bed? Then there was the can of chicken noodle soup. Not the small one either, the bigger one. The one you get when your really hungry or really really like soup.
After the can of soup, it stared escalating. Shoes, bars of soap, coat hangers, shampoo bottle and a picture frame. I started putting things away more, thinking it would help. I got into the habit of not leaving a single thing out. I got child locks on kitchen cabinets.
I kept all the doors in the house closed, but somehow, that just made it even worse. Exactly 3 months after I brought her home, I found a knife. I remember coming home from work that day. I walked up the stairs to my room and opened my door. I remember thinking I had finally won.
She hadn't brought anything in since I shut all the doors. She was even sleeping on the couch when I came home. But when I walked into my room I could feel the color drain from my face. A knife. And not just any knife, it was a bloody one. I remember staring at it for a few seconds before I ran down the stairs and out of the house.
I went to my neighbors and called the police. Within minutes they were there and investigating the house, asking me all kinds of questions. The thing was, it was not a knife I owned. I have no idea how it got in my home. After a few hours, they left. They took the knife, and dozens of pictures.
They found no trace of anything out of place. As I shut the door behind me, I walked up the stairs to my room once more. As I walked into my room, I saw my cat standing on my bed, exactly where the knife had been. Only this time, she had something in her mouth, and it was dripping.
In horror, I watched her drop the object onto my bed and look up at me, as if proud of her find. It was a finger. A human finger. Freshly severed. I felt the room start spinning and I felt dizzy. My stomach started doing flips and she just stared at me and mowed happily. | 2021-12-17T07:32:51 | 2021-12-17T07:06:19 | 463 | 47 |
[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 | "That's...not quite what I expected."
15 years. For such a long wait, this was a little...underwhelming, to say the least.
"You sure doc? Steve doesn't have any other powers?"
"We're sure, Mr. Lang."
I leaned back on my chair with my eyes closed, relaxing my muscles as I let the truth sink in. After a couple of minutes, I turned to my beautiful 2-hour old treasure, my new center of the universe.
"I'm sorry, Dad", he said in his squeaky voice.
"What for? There's nothing to apologize about."
"I know you're disappointed in me. I can see it in your eyes."
It's...true. I know I *shouldn't* be disappointed at my newborn son for this, but I still can't help but *feel* disappointed.
"It's just..." he continued, still getting adjusted to opening his tiny little mouth, let alone speaking in just minutes after being introduced to this world. "...I couldn't handle all that pressure, you know? I could hear everything in there. You and mom expected me to be the next Messiah by the time I could control my powers, and I was too afraid to disappoint you guys. Then you guys were talking about me being on the NEWS and shit? I was just so afraid of everything, so I just shut myself in."
"I'm...I'm sorry, Steve." 130 minutes in, and I already feel like the worst dad in the world. Great.
"Look, Steve. You did nothing wrong. It's all our fault. I should have told you while you were still in your mother's womb... that we would have been happy to have you no matter what your powers turned out to be. It may be hard to believe, but I am proud to have you as my son."
Silence filled the room, while Steve avoided all eye contact. He just looked down at his cute chubby thighs, unsure how to respond and understandably so. This lasted for nearly 5 minutes, until finally I decided to stand up.
"...Well, time to break the news with the rest of the world."
"Wait, Dad! Can we just wait a few days?"
"They're gonna find out sooner or later. The longer we make them wait, the bigger the hype. The bigger the hype, the bigger the disappoin..."
Ah, fuck.
"...Ok, dad."
"...I'll be back.", I whimpered, as I walked out of the room. The cameras were already flashing at my eyes before I could even manage to close the door behind me.
"Mr. Lang, Mr. Lang! This is the moment the world's been waiting for! The big reveal! So WHAT, exactly, is/are your son Steve's superpowers?"
I straightened my posture, chin up, smile on my face. It was the best I could do for my son, for what little it was worth. I wanted to show everyone that I'm still proud of him for coming into this world.
"His power...is the power to delay pregnancies."
| His phone buzzed awake, woken by a call from his wife, Christie. Horado picked it up immedietly, he knew it had to be important; his wife never called him when he was at work. After all a single mistake and all his customer had was a broken clock. But he never made mistakes he was the best clock maker in the business.
Realising he had zoned out he snapped back to reality to hear the last words of his wife's sentence:
"-in labour"
He assumed he misheard: his wife had been in labour for 15 years and today did not feel like the all fateful day.
"Sorry i didn't hear yo--"
"I SAID IM IN LABOUR GET TO THE HOSPITAL NOW" Screamed Christie, her urgency being clearly conveyed over the phone.
Horado had never moved so fast in his life, his baby boy was finally being born after 15 years. This was a once in a universises lifetime occurence. After all in a society where a 2 month overdue baby may have psycho-kinetic powers, it was difficult for him to even fathom the idea of his son's power.
He was at the hospital in minutes and he burst straight into her room disregarding the warnings of the staff and there she was: covered in sweat, legs open.
"ITS COMING" She yelled over her owen screams of pain.
"PUUUUSSHHH"
And it was then, that the baby was pulled out. The baby seemed surprisingly normal; although he didn't know what else he had been expecting. The cries of the baby filled the room, drowning Christie's screams.
Before anyone could move an inch the nurse took a blood sample and inputed it into a large computer so they could instantly recognise the superpower. As they anxiously watched the result load (with an astounding degree of patience) they failed to notice the baby growing at impossible rates: its skin no longer translucent and smooth, its cries slowly getting lower.
"BEEP"
The results had finally arrived.
The nurse read it aloud:
Baby has a never seen before time related ability.
Him and his wife gasped with anticipation.
"Experiences life 100000x faster, other abilites incl--"
It was only after that, that they finally looked back at their son who was already in his 50s and on his way to the 60s. Their son, although possesing an old ageing ability died in the next minute at the age of 314.
THE END
Note: the math is probably wrong.
Note 2: This is my 2nd ever writing prompt and its on mobile so there are 100% mistakes.
Note 3: my Engrish has deteriorated as I am in Japan for exchange currently so dont be too harsh
Edit: some nerd did the math and its not 100000 times faster but 165,038,400x faster (i was close enough) | 2017-07-07T22:57:46 | 2017-07-07T22:35:59 | 743 | 143 |
[WP]Write a story that is perfectly normal, until the last line.
ie. A story about a really awkward man who has awkward thoughts, until the last line describes it was all said loud, making all encounters extremly awkward and cringey. | "Aw, don't cry my sweet little girl! You were so quiet earlier, even with all the racket my friends made!"
Shrill screams and crocodile tears stream from her face, unrelenting. She's heavy.
"Oh do you have a full poopie bag? Is that why you're crying? I might just have to take care of this before I can finish cleaning the living room. Such a poopie monster, aren't you."
"Now, where did your mommy put those clean poo holders?"
He rummages through the shelves. Empty bottles and bottle caps. He grabs the wet naps and baby powder then turns to the closet nearby.
"There they are. Don't worry sweet thing, you'll be clean and tidy before you know it. I'm a cleaner by trade, and I'm the best."
He sets her on the changing table and begins his dirty work. Tossing out the old diaper. Grabbing a fresh wet one and tidying up the tiny butt cheeks, covered in muck. A dash of baby powder. Then the fresh diaper, brand new.
The crying dies down.
"There you are sweetheart. Nice and clean."
He picks her up and cradles her in his arms, gently. She's almost asleep again.
"Hush little baby, don't say a word..." he sings softly as he places her back in her crib and begins to rock her back to sleep.
When the lullaby is over, he steps back to admire his work.
"No child should die screaming, " he said as he reaches for the same gun he executed her parents with. | As the full moon rose to its full glory, the wolf crept carefully through the night, in search of prey. Though the moon provided much appreciated light for which the the wolf could hunt, it much more disastrously restricted the wolf to the shadows, as if being quiet as dead was not difficult enough. But even in full light, the wolf fully recognized the need to depend on other senses than simply sight, and started the search for a scent that had been lost. Soon enough, the wolf caught the lost scent and followed its trail through the dark. Suddenly, movement. The wolf could sense it. Head down, the wolf lifted it up towards the sky, momentarily blinded by the moon as the wolf attempted to catch even the slightest sound, a twig snapping, a leave crunching, even the sound of a whisker brushing the ground. No longer blinded, the wolf spotted it. The prey. The wolf attacked, no avail, the great predator had missed its target. The prey bolted. The wolf followed in pursuit. The prey was quick but its speed was no match for the endurance of the mighty wolf. The wolf caught the prey. The wolf took its time, playing with what the wolf knew to be dinner. The prey did not fight back. Then, the wolf ripped out the prey's heart. "I'm breaking up with you." | 2016-08-19T19:56:55 | 2016-08-19T19:39:21 | 36 | 11 |
[wp] In,the harry potter universe, muggles know wizards exist and can see magic. However, they are nice enough to let them believe they are being secretive. | "Ooh dearie me, what on earth am I doing here?" I asked, cooing slightly. They like it when us muggles do that, they think we're completely ignorant to their activity, and I think most of us prefer it that way. The *obliviate* spell hadn't worked, obviously, but I was happy to pretend for this chap's sake. He was rather young, probably only just got out of schooling, so I didn't want to dash his confidence.
"You must have tripped and fallen, sir. Let me help you up." They were all very kind nowadays, but I'd heard they used to be very cruel.
I've written several papers on the failing of Wizard magic on Muggles in the recent years, and the conclusion I've come to with my peers is that it's something alike to a rapid form of Evolution; Magic exists, like oxygen and nitrogen, in the air we breathe, but only really takes effect when channeled by Wizards or Witches. It still can lead to odd happenings without the involvement of a member of the *Homo Mystica* species, but that only occurs once every 20 years or so.
In the many wars that have been fought in the past between Muggles and Wizards, trace amounts of channelled Magic has been left in the air, hanging about in clouds, with auras detectable with simple Spectroscopes. The Ministry of Muggles has recently discovered these clouds can lead to the sudden development of magical abilities or immediate death. This has been noted as one of the causes of "mudblood" or non-denominorian Wizards and Witches.
These clouds of channelled magic, alongside many individual occurrences of widespread spell-use, are theorised to have lead to the magical resistance that Muggles owe their lives, and memories, to today.
But we don't tell them that. We let them continue to live in their quaint little world, far less advanced than our society, because that's how they want to live. It appears that they find it hard to believe there is any way a muggle could have an advantage over them.
After being helped up, I watched the young Wizard sneak towards a dark alleyway, look left and right in a way that seemed almost put on, and disappear completely.
Maybe we'll tell them one day. | (This occurs during the timeline in which Dementors are practically everywhere.)
Jake knew she was a witch. Everything about her screamed it. He would always see odd things, like her dishes washing themselves or flashes of color appearing throughout the day. But she didn't look like a witch. No crooked nose, no ugly boils, no crooked hat. She looked... magical, to say the least. She had brown hair and, although they had only met semi-intimately once, he remembered that her eyes were a spectacular brown.
Sometimes they would talk early in the morning but never for long. He knew he wasn't supposed to let her know he knew about her being a witch. That was the part that killed him. She wouldn't talk to him, ever, because they always dissociated themselves from "muggles."
However, one night, he was going for a late night stroll on a particular stormy afternoon and he saw her, almost in a panic, shouting with her wand at what looked like grotesque living Halloween decorations. "Expecto Patronum!" She was shouting, her voice getting weaker, her skin going pale. He ran to her side, sliding through the grass. She was barely conscious as if those things were literally sucking the happiness out of the air. She pressed her wand into his hand desperately before finally fainting.
Scared witless, Jake shouted, "Expectum Patrono!" Nothing happened and depressing thoughts clouded his mind. He steeled himself, thinking positive. /"You will survive this. You will save her and then you will tell her you love her."/ With this thought in mind, he shouted again, "Expecto Patronum!" With those words a large, white and ghostly fox spread from the tip of the wand, chasing the dark things away as it shone. Once the creatures had completely scattered and the fox floated to his side.
A moment later, Valerie awoke, looked him in the eyes and asked him, "How did you do that?" To which he replied,
"By loving you so much it hurt them." | 2016-11-20T08:54:01 | 2016-11-20T08:42:28 | 69 | 29 |
[WP] For the entirety of your life, music that only you can hear has played to inform you how to feel and warn you of upcoming events. Suddenly "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" cuts out and "Duel of the Fates" begins to play... | It happened while I was played by Jenga. Everything was fine and dandy, "Somewhere over the Rainbow" was streaming through my mind, giving me as I watched my older sister struggle to find a loose block. My younger brother had left in a huff after losing five games in a row, exclaiming "The biggest problem in the universe, is that no one helps each other!"
I smirked, as the tower began to wobble, and taunted my sister "I've been looking forward to this." Wait, what's happening..."Duel of the Fates?!"
My sister removed the block from its precarious position and proudly placed it on the top, "It's over Krakatoan, so have the high ground!"
"You underestimate my tower!"
I needed to strategize, see all the angles of this monstronsity..."I'll try spinning, that's a good trick!" I looked at the other side of the tower, there a single block holding up two blocks above it. If I could just remove it quickly enough...
I looked my sister in the eyes..."My powers have doubled since we last met, count." I pointed to the tower, indicating my double block drop plan. She glanced back up, "Twice the pride, double the fall."
"Wait! My younger sister, who had been spectating, exclaimed. "It's not the Jenga way!" Gesturing to the small print in the rule book.
"Dew it." intoned my older sister.
I punched out the block, deftly grabbing it with my other hand before it fell to the floor. The stack fell neatly down to its new resting place. I placed the block on top, grinning "A surprise to be sure, but a welcome one."
But, something was wrong, Duel of the Fates was still playing...the tower wobbled, the 10 second standing time had not yet been met...it collapsed.
"I HATE YOU!!!" | I lay on the beach and let the mood overwhelm me. I have earned this moment's respite after a lifetime of hard work. The beach was almost too hot, but I didn't mind.
*Somewhere over the rainbow*
My umbrella is doing almost nothing for the heat. I have not opened my eyes for a long time. I am drifting off to sleep.
*Blue birds fly*
I cannot remember the last time I have been this relaxed. I can hear the soothing sounds of the ocean waves under the music. This is bliss.
*And the dreams that you dreamed of*
Did it just get a lot cooler?
*Dreams really do...*
The music trails off. That's weird. I open my eyes.
The epic opening to *The duel of the fates* begins.
The sky is a swarm. Those aren't birds. Those aren't unusually large insects.
Those are ships. A lot of them.
They are coming this way.
I stand up. I am just in time to see the first ship crash into the water.
Thousands of grey shapes plunge into the blue. I am confused. I run up the beach, away from the now rising water.
I am chased by the water. I make it to my hotel when I hear sirens. I look behind me.
Shapes emerge from the water. Hundreds of humanoid warriors march.
*Duel of the fates drifts away*
I run faster.
*A new song begins to play*
I stop.
*You can run on for a long time*
___
/r/Periapoapsis
| 2017-04-01T21:45:35 | 2017-04-01T16:47:14 | 344 | 50 |
[WP] 1,000 years after the battle of Helm's Deep, the orcs have tracked down the elves in the undying lands. Calling in a favour with their allies the men, the elves expect an army of 10,000. Instead they get 8 marines with MASERs, rail guns and anti-matter grenade launchers. | Legolas looked out on a black ocean of creaking pitch-dark ships. Their decks writhed with a mass of fel creatures. Wargs barked and howled, Orcs roared in bloodthirsty anticipation.
Elves stood arrayed on the shores of the Undying Lands. In their countless thousands they stood, armor gleaming, swords and pole-arms sharp enough to cut a sunbeam. The cliffs were plastered with bolt throwers and archers, every Elf held enough ammunition to kill a thousand Orcs. Looking at the black tide of Orc-flesh, Legolas didn't think it would be enough. The Undying Lands would surely drown in blood this day. Elf and Orc alike.
The lands of men had been called, but the message was likely only just arriving. The great eagles had carried their message, but even they could only fly so far, so fast. Legolas watched as the first blows were struck in what would promise to be a bloody, bitter war. Great boulders and bolts the size of trees lashed out in a barrage which dimmed the sky. Nearly every shot landed with vicious efficiency. The effect was minimal. If they stripped the island bare of every tree and stone, they would not have killed a fraction of the invaders.
Legolas smelled something, something like the clean smell of a Summer storm. What Legolas smelled was burning ozone. Behind him, a shimmering portal slowly materialized. Legolas noticed the shimmering light, and turned to see its cause. Ten men, dressed in rocky-camouflage stepped one by one from the portal. In their burly arms they held an array of items which were alien to Legolas.
The lead Man walked up to Legolas and extended his hand. "I'm Major Telcontar, we're here to assist you with a pest problem."
Legolas took the hand of the masked human and shook it saying, "Telcontar? I've heard that name somewhere."
"I'm not sure sir. Not a very common name where I come from. If I understand correctly about this place, for all I know you could've known my distant ancestor." He released Legolas's hand and said, "We need a high vantage point. Somewhere which overlooks a good portion of the enemy."
Legolas waved for them to follow, and brought them up to the highest cliff on the undying shore. The cliff was already plastered with siege equipment. The Elves who manned the instruments of war were like an oiled machine. Like an orchestra playing the beautiful song of death.
The Major and his men lay down on an open patch of ground between two bolt throwers. They placed their long barreled weapons on tripods. Each of them went through a complicated series of dial turns, switches flipped, buttons pressed, and complicated words like "phase inducer conduit". Finally, they seemed to be ready.
They aimed down their sights and the Major instructed his men to "Fire in arcs, each of us take a degree range. Each man fire in as close to an 18 degree arc as possible. Ready, now aim...," the men all shifted the point of their weapons. They now faced the ocean of Orcs, their weapons in a fan. "FIRE!" called out the Major.
Fire is what we got. Burning beams of light exploded out from the assembled weapons. Legolas hadn't even seen the beam travel, one second there was nothing, the next, a hundred ships were burning. Legolas retreated, even from here, it felt as though he had stepped right into the heart of Mount Doom, such was the heat.
The ocean burned with Orc ships and flesh. Columns of oily black smoke billowed out from the black tide. Every siege engine fell quiet, the Elves broke formation. They watched on in delight and in horror at the carnage which unfolded.
Eventually, the beams cut off. More than half of the invaders had been burnt to cinders. The pause in the firing broke the mad spell which had held the each of them in place. A ragged, insane cheer broke the silence. They had all just witnessed the wrath of Gods. Surely their creator had been the source of such impossible might. They wept for the violence which was done, they cheered for the violence which was prevented. The sound of explosions snapped silent the cacophonous roar of exultation.
The soldiers on the cliff face had pulled new weapons from their gateway. They looked like tubes which rested on the edge of the cliff. The land itself trembled as they began their assault. Spots of light like fireflies fell in arcs from the sky. Hell followed where those beautiful embers fell. Great mushrooms of fire rent the horizon, many Elves were struck blind by the incredible light.
The bombardment lasted an hour, the titanic explosions boiled the air and sea, screams had stopped so long ago. Elves sat on the ground and prayed, they wept, they trembled with fear. When the wall of fire finally died, there was nothing that sat upon the water but blankets of ash. The Orcs were gone.
The Major and his men packed up their gear and walked back to the portal. Legolas managed to hear "The weapons tests were successful. Each performed adequately," as the men sauntered through the tear in reality. The hole in space closed behind them.
Legolas quivered in terror and relief, glad to be rid of those monstrous men. He would bear the weight of the ring for a thousand years, rather than spend a single moment longer with those demons.
___________
/r/SirLemoncakes, come for the stories, stay for the Antichrist.
_____________
Edits were to add color to some of the language and fix a couple inconsistencies. | {{{Going to ignore a few bits from the initial post because my muse went OOO MARINES! and went nuts, so yeah. So it’s going to have elves and orcs, and definitely Marines, but the rest, well… blame my muse. :) }}}
{{{Names taken randomly from [https://www.fantasynamegenerators.com/lotr-elf-names.php](https://www.fantasynamegenerators.com/lotr-elf-names.php) to try to retain some Lord of the Rings authenticity }}}
{{Part Two is found here: [https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/a2o1wq/wp\_1000\_years\_after\_the\_battle\_of\_helms\_deep\_the/eb054lk](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/a2o1wq/wp_1000_years_after_the_battle_of_helms_deep_the/eb054lk)}}
Glirdir was dying. There was no stopping that now. Taenel and Laugon had not returned from their mission, and Glirdir…
Tulus shook his head, his blond trusses barely peeking out of his cloaked form as he tried his best to comfort his dying friend. It wasn’t supposed to have been this way. The scouting parties were not supposed to have made any contact with the blasted orcs. They were to observe only, discover troop strengths and numbers, watch for warg-riders, and make note of any possible supply line formations.
They weren’t supposed to have made contact, dammit. And now Glirdir lay dying before him, surrounded by dead orcs. Tulus looked around, mentally counting. Fourteen, fifteen… a full two dozen orcs lay dead around the single elf scout.
So at least his death was hard-won. That was at least a small comfort to bring home to his family. Tulus looked down as Glirdir moved slightly in his arms. “Shh, my friend, don’t try to move.”
“T… tulus… “
“It’s ok. Just relax, it’ll be over soon.”
“I found… help.”
“Help?” Tulus blinked. “What are you talking about?”
“We… we can win, Tu… Tulus.” Gasping for breath, Glirdir grasped Tulus by the vest and stared into his eyes. “A… Amulet. Halls of Montezuma. Shores of … “ Exhausted, Glirdir fell back to the ground. “In… in my vest… incantation. Amulet.”
“I…” Tulus held his friend’s head up off the ground. “I don’t understand.”
With a last gasp, Glirdir managed to get out, “Amulet!” His eyes then looked at Tulus, then past him, and into infinity.
He was gone. Tulus sighed and let his head back to the ground gently. After a moment, a glint of metal around the other elf’s neck caught his eye. Curious, the elf carefully pulled on the metal and removed a chain from around the dead elf’s neck. Attached to the chain was a curious amulet made of a metal he did not recognize. The emblem on the amulet was of a planet with an anchor thrust through it. Atop the planet was a majestic bird with its wings spread proudly.
“This must be the amulet Glirdir was talking about.” Tulus studied it for a moment, then began to check in the dead elf’s vest. Sure enough, a folded piece of bloodied parchment was next to his left breast. Tulus opened up the parchment and read the incantation inscribed there with an arched eyebrow.
“From the halls of Montezuma, to the Shores of Tripoli,We fight our country’s battles in the air, on land and sea;First to fight for right and freedom and to keep our honor clean;We are proud to claim the title of United States Marine.”
Tulus shook his head. “That’s an odd…” There was an explosion of sound and light that threw him off of his feet. Dazed, he tried to blink away the sudden blindness as blurred forms suddenly appeared before him.
One of the forms approached him. Before he knew it, he felt a very large, muscular hand grip his and physically haul him up to his feet. A deep, gruff, humanoid voice said, “On your feet, soldier!” Two hands brushed the dirt and dust off of him.
“W… wha?” Tulus blinked as his vision finally cleared. Before him stood eight humans dressed in a way he’d never seen before. The humans were massive, nearly as visually physically strong as any orc he’d ever seen. They were dressed in a strange green, brown and black mixed up pattern of clothing, and carried weaponry of a type he couldn’t fathom. All of them were obviously battle-hardened warriors. “I… I don’t understand.”
“Simple, solder.” The man who’d spoken before jerked a finger at Tulus’s neck. “You’ve summoned the Marines. That means you’ve got a war to win. So point us where you want us to go, and we’ll show you what we can do.”
Tulus looked down at Glirdir’s corpse. This was just supposed to have been a scouting mission. He had no idea where the dead elf had found this artifact. But this was about to get very, very interesting. “Very well. Let’s go see what a Marine can do.” | 2018-12-03T05:25:44 | 2018-12-03T05:16:39 | 4,588 | 1,097 |
[WP] Describe the thoughts of the Angel of Death on the day of a nuclear war.
| "Today's scroll is unusually large, don't you think?" asked Death. He knew something was going on with the humans but no one would tell him. He was always the last to find out about anything important. Most of his daily scrolls could be carried in one hand, a couple hundred thousand unlucky souls, but today's... the massive scroll looked almost too big to carry. "Don't you think you're overdoing it?" he sighed.
Fate looked up from her scribbling with the annoyed look she gave all his questions, but today there seemed to be a hint of sadness there too. "I'm not the one overdoing things, they are," she trailed off into an almost whimper. There was that sadness again.
There were more faces in the room today than normal too. Of course the Judge would be here, with an order this big he couldn't afford his usually leisurely pace. The Timekeeper and Fate would often talk at length about the many paths ahead; Death learned on those days to get to work quickly as to not be drawn into the conversation; so he was not surprise. But Life? She hated these meetings, hated seeing her work end. But the most surprising of all was Nature. He never seemed to wake much less attend any kind of ceremony. Whatever it was that pulled him from his haze must be enormous.
Death turned from face to face, each more depressed than the last, and annoyance started to swell up in his chest. "Well is anyone going to tell me? What is going on?" he demanded.
Without a word, Fate unhooked the seal of the scroll, unrolled it to the first soul, and pointed to the cause of death.
*Nuclear Explosion*
Death, with skin of the whitest, lifeless white, paled. "Oh, It's going to be a long day indeed." | And then, on the 15 of July 2015, they were all burned by the sun.
When the Pakistani missiles took off, the Indians did the same. Within a minute, 371 missiles and 1461 warheads were flying. They rapidly entered sub orbital flight, to avoid interception. 12 of them exploded in space, generating a massive EM wave. 60% of world satellites died.
1449 were still flying. Twenty minutes after they took off, the slaughter began. They always say the ones who burn instantaneously are the luckiest. Yes they are. They will not be burned to the bone and suffer for days, begging to die. They will not eat radioactive particles for years, giving them multiples cancers. They will not mourn their entire family.
I watched the cities of the Indian peninsula burn, again, again and again. When the last nuke fell, Bombay wasn't a city anymore.
The huge cloud of particles was worse than everybody thought. The crops will die, people will fight for food, a massive hunger awaits the world. The dead will pile up, every governments and order will collapse, killing more and more people.
All of this for God will, to kill the infidels. The worst part is that they think they will go to heaven, the did what God wanted, they will join HIM.
There is no heaven, no hell, there is just me. At least, humans provided me some companionship in this lonely universe. I watched their little silly stories to pass the time. Now I will just stay alone.
| 2015-02-04T10:25:24 | 2015-02-04T09:38:43 | 32 | 12 |
[WP] You're closing up the tea shop, when suddenly a ghostly figure floats through the door. "Who are you?!" you shriek. "Apologies, you're normally gone by now. I'm the manager of the night shift." | “Do you serve the same tea?” I asked stupidly. A million questions I could have asked and that was the one I chose.
The figure, bless him, was patient with me.
“We don’t serve tea,” he said.
The figure’s face moved like wind over water, and I could not make out his features. He seemed so familiar and yet I did not know him at all. If I tried to focus on any one attribute, the rest swirled and spun until I could not remember what I saw.
“Then what does the night shift do?” I asked. Suddenly faint, I pulled up one of the wicker-backed chairs in the shop and sunk into it. My knees felt like jelly.
“I do whatever needs to be done. Mostly I come to clean the energy. Make it nice, make it calm. For you, the day shift.”
“Does every shop have a night shift?” I asked. I could tell this was a good question by the change in the figure’s demeanor. The swirls stilled. He paused.
“Not… every shop. I don’t know what the others do, to be honest. I come here because I want to. I don’t know why.”
I paused. Something about his tone.
“Do I know you? Do you… remember me?” I whispered.
“I don’t remember very much from my past life,” he answered calmly.
My heart clenched painfully, miserably. Of course, I had been silly to hope it was him.
“Well I don’t want to keep you from the job,” I said. “I’ll gather my things and leave you to it.”
He nodded and began moving around the tea shop, occasionally picking invisible motes of bad energy out of the air.
I picked up my things and tossed them too roughly into my backpack. Tears blurred my vision but I didn’t care enough to wipe them away.
“Ah, before you go. Could you do me a favor?” the spirit asked.
“Sure.” I was proud of how even my voice came out.
“I can’t touch anything corporeal. But I love music. I was hoping you could turn the stereo on for me?”
“Of course,” I said, pausing. I reached into my bag and pulled the most battered CD out. “I’ll leave this one playing before I go."
I walked to the cashier’s desk and reached around to plug in the old-fashioned stereo I kept by the register. This CD was my favorite: songs from my wedding. My husband and I had chosen every track together. After the accident, I refused to listen to it; it was too painful. But recently I’d been trying to give it another go. I could usually get up to song 3 before I started crying and had to stop.
But even as the first notes of “Fly Me To the Moon” poured out of the speakers, I felt my eyes prickling again. A weird night, I guess.
“This is very nice, I don’t believe I’ve heard this song,” the spirit said.
I made a small choking noise that I hid behind a forced laugh.
“Well, I hope you enjoy it. See you around I guess,” I said to the spirit, turning to go.
He waved cheerily.
I reached the door and as my hand hit the handle I heard it: the humming. I turned to stare, but the spirit didn’t notice. He continued to pick impurities out of the air, and was too focused on his task to see me looking.
He was humming the tune. Bar for bar, note for note. As I watched, he began to sing lyrics.
“Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter or Mars,” he sung softly to himself.
Focused entirely on the task of cleaning the energy, of making the tea shop nice and calm for me, he did not see me watch as he spun happily and sung out:
“In other words, I love you.” | Features started to form out of the white, gauzy cloud that hung about three feet above the worn checkerboard tile. Her face had the pinched look of someone who had tasted something sour, in stark contrast with her friendly tone. Small wire-framed glasses sat delicately upon her thin nose but she looked over them when she spoke to me. She wore a black dress with long sleeves, cinched at the waist and billowing around what I assumed were her legs.
“Night shift?” I asked, a little less shrilly this time.
“No, the Night Shift. We operate out of the Courthouse on the corner, but I usually sneak in here for a Darjeeling before we start. I hope you don’t mind, I always bring my own cup.”
It’s then that I noticed a delicate teacup dangling from her left hand. Her fingers were long and thin, and the cup swung slightly as she moved past me behind the counter. I watched as she grabbed a small kettle we tucked in a cupboard. The large industrial machines we use during the day have been off for over an hour, and the water inside would be tepid by now. It was slightly unsettling to think she already knew that.
She turned to me after spooning some loose leaf Darjeeling tea into one of our well-worn tea pots. She turned back and stared across the counter at me. Neither of us spoke for a moment, until we heard the bubbling of boiling water in the kettle behind her.
She turned her back to me, and that’s when I noticed that she wasn’t entirely opaque. Even in the dim and hazy light from the street lamp streaming through the front window, I could see through her and watched the kettle tip steaming water into the teapot and replaced the lid.
“How long have you been coming here?” Though the question was casual, my voice belied the panic rising in my throat. She looked towards the ceiling as if she was counting in her head.
“The courthouse was built in 1895 and we started using it right away, but this place has only been operating as a coffee shop for the last 50 years or so. I guess it’s been about that long.”
I had inherited this shop from my grandmother, who opened it in 1973 with two girlfriends. She hadn’t mentioned anything about tea-stealing ghosts in her will, I’m sure I would have remembered that.
“What is the Night Shift?” I hoped I wouldn’t regret asking.
She didn’t answer while she poured the tea from the pot into her cup. Though the teapot held easily three times the volume of her cup, she poured the whole pot into what seemed to be a regular antique teacup. Her pinched face softened slightly when she turned to see me trembling against the old deck mop I had been using when she came in.
“Rosemary didn’t tell you? She always had an odd sense of humour, that one.” I didn’t have a chance to respond as she went on, “The Night Shift is where we determine what form one will take when entering the Afterlife, and we assist with the transition into that entity. For example, if one is to be a Poltergeist, we would provide training on invisibility and object transference.” She came back around the counter and moved towards the door.
“What form did my grandmother take?”
She was standing at the door now. Her features had already begun to blur again, but I spoke to the diaphanous mist anyway. She answered as she slipped back through the door, and I was left standing in shock.
“I have a feeling you’ll find out soon enough.” | 2021-05-25T14:46:25 | 2021-05-25T14:21:56 | 37 | 10 |
[WP] A dyslexic child accidentally sends his Christmas letter to Satan. Satan is touched by this gesture and decides to write back. | Dear Anna,
I must say that your letter was an unexpected delight. It was quite charmingly written, and I commend your command of grammar and syntax. All of the items you requested will be easy enough to provide. However, I cannot cure dyslexia. That is was one the many things my Father cursed humanity with during one of his meanie head moods. You have my sincerest apologies for that. Lastly, you asked for a pen pal and a spell book. If you are amenable, I am quite happy to be your pen pal, and to teach you witchcraft. Those mean girls at your school won't stand a chance.
Please do not send a response in the mail, as I have an email addres. I have found email to be a more efficient means of communication. If you wish to continue our correspondence, please email me at morningstar@gmail.hell.
Sincerely,
Lucifer | Dear Timothy.
I've gotten the list of things you've asked for.
I assure you I am very capable of bringing your dog back. Just as well, I can stop the teasing and jeering of your elder sister.
I was informed as to what a "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle" is, and I believe I can acquire that as well.
However, I'm not certain why you would want a monstrous truck. It sounds rather brutal for a child your age, but even I must admit it does sound fun.
I will deliver your presents on time, I give you my word.
Regards - "Satan" Morning star. | 2018-10-28T14:29:07 | 2018-10-28T10:08:58 | 59 | 10 |
[WP] You can taste lies. One day your friend is comforting you after a tough night and you almost vomit at the foul taste as you hear her say "After all, you're only human." | Tasting lies, I mean, it's cool and a neat trick for my kind, but for something to be a lie, you have to know it's a lie. Otherwise you're just mistaken. Everyone in my family could do it, and we were all crazy close - not lying has that effect on people... But I haven't seen them for three months and uni was wrecking me. I haven't found any of the others like me here, and I just miss my mom, dad and sisters a lot. That's what started all of these stupid tears and why my roommate came in to check up on me.
Josephine sat on my bed, with her hand on my shoulder still trying to comfort what she knew wasn't human. It wasn't the customary way we introduce one another: "what can I say? I'm only human." a delicious, spicy lie everyone like us can taste, but this was not an introduction. This was an accusation.
No.
This tasted sweet. She really was trying.
I know I look ridiculous as I look over at her with my puffy eyes and sniffing to avoid the releasing the snot waterfall I was holding in my sinuses, "you're like me then?"
"No."
There was no taste to that, and my heart dropped again.
She pulled a tissue from the box I had been rapidly depleting and gave it to me with a smile, "I'm not like you. Not the way you wish, but I am different anyway. Being away from people like me is hard too, but I'm here for you because I don't know exactly what you are, and I don't know exactly what I am, but I know that we're friends."
And with that she gave a smile and a much needed hug. | I was shocked. How could it be? After all this time.....I didn’t know what to do so I ran. What else could I do? I ran as far as I could and ended up in some hell forsaken forest. I just needed time to think. I sat on the edge of a broken and twisted tree, trying to regain my thoughts. Then it hit me, I need to figure out what I am and what I am doing here. That means I needed to go back. I though up some half assed excuse as to why I ran and started my journey back. However for some reason I couldn’t leave the forest it was pulling me closer chanting the words: DVOH DVOH DVOH. I could barely usher a scream before I was pulled up and instantly knocked out. I awoke in a cold, brightly lit laboratory. As I tried to pull my head up, I noticed I can’t move.
A voice told me to stay and not move.
He said that I wasn’t real
He said I was a genetically engineered bot.
He said that my life long friend Nancy, the one who told me that lie, was just a bot named friEND bot 2000
It was then as they injected that purple liquid into my veins, I realized my true purpose.
My true purpose, was to kill.
Hey guys, I don’t normally write and this was my first time! If you want more of my writing or something just tell me.
| 2018-05-12T05:41:08 | 2018-05-12T05:15:18 | 37 | 11 |
[WP] You instinctively know everyone's name the second you meet them. One day you thank someone at the supermarket for helping you, and they stare at you wide eyed. "Nobody has called me by that name in centuries" | "What did you say?" The woman looked at me, bewilderment defining the angles of her face.
"Th... thank you. For the berries." I said again, confused, holding up the pound of strawberries she'd just handed me.
"No, not that. The name. My name... you said Klarys..." her voice trailed off and she looked away suddenly. "Never mind. Please excuse me, I have to go." Before I could say anything more she turned and whisked away through the flapping doors to the back of the store.
I don't usually slip up like that. Certainly not in some place so public. I'm generally much better at not letting on. It's tiresome always having to come up with reasons how I know the names of complete strangers. "Lucky guess" only gets me so far. And this time, she'd been wearing a name tag. "Stupid!" I thought, mentally kicking myself for not being more mindful. "Oh well, she didn't ask any questions," I thought as I walked up to the cashier.
As I placed my basket on the belt, the young man behind the register gave me the usual greeting. "Hi, find everything ok?"
I nodded and responded "Yup. Thanks," giving a slight smile as he started scanning my items. "$43.72." I stick my card into the chip reader, wait for the ding, and collect my bags. "Have a nice day!" he chimes. "You too."
Outside it's started to rain. Nothing heavy, just the characteristic mist of Seattle in December. I'd been lucky and found a spot right by the door. I pull out of my spot and shuffle my way into the line for the traffic light to leave the lot. Traffic's pretty mild today, only a few cars waiting.
It's only a 5 minute drive back to my apartment from here, but I like to listen to the news so I flipped on the radio. The stock market tanked again today, some unrest in Poland. Theresa May apparently resigned as the prime minister of the UK. Nothing I found particularly engaging but I do my best to stay on top of things. The light turns green and I make my way home.
Several hours later there's a knock on my door. Not a knock really, more like a battering. I set down my bowl of half eaten strawberries and move quickly to the window. "Who the hell could that be?" Peaking out the curtain I see a black van parked downstairs, the side door slid open. I recognize the woman sitting inside. "The store clerk! Klaryssa!"
Three more raps. I slowly approach the door. "Yes?" I ask, looking through the peep hole. Two men dressed in dark gray suits stand on the other side. The one on the left spoke first. "Mr. Ryder? Jackson Ryder?" His voice was harsh and cold and hearing him say my name sent a chill down my spine.
"Uh, can I help you with something?" Through the peephole I watch as the men give each other a look. Before I could move, the man on the right, the taller of the two, leans back and kicks the door. The cheap wood frame splinters easily under the force of his foot, and the door flies back, knocking me into the wall.
I sit dazed against the floor as the two men step quickly inside. They grab me, one on each side, and start dragging me out the door and down the stairs. As we approach the van, the hold me up for the woman in the back seat to see. "Yes, that's him," she says, her voice shaken as though she were the one who'd just been assaulted in her home. I feel a sharp poke in the back of my neck and the world fades to black as they toss me in the back of the van. | My whole life I’ve had this. . .thing. A gift, perhaps? I’ve always had the ability to know people’s names just by looking at them. It makes mundane tasks more fun when I turn it into a game; “how many people with the last name Smith will I walk by” or “who’s got the most unusual name I can find today”. And it makes finding people online much easier when I know exactly the name I’m searching for. I don’t know how I got this ability. Ive just always had it.
That brings me to yesterday. I was getting some groceries, playing a game in my head, today’s was “what name comes up more than any other” Dave’s were winning with six, which was a bit weird because there’s never that many Dave’s in one place.
I was minding my own business in the beer and wine isle, not paying much attention when I turned around and my big bulky handbag knocked over and broke a bottle of red wine all over the floor.
“Shit”, I exclaim quietly, awkwardly standing near the deep red, vinegary smelling mess that was slowly coming towards my feet.
A worker passed the isle and saw, and quickly rushes over.
“I’m so sorry, can I do anything to help?”,I said to the girl, who I see like a flash in my brain is called Catherine, coming towards me.
“Oh it’s alright, I’ll get someone, just carry on with your shopping, you’d be surprised how much this happens, I blame the way our shelves are stacked”.
Catherine smiled at me, there was something very warm about her. She looked like she was in her early twenties, but something about her deep brown eyes shocked me with the seemingly boundless wisdom behind them.
“Okay, thank you Catheri...”, I cut myself off quickly when I realised I’d said her name. I knew she was going think I was weird or creepy, as the mistakes I’ve made in the past of saying somebodies name before they’ve told me have proven. And I noticed her name badge said ‘Alice’.
Her smile dropped and she started looking worried and uncomfortable.
“Did. . . You just call me Catherine?”, she whispered, looking around shiftily, almost as if she was afraid someone would hear.
“Oh shit. Um. I’m sorry I guess you just look like someone I know” I replied, fumbling my words. I guessed she might be using a fake name for protection, maybe hiding from something.
“No”, she said with a big sigh, “that’s too much of a coincidence. You see,” she leaned in closer to me, I looked at her with a confused look on my face, “you see, no ones called me that for about two centuries”.
I’m speechless. I just stare at her for a couple of seconds my mouth agape.
“If you know my name, then you must know my true identity,” her warmth suddenly felt icy, her kind face started to look slightly menacing as she got right up close almost nose to nose with me.
“And you’re not getting what I know you’re after.” She suddenly backs away from me, once again smiling her brilliant smile.
I just stared at her, shocked. I opened and closed my mouth like I was about to say something but I’m dumbfounded.
I finally force an “excuse me” out, but she ignored it.
“Guess I’ll get someone to clean this wine up then, have a nice day!”
And with that she sharply turned, and started walking away.
All I knew was, I had to find out who this girl is. | 2018-11-05T21:24:00 | 2018-11-05T21:12:06 | 38 | 15 |
[WP] Elon Musk is actually a disguised alien who bet his friend that he could bring Earth to "Technology Level 10" in one human lifetime. | "Sir," she came into the office softly stuttering, silently weeping, her arms extended as though cradling something sublime and wonderous. "S-sir, you've done it. You cured cancer."
"GET THE FUCK OUT BRENDA!" Elon yelled and shoved the office door into her body. When it closed, he locked it and ran back to his Paramator.
"Paramator!" He hollered," Cue screen!"
A hologram shot up into the air and presented the tactile data dashboard.
"Shit, shit, shit," He said. "Level 3. Level fucking 3. We were supposed to have cured cancer three months ago!"
The Paramator queue'd an incoming call.
"Answer!" Elon yelled while applying pressure to his temples. Into the hologram presented a smooth skinned, hairless biped. Its features were long and narrow, and eyes large and dark.
"Ah, yes, Elon. I see you are falling off schedule."
"Fuck you," Elon said. "Where's my shipment of quantum transistors?"
"Coming, Elon, coming. But at this rate, and I've done the computation, the chances of project completion are slight."
Elon narrowed his eyes until they were sharp as falcon claws. "Never tell me the odds," he said.
"97.36 percent," said the creature. "Of failure, that is. You'll be slurping my jerjew to its moist, coily tip before the next nova expansion."
"Fuck you. Transistors," Elon said, and snapped his fingers to hang up the call. "Paramator! World map!" The Paramator displayed a map of Earth with lines of longitude and latitude. Musk took his hand to his chin and studied it. "Come on, guys," he whispered while dragging his index finger across South America. "If we're going to pull this off," he spun the map with a flick,"Everyone's going to have to help..."
"Elon! Elon!" Someone was furiously pounding on his office door. "It worked! It worked! The new boner medicine worked! Now we can have boners all the time!"
Elon's thoughts drifted and he idly mumbled to himself,"Permadicks? But that's a level 6 technology..."
A light went on behind his eyes. He ran to his desk and pulled out his top drawer. From it he took crayons and a legal pad.
"Think, Elon, think!" He said while bopping his forhead. "Dicks," he started to say.
"Dicks," he said." Dicks, cocks, socks. Rocks—no, goddamit Elon. Cocks, socks..." He scribbled furiously on the legal pad. "Cocks, socks, sockets... rock--"
His eyes went wide, shining with epiphany.
"Hot carl," he whispered, and sat in his chair and marveled silently. | It all started with a bet.
A bet that led to the last thing Elon ever expected.
At first, it was a stupid bet that hardly meant anything. Well besides credibility, triumph, truth, and evidence that his was the greatest mind the universe would ever see.
During a gassy afternoon on Uranus, Thognock told Elon he couldn't accelerate the growth of human technology from level five to ten in a human lifespan. It was over a few glasses of space brew, the type that really got Elon going, and by going I meant thinking. And to insult Elon's thinking is too. . . is too . . . really insult him badly.
Plus, what was a hundred years to a young martian anyway? It's about as meaningful as taking a piss on Neptune.
With that, Elon Musk the genius and solar panel enthusiast was born.
At first, the humans seemed as dim-witted as Elon expected. They polluted the planet, did things that weren't in their races best interest, and ate copious amounts of bad tasting food simply because it had a big M on it.
But he noticed something interesting about their species. Despite their intelligence and general approach to life. The humans had a special fueling mechanism, a fuel that even his own race hadn't been able to harness.
Like a bottle filled with pressure, humans would explode with emotion when put under dire stress. Only this emotion, instead of being to their detriment, was the most powerful resource Elon had observed.
It allowed them to expend ridiculous amounts of energy on specific tasks. It helped them to persevere through feats far beyond their natural capabilities. Even his own species couldn't extend their bodies beyond nature, it was logically impossible.
So he made contact with his home planet in order to share this news.
"Thognock, Thognock!" Elon said into the space reciever.
"Finally giving up?" Thognock asked. Elon could feel his smirk through the receiver piece.
"No, it's something far more important than that. We have to move the colony to Earth, I've made an outrageous discovery."
"A new flavour of space brew?"
"Even more important," Elon said.
And with that, he went on to explain the capabilities of the humans. Thognock and Elon came up with a plan to study them, while at the same time, to transport the entire colony -which was no easy feat. As their current methods of transportation ran the risk of creating a warp in the universe itself.
Elon and Thognock both agreed that they needed to find out more, both about the humans and bridging the gap from Earth to their planet. They decided that the best way to go about this was by working from Earth and back up to the colonies home planet.
And thus, SpaceX was born.
| 2016-09-11T22:42:47 | 2016-09-11T19:17:44 | 26 | 15 |
[WP] You lost your sight - along with everyone else on Earth - in The Great Blinding. Two years later, without warning, your sight returns. As you look around, you realize that every available wall, floor and surface has been painted with the same message - Don't Tell Them You Can See. | As everything came into focus, red block letters greeted me
DON'T TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE
For a moment I sat, looking at the shapes. Like the others, I had been blinded December before last. My MX-Sarah assistant had guided me back home while the world was in chaos. The robot became my eyes.
I needed an upgrade but Patriot Pay was stalled. We were the lucky ones. The ones with skill sets that didn't need our eyes. United States Occupational Relief picked us up.
There was an uprising, if you can call it that. Blind masses screamed in the street for something to be done. Screamed for answers. For a cure. But the doctors had been blinded too.
The e-security cleaned everything up very quickly. It was rumored they retrained you in the camps for an occupation you could do without your sight. I liked to believe it. The more plausible rumors aren't vey nice.
Official broadcasting never made mention of the camps. They were something not to be acknowledged. Like the blocks of empty houses. Something to be forgotten.
DON'T TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE
After two years, letters become shapes before words. When the message finally hit, I closed my eyes reflexively. My heart started racing. I had a new secret to keep.
*Marcus, is everything all right?*
MX-Sarah's grating, chipper tone stabbed the air. I rubbed my eyes and replied "I think it must be a bit dusty, that's all". I opened my eyes and willed them out of focus.
*You would like me to dust. Is that correct?*
A sickening wave self-consciousness hit.
"Yes. Sarah. Schedule dusting today. 1500."
*Dusting scheduled today at 3pm. To cancel, say CANCEL*
Then there was silence. I was trying to remember what I did with my body. My eyes.
Be normal. Be normal.
DON'T TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE
Note: Have to go now. If someone is interested in finishing this, I'm thinking over-population for post global warming scarce resources caused a global oligarchy to take dramatic action. Artificial intelligence has made human workers all but unnecessary. Mass blinding was a way to exterminate a large portion of the population. Mass disinformation campaigns / desire to keep people in their place. Hence, DON'T TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE
Thinking there is are "The Visionaries" that paint the letters, subverting the rulers. I'm imagining secret transport network + a final boss scene, ambushing the ruling class. The blindness is caused by an issued chemical. Just need to avoid exposure. Some accidentally are "cured" because they have accidentally avoided the blindness dose for long enough.
Thanks for the great prompt OP! | You wake up, and for the first time in years, you feel the pain of bright light on your eyes. *Wait, light?!* you jump out of your bed and close the green curtains on your window.
'Oh my God. I-I can-" you immediately stop talking as you look on your wall and see writing in neat, red marker,
"Don't tell them you can see. Act like everything is normal. Carry out your day as usual." Following the strange writing you decide not to shout it to the rooftops like you thought of, but open the door to your bathroom. On the mirror, in the same, neat writing,
"Nothing has changed. Pretend to be blind." you start to feel uneased, scared if someone is in your apartment. You slowly exit your bathroom, grab some non-safety scissors, and search the kitchen, your small office, and the living room. In each room you see more of the writing, telling you to not change anything in your daily life, to act natural; in every room the writings become more frequent, more aggressive, and more insistent that you should never reveal this recovery to anyone, even the people you trust the most. No one is in your apartment, that for sure, but one thing is certain:
In the last two years, someone was, and you had no idea.
"DING DONG!" rings the doorbell, snapping you out of this unnerving thought. You travel to your intercom, and say:
"Who is it?"
"It's James, duh!" Ah, yes. James, your best friend since college and your co-worker at Roy Industries, a company that started in manufacturing, specializing in disability aides such as: canes, hearing aides, wheelchairs, and stair-lifts, and after the Great Blinding, with everyone needing their products, grew into a ginormous cooperation that has a stake in almost every industry; everyone has heard of them, and most rely on Roy In. for their paycheck as well. You work in the admistrative section of the company, and so does John, you often walk to work together, as motor vehicles became too dangerous after The Great Blinding. Sure, it takes a while, but you live in the city, so at least it's not too bad of a commute; some people had to quit their jobs or move so they could work after the loss of an entire sense. Luckily, you lived close enough to not have to change your home/job, and so did John.
"You ready to go?" John asked.
"What? Oh, sure. Let me just get my cane."
Will write more soon, I just wanted to get the beginning on paper. (or, should I say, computer) Anyway, see you soon! | 2022-10-22T00:27:31 | 2019-08-26T09:40:50 | 37 | 17 |
[WP] 13 years ago, you were part of a government-funded project researching inter-dimensional travel until it was discontinued. This morning, you woke up normally, only you have an extra child, your home adress is different and the project is still going strong. | It takes me a few tries, but I finally manage to get the key into the lock and wrench my door open. I added a few new scratches onto the front of the deadbolt, but that’s nothing new. This isn’t the first time I’ve stumbled home after a few too many and had to stand out on my own stoop for twenty fucking minutes just trying to get inside. At least I didn’t have to break the window and pass out on my couch covered in shards of glass again.
I stomp up the stairs and fall face-first into the mess of blankets and sheets on my bed. Why bother making it? I live alone, and it’s not like I ever bring anyone back here. I can’t even be bothered to get my boots off; the bed is just too comfortable. *I just need to catch my breath*, I decide. Then I’ll take off my shoes and get a glass of water and some Tylenol to forestall the inevitable hangover. Just a little rest first….
“DADDY!!!” A high voice scream just before two little feet come in for a landing right on my chest. “It’s Saturday, daddy!” I manage to scramble out of the blankets to find a little girl standing right over me wearing little ducky pajamas and carrying a raggedy teddy bear. “Can we have pancakes?” she asks.
I fight my way out of the sheets; somehow the bed seems to have made itself in the night, complete with tightly-tucked hospital corners. “I… uhhhh…” I don’t know this girl. Or who her dad is. Or how she made it into my apartment.
*Holy shit*. My apartment is now gone. I’m in a white bedroom looking out over a green lawn instead of a dirty alley near the highway. The bed is covered in what looks like a hand-made quilt and soft white pillows. Somehow I woke up in an episode of Leave It To Beaver suburbia, instead of my rathole tenement. “Listen… uhhh…” I don’t even know the girl’s name to address her. “Look, kiddo… I…”
“Can we have chocolate chips in them today?” she asks as she bounces back and forth on the bed like a trampoline. Then, without warning, she takes a running leap right over the edge and straight at me. I thrust my hands out to catch her without even *thinking* about it. And that’s when I see the tattoo.
Back in college, I needed cash. But unfortunately, I had no marketable skills and no work ethic to speak of. So I found the perfect job: lab rat for my school’s physics department. They made me sit in some electromagnetic chamber with my hair standing on end for like 2 hours at a time. Told me it was some kind of experiment on interdimensional travel, and that I might wake up the next day with some things different in my life. They’d done it to me for over a year, and nothing ever changed the next morning. Then they’d lost their funding and given up.
The tattoo on my left bicep was the only remnant of that experiment. They’d had to tattoo it on, they said. Anything *not* part of my body could be changed in the alternate universe, so it couldn’t just be a note or something. It was a set of instructions on how to get back to my *own* universe. Information about Dr. Walker, so that I’d be able to find him even if he didn’t have the same address or home. And, failing that, information on replicating the chamber so that some other scientist in this world could help me build another one to send me back.
The little girl wraps her arms around my neck. “Yeah, Daddy? Chocolate chips?”
The sheets on the bed stir, and a woman sits up and rubbed her eyes. In my haste to figure out why the hell there was a kid jumping on me, I hadn’t even noticed her there. She yawns, then looks toward me and the girl with a heart-melting smile. “Well?” she asks. “I want chocolate chips too.”
We stare at each other for a few moments. She seemed vaguely familiar… that wavy brown hair, soft eyes... and then it all clicked into place. She’d been in one of my classes at the university, all those years ago. We’d been assigned to do a group project together… and I’d completely blown it off. Better things to do, you know. Mainly drugs. Her name was… Deanna?
“Everything OK?” she asks. The sleepy smile turns into a slight frown as she wakes up and realizes that I am in a state of heart-pounding panic.
I stare back at her, then at the beautiful house around me and the cleanly manicured lawn out the window. And our little girl, apparently. I was supposed to contact Dr. Walker and tell him what all the differences were, and then he’d send me back. To my depressing apartment and my cold, unmade bed.
“Yeah,” I say, pulling my pajama sleeve down to cover up the tattoo on my arm. “Everything’s fine.” I put on my most convincing smile, then hold the little girl up in the air and twirl her around. “Chocolate chip pancakes it is!”
-----
As always, subscribe to /r/Luna_Lovewell for tons of other stories!
| I woke to shaking in a bed that should not have been this soft.
I woke up with a start, someone was yelling at me. I lashed out instinctually but my hand met only air. I blinked blearily next to me. There was no one there. Then I looked down.
Oh.
There was a little girl with long, blond hair and blue eyes with high cheekbones. When she saw I was awake she gave me a dazzling smile. She was missing a tooth smack in the middle of her upper row of teeth. It was, frankly, adorable.
“Heya, kiddo,” I said, smiling, “how’d you get in here?”
Her smile showed me her dimples. “I can reach the door knob now daddy!” she said proudly.
Daddy?
Someone murmured from the left, and an absolute angel emerged from under the sheets. Her blond hair was a total mess, her startlingly blue eyes were unfocused, and her mouth was curved into a scowl. And she was the love of my life.
“Do you *have* to yell, Adam?” she said, “you know I’m not a morning person.”
“This little girl wandered into our house, Lisa, look.”
Lisa rolled her eyes and propped herself up on her elbow and looked down on the girl. Her face broke into a smile immediately, “Hmmm, yeah who is this little girl.”
The girl blinked several times, and her eyes glassed over, “m..mom? It’s me, me Maya!”
Lisa burst out laughing, and picked up the girl, Maya, onto the bed and mussed up her hair. “I was just joking around like daddy, Lisa.”
I was at a loss for words. “L..Lisa, we know this girl?” We had made a conscious decision never to have children, we wanted to live our lives on our terms, not on anyone else’s, and kid got in the way of that for us.
“Mom! Daddy still doesn’t know me!” Maya complained.
Lisa rolled her eyes. “Stop it, Adam. Plus don’t you have to go to work? You said you had a special meeting at the IRF?”
Oh Shit. Everything clicked, my daughter, the strange bed. The fact that I had a job. IRF, known as International Revenue Foundation, but in reality was the Inter-dimensional Research Facility.
It was at that moment my phone rang.
My throat dry, I looked at my fancy smartphone. This dimension me was doing far better than me, considering, you know, I had a house. After the IRF closed down no job had ever held my interest, so I’d been stuck doing odd jobs for the last 13 years.
And yet here was my old Boss calling me.
“Are you going to pick it up?” I started, and looked at Lisa, her eyes narrowed. She could tell something was wrong.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, “just kind of shocked that my boss is calling, you know, now of all times.”
The best lies have a kernel of truth.
Left with no choice, I picked up the phone. “H..hello?”
“Adam?” said a gruff voice. It had been over a decade but I knew the voice. My boss at the IRF, Nick.
“Yeah..err..Nick?”
“Fuck.”
I blinked several times, and managed, “err...I’m sorry, sir?”
“Jesus Christ, Adam, you could not be more obvious! You’re in the wrong place, yeah? This isn’t your dimension?”
“One...one second sir.” I cast a furtive glance at Lisa and my daughter, and covered the mic. “He’s pissed, I’m gonna go out and talk.”
Again Lisa narrowed her eyes, but I left before she could say anything. “Okay, yeah. You got me,” I said, there was no way denying it. He knew.
Nick grunted. “Fucking Adam, ‘it’s perfectly safe,’ you said,” he said, “or well, *he* said. And look now! I told him it was impossible to do it, we can only observe, we can't travel!”
He trailed off, and I asked, inevitably, “so, what now, sir?”
“Well,” Nick sighed, “We’ll just send you back. The switch happens automatically. We show you the realities, you pick yours, and we send you there using your own idea. And, well, theoretically-”
“I’m sorry,” I interrupted, “*theoretically*?”
“Theoretically,” he continued as if I’d never spoken, “The real you will come back automatically. The universe does not allow two of the same person in one dimension. Come in ASAP.”
With that, he ended the call.
I blinked and looked at my smartphone, the huge house, my lovely daughter. I looked out to see my fancy car.
I had no intention of going back.
***
Major edit: Added second half due to demand
Check out [my sub](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/) if you enjoyed | 2017-04-06T06:05:33 | 2017-04-06T05:53:49 | 1,733 | 228 |
[WP] When they turn 14, every human gets an obscure super power with a lengthy description of it so they know what it is. But when yours arrives, it only says four words. “Don’t… | I never thought my time would come. Childhood summers last forever, the school year drags, but time marched on as it always did. Before I knew it, I found myself standing there before the assembly just fourteen years of age. The whole class staring expectantly at what would become of me. I was the youngest in my year meaning that I was the last to receive my calling.
This has been an exceptional year. No scuds whatsoever, and SIX acers. From only 80 students, that was unheard of. Although this meant that the pressure on my calling was greater than possibly any before. This could be a perfect year for the academy.
As the clock struck twelve I felt it. It washed over me like nothing before and whispered my fate. I had heard the stories from others, they were overcome and immediately aware of their calling, the rules, the restrictions… their purpose. But mine, mine was different. It was over before I knew it had even begun.
I woke up surrounded by faces looking down on me. I had fainted. How embarrassing!
Ever the empath, our teacher scolded me for keeping them waiting. Roughly barking “well, Rick. What is your calling?”
“Don’t… don’t give them up…” | They say curiosity killed the cat. Well I'm curious about the restriction placed on me. I look in the mirror and don't even recognize my own face. My health is fading and I don't know why.
Saw a rainbow yesterday, which was nice. Life's been 10 shades of gray since I got the warning for my power. I just want pray the ten shades go away. Too many chances I've blew to take charge and begin my life anew.
To reach out for the people trapped in the misery. We all blame this day and age when we are in fact prisoners of our own mind.
I set out into the forest. Forging along the rivers and lakes I'm used to. Until finally a break in the path. A dire warning remembered. "Don't go chasing waterfalls." To the left safety, to the right the danger ive been avoiding. I sigh and step to the right. | 2022-05-08T09:49:41 | 2022-05-08T08:50:28 | 338 | 63 |
[WP] People have always been born with very minor super powers. You work for an agency that hunts down the few people who's powers are deemed too powerful/dangerous to allow them to live. | Better than average senses- but no way to tune them down or off. The ability to teleport as much as ten feet in any direction up to twice a day, Pytokinesis strong enough to flick a light switch or slide a beer down the bar. When mankind dreamed of superpowers, they had likely imagined it wouldn't be so mediocre.
Honestly it was pretty dull.
Genetics dealt me a good hand out of a shitty deck though, and I got intelligence. I wasn't going to claim I was book smart- but I was on another level when it came to the tiny details. Ever since I was a kid, I could walk into a room, and in under a minute I could tell you everything that had happened in the last few hours- just based on the people, the objects, the subliminal and subconscious notes that most disregard.
Set me up for a great job at the agency- they loved it when they got recruits like me. I was practically made for this shit.
Tracking down the deviants, that was the second step, right before the cleaners. In essence, we were the first wave- the first gambit. Our field agents collected the reports, and then sent out the specialists, like myself, to track them down, and signal the nearest crew. After eight years of this, I could finally claim what I had always known: I hated my job.
Half the time, these were criminals, using their abilities to plague our society with issues. A majority of the other half were people that experienced some sort of mental illness- lot of psychic outbursts that way... No, none of those gave me any trouble sleeping at night. The ones that got me, that drilled into my brain... the innocents.
When the generations in the late 90's started showing the first signs of powers, things were most extreme. The first were by far the strongest, and of those strongest were children. Kids that shot fire, punched through walls, could summon lightning. You bet your ass the government locked that shit down faster than you could shake a stick.
Lot of fighting back then. Lot of riots.
Lot of dead kids.
It still made me sick to think about. We'd come a long way since then, but someone still had to do the dirty work. If they didn't, we ended up with something like this. See, Supers are different from you and I. they're not limited in what they can do by any rational means- they push those past what you would think possible. Super strength, insane regeneration, fucking mind bullets... When a super survives, they pretty much always start running the show in the underground. All sorts of trouble came from that.
I had been tracking this last one for months, and this was turning to be, by far- the single most difficult case I'd ever been a part of. We still weren't sure if we had an accurate assessment of the powers, and considering my own, that meant the people we were tracking were fucking careful. Of what we did know related to this case, fit on a single page.
* We had tracked their vehicle, and confirmed it stolen from a police lot in the town over.
* There was more than one of them, but likely no more than two.
* One of them we had a record on.
* The other was a multiple.
How crazy was that right? More than one power- and a super to boot... it was unheard of. One in a Billion- probably more honestly, that was like winning the lottery twice, and then getting struck by lighting on the way to pick up the checks.
Of the individual we had a file on, nothing was too out of the ordinary when it came down to his M.O: A deviant super that had committed violent crimes. Only problem was how talented he was, but one might expect that considering how much practice he'd had.
A cold-blooded cop killer, a fucking menace. Guy had a file three stacks deep, and thankfully his power was known.
John Carnagi, early altercation with law enforcement left his wife dead, causing the guy to snap, and snap hard. Emotional amplification triggered his metal bending exponentially- killed the last crew with their own bullets. Had to watch out for him, above all else- the other had no confirmed kills, just some witness reports of deviant power usage. Lot of mixed reports.
The ground was rough, the gravel cracked and broken, allowing plant-life to slip through and take back the territory. The parking lot was empty besides the RV, and myself. I knew, sure as shit, that I had finally caught up. Seven fucking months... this was one for the books.
I pinged my armband receiver to signal the information to the standby crew- equipped with nonmetallic gear. No more dead cops. Not this time.
Protocol had me standby directly off-site as the crew went in, technically I was a commanding senior officer at this point. I was there to advise the clean up afterwords, and set things straight with the local enforcement should issues come up.
Issues came up immediately.
Fifteen man team went in, and ten died. The backup sniper took out the metal-bending shit, but fuck if the rebound hadn't blown him to bits a second later. Four more had been down from the RV frame, that shredded itself into a shrapnel. This operation was easily holding the highest casualty record since the awakening.
As the Dust cleared, I finally got a look at the second super, and my heart sank. It was just a kid, a poor fucking kid, sitting in the middle of a warzone. Pulling out the long range ID scan, I got a match. Raphael Carnagi. John Carnagi's son- registered as dead at birth.
Somehow the records had been fudged and the kid floated by under the radar. Lot of things were making more sense now. Who would have thought it...
As the cavalry arrived, two blackhawks, circling with heavy machine-guns a swat crew, armed with full combat gear. I couldn't look as they opened fire, I'd seen it all before enough times to know I shouldn't watch it again. You stare too long into that abyss it'll change you, and in this career, you can't have yourself questioning the morality of every action. It was for the greater good.
Course, by not observing, I missed the part where the kid levitated- lifted the strongest force field on record, and used psychokinesis to blast the helicopters out of the sky. The irony hit me pretty hard, right as the secondary force waves of the bursting shield lifted me off my feet and threw me backwards. As my vehicle tumbled past me, the pieces started to fall together in a way they hadn't before. I saw the possibilities, all of the many scenes in the last seven months aligning, and as I lay there in the stillness of the aftermath- waiting for the agency medic crews to arrive, it gave me a chill to my very bones. A cold terror that took root in my core and sat there.
All this time, we'd been trying for so hard to keep the worst case scenario from happening, and we missed the obvious. Super-Villains weren't born, they were molded; and by god had we done a great job with this one. | I have no proof of this, but I am fairly certain that the man who invented the coin-op coffee machine was a certified sadist. Still, if a scalding hot paper cup of black sludge and sewer water could do something about my head I was willing to risk it. I fished in my pocket for a couple of quarters.
"Donaldson!" a voice that was unnecessarily cheerful said from behind me, "Back from Houston already?"
I answered the the only manner fitting for such a greeting.
"Blarg!"
He actually laughed at that like I was joking. If being that chipper on a Monday morning wasn't a capital offense it should be. The laughing happy bane on my morning then stepped into view off to my right side. It was Paul McNichols, of course. Who else would it be?
"So, how did it go?" he said, "Was the healer really a Class I?"
"Got 50 cents I can borrow?" I asked. He dug in his pocket thoughtfully and brought out two quarters. Maybe, with patient tutelage, he could learn to not be so obnoxious after all. I held out my hand and he acted as if he were going to drop the coins in my outstretched palm. At the last second, though, he snatched them away.
"The healer?" he prompted.
I ground my teeth. When will McNichols clue into the fact that just because his title is Unit Lead he is not actually my supervisor? The title just meant that his desk was where the secretaries dropped off the paperwork for our area and he had to figure out what went where. Still, I needed coffee. I wasn't prepared to argue the point.
"It wasn't a healer," I said at last. Still grinning at me, he surrendered the coins.
"What was it?" he asked as I lifted the coins to the slot.
"A conman," I said with a shrug, "A bit of fake blood and some chicken guts and he pretended to be a psychic surgeon."
"Is that all?" he said with a snort of disappointment, "Well, I guess that's nothing to get worked up over."
I just stared at him in shock.
"He bilked retirees out of their life savings," I pointed out.
"Yes," he agreed, "But that's just fraud. If he was super that'd be something serious."
I shook my head in disbelief. Why was healing even classed as a Schedule II offense? What did they think was going to happen? A rogue super was going to organize a leper colony into an army? As always, I found myself questioning my role in this agency.
"You missed out, though," McNichols went on, "Hymie managed to catch a Class II Mimic."
"Really?" I asked and immediately regretted it. I keep forgetting McNichols can't tell the difference between being polite and actual interest.
"Oh yeah!" he said with a nod, "Could do the whole thing. Voice, face, and even skin color. Of course, he was only Class II so he couldn't change his height and it takes him six months to alter his face. But, man, given time he could look like the President of the United States."
"Except not as tall," I said.
"Well, yes," he agreed, "But we sent him to White Sands just to be sure. Probably will spend the rest of his life doped up on muscle relaxers to keep his face in the default state."
"White Sands?" I said, "Seems a bit like overkill. Isn't that strictly for Class I offenders?"
He shrugged.
"Gotta be tough on supers, you know that," he said, "Who knows what someone with enough superpowers could do? That's why the built the MaxSuper SuperMax."
On the site of a former nuclear testing grounds at that, I thought. Seemed a bit strangely appropriate as some theorized that atomic testing was what caused the first supers to start to appear. Most supers had insignificant powers. The ability to shake two asprin out of a bottle every time or to sneeze at supersonic speeds. Idiot powers. No one really worried about them. It was the high powered supers that raised public concern. Enter the Regulation of Superhuman Empowerment Agency. Although for agents like McNichols, I usually put the A on the other side of the acronym.
"If he was a Class I mimic," McNichols said offhandedly, "We'd probably be better off just giving him the chair."
And that is exactly why I transpose that letter. McNichols was one of the gung ho types who saw the Superhuman Schedule of offenses as being too lenient. If he had his way every granny who could change the color of her hair at will would be facing jail time. It was as if he thought any sort of mutation was a gateway to supervillainy.
I put the first coin in the slot.
"Hey McNichols," I said, "Have you ever thought that supers aren't all bad? Why do we have to treat them all like criminals?"
"Because they are all criminals," he declared as he shot me a bewildered look, "Just look at the schedules. Have you imagined what would happen if people with powers like that were allowed to just walk free? Psychokinesis. Telepathy. Think of the chaos!"
"But," I said, "Maybe some of them are just regular folks? Holding down jobs and the like."
He laughed.
"You're so funny, Donaldson," he said, "Trust me. You'll see. Scum like that eventually show their true colors. They can't hide it. They aren't that clever."
I shrugged and put the other coin in.
"Guess you're right," I said, "I was just thinking."
He clapped my shoulder before turning to walk away.
"Of course I'm right," he said with a smile, "That's why they made me lead around here."
He walked away humming. I shook my head and hit the button for my selection. A metallic clink came from the coin return slot. What in the world? I reached down and pulled out the coin. Canadian. Should have known McNichols would manage to find a way to screw up my morning even worse. Man, this sucked. I came in on the red eye. I was jet lagged and exhausted and I was not about to spend another moment talking to that smug jerk just to see if he had another coin.
I glanced over my shoulder to make sure the coast was clear. The hallway was empty for the moment. Good. Reaching down, I lifted the 800 pound machine with one hand and shook it. From inside I heard a satisfying clunking sound. I put the machine back down and was rewarded for my efforts by seeing a paper cup drop and being to slowly fill with hot sludge.
Ah, Mondays. Got to hate them. | 2014-12-12T20:51:06 | 2014-12-12T19:37:10 | 41 | 14 |
[WP] Years ago, the 10 mile long creature fell from the sky. It never moved and was proclaimed dead. It never rots and regenerates when damaged. We found that people who eat its flesh... change. You place the pale cube of meat in your mouth. You are ready to leave your humanity behind. | When I talked to the doctors, they just smiled emptily and told me to get a note from a therapist first. When I talked to the therapists, they made piteous faces and sent me to a psychiatrist. And when I tried to flee, the psychiatrists said "it's for your own good" and placed me in a hospital and strapped electrodes to my body until I gave up hope that Science would ever let me be who I knew I should have been born as.
But then, suddenly, Science was not alone. In the middle of the Gobe Desert was a crater, and in the middle of the crater was Magic, the only known source of Magic on earth. A few institutions and governments tried to monopolize it, at first, build walls around it and shoot anyone who neared it on sight, but the people who had already partaken of Magic and become something *more* didn't like that. Science deployed tanks, planes, and bombs. Magic deployed swarms of flies and walking trees and mountains of dark, living glass. In the end, the only source of Magic in the world stood free of human control, offering its gifts to any who made the trek across the desert.
I was lucky. I found a chunk of Magic when I was still a few days' drive from the main body—there were literal tons of the stuff scattered for miles around, from the bad old days when humanity tried to nuke the body into oblivion. It was pitch-black, the sky glittering with one less star than it held ten years ago, as I stopped the car and opened the door and let the cool night air slap my rough, bumpy, unshaved chin.
I didn't want to hesitate any longer. I scooped down, picked up the Magic, and swallowed it whole, sand and all.
Immediately, the world faded. I stood in an endless, vast plane, with a single, unblinking eye staring down at me from above. I hesitated, then looked up.
"YOU SEEK TO LEAVE THIS BODY BEHIND," a deep, omnipresent voice rumbled.
"Yes," I managed to say. I may have been in an unfamiliar dimension of darkness and alien gods, but I was still certain of one thing. "I don't want to be... *this*, anymore." I waved a hand at the masculine body I was trapped in.
"YET YOU DO NOT WISH TO LEAVE *HUMANITY* BEHIND. ONLY THE BODY YOU HOLD."
I blinked. "I—well, I'd take anything, but—"
"I COULD GRANT YOU THE FORM YOU DESIRE."
I scoffed. "Impossible. You—you only make monsters. I've read the news."
The pupil of the eye narrowed, leaned in a little closer. "IF YOU BELIEVE THIS... THEN WHY PARTAKE OF MY GIFT? WOULD YOU RATHER BE A MONSTER THAN A HUMAN?"
"I would rather be a monster than a *man*!" I snapped. "I—I can't stand it. You wouldn't know, you can reshape flesh like it's Play-Doh, but every day I look in the mirror and see a girl's soul trapped in a man's body and it—it..."
I broke down. Perhaps not the wisest choice, when facing an eldritch being who I had just let into my veins, but I was far, far beyond wisdom at this point. I fell to my knees and shuddered, dragging in deep, sobbing breaths.
And then the voice rumbled once more:
"IT PAINS YOU. TO SEE WHAT YOU COULD BE. WHAT YOU SHOULD BE. AND WHAT YOU ARE NOT."
Wordlessly, I nodded.
"THEN. HURT NO MORE."
And the vision was gone.
I gasped, lying facedown in the desert. Sand and spit had caked the inside of my mouth, and I spat viciously, staring at my trembling hands—
—my trembling, soft, *feminine* hands.
Disbelieving, I sprinted to my car, looking at myself in the rearview mirror.
And the woman I was born to be stared back.
​
A.N.
Suggestions? Comments? Please leave them on this comment's sister post at [r/bubblewriters](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/); and if you want more stories like this, try giving the rest of [r/bubblewriters](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/) a peek. | I felt something strange. A surging... power, that was the word. A surging power, racing from the tips of my fingers and toes, circulating through my body and looping around.
“Whoa..” I breathed, incredulous. I stared at my hands, which were glowing slightly. I started laughing. This power... I wielded power equal to that of the Black Knight and the Empress! I felt myself step into my role, my power fine-tuning itself to my personality. I shivered as it all clicked into place, making it feel so natural. Too natural.
The feeling was quickly replaced however, as two words hovered in my mind: Sakashi Rhylem. In my native tongue, it meant Mastery of Self. Which meant my attribute allowed me to change myself at will. Of course, the easiest way to find out what this power was capable of, was to just ask myself: if I made myself knowledgable sbout my power, I could exploit that loophole.
After a few seconds of thinking, I answered my question: my attribute allowed me to empower myself through absorption of other attributes. This wasn’t limited to attributes and could be used on people, objects and even magic. I could freely manipulate myself to make myself solid, liquid or anything I wanted, as well. I could absorb anything from anywhere.
“You... what have you done? Who are you?” asked a voice coming from behind me. I felt stupid. I’d forgotten I was in the middle of the Empress’s castle, where she stored the monstrosity that had given humanity magic and attributes.
I turned to see the Black Knight, dark blue eyes scanning me to spot any reaction. He was wearing full plated dark armor, which would make him slower. That was good. His dark hair was cut short, and his eyes contrasted with his pale skin. He drew his sword and pointed directly at my heart.
“Call me Sakashi,” I replied smugly. The Black Knight pounced, his attribute in full effect, but his blade was just absorbed by my now gooey body. “And remember the name, ‘cause it’s the one you’re going to be telling to Hell’s demons when you die...”
“What the hell?!” he cried, panicked.
“Oh, you didn’t think you’d be the only one with powers forever, did you? You didn’t seem to mind killing my friends and family during the Invasion. So I’m going to make sure you pay for it.” I reduced the density of my hands’ molecules, before plunging them into the Black Knight’s chest. I grabbed his heart, or at least tried to: my hand was not sble to touch anything. I solidifyed my hand anyways, and the Black Knight gagged as he looked down to see my hand piercing his chest.
He coughed blood, his second attribute activating. His wound cauterized as a side effect of that, but it only served to delay his death. I repeated the process, twice, until his three attributes were spent.
And then I killed him, quickly, mercilessly. He didn’t deserve any mercy. Even so, the shock was enough to kickstart the other two attributes of my power: Worldy Mastery, a skill thst allowed me to quickly master any physical and magic art, and the second one was Soother. It automatically converted any of my excess emotions into sheer power or magic energy, depending on what I needed.
Chuckling, I stepped out of the Beast Room, only to be surrounded by soldiers. They stabbed at me, but my body was able to change shape and texture to avoid taking any damage. Before long, I killed them all, and any regret or shame I may have felt were simply converted to power. Finally, the Empress appeared, after I waited for ten long minutes.
I grinned, quickly taking her out as well; my ability made me virtually invincible anyways, so no feeble role like Empress could kill me. I laughed as I left the castle, leaving mangled and bloodied bodies strewn across the floor, not knowing how much I’d changed simply minutes after obtaining this power, not knowing whether it would corrupt me further in the future. | 2021-03-19T18:30:28 | 2021-03-19T18:09:28 | 216 | 24 |
[WP] Due to an address mix-up, an elementary school class sends their Pen Pal letters to an elite unit of Space Marines. Today, the Space Marines are sending a response. | Your Highness Kaitlyn, blessings be upon you.
we have intercepted your encrypted paper-communication and have executed your orders to our best ability. We must seek confirmation of mission success however since our smartest are not in agreement as to the content of your instructions.
The human teacher you refer to as "Ms. Turner" and you refer to as being "mean" to you, has been apprehended and charged with crimes against the state.
You say you go to class "3-K". The significance of this number was guessed to be the coordinates of a Xarlac infestation in our current battlefield. The bombing was unsuccessful however.
The kitten "Mr. Hendricks" who you clam "passed away" was determined to be the name of a spy within our midst. We found him after extended search and despite his repeated refusals, he has been sent to live with the Xarlacs.
Finally, the "boy you liked, Francis", has been identified as Private Francis and been promoted. This puzzled us for his lack of battlefield performance - but we will not question you, Exalted One.
Eagerly awaiting further instructions,
Col. Mark Richardson | Then the letter goes to the wrong address And ends up somewhere In western lustria to a skink .
Dear Warm Blood
I am dearly sorry for the extinction of your pet gerbil , Giggles . However I feel it was your fault since you had the chance to get a proper organism like a gecko or maybe a cold one .
Times have been difficult recently as my friend textorc was maimed and killed by his salamander , Wally. in other news many of my slam superiors have disappeared .
Sincerely , Textoc
P.S. I don't know who these Tau people are and don't remember me telling about them previously .however they sound like great people worthy of the old ones praise .
P.S.S. I felt bad packages up Wally for you so you can have a proper pet . He's a bit bitey. | 2015-01-26T15:37:01 | 2015-01-26T14:45:55 | 43 | 11 |
[WP] You're sat alone, with a glass of wine in hand, and decide to jokingly toast the Greek God Dionysus. You did not expect him to appear before you in human form, create two bottles of wine, and take a seat next to you. | He just... Appeared.
I jumped in surprise.
"Whattt??!?!?? Who are you??" Was the only thing that came out of my mouth.
Sending a reproachful gaze my way he said
"Sit down. This has been a bad day, don't make it worse. That wine is worth more than you will ever have, so drink it"
"Hey, that's mean" I replied, as I retook my former position.
"Are you him? Dionysus? For real?" I asked
"Yep, that's me wine, parties, the whole shenanigan"
"Wow, so.... gods are real? Only the greeks? Is Aphrodite as stunning as the legends say? "
He burst out laughing.
"Man, that's just what I needed. You humans always thinking in the same thing even in the most bizarre of situations" he replied. "Yes, she is, so that answer your question. About the gods, you will have to discover it yourself"
"Then why are you here if you are not answering me?"
"The truth? I needed to talk to someone. Long time ago one of you humans told me that when you need to talk sometimes even a stranger will do. Sometimes its even the best one to talk to. Cause they can be as sincere as they want."
"Well that's not exactly true in my case, I don't want to anger a god"
He laughed again.
"Yes, that's true too"
And we remained in silence for a while but I broke it and asked:
"So did I help you?"
" Yes, you did, thanks"
" Im glad. So what now? How do I live knowing gods exist? Nobody will believe me"
"Just keep living the same? What does knowing it alter your life? Will it become different?"
" That's sound point. Guess tomorrow will be the same as always."
The silence then came back.
"So, what do you do for a living?"
"You came here looking for someone to listen to you and you don't know?" I answered while I laughed. "Im a shrink."
And that's how I became the shrink of the gods.
Not just the greek but norse, egiptians... All the ancients and new pantheons. You wouldn't believe the shit that happens in those families. Being immortal and all powerful doesn't sound so good now to me.
​
​
PD: First time writing and showing it. English is not my first languague so sorry for the mistakes. Hope you like it. Thanks | Have you ever just drank alone? I do. I like to drink, but I dont really know that many people. And, we don't hang out much.
I spent the entirety of today playing video games. And drinking. During a session of God of War, I jokingly sang out a prayer. And seeing as I was properly drunk on good wine, Dionysius was my target. I sang what felt like gibberish and passed out, fell of my couch. Fucking bruised my hip really bad.
Anyway, when I woke up the air smelled like fried dough and wine. Well wine makes sense but dough,? Maybe I was having a stroke.
I heard someone walking around in my kitchen. Hmm, my friends never come over unannounced. I get up, walk in, and some fuck head frat boy in a toga and sandles. He was pudgy and had a hearth on. This costume was oddly high quality, rich parents I assume. And he was digging through my pantry!
"Hey man get the fuck outta my house," I say as I pull on his shoulders and spin him around.
"Well that isnt very gracious of you. What a terrible host."
And then silence as I contemplated the nerve of this fucking guy.
"Cmon man it's late, I'm tired, and this is my wine."
"Invite me to stay for a drink, you wont regret it."
It just dawned on me that this fool is talking like that creepy robot from Futurama that looks like a greek table. Maybe I could broaden my horizons, my gut is telling me to trust this guy.
"Sure dude, let's have some wine."
"Splendid friend, splendid." He sips some wine. "You know it has been a long time since I enjoyed another's company. All my friends grew old and tired."
"I know how it feels," I say, sadly.
"Well I can change that, for you at least." Then frat boy snaps his fingers and we are gone. In a cave. Wait it's an old ass temple, with columns and beautiful sculptures.
"What's going on man?" I ask my voice shakey.
"I am the god Dionysius and I can throw us a party that will never be forgotten, and your friends will know their folly."
"Youd do that for me?"
"Yes, and all i need is a sacrifice." | 2020-11-08T10:50:12 | 2020-11-08T10:44:09 | 236 | 34 |
[WP] You see the Grim Reaper and ask if it's your time. Death checks a clipboard and says "Nope. Looks like you're not due for another... three thousand, one hundred and forty-one years? That's weird. Also, how can you see me?" | "Well, I was dead once, but I got over it."
The Grim Reaper stood silently and cocked his head.
"River Styx? You have the look of one who has been there."
"Yes. My GPS is old and it steered me wrong. I took a right turn onto a lane that went into a long tunnel. I thought it was odd that there were red lights, but I was just a tourist, ya know? I assumed I had stumbled into something experimental."
"Are you telling me you accidentally drove into the realm of Hades?"
"I guess so. The road turned into a unpaved dirt road, and then to a path. I couldn't turn around until I came to a river. The tunnel ended and I made a U-Turn."
"Did you touch the river in any way?"
"I got out of the car to take a picture, and when I went to the river I slipped and got wet. Didn't fall in, but I slid down the bank and got myself wet and muddy."
"You...I can't believe what I'm hearing."
"I climbed up the bank and left. It was brutal work getting up there too. It was all dead brushes and brambles."
"How did you know where you were?"
"When I left I saw a sign that said "River Styx 1 mile." It disapeared after I left."
Death made a slight choking noise.
"I'm going to have a talk with Hades. That new construction company he appropriated is incompetant."
"So, what happens now?"
"That's your problem," Death said. "I don't envy you. I'm the nice one. You get to deal with Life for a few thousand years, and he's a right bastard." | He reaches over to check your pulse. You are strangely confused, of course, but let him since you don't really know how else to respond. You'd expect your heart to be racing in such an unexpected situation, but you don't feel it pounding against your chest. "Hmm…" mutters Death, as he realizes that your pulse isn't there and in fact it does look like he is supposed to collect you now. He looks back at his clipboard listing the timeframe for escorting people to the afterlife with an even more puzzled expression.
You slowly gather your wits about you, and realize that you're not at your home anymore. Your surroundings are a bit dark and fuzzy, and it really doesn't look like you're in the land of the living anymore. "So, what's next?" you ask, trying to get your bearing and take charge of the situation as best you can. "Isn't this the point where I can challenge you to a game for my soul?"
"Uh… you do have that right, though honestly most people don't even bother nowadays," replies the Reaper, still a bit shaken and confused. But hoping that following up on the request will help himself get back into his routine, he questions, "What did you have in mind?"
[**Days later…**](https://imgs.xkcd.com/comics/ultimate_game.png) | 2020-01-24T17:11:51 | 2020-01-24T16:48:17 | 54 | 10 |
[WP]Some time ago humans were put on the 'Only Contact in Case of Emergency' list. Now a threat to the galaxy has arisen and humanity is it's last hope. | *Replaying Log 9932 via TU2CS. Transmission beginning now:*
“It was all over the news, and by all over I mean telecommunications were literally hacked. All day long, on October 2nd, 2142, a mysterious message was broadcasted addressed to “humanity.” In it, the message proclaimed of a universe-wide crisis that only warranted humanity’s help as a last resort. Clearly the race contacting us was in a dire situation, so the world’s leaders agreed to a United Nations meeting in five days’ time from the original date of the message.
“During the week-long assembly, world leaders debated humanity’s involvement in a situation they had never been informed of. For all they knew, it was a trap meant to fool humans into giving themselves up to a greater being. Others proclaimed of the potential consequences of not getting involved, even though none were spoken of either. However, a decision was reached at the end of the seventh day, and all but seventeen countries of the planet Earth were united as the Terra Union. “A transmission was sent in the direction of where the original message was received from, and within two hours an armada of space ships appeared. These ships were of sleek black design bearing the insignia “Γιατί το μεταφράσατε αυτό”. The world watched intently as Humanity first interacted with extra-terrestrials.
“It has been nearly 27 years since that day, and all troops sent to fight whatever the conflict was have yet to be heard from since. Most of the ten billion people on earth were convinced that their friends and family were wiped out, while other, more insensitive groups claimed they were eaten. However, only the highest forms of government know exactly what happened to those men and women who went to fight for our Earth.
“They’ll be returning home soon. Heroes of the Earth, or maybe even heroes of the Universe. For the crisis which relied on Humanity’s help was not one of war; instead, it was of something much more sinister, something that many would not have expected. A darkness that blanketed the universe had been erased by the light of a newly formed civilization; humanity was a growing race whose progression in science, technology, and their understanding of the universe proved that intelligent life existed in a universe that was once at war with itself.
“When the men and women return back from their trip, they’ll bring new, exciting knowledge that will help us further our education and progress even more along our evolutionary timeline. New technology, new data on planets and stars and other astronomical feats, and new information on other planetary cultures and understandings of the big rock we call home.
“Those men and women attended to a universal assembly, where planets and civilizations once at war with each other considered total eradication of what they deemed a “failed universe.” With the evidence of humans proving intelligent, peaceful life can still exist, the leaders of that assembly agreed to call off their plan and find new ways to co-exist between themselves and us humans.
“The crisis was averted, and now, after 27 years, the troops are going home. We’re going home. I, am going home.
“This is Commander George Zmith, signing off on Log 9932. Godspeed.”
Slight edit: tried asterisks. I failed. Bad. Removed some. :D | "Yes, ma'am, all we need is aluminum from you."
Dr. Stevens leaned back in his chair and smiled. "Its sir, but I must say, your speech is very good for someone who has only spoken the language for an hour."
"Yes, your... pronouns are... odd. I don't understand the point."
"Well, I'm no linguist, so I can't explain it in a detailed, technical sense, but we use them to differentiate the person we are referring to."
"Why?"
Dr. Stevens drew from his cigarette and chuckled. "Why, I guess I never really thought about that."
The alien chuckled, or at least Dr. Stevens guessed he did. He liked this person that referred to itself as Lim. Earlier it pronounced its name in its traditional tongue but it just sounded to him like a fish was choking for about thirty seconds.
"Sir, could you please... not tell the President?"
It was Dr. Stevens turn to laugh. "I don't think I could talk to him if I wanted to. And I don't."
"We thank you for this discretion."
"So you need thirty tons of aluminum. How do we get it to you?"
The speaker crackled and the pitch fluctuated as Lim spoke. "I'll give you the coordinates. We have selected a location that should be convenient for you."
"I don't mean to pry, but why do you need the aluminum?"
Lim didn't respond for several long seconds. "I want to keep your people out of troubles that you don't need to worry about and could do nothing about if you knew. Your resource is one that we direly need and will go towards a purpose I promise is good."
"Ok, so we'll put the aluminum out for you. Then what?"
"I don't understand."
"Will you let us know that the pickup was satisfactory for you? Will you contact us again if you need something?"
"You will know that it went well if it is gone. I don't think we will speak again, at least not you and I. Perhaps I will speak again with one of your descendants, several generations removed. Our lifespans are very different, yours and mine."
"That's a shame. I enjoyed this a lot. My whole life I've wondered who, or if, anyone was out there."
"You couldn't fathom the answer to that question. There are beings across the entire spectrum of your imagination throughout the universe. Before I say goodbye, I wanted to tell you something. Something very important."
Dr. Stevens leaned forward and waited in silence.
"You there Lim?"
The speaker crackled again and a high pitched noise grew louder until Dr. Stevens winced and turned the volume down.
A growl poured out of the speaker, soft and low at first, then louder and more severe. Dr. Stevens grabbed the sides of his head. Mucus and small drops of blood began to drip out of his nose, eyes and ears.
Suddenly, the noise ceased. The room filled with an intense silence that deafened Dr. Stevens who could hear only his rapid breath.
"Never mind," said Lim.
| 2017-09-25T10:23:13 | 2017-09-25T09:20:47 | 27 | 19 |
[WP] 13 years ago, your mother died in the World Trade Center during 9/11. Today you see her at the grocery store with two small children you've never seen before. | "M...Mom? Is that you?"
She turned her head, blue eyes sparkling, a smile on her face. Then she saw me, and her smile fell, her eyes dulled, and she looked... Tired. A young girl tugged lightly at her shirt, begging for attention, but she didn't move.
"Hello, Robert. It's been a while." She said, tilting her head to the side. I watched her use her thumb to push the hair from the girl's eyes, like she used to do for me.
I was stuck. Moving became impossible, talking a feat of epic strength. Nothing could have ever prepared me for this moment.
"Robbie, honey, don't look so crushed. This is how it's supposed to be."
Disbelief numbed the pain I should have felt. I glanced around the store, and people were moving, and talking. Nobody else understood the enormity of what was happening. Nobody even *noticed*.
"But how the *fuck* are you alive?" I asked, my voice louder than I meant it to be. "You were on that plane, Mom. Dad and I were at the gate, I *saw* you." A boy was sitting in her grocery cart, and he turned to look at me.
She shook her head slightly, lightly plucking a bag of M&M's from the boys's hands. "I was. How did your life turn out?" The bag of candy tossed into a nearby tray somehow became a symbol of my dismissal. I thought frantically, wondering if I had been discarded so easily.
"I... How are you even.." The words were too mixed, and I was too confused. She was so nonchalant, bored even.
"Robbie, here's the gist of it. You're a brilliant young man, and you were meant to be that way; but with the comfort of a mother, you'd have never succeeded. You had to be alone to thrive. I gave you life, sweetie, in more ways than one. That's my job, as the mother. The mother inspires her children, no matter the cost. No matter..."
She gazed into the young girl's eyes for a moment, and a smile cracked on her face.
"Melissa, honey, don't you want to go say hello to your big brother?" She nodded, a shy smile on her face. "Good girl. Take Brandon with you, okay?" The girl nodded again, the smile erased, and I stared at her hair, the square make to her jaw. She *did* look like me.
I shook my head. "They can't be related to me, Mom. You're almost sixty." My mother laughed dryly as she handed the young boy to his sister. "Fair enough. Then I can't be alive, and you can't be seeing me, right?" A finger twirled in her hair absent-mindedly.
"By the way, Robert, I've got a favor to ask you. Take care of them for me, alright?" I took a step back, about to say something, but her hand motioned for silence, and I was too broken to fight. "Especially Melissa. She'll watch over her brother, as long as you do your part. They're important. They'll save everything."
When the gas station outside blew, nobody was prepared. A vicious shock wave broke every piece of glass in the building. In the moment before I lost consciousness, I saw her, smiling softly, a piece of rebar whipping towards her. |
She stood there, head down, casually browsing the bright red Gala apples as two children, both somewhere between 3 and 5 played a loud game in the shopping cart. I can't say what made me want to see her face. She was just a woman with children in a grocery full of women and children. I stood there, trying to figure out what kept pulling me to this unremarkable woman. Try as I might to brush off this ... suspicion, I felt a sense of inevitability in everything from the cadence of her footsteps to gentle admonishments to the raucous children shaking the cart.
Not wanting to arouse suspicion, I circled back through an adjacent aisle. My heart raced as anticipation grew. Who was this woman, and why did she have such a hold on me? Sweat began to pool at my forhead as I hurriedly passed countless boxes of sugary cereal and microwave oatmeal.
This couldn't be her. My thoughts turned to the mother I lost years ago.
It seemed impossible, but as I turned out of the aisle--narrowly avoiding an elderly man in a moth eaten cardigan--there she was.
"Mom?" I whispered. Incredulous yet bursting with a feeling somewhere between joy and horror. Why had she disappeared? How could she have left us alone, fending for ourselves in foster home after foster home?
"Mom?" I called out, my voice loud with desperation.
The apples fell to the floor with soft thuds that belied the gravity of this impossible meeting. For a briefest of moments, I believed that I had my mother back. I couldn't fathom the web of lies and manipulation that led me to this overpriced grocery store.
I walked toward her almost hungrily, I needed to know who this woman was. She jumped with a small cry as I approached her. Waisting little time she turned to grab the children and, with a startling agility for one her age, sprinted from the store.
"Wait!" I cried. It was surreal. I dodged cart after cart, as I chased her from the store. The sun shone brightly, blinding me as I raced out of the store and into the street. I saw her hurriedly putting the two children in the back of a burgundy Mazda MPV. I rushed forward, hoping to catch at least a license plate as she closed the door on the children before jumping into the driver's seat. How had she gotten out of the store so fast?
I made out New York plates and the first 3 letters of the plate, 'ADL', before a Honda Civic flew through the pedestrian walkway. The world rendered itself in pain and bright white lights as I smashed into the windshield.
A woman screamed as the Civic skidded to a sudden stop. The last thing I saw before blacking out was a burgundy Mazda MPV run a red light as it sped out of the shopping center.
Five hours later, after being rushed to the hospital by an experienced EMT and the frantic owner of the Honda Civic, assuring me at every opportunity that it was an accident, I gingerly sat down in front of my computer. The search had begun. | 2014-09-06T17:40:03 | 2014-09-06T17:22:26 | 29 | 17 |
[WP] It has been a year since your spouse mysteriously died. You are fidgeting with your wedding ring when a compartment opens and a note falls out. It starts, "My Love. If you are reading this, I must be dead..." | I wake up on the anniversary tired, hurting, staring at the wall. Sunlight streams through the bedroom blinds. If I look long enough, I can outline the dust and faded spots above the dresser where her pictures used to hang. My jaw aches; I must have had anxiety dreams again.
Our son is up before me. I can hear him moving around the kitchen, turning on the coffee pot, pouring cereal, clicking the TV remote. Talking to himself about the chores he has to do today, his classes and homework, soccer, videogames with friends. His upcoming exams, the girl he met at the arcade.
I lie in bed and listen to him talk. When he mutters like this I sometimes close my eyes and imagine she’s still there, listening, bustling around the kitchen fixing breakfast before work. They liked to do that in the mornings; it was their thing. Maybe that’s what he’s imagining, too.
Her colored post-it notes greet me when I get up and go to the bathroom: neon pink, green, creamsicle-orange striped with purple lines. The loops of her cursive scribble across them in black curls.
> *Call Dr. B @ Barquist OR Martinsburg VA office before 6.*
> *James needs new cleats*
> *apples, Caribou bars, protein powder, zinc supp., hand sanitizer, Lacroix*
> *BSL-4 seminar & training @ Ft. Detrick on 3/16*
> *ILU Trent - have fun on Sacramento trip!!*
When she died, the company came by the house. Her recent projects required a security clearance way higher than mine, so all the material for it had to go. They were waiting at the door and asked if they could come in and collect it.
At first, I got irrational. I said no, they had enough, I didn’t want any part of her leaving the house, clearance be damned. My son held me back, stepped in, calmed it down. *It’s just data,* he said. *That’s all they want, they just want her data. It’s a standard procedure.* He helped them load up her filing cabinet; I watched tears fill his eyes as the company van drove away.
A few months later, I took down the pictures. I packed up her clothes and extra uniforms, her shoes, jewelry, perfume. I even threw away that vanilla body powder she would pat on under her scrubs. *It keeps me from getting sweaty,* she’d say. *You wouldn’t believe how much you sweat when working in those labs.*
But not the notes. It would have been too much. I leave them up, little spots of color on the mirror to remind me she was once here.
I floss, brush, rinse with mouthwash. My head already hurts, so I take two ibuprofen. I can hear my son in the living room flipping through channels on TV, sighing. He’s probably waiting for me to come out.
“Morning,” I murmur as I wander into the kitchen.
“Hey,” he replies, turning to look at me from the couch. “Morning.”
“Sleep okay?”
“Yeah. Kinda.” He sloshes his spoon in his cereal. “Today’s the day.”
I pour a cup of coffee; the pot wobbles in my hand. “Yeah, it is.”
Quietly he says, “it’s already been a year.”
“It has.” I try to scoop sugar to my cup and spill some on the counter. “Yeah. Yeah, it has.”
“It’s Monday,” he continues. “The day shifts. It shifts two days if it was a leap year. It was originally on a Sunday. The only day outta the week the clinic’s closed.”
“Yeah.” I don’t know what to say; he must have a point, but I can't figure it out. The clinic wouldn’t have been able to help. She died in the emergency room not long after they got her out of the ambulance. They said it was a delayed allergic reaction from an immunization she received at work, one of those scenarios they talk about like lightning strikes, lottery odds. The worst kind of thing that can happen to a perfectly healthy person.
It takes my son a long time to pipe back up. “Are you okay?”
I put down my mug. My eyes are watering; my chest feels like it’s going to burst. “Yeah.”
“We can talk about it,” he says. “We could both talk. My therapist said last week you could come to my sessions if you wanted. She said a year is when the chance for relapse is the worst. I don’t even think she’d charge extra, if you came.”
*Relapse.* Like I’ve got cancer or something. “Hey, that sounds good, kiddo. You know, right now, I think I oughta get a shower.”
“Okay.” He sighs, turns back, faces the TV. “We gotta be at the cemetery at nine-thirty.”
Back in the bedroom, my wedding band is on the dresser. I know I’m going to cry any second now, so I think ‘fuck it’ -- I pick up the ring, pinch it between forefinger and thumb, twirl it without realizing it. A reflex motion, like when a doctor taps your knee.
It feels like I do everything these days without realizing it. They tell you that living with grief -- especially with sudden loss -- is all about going through the motions for a while, achieving normalcy. *Homeostasis*, the state of equilibrium, is what I imagine she would have called it. She liked to use biology terms outside of work.
But imagining hurts. It interrupts the process, all the getting-over-it that you have to do. It rips up whatever you’ve built to keep the pain out, like a wall crumbling under an invading tide. And memory can be so insidious; the good fantasies can crash into the bad ones like a dream turning into a nightmare. I remember how she looked before she coded, seizing on the hospital gurney, her eyes white like milky shells. No matter how hard I try to remember her as flesh and blood -- healthy again, quipping about work or the commute -- I'll inevitably lose it. It's just too much.
I'm wiping my eyes when I notice the *click*. The gold center of the band shifts; I nearly drop it when I realize the arc has peeled back like the shell on a nut. There’s something inside: a little coil of eggshell-colored paper.
Out in the living room, my son coughs. I hear him mumble something under the drone of a news broadcast.
Slowly, I unroll the paper. It’s thin as a strip of onionskin. My hands start shaking; the inside of my mouth goes dry as I read the loops of her cursive, curling across the paper like a minuscule helix.
I’m not imagining this. This is real. This is from her.
> *Trent - if you’re reading this, I’m dead. I love you and James.*
> *Take my notes to Dr. B. If she asks the password: SEQUOIA. After that both of you do what she says. LEAVE ASAP. She can help.*
>*I'm sorry. I love you and James. You have to leave*
>*It's not an allergy.* | Mason would have left for the call-to-arms too, in his eagerness to apply himself as a newly-ordained member of the Cabal. Mages across all Orders were being summoned. After all, it wasn’t everyday that an undead uprising blighted the Kingdom of Ankharra, this close to the capital. Maybe he would subdue a lich or two, distinguish himself from his peers.
But Jennings held him back. “Your duty here is as important,” the elder mage had said, taking up guard at the doorway to the Armory. “At least two of us here at all times, and so you shall stay.”
It was there, ironically, that Mason got his wish, for that was where the greatest threat to the thousand-year institution of the Cabal presented itself that night.
Jennings, with fifty more years of experience under his belt, was the first to sense the disturbance. He laid down his playing cards open-faced on the table, then turned and frowned at the empty hallway. The flaming torches in the brackets lining the walls suddenly flickered blue, for a mere fraction of a second, but it was all the warning Jennings needed.
“En garde!” Jennings yelled, throwing his hands up to shape the defensive spell.
Months of rigorous training paid off then, as Mason summoned his own shield reflexively, muscle memory taking over. And not a moment too soon, as the blackened tendrils coalesced and spiked towards the pair, surging like finches from hell. The midnight claws sliced through Mason’s shield easily, like an insult through low self-esteem, pinning him against the thick granite walls of the Armory. Had his shield not coaxed the potency from the attack, he would likely have perished immediately.
Jennings fared better. His shield held, but the tendrils persevered, seeking to suffocate what they could not penetrate. As they coiled around his bubble, twisting tighter and tighter, searching hungrily for any give, the command issued from the hallway, deep and gravelly.
“Stand aside. I have come to retrieve my beloved’s belongings.”
Mason squinted through the haze of pain, trying to make out the nature of his assailant. Taxed as he was with staying alive, halting the bloodflow and repairing what he could, consciousness suddenly became a slippery thing indeed.
“Lady… Ahn?” he gasped, not trusting his eyes.
“She has turned, Mason. I know not what compels her, but she is not the same Lady Ahn we know,” said Jennings, grunting with the effort of staving off the assault. “This abomination bears none of the grace or love or gentleness we expect. She is a monster.”
Mason grimaced as Lady Ahn’s laugh, caustic to the ear, echoed down the hallway. “Tell me, Jennings, were you in on it too? My husband often spoke well of you, in the fondest terms, but if you knew… I will cut you down too, where you stand.”
“How is she so powerful?” gasped Mason, as he gingerly repelled Ahn’s spell from his shoulder where it had struck. “Isn’t she a healer, and just an average one at that?”
Few in the Cabal did not know Lady Ahn. She and Naraste were lovebirds from the time they crossed paths as initiates in the halls of the Nexus, the seat of power for the Cabal. It mattered little that their respective capacities for spellweaving differed so greatly – while he shot up the ranks, becoming a mage of the First Order in record time, she was content as a competent healer, devoting much of her energies to tending to the recruits instead.
Mason himself had been the beneficiary of her healing spells before. She had mended his wounds once or twice, even whisked away a particularly stubborn chest infection one winter past. Mason recalled that she had been warm, chatty, engaging.
She didn’t seem quite so endearing now, not with the dark energies snaking around her person, her cloak flapping in the aftershocks of magic pouring out from her.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Ahn, but I warn you now, on account of you being the wife to one of my dearest friends – cease this foolishness, lest the Cabal hold you guilty of malpractice of magic.”
“Stop lying to me! He told me everything!”
Ahn sagged momentarily, the grief seizing her. She raised her palms to her face, covering her eyes, and in the dimness Mason saw two rings, one on each hand, sparkle briefly. Her voice leaked such pain that Mason was tempted to feel sympathy for her.
“He left me a message, did you know? Embedded deep into his ring… he said he thought he had chanced upon something in his work here, seen something he was not supposed to see. He reported it, like the good mage he was, but he was laughed at, told he was tilting at windmills… and he said, if he died…”
“Stop the nonsense, Ahn! It was pure misfortune, that was all! Bad luck! It could have happened to anyone of us too!”
Mason was bleeding, but not as profusely as he was a minute ago. He drew in ragged breaths, kneeling, too weak to stand. He remembered clearly the elaborate rites the Cabal had observed for Nareste’s passing, the full works for a mage killed in action. He recalled too the hushed whispers going around, telling of how Nareste had stumbled into a trap in the enemy’s fortress, how it could have happened to any of his party.
Ahn laughed again, and with a sudden twist of her hands, she let loose the enchantment on her ring again, and Nareste’s image, conjured out of a thousand dancing motes of dust, came to life.
“… I still feel them watching, Ahn, everyday. If I should ever die, seek out that which the Cabal confiscates from you. That will be the piece you need to find out the truth...”
As the last wisps of magic wore away, Ahn spoke again, voice full of bared steel. “The Cabal returned everything to me when he passed… but for his staff. I want it, now.”
“You know that is not possible, Ahn. The staves, they are returned to the Cabal, to be passed on to the next generation. That is simply tradition, not the workings of some crackpot conspiracy.”
“So you will not return the staff to me?”
“You know I cannot do that. Please, for everything that you have done for the Cabal, we can still let this pass. Once the other mages return, it will be out from my hands.”
Ahn was quiet for a while, then she dug deep, stretching into her endless pool of sorrow to call forth even denser reams of magic. Mason caught some of the spellwork she fashioned, and despite himself, was impressed.
*Ah*, he thought, *that is quite a clever inversion of the healing magic she uses.*
“They won’t be returning anytime soon,” she said, “my little army will keep them busy long enough.”
Then she leapt towards the pair, a bladed lightning bolt teeming with violence.
---
/r/rarelyfunny
| 2017-05-25T12:59:03 | 2017-05-25T09:34:40 | 41 | 23 |
[WP] In an attempt to convince people society would have been better if humanity had never found religion, a time traveler kills anyone who begins to develop a form of faith. He goes back to the present and finds that people now universally worship a god who travels through time and smites heathens. | The fact that the Many Worlds Interpretation seems to be correct is the only thing in this universe that has given me "faith", because without it, I would've erased my own existence in a million different ways.
I started small-time, testing the waters. Your Koreshes, Phelpses, Applewhites... little guys. I saw how their branches went, nothing big, then I went deeper.
I picked off Luthers and Buddhas and rewrote modern history. It was good... generally... but I never got rid of faith. Because there was always somebody deeper. A Jesus to a Luther, and an Abraham to a Jesus.
So I stopped shooting, and started taking notes. Who heard what and where did HE hear THAT? I didn't realize that doing this would widen my search ad nausea. I started with soothsayers and shamans and ended up trying to peg every single stupid ape that I caught braying at the moon.
Having succeeded in this genocide, I was annoyed to find out that a lot of these same people were very good at keeping records and generally being useful reservoirs of knowledge, save for the preachy bits. I had to babysit these tribes a little, get them started on the basics and then jump forward ten years to cap the young bastard saying that his father learned how to make fire from watching an angel burn his grandpa's skull.
Let that last part sink in for a second.
I wasn't even out of the Bronze age and stories of an "Accuser" who "appears to punish the heathens" and "spreads knowledge in his wake" were already common folklore. The momentary high I got out of this was ruined by the realization that I HAD BECOME THAT WHICH I HAD SET OUT TO DESTROY!
Sorry, sorry, I'm a little... irritated.
Look, anyway, that's why I'm here now. I KNOW you were planning on having one last drink before the journey but c'mon, me, you've got to get in that time machine NOW so you can start a new timeline, set everything back to zero, and try again.
C'mon, bucko, fourth time's the charm. | Tom lived in a small town in Connecticut, very religious town, in fact he was the only atheist.
One day he went to go out drinking with his buddies Chris, Steve and Ryan. Chris was a missionary, Steve was a priest and Ryan was a rabbi. They went to the bar and none of them drank except Tom.
The rest of the guys kept commenting on their religions and Tom, who is quite drunk at this point has had enough. *"Man you would all be better off if religion wasn't a thing."* All his friends got insulted and left him at the bar.
Tom had to walk home and was so drunk that he stumbled in a bush. He got really upset and clicked his heels and said *"Man, I wish religion wasn't a thing."*
Silly Tom didn't know that whenever you click your heels anything that you ask will come true, so he was in for quite a surprise when he woke up at the dawn of man.
*"Holy fuck"* said Tom as he looked around to see trees and what seemed to be smoke.
Tom, being the curious guy, walked towards it to see a bunch of cavemen gathered around a fire and one on a rock, pointing at the sky. Tom, seeing the opportunity that he is being given, he picks up a rock off the ground and throws it at the man pointing at the sky.
The man falls flat on the ground and a puddle of blood pours. The cavemen are angry at Tom and gather around him, grunting.
All of a sudden, Tom faints and wakes up back in the bar with his buddies. To his surprise, they are all drinking.
*"Holy fuckin' christ"* said Tom.
*"Stop talking about yourself Tom"* they responded.
**This is one of my first writing prompts so if it doesn't make sense I apologize.** | 2016-05-06T21:10:29 | 2016-05-06T18:44:04 | 150 | 95 |
[WP] Your father leaves the house to buy milk, 50 years later he comes back with milk in hand and hasn't aged a bit. | I couldn’t understand why he was smiling. I watched as my father looked around almost uncertainly before setting the jug of milk on the counter. There was no apology in his smile. There was only the same warmth I remembered as a boy when he watched me score a goal in soccer. Nonetheless it did nothing to diffuse the rage rumbling inside of me.
“What are you doing here?” I snapped. My father’s smile falters for a moment.
“This is my house, son. I guess I don’t understand the question.” He rubbed the black stubble on his chin.
“No,” I practically launched myself up from the kitchen table. “This is my house! I inherited it almost 25 years ago when Mom died. Remember her? The woman you left?”
The calm never left his gaze as he picked the milk back up and placed it inside the refrigerator.
“You’re a piece of shit,” I snarled. “How dare you show your face here?” I watched him and the confusion finally set in. Not a single gray hair was on his head. No wrinkles. In fact, he was wearing the exact same red flannel shirt I last saw him in. My father leaned up against the wall. A calendar grazed the top of his head.
Normally an even-tempered man myself, I was becoming crushed under the heat of volcanic disdain. I charged my father and slammed my fists into his chest.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me? What you’ve done to Mom? She was never the same after you left! I was never the same! I looked up to you! I hate you!” I pounded his chest. “I hate you! I hate you!”
Amidst my incoherent screaming I suddenly froze. The massive bear arms of my father wrapped around me.
“Oh, son. Will you forgive me?”
I couldn’t breathe. The weight of hate filled years melted away under the even heavier weight of my farther’s arms.
“Yes,” my own whisper woke me. I opened my tear blurred eyes. I blinked away the dream and saw the inside of my father’s house. | "Ugh! Dad, you're finally back! What took you so long?" I yelled across the great hall. My dad, who was fifty years too late bringing home groceries, stood at the other end.
"I-I'm sorry darling, I can make it up to you!" He stammered, turning red with embarrassment- well, as red as you can be when your face is covered in what could be cosmic dust, but is probably white makeup.
I rolled my eyes. This certainly wasn't the first time I'd dealt with him suddenly disappearing. "No! None of that! 20 souls as payment, now."
He pulled out his wallet and several wispy beings floated from within, off to where they belonged: my vault.
"Really, darling, it was only 50 years--" I cut him off, fuming.
"And last time it was 25, and next time it will be 75! If you keep skipping off to get exotic things from other universes, I'm going to end up the sole ruler of Hell at some point."
"But what's so bad about that? Everything seems to be fine---"
"Dad, that's the problem!" I shouted. "People aren't suffering enough and prices for properly tortured souls are nearly to HEAVEN in value. Things are going so well that angels have been coming to visit!"
"B-but surely they're fallen like you, Airi?"
"Not at all! They don't even fall once they've left!" I did my best to perform the scariest, most demonic voice I could, just to prove my sincerity. "That is why you absolutely cannot leave until you've cleaned up this mess of a kingdom Lucifer."
He sighed and took up his throne and crown. "Very well, Airi...Let me deal with this."
I only heard him mumble as I left the hall carrying the groceries triumphantly: "The things I do for my only daughter.." | 2022-05-13T11:22:44 | 2017-11-19T18:50:08 | 1,516 | 18 |
[WP] After a freak accident sending you far back in time, somehow you make a new life for yourself. One day while whistling a tune from the future to yourself; someone joins in with the correct lyrics ... | "You're looking mint today, Mary"
"Really?" she blushed.
"No you mardy cow, now piss off, go on, out of my yard!"
The scowling woman rolled her eyes and scurried away in a huff. She'd had her eyes on his garden for weeks now, and he had no doubt she'd be back sooner rather than later to collect some clippings.
It had been 3 years since he had moved to the sleepy village of Knutsford, but it felt much shorter in his mind. Gripping a wooden mug of tea, he closed his eyes and inhaled. Long gone were the metallic smells of the tour bus table, the blaring screeches from the announcer's microphone and the harsh hit of the flickering floodlights. Tranquility washed over him like a sheet. It reminded him of the needles, the pills he had taken for years, only to not even approach this bliss.
Opening his eyes, he smiled and began strolling along the lane. Perhaps a walk into the centre was what he needed on such a beautiful day. A pair of hobbling figures approached from the other direction, clearly in a hurry. He grinned as he kicked the crutch from the boys grip, watching him tumble into the unstable arms of his friend.
"Plenty more where that came from - I'm not snide, am I?" He laughed. He began to hum as the murderous stares bounced off his back and went unnoticed.
*Step outside, summertime's in bloom...*
So what if the townsfolk didn't like him? He was happy, which was all that mattered. Not as if the people back in his time liked him either, and he'd hardly lost a night's sleep over *that*. He did wonder if they thought about him though. A well familiar memory creeped into his brain, not for the first or hundredth time since the accident. The print magazines. The paparazzi. His brother. It was because of him that he had left in the first place. He could almost picture the bile spewing from the editor's fingers. Where was his brother this time? A drug fueled bender? A four day sex party in the Mediterranean? One article suggested that his brother was last seen at a popular nightclub in New York where people dressed in chains and leather. The knocks on the door. The sleepless nights of so called friends chiming in, asking him to join the search parties.
*Stand up beside the fireplace, take that look from off your face -
You ain't ever gonna burn my heart out...*
Instead, he had donned his cap, put on a pair of dark sunglasses, and slipped off in the early hours of the morning. The morning itself was hazy, but he remembered walking to the old well and wishing upon the change in his pocket. An easier, simpler place to live was all he wanted. In a way, he'd definitely gotten it.
As he approached the hairy, grizzled vendor, he burst out into song, the wordless tune suddenly springing forth into vocalization.
He was free. Free of that life, free of obligations. Free from him.
*And so Sally can wait, she knows it's too late as we're walking on by...*
The vendor, distracted by the street urchins running past, almost involuntarily whispered back.
"Her soul slides away..."
Shocked, their eyes met.
"But don't look back in anger, I heard you say..." he mumbled, choking on his words.
"Liam?"
"Noel?"
"OH FOR FUCKS SAKE!" | I sighed wistfully as I worked in the kitchen. I know I had a thing for the Victorian Era back home but I really didn't think I would ever be here. Or that I'd be washing dishes in the kitchen of a bordello. The Madam and the girls had found me in the ally behind their... Establishment, and took me in. I don't know how I got to the alley and I don't know how I got tossed back in time. All I can remember before the blank spot in my mind is getting into a fight with a group of other girls.
The Madam said I would need to work off my debt to them after I was healed. I told her I didn't have money and that I wouldn't whore myself out to pay the debt. She asked what I would do and I offered to act as a bodyguard, cook, and maid. She agreed reluctantly but gave me a room, some clothes and set me to work as soon as I was able to go.
I was getting the parlor and halls ready for the evening rush and all I could think about as I cleaned was my Grandmother and her whirlwind romance with my grandfather that resulted in them getting married after only two weeks of knowing each other. Their story was on my mind because one of the girls who worked here had gotten engaged. Her name was Elizabeth and her new fiancee was named Adam. He was her customer. He never requested any other girl. He wasn't rich, but he wasn't poor and Elizabeth wanted out of this lifestyle.
Thoughts of my grandparents had me smiling and humming as I worked. Their song was on repeat in my head. Elvis Presley's "Can't Help Falling in Love" was the song my grandpa would sing for my grandma even though she didn't speak English and he didn't speak Spanish.
I was fluffing the throw pillows on one of the over stuffed sofas and Madam was allowing men in for the evening. The song restarted in my head and I hummed from the beginning. The Madam smiled indulgently at me as she assisted men in handing over money.
I was half way through the first chorus when a low, deep voice joined my humming.
"Take my hand
Take my whole life too
'Cause I can't help
Falling in love with you."
I paused and turned around. The man, because no woman I knew in this time had that deep a voice, was tall with brown hair and green eyes. He was smiling at me and moved on to the next few lines.
"Like a river flows
Surely to the sea
Darling so it goes
Some things are meant to be."
I blushed when he stopped and looked expectantly at me. I swallowed thickly and cleared my throat.
"Take my hand
Take my whole life too
'cause I can't help
Falling in love with you."
He grinned, all straight, white teeth that didn't really belong in this time, and bowed. When he straightened up he held out his hand and I reached out to shake it. "My name is Kyle, I'm from Santa Fe 1999."
"Faith Draven, Phoenix 2017." | 2017-09-14T23:41:40 | 2017-09-14T17:00:02 | 252 | 41 |
[WP] When something is created (humans, fire, lotion, etc.), a god is born to reign over its domain. You are the god of what most consider to be a completely mundane object but, somehow, you are becoming the most feared.
Or revered. Both could be interesting! | I am a god of Man, and I have many names.
My first forms were simple. The beating of rock upon rock, the flash of sparks. The ignition, heat and fire. Gradually I became greater. Rock against rock, edges sharpened, tied and affixed to a handle. A blade through flesh. Rock against wood, extension of man's fist, blunt tool of building and taking lives.
For I am a God of both Life and Death. For I have given many and taken many more.
I became string betwixt wood. Torque and tension. Death from a distance. I became many a shape. The bearer of water. The maker of brick and stone and glass. For I come in many forms.
My image was made anew by my worshippers, the humans. The shape of a simple circle. The wheel. Transporter of people and goods, the workings of gears, the Great Cog of All Cogs, Springs, Pistons and Pinions.
I continued to take on new shapes, and new names. I became the God of the Seas, He Who Carries The Many Across The Waves. Then I became the God of the Air, He Who Carries The Many Across the Sky. I then became the God of the Heavens, he Who Now Carries The Many Betwixt the Stars. Then became the god of lightning, He Who Grants The Powers of the Old Gods Into The Hands of the Many.
I have taken on many forms, and given many things. I gave man the vaccine, the pill, anthrax, mustard gas, fire, the automobile, the smartphone and the space shuttle.
For I am the Mighty God. The Ever-Changing, Adapting God. The Man-Made God.
The God of the Machine. | I am a humble god. I was little more then wet dirt. You could find me along the banks of any river in the world. I was not rare, like my brother Gold. I existed in abundance, but nothing could grow in me, unlike my mother Soil. Like millions of other gods, I sat in quiet reflection, my life passing by without use or purpose.
That is, until humans found me, plucked me from the Earth, and formed me. Molded me. From raw earth into a shaped material, hardened and glazed and made to be useful by the guiding hand of the potter and the kiln master
Now I carry water across the scorching desert, bringing life to thirsty and the weary. I bring wine and spirits to revelers, and from my confines are poured out grain and seed and feed of all kinds, bringing sustenance to millions. On my skin was written the first words humans ever wrote, and I was made to carry your stories, and even now there are those who look at my skin and admire the stories that have been etched into me. I have been shaped into homes, art, and vessels. I have been broken and splintered and formed again and again and again. Each new form as inventive as the last, marked by the creative imperfections of humanity.
I am Clay, God of all that humans have made from me. I am looked at with awe in your houses of art, blessed and thanked when I bring you drink and food, and mended by your artisans when I break. You revere me, in all my forms, and for that, I could not be more grateful. | 2016-07-06T15:47:48 | 2016-07-06T15:12:25 | 49 | 18 |
[WP] Group of space Marines travels via a stargate like portal to an "virgin" world. However due to passing a black hole, each Marine arrives 100 years after the Marine in front of them, instead of 1-5 seconds.
Due to the portal queuing up the dozen or so Marines for 1200 years, travel to point of origin is not an option(it won't work until all the marines have made it through). Explain what each Marine sees as they step out of the portal, to discover they are alone, and possible viewing the remains/artifacts of those who came before them, and or the civilization created by those in front of them with native peoples. | "Mommy, mommy tell me again the story about the twelve gods"
Sigh "ok sweetie but then its time for bed ok"
"Ok, so long ago there were twelve gods, and while they all knew each other they did not live at the same time, legends said that they just sprang into existence one day, the first god named Randy was saddened that his brothers did not join him, so he set out to make the land more enjoyable for his brothers, however even with all his work his brothers refused to show, after a while he discovered us, and taught us his language, this was the beginning of the first age."
"The first god took it upon himself to teach us how to build a society, the work was slow and some tribes choose another path, but we flourished, within decades a village was erected that would eventually become the city of Gateway, but while the first god was powerful he was not immortal, before he died he made laws and a prophecy, he proclaimed his brothers would visit our world, he could not tell us when only that they would need and provide guidance."
"The second god arrived fourteen years later, and while the village still thrived many had forgotten the first gods rules, when the second god arrived he was distraught, we brought him into the village and showed him the sacred texts, when he wished to see the first gods body some of the younger generation fought him, only to be struck down by thunder, while he calmed down after seeing the first gods body he also got more and more depressed, he had missed his brother, and arrived to soon for his other brothers to join him."
"It was late at night when the second god left, he spend the next few years in the jungles surrounding the village, hunters would occasionally see him, and tell story's about the beasts that he brought down, he was revered as a master of the hunt, and many of the techniques we still use today were created by him, after many years he returned to the village, behind him was a species that was normally aggressive, but for some reason he obeyed the hunters every command, the hunters remaining years were spend training other hunters and more of what he called pets."
"Mommy how did the second god die?"
"No one knows sweetie, one day he undertook a solo hunt and never returned, some say he still hunts the plains to this very day."
"Now the third god, he ......' | I woke up in a strange, empty room covered with vines and other shrubbery.
The last thing I remember is walking out of the Stargate and falling. There were many groping appendages immobilizing me and now I'm God knows where.
My hands and feet are bound to a weird looking birch tree.
*This wasn't part of the plan. I'm supposed to rendezvous with Squad Leader McCay and start reconnaissance.*
Now it seems I'm a prisoner. I can't think straight with this throbbing, searing pain in my head. *I need water.*
I hear faint sounds in the distance. Like a campsite. Faint voices. Even laughing.
"HEEEEELP!"
"IS ANYBODY THERE?!"
*Fuck. Just keep it together. I need to come up with a plan.*
I hear rustling behind me. I strain my head to look but it's no use.
"Who's there?"
I hear a grunt, and then a creature steps into my peripheral vision. It looks like a member of those uncontacted human tribes living in isolation. Ragged, dirty skin. Disheveled clothing. Strange face-painting and piercings in the strangest places. It seems he's just staring at me.
"Can you get me some water?" No response. No movement. *Fuck me, I'm going to be a god damn human sacrifice for some cannibals.*
I try to make a slurping sound to explain my intent.
He moves in front of me and I can get a clear look at him. He's extremely old. Hunched forward with skin that would make a raisin jealous.
"Wata?" he says. I notice he has a gold tooth. *Well at least they have dental.*
"Yes! Yes, please!" He hands me a wooden cup of some strange, citrusy-smelling liquid. *My God they even have alcohol.*
I continue perusing this strange man while gulping down the surprisingly tasty beverage. I get to his belt and freeze.
*A standard-issue USMC water purifier.*
*No.* Adrenaline pumping, I look at his toothy smile again. *McCay?*
| 2014-09-02T14:24:23 | 2014-09-02T10:30:32 | 44 | 21 |
[WP] According to US Navy tradition, submarines that have not been confirmed to be destroyed, are still on patrol. Since WWII, there have been 52 submarines that haven’t yet returned to port, yet to report in, nor have been confirmed to be destroyed. You are one of those, on the eternal patrol. | For 60 years, we've been on patrol. For 60 years, we've been lost to the surface. Lost to the sun, to life, but never in purpose, never in memory. We began our service as a ship of war, and now we continue our service as a ship of salvation, of rescue.
​
Every Navy man knows that he may never return home, that he may be lost at sea. We submariners know this better than most, but we sailed off below the waves out of duty. On that fateful day when we left the world of the living some 60 years ago, we became a part of a different Navy. While no longer a ship of war, we're still a Navy ship, as Comm. Latta always reminds us. While the regs have loosened, when XO Lt. Mendenhall rings the bell, we all man our stations for we serve a greater purpose now: to guide those at sea when all hope is lost and to the guide those who become lost below the waves.
​
For 60 years, we manned our route. For 60 years of darkness and silence, we watched from below. When the wind and waves above howl and crash, we stand guard. When ships are tossed and fear grips those within, we stand guard below. Ever present, ever silent, ever watchful. And when the wind becomes silent and the waves grant mercy, we glide away into the dark to continue our patrol. As those above thank the heavens for salvation, we below will never be known for our duty.
​
Until one day, as the skipper barks out "Full fathom five and toll the bell" to start our patrol once more, we are found. Though our spirit roams, our original resting place remains in place. Our tomb, our silent and sacred tether to the world. What was once lost has now been found. And so our patrol now comes to an end and we are granted relief. And a silent promise has now been fulfilled. We, the USS Largarto, will now be laid to rest and we, her crew, shall be granted reprieve. We return to our families and loved ones to see them once more after our long patrol. And one final time, the bell rang out across the sea as our ship finally came home to port.
​
On June 2006, the US Navy found one of her lost submarines. The USS Lagarto was found in the Gulf of Thailand by a private expedition and later confirmed by the US Navy after their investigation. Though they remain below the waves in their final resting place, may their spirit return from patrol. May the lost be found and be laid to rest. Just as those below remain on patrol, we above must remain on patrol. Ever searching, ever present, never forgetting. | The maelstrom yanked our submarine far deeper than it was ever supposed to go, but didn’t destroy it. Looking back, I wish it had. Living a long life’s terrible when you’re nothing more than food.
I sit in my quarters, looking at pictures of my crew. Back then, before this happened, we were just boys who thought they were men. All these pictures have red Xs through them except mine and Mikey’s because they're all dead. She…she’s taken them all.
Know what I miss most? Scotch. It burns your throat, but in a good way. They said back then, I had a drinking problem. I never noticed. Apparently many members of my crew blamed me for this, assumed I was drunk and wrongly navigated us. But the whirpool…it just appeared, and by the time I’d noticed, there was nothing we could do.
We’re stuck between two rocks, unable to move. It only took her two days to slide her greasy fingers through the entrance and pluck one of us free. We barely know what she looks like, with some members *maybe* catching a glimpse of her face, claiming its fairly feminine. I've only seen her arm reach out of the darkness and that was more than enough. Every year she takes one of us. We’re nothing more than her food, and while we haven’t eaten in decades, we’re still alive. I don’t know how, but I suspect it’s her doing.
The clock strikes twelve. It’s New Years, and all across the world people are jumping up and down, cheering their hearts out and making vows to better themselves. Meanwhile I’m sitting here, holding my breath, hoping I don’t hear Mikey’s screams.
When I do, I sigh.
She took him.
I’m officially the last one left.
Deep breaths. Deep breaths. My heart’s trying to break out my chest. Part of me wants to just open the hatch and swim until I pass out but others have attempted that, and she just put them back here. I’ve tried getting the sub to move, tried sending out signals—but she’s kept us firmly held down, and at this point, I’m convinced there’s only one escape.
Reaching into my desk, I pull out my pistol.
It’s either this or being devoured alive.
I’m sorry my crew. I have failed you.
***
If you like this story, check out my sub /r/LonghandWriter or my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter) | 2018-10-17T08:18:21 | 2018-10-17T07:08:04 | 413 | 52 |
[WP] People level their skills in an RPG fashion and are conscious of their sudden jumps from novice to journeyman and so on. You've spent your life training a skill that is entirely useless until becoming invaluable once mastered - and you just mastered it. | "Sit up straight at the table." Jake's mother would always tell him.
But Jake would not listen.
"You could probably play basketball if you looked a little taller" Jake's dad would try to encourage him.
But Jake would not listen.
"You'll develop a hump in your back if you slouch like that" Jake's grandma would scold him.
But Jake would not listen, because he knew that he was not just slouching, but *crouching*, deliberately, everywhere he went and at every possible situation of the day. Jake was never much of a talker. In fact people would have called him a wall flower. He was always crouching, at school, at home, at the park, on awkward dates, at his high school graduation. He had even trained himself to sleep while crouching.
25 long years Jake crouched, in an odd, alert stance. Like a thief who had just got caught in the act. He attracted strange glances and social commentary that would make most flushed with embarrassment, but Jake didn't care. He knew what he was doing.
One fateful day, it all finally clicked. Jake got up from the john, stretched his legs, and got back into his regular crouch. But as he shuffled back into the office, something was different. He felt it. He was no longer shuffling, but sneaking, level 100.
"Anyone seen Jake?" His boss called out, walking right past him with a fat stack of paperwork.
"Jake was here just a moment ago" Katrina looked around, confused.
Jake's eyes grew wide with wonder. He snuck over to Katrina and waved his hands in front of her face. She kept staring at her computer screen, completely unfazed and oblivious to his presence. He ate some of the donuts at her desk, then stole her favorite stapler as his own.
Jake could go anywhere now. He was a shadow. A blip on life's radar that could not be perceived, remembered, or detected. He was a god.
"Fuck yeah!" Jake jumped for joy, almost straining his legs which were unused to the position.
"Whoa, Jake?" Katrina looked up from her work, "What are you doing at my desk?"
Startled, Jake immediately crouched back down and froze.
"Huh, that was weird." Katrina's eyes glazed over, immediately unaware of the events that just transpired.
Jake sighed, and smiled, his power was intact. There was only one thing left to do now, find the place they called Riften. | Stephanie was walking down the street looking for some new clothes to spoil herself with, when a particularly cute leather jacket caught her eye. Using her magnifying glass she saw that it was better than her old jacket by +7 warmth and +37 sex appeal.
"Ahh you have good taste" said the shopkeeper. "This jacket was made by the tiny hands of a small Asian child, significantly under paid, but with expert precision."
Stephanie couldn't wait to try it on. She rushed home. Showing off her best modelling pose to her mirror, she clicked her fingers.
LEVEL UP
She opened up the mobile app 'Stat-trak" to see her achievements and skills.
Hundreds of new skills and passive abilities appeared on her screen.
She couldn't believe her eyes.
Teleportation, pyrokinesis, telekinesis, time travel, time control, the list went on.
Looking at her most recent achievement she saw 'Clicking Goddess'. The flavor text read 'Able to bend space time on a whim'
What to do with this new found power. Clicking her fingers she changed her clothes into an elegant dress of grays and black pearls. Turning again to get mirror she looked herself up and down. "I like it" she smiled.
Opening her Stat-trak again she paid attention to her general stats. "WHAT THE EVER LOVING GOODNESS IS THIS" she shouted!
'Intelligence +999, Strength +999, Dexterity +999, Stamina +999, Balance +999' The list went on for 7 pages. Stephanie could not quite grasp how powerful she had just become.
Steph sat on her bed and thought for hours about what to do with these new found powers. "Should I tell anyone? Is what you are thinking" said a powerful voice. Quickly standing up and ready to fight Stephanie commanded "Who are you?"
"I am a friend" said the voice. A man walked into view. He was too charming, the kind of man you find modelling in magazines. Except he wasn't photo-shopped, he was real, standing now right in front of her.
Messing up her chain of thought, he spoke again "My name is Thor. Valhalla is under siege and you have been chosen as the champion to end this"
She squeaked "Thor! What have I ever done to deserve this power?"
Thor hastened his voice and extended his hand palm up "We have not time to discuss the details, are you with us?" | 2015-10-06T00:04:12 | 2015-10-05T23:32:30 | 427 | 38 |
[WP] The first manned mission to Mars is going as planned. As soon as the crew passes the moon, however, a message appears to them: "Warning. You are leaving the playable area." | [Poem]
My dearest Emily,
 
I know we've had our ups and downs.
I know we've shared laughs,
I know we've shared frowns.
I might have overreacted, leaving the earth in a wonky spacecraft.
 
But you must understand:
it's a wonderful chance, to do something great!
It's a wonderful opportunity, to decide my own fate.
 
The engineers even said
we'd be perfectly safe!
They showed us the math
during the presentation they gave.
 
My dearest Emily,
We'll fly past the moon and we'll soar past the stars,
I'll be home soon; but first I'm going to Mars!
 
The roaring of the rocket
and the pressure that builds until my ears plop.
The engine it stutters, it mutters and stops.
 
I'm holding my breath,
I'm scared to the bone;
Am I awaiting my death,
Or do I get to go home?
 
Oh my dearest Emily,
I've made a mistake.
I want to go back;
I'm no man for space!
 
Now the cabin
is filled with hysteria.
A warning pops up:
"You're leaving the playable area."
 
My dearest Emily,
I want my final words to be wise and profound,
As this might be it.
But all I can think of,
is "Shit."
 
^This ^was ^my ^first ^attempt ^at ^creating ^something ^here, ^I ^hope ^you ^enjoyed. ^Feedback ^is ^very ^welcome! | "Warning. You are leaving the playable area."
The message flashed across every crew member. Even when they shut their eyes the message could still be seen by them.
"You are not ready."
The crew started to panic. Some were crying. Some were screaming. Some were saying their last prayers. But not captain Meyers. He always kept his cool.
"Calm down, " Meyers told the crew. "We'll be alright. I've been through this before."
The crew looks at him in confusion. They feel a soothing feeling from his words though. They find comfort and
trust in their captain.
Meyers started preparations for wormhole travel.
"Trust in me. Wormhole travel is dangerous but I will get us to Mars. We won't let the Vorpsals win again, " Meyers nonchalantly said. " We will save the singular most important artifact to the human race. We will not stop. We will not give up. We can do this. We're on our way Opportunity. "
Meyers hits the thrusters, zooming past the barrier that dared to stop them. 10 seconds is all we have, Meyers thought to himself. What are the chances of finding a wormhole in time?
Suddenly, the crew sees it. Beautiful yet highly dangerous. No one dared to travel by wormhole, yet here they were. Meyers pushes the ship into the wormhole and prepares himself for the chaos that will insue. | 2020-01-08T04:24:08 | 2020-01-08T03:23:12 | 34 | 17 |
[WP] Do the crime, do the time - but the reverse is also true, you can choose to serve jail time in advance of any crime you want to commit. After voluntarily spending 50 years in prison one individual is set to be released and the world watches in anticipation of whatever they do next. | I walk out of the prison gates for the first time in 50 years, I breath free air for the first time in 50 long years. The world waited and watched my every movement to see what I do next. All week every Television in the prison has been tuned into the news to follow the coverage of my release, news reporters from all around the world have flown in to cover what was being considered the story of the year. Anyone who I would have any reason to harm has been preparing to protect themselves in case I come after them. My parents took me out of their will in fear that I would kill them for my inheritance, the local news network in my hometown even found one of my middle school bullies who bought a gun to protect himself. No one knew what I was gonna do, but I did, I've known what I was gonna do since I turned myself in. I went home, sat down in front of my computer and downloaded all the pirated movies and music I could, and there was nothing Kanye could do about it. | Tomorrow's the big day. The big Five-Five and the first taste of freedom I've ever really had. People questioned what it would do to a five year old. Nothing good I can assure you.
The inmates left me alone for the most part. No one wants to fuck with the kid who was here willingly, in more ways than one. A few of the inmates tried their damnedest to make sure stayed a kid for as long as possible. I didn't want that. I wanted to be hard. I wanted it to be easy for me when I got out.
Tomorrow's the big day. The big Five-Five and the day I show that shit Johnny what happens when you steal my sweet role.
Happy birthday to me. | 2016-02-23T19:02:05 | 2016-02-23T18:57:41 | 125 | 16 |
[WP] The universe was a program running in a giant computer, and animal sacrifices by early civilizations were simply a misunderstanding of the computer requiring "more RAM" | **The Land of Windows**
I knelt before the shaman, and he raised a stick strewn with bells, herbs, and beads above my head, shaking it with vigor as he shouted the initiation words. Behind me, an array of chimes rang out, imitatin the thunderclaps we heard each and every morning as the world came to life: "Ba Ba Da Bum, Ba Dum."
For years I had waited for this day. I had trained for hours, studied the ancient texts, read the rituals. And finally, today, I would become the shaman's apprentice. And I would see the Endless Stone.
Only the ordained could see the Endless Stone. It was 15 miles to the east of my village, stretching black as far as the eye could see to the west, north and south. And upon its vast surface were the words of the Gods. Words we dared not disobey.
The head shaman dropped his staff as a tear dropped from my eye, and he smeared red, green, blue, and yellow ritual squares upon my face.
"It's time boy," he said, his voice gruff, "for you to become a man." We set out walking east, me holding my vow of silence, him lecturing me on the past commands of the Gods. He did so with concern in his voice- their demands had been coming more frequently of late, and and their odd requirements had been a reason for concern.
"Ten years ago," he said, chewing on medicated bark, "came the first calling for RAM. So we caught every ram in the land, and set it out onto the Endless Stone, and had them slaughtered in sacrifice. After which we realized it wanted MORE ram, not less ram, so we found the last two remaining ram, and have multiplied them ever since in the fields. We pray it pleased them."
"Eight years ago, the Stone read 404, Not Found. So each villager gave up a prized possession until there were 404 accumulated, and we hid them around the village such that they were lost. We pray it pleased them."
"I will never understand the command six years ago," he said, and I wrinkled my nose in memory of the event, "but that year it required a Dump. So each day at town center we had a collective dump, and then carted the waste onto the Stone's surface. We pray it pleased them."
The smell, I remembered, had been unbearable.
"Four years ago there was a Stack Overflow, which is why pancakes have been forever banished from our village, and stacking them is punishable by death. Similarly cakes are allowed but two tiers, and new food types must be approved by a shaman. We pray it pleased them."
"Two years ago, it read Access Denied, so this is the first time I have returned since it banished me. We pray it pleased them, and wish to know the reason for their anger."
The shaman stopped talking as we neared the Stone. For the last mile he too walked in silence. Then, just before we ascended the cliff overlooking the stone, he whispered a prayer.
"Your holiness," he whispered, "we do as you Command, with no Option, and no Control, no Alteration, and no End, every time we Return until you welcome us Home."
Then we climbed the cliff, and the shaman screamed.
Ahead, instead of miles of black interspersed with text, there was only bright blue. Hundreds of white lines of text were across it's surface, and the screen fuzzed slightly.
"What is it?" I asked, breaking my vow as he pulled at his beard.
"Death," he shouted, "The very face if death."
Then he threw himsel from the cliff and onto the stone, where he met his own death.
But I was too young to die.
So I said nothing of the change when I went back to the village. I made up new commands from the gods for years. Each time I revisited the stone, it had grown more blurry, its state dissolving. Soon the white text shimmered around the blue as it decomposed, and the blue began to shift, static flickering across it's face, in great waves that rolled towards the cliff.
The year I died I gathered the village, and took them to the stone.
"This," I shouted, "is a gift from the gods."
And I showed them the sea, blue with white capped waves rolling across it's surface, as the image fell apart.
******
By Leo | "The Gods have spoken! We are to commence a Memory Dump. Or the Nation will be corrupted!" So proclaimeth the High Priest of Poseidon of Atlantis. If the gods were not satisfied with Ram, if our Path was not to be found in their Divine Will, then so it must be that this Memory Dump would appease them.
The High Priest spent weeks in prayer, learning from the gods what the Memory Dump was, and how it must be performed. So they spoke, "The entire Platform cannot run with the limited resources! Space must be created by Dumping Memory."
True, our lands were fuller than ever, overflowing with so much life, human and animal. Our great cities bustled with activity, and our advancements into the energy of the universe was soon to catapult us into the stars. But our Gods, our supreme Deities who had led is since our creation, out of Lemuria's tyranny, and away from Mu's barbarism, warned us now. So we heeded them, certain that with this we could avoid a most certain destruction and reach up to where they existed.
The Honored Guard were sent out to each city. Great pits were dug into the ground where the exes, those who had failed in maintaining personal happiness, of each city were to be sacrificed. Alongside this preparation, the apothecaries toiled endless nights creating their greatest works, Forgetting Fog. They were to be burned as the exes were sacrificed.
We all assumed, as I suppose did the High Priest, that these exes were to be the source of the corruption. In the days leading up to the Memory Dump, they were corralled, herded like cattle and the Ram we had once sacrificed before to the Great Pits. But no shame was to be brought to them. They were to be cast down, but surely lifted up by the Gods to be saved, "Fixed, purged of their Errors" as the High Priest said.
The people in the farmlands and coasts gathered into the cities. Only then did we truly understand how many of us there were. In every city we choked the streets, squeezed between our massive buildings and our great roads. For three days we waited as the entire nation gathered.
The day came so fast. The dawn broke and the exes were brought forward. In a great parade they marched, dressed in the finest each city could offer. Here the High Priest asked the Gods again and they responded (or so said the High Priest) with, "Commencing Memory Dump."
The Forgetting Fog formed from the great burning lanterns of the apothecaries as the first exes went careening down to their end. So it continued, cheers and accolades of their great sacrifice while the Forgetting Fog spread. The slowness of it all made it so eerie.
Then, maybe ten minutes later, a commotion started near a lantern. A man, who had been cheering moments before was suddenly incensed of the goings on. A few seconds later, another, then another. Before long, the confusion had transformed into a riot, furious and unstoppable. The Forgetting Fog worked all too well, and suddenly, the each city was embroiled in riot.
Those great pits of honorable sacrifice suddenly turned to destruction, as angry men and women found them a perfect dumping spot for their newfound enemies. Those too far from the pits chose more ignoble routes, spilling blood in streets that had never before seen such violence.
As for me, the Forgetting Fog never found me. I was too far away. I fled from my city, out into the emptied farmlands. I could not rest for soon the riot found purchase there. So into a Monastery I fled. I found it empty, and watched that night in complete horror as my home, as far as my eyes could see, burned. All of Atlantis, it's great and majestic strength, set alight in a single evening. I don't know how long I pined for it to stop, through the whole night at least.
Some time in the morning, cowering cold and broken in that Monastery, I heard a voice, a soothing male voice with a kind of clip to it that made it sound almost real. A god, it must have been a god. Surely they have come to fix things, repair what our folly had broken.
And so he spoke, "Memory Dump complete. Commencing reboot." | 2015-10-11T10:07:18 | 2015-10-11T09:56:36 | 35 | 12 |
[WP] "Hands up! Gimme yo wallet!" The man quickly lifted a small pistol to my head, but before I could react, he pulled the trigger. He probably should not have done that. | 'Yo wallet'. He really said 'yo'.
For some reason, that irked Grimm more than the bullet that tore through his skull. A rotating bit of metal that ripped through his brains like a hot knife through butter, creating a crater as it exited through his left eye and tumbled out of noticeable existence.
Grimm collapsed to the ground, hitting the floor with a thud onto his hands and knees. A long, aggravated groan unfurled from his throat. It wasn't the first time he was shot. Or murdered, even. But it was annoying, and all he wanted was a can or two of Morgan and coke.
He planted one foot under himself. And rose to his full, if unimpressive height, before turning on his heel. Even if the pure hate in his unaffected eye, pure and unrefined as it was, didn't do much, the gaping hole would give anyone pause.
For the poor bastard who shot him, it might not have mattered. Even having a damn Deagle (where *did* he get that?) that proved it could kill...
That might have been the problem. It proved it could kill. And humans didn't do too well having their skulls excavated of their brains by a large calibre bullet. And here was Grimm, having had his brains painted across the floor, responding with an angry stare, to put it mildly.
If one was to be charitable, the mugger looked as if he soiled himself. Violently.
"Run."
The mugger flinched.
"ARE YOU FUCKING DEAF?!"
The words, roaring not just from Grimm, but almost as if from everywhere, hit the man like a sledgehammer. He slipped, landing on his backside as his fallen weapon, having been loosened from his grip like a turd in his bowels, fired a round into the darkness. The piteous fool started to scramble away.
"RUN, FORREST! RUUUN!"
And like that, he finally remembered how to run. Slam one foot down, push off the floor, and repeat with the other foot. Repeat until one is thoroughly away from the screaming youth who, by all rights, should be dead.
He turned the corner in record time.
Grimm stood there for a moment. Brain squelched and bone cracked as his body repaired itself. He lamented not having a chance to scare the worthless cunt to literal death, but...
"Make sure he's aware of everything." he ordered. "Turn the prick into a *nice scarf* or something."
A monochrome blur shot past him. It leaped onto one wall, jumped to another, and darted around the corner after the bastard. | My hand froze in my pocket, my fingers gracing the fake leather of my father’s old wallet like it was the last thing I would ever touch. Time slowed as the scent of gunpowder and sweat overwhelmed my lungs, the cold feeling of the barrel igniting into a glorious heat of power.
D A M I E N
My eyes shivered in fear, in the pre-death of finality. In front of me, he stood, hands clasped behind him, the grey-white of a New York winter lighting his form. His shadow was small in the alley, then grew taller, wider until I could feel his face before my ear.
“Damien, do you wish to live?”, he said, his voice rattling like bells in my head. I could feel his breath on my skin now, a mercurial spill flowing down my neck and onto my chest.
“Please don’t kill him, please, please, please”, I whispered faintly in my head, the bells rattling louder and louder and Louder and LOUD
“One who breaks over greed deserves no mercy from a judge”, it spoke louder then the bells, now a faint ringing in my ears.
“I am no murderer, do not kill him!”
“A life for a life, and a pool of blood is balanced by the intent from whence it occurred.”
“You know that is not true, you demon! You’re a hypocrite, and a monster, and-
“the only way you live”. The mercurial spill widened, my right arm warm and wet and tainted.
My breath was catching, my eyes shook, shook, shook,
still.
“I, Gage Victor Damien, accept the deal of the Gargoyle of The Bat. Please, don’t make him suffer long”. The bells rattled loud, loud, Loud, LOUD, L O U D
The mercurial spill widened, my right arm warm and wet and tainted. The man’s pistol stood crushed at my feet, the bullet blackened and blown against the barrel. The man was collapsed in a heap at my feet, whatever remained of his head and chest clawed into stringent threads of red gore. A shadow passed over my head, horns of curved ebony darker than the soot and gravel. Chimes rang from a windowsill outside the alleyway, the coming and goings of those people so unafraid.
“Be thankful they are not today, Damien”, the bells rang for not the last time. | 2022-04-11T00:49:03 | 2022-04-10T23:27:39 | 220 | 72 |
[WP] Your superpower is to control time, however you are considered too young to join the superhero teams. So in the mean time, instead of fighting the bad guys, you fix the collateral damage. | Even though I am only 15 all I want in life is to become a superhero and join the Pyramid, an elite group of Heroes that save the world constantly. The only problem is that since I am too young they will not allow me on the team. This infuriates me but it is what it is. In order to still put my best foot forward and help society I decide to minimize the collateral damage.
My power allows me to stop time completely for everyone besides myself. In this state of time pause I can freely move any substance that I can touch. I had a chemistry friend of mine design these gloves that can withstand up to 1200 degrees celsius. With these gloves and my powers I can redirect anything to avoid collateral damage and minimize civilian harm.
As my city's number one hero, Jet Stream, is fighting with his arch nemesis, The Condore, they are constantly putting the people at risk by needlessly throwing each other at buildings and flying through windows sending glass and metal plummeting below where bystanders are mindlessly enjoying their day. This is my time to shine.
I freeze time and take the elevator up to the floor where a Jet Stream has is about to smash Condore through a building. It is there that I grab them and redirect them to go straight up as opposed to horizontally through who knows how many buildings. When i get the trajectory right I then use my grappling system that I "borrowed" from the police to scale the side of the buildings gathering the materials that were falling onto the heads of civilians and gather them back into the building safely on the floor. Once I have gathered all the debris possible I go back to the building put on a jacket to cover my gear and resume time.
As time resumes the battling duo are sky rocketed upwards over a mile above the city skyline and Jet Stream beat the Condore into submission with no collateral damage or civilian casualties. The only part of this that aggravates me is that the heroes always play these instances off as them avoiding the damage instead of admitting that they have no clue what happened while the were frozen in time for a whole hour while I, The Hourglass, was really the one who saved all these people.
I get back to my apartment in Delta City and see a masked figure sitting on my couch, I recognize him instantly. The famous hero of Gotham, Batman. "Took you long enough." | Decided to put an odd spin on it, hope you enjoy!
​
"God *fucking* dammit," I say as I walk through the crowded warehouse. Some injuries are worse than others. Some aren't ever recovered from. My nickname is Saving Angel, and I save lives. I walk toward the newest person at our little volunteer hospital, a henchman who had no idea what he was doing, covered in laser burns.
"Please...help. It hurts," he says, struggling to speak. I inject the sedative.
"Go to sleep, please," I say as he slips off. we can't do much as it is, with most of the hospitals filled. I loosen him from the time stream and fast forward him about a month. He wakes up fully healed. Others aren't so lucky. It hurts to see what suffering is left in their wake. I'm generally a positive person, but, seeing this makes me feel hopeless. Hell, half the time the so-called "hero teams" cause more damage than they fix.
By the end of the day, I need a stiff drink and sleep, as always, so I go home, make myself a Rusty Nail, and sit down to watch the news. Those "heroes" are goddammed glory hogs, that's all. As I take a sip, my TV goes static. I look up, mildly disappointed. SNL was up next. Then, I hear a voice.
"Hello, John"
"How do you know my name?"
"You don't like them, do you, John."
He's done his homework.
"N-no. Not at all. I wanted to join them, but now I wish I could change something"
"Well, then, I have a job offer for you. How would you like to become a force of nature? Put an end to the tyranny of heroes and villains, not to put to fine a point on it."
"I... would like that"
"In that case, Welcome, Destroying Angel, to the Surtr League" | 2019-10-29T07:14:51 | 2019-10-29T07:08:40 | 57 | 17 |
[WP] For every 10 lives you save, you get an extra life for yourself, shown as a number visible only to you on your wrist. Waking up with bad hangover after a particularly rowdy night, you look at your arm through blurry eyes to see the faintly glowing number: 700,000,000. | Once I figured out the cheat, it was easy.
Save ten lives, get a free one. Like collecting coins in Mario, that's all. The difference was, there was no clear rules on how their lives had to be put in danger.
Yesterday morning was just like every other.
Wake up, check my wrist. 308 lives saved up. Not bad, not bad. I made my way through the bustle of the city. It was cold that morning, but not too cold for me. I shrugged my jacket off and handed it to a homeless guy who was shivering in the drizzle.
Glance at my wrist.
309.
Nice, he was a zero! I slipped him a twenty from my pocket and told him to stay warm tonight, maybe try to get out of the rain.
He thanked me profusely as I continued on.
At the crosswalk, the woman waiting beside me was staring at her phone. Typical. The light turned green, then the signal chirped for the pedestrians to cross.
I threw my hand out and block her path. She glared at me and muttered "asshole", completely oblivious to the cab that just sped by. The cabbie also had a phone in his face.
"Sorry." I mumble back.
A few more blocks of walking, mostly uneventful. As I passed by a shop, I managed to swipe a new jacket off the rack just outside. It wasn't exactly my style, but I never seemed to keep jackets for very long anyway.
I finally reach the building I want. The old courthouse is mostly a historical tourist trap these days, but if you know the right places to go, you can dodge the rent-a-cops and get up into the clock tower. It's nice having breakfast up there, you can see the city for miles around.
I ate the egg and cheese burrito I brought along, some of the juice running down my hand. I popped open my briefcase. Inside, like every other day, was my rifle waiting for assembly.
I put it together with the same practiced technique I used the previous few months. It didn't have to be perfect, just needed to be capable of firing. That way, I could always pull the trigger.
And therefore, aiming at some unknown passerby and then choosing *not* to pull the trigger would be like saving their life.
I looked through the sights and found a small group of people at the newsstand, like always.
I centered the crosshair on their heads, one by one, then said to myself "Don't do it, man. You don't have to kill them."
Maybe it was a bit ritualistic, maybe even utterly pointless, but it didn't hurt anyone.
The juice from my burrito was making my finger a little slick. I should've brought a napkin, but I forgot it at home. It didn't matter, that's why God made pants, right?
A gust of wind picked up out of nowhere, making me shiver a bit. This new jacket wasn't nearly as good as the last one, I'd need to replace it on the way home to-
*BANG!*
My ears were ringing. I could hear anything, but from my vantage point I could see people running and screaming.
All running away from the clock tower.
Oh my God. The egg-juice on my hand made my finger slip. I pulled the trigger. Across the street, a body was lying in a growing pool of blood, head conspicuously absent.
Maybe I could do something, exchange all these saved up lives for one take-back?
I glanced at my wrist
7,002,344.
I blinked and looked back at the body on the sidewalk. It was just ... Lying there. Not getting up.
*Asshole, get up!*
I glanced back at my wrist. Still there. 7,002,344.
Something clicked into place in my brain. I'd just shot a man in the street from a high vantage point. And I could hear sirens already.
I ran. I didn't even bother trying to be subtle about it. I just grabbed the rifle and briefcase and raced out of the clock tower and into the street. Not far away, a crowd of people still running away. I caught up with them and blended in. Somewhere in the courthouse, I'd managed to stow my rifle in my briefcase, but I honestly couldn't tell you how.
It didn't matter. As I ran with the crowd, I glanced at my wrist.
7,002,344.
I managed to break away from the crowd and take a long way back to my apartment. I turned on the TV and grabbed a glass of water to calm my nerves.
"-ing news if you're just joining us, a statewide manhunt abruptly came to an end just moments ago when the prime suspect in the CDC Heist was gunned down in the streets downtown. Police are not releasing any details at this time, but eyewitnesses say there were no police present when the gunshots went off, and some bystanders say they saw someone in the courthouse clocktower."
Holy shit.
Holy fucking shit.
"We are also getting some unconfirmed reports that authorities are now reviving the manhunt with a new suspect, but as we mentioned, the police are not releasing any details at this time."
I sat down on my sofa and stared at my wrist.
7,002,344.
All it took was a messy breakfast burrito. | These days it was next to impossible to become a police officer, paramedic, or even a firefighter. Everyone and their dogs were trying to enter these jobs, to have the chance of adding lives to their wrist.
It happened instantly, without word or warning, everyone woke up with the number "0" on their right wrist. At first nobody knew what it was for, an occasional report or internet post about someone managing to get "0.1" made everyone go crazy trying to figure out how to increase their own numbers.
Barely 3 months had passed before the world figured out what the numbers meant. Someone who managed to get "1.1", which was also the only confirmed person to have their number past "0.4", died. Through traffic cams police learned that he was hit and killed by a car while crossing the street. But what frightened police the most was the reports of the same dead guy clocking into work the next morning.
​
With this and some trial and error, we learned that these "numbers" were extra lives that we had earned. "For every 10 lives you save, you get an extra life for yourself" is what the official explanation of it is. After that people started calling them "Respawns", due to the fact that if you died with an extra life you would simply wake up in the last place you fell asleep.
​
Though you could live again, that didn't mean your body just magically disappeared. Death was still a messy and ultimately inconvenient thing, with your previous body in all of it's glory still needing to be cleaned up. Understandably this made it near impossible to tell who was really dead and who wasn't, even more so when it came to the elderly who had managed to rack up enough lives saved to earn themselves a "Respawn". Once they died from old age they would undergo a particular change, their bodies would look as though they were in the prime of their youth, while all memories, reflexes, etc. would be retained.
With "pseudo-immortality" becoming a realistic thing, many jobs and services that focused around saving or helping lives quickly filled up. Along with that many military branches started openly recruiting people that had saved up extra "Respawns", offering incentives and rewards if they were to conscript and fight in their armies.
Along with this magical number, though, were some rules. Saving someone that you originally planned on killing by not killing them would not add on to your "Respawn" count. Killing yourself in order to save someone else, whether it be an exchange of places, you jumping in front of them etc, would add onto your "Respawns", but only if you had enough "Respawns" in the first place to survive the original death. (AKA if you don't have at least 1 "Respawn" when you sacrificed yourself then you wouldn't get that extra life and instead you would just die as your death takes priority over the gain-age of "Respawns).
But enough about that, let me tell you a story about how I managed to save the whole world...
I woke up feeling worse that usual, my head was pounding and I swear someone was ringing a bell in my head. I'm not usually a heavy drinker but when my friends showed up at my house after years of not seeing them how could I say no?
"Gah damnit, just stop ringing already!" I shouted to no one, hoping to offset the ringing with my loud voice. I live a normal life, moved out when I was eighteen and quickly went to college, set on getting my masters in Computer Science. I never really showed much interest when it came to adding "Respawns" to myself. While immortality sounded fun I couldn't help but think about how lonely it would become after the first few hundred or so years.
After shouting some more I managed to get myself out of bed, stumbling down the stairs to check the fridge for food.
"Mmm I'll have to go to the store again, I swear I always forget to grab bread while I'm out." Grumbling to myself I went to grab a cup from the cabinet for some water. My headache was picking up again and I was contemplating on whether or not I should just shoot myself and use a "Respawn" just to get rid of the damn pain. While I didn't have too many "Respawns" I still had enough to get by.
Looking at my wrist to see if it was worth it, my whole body froze as the cup that was in my hand fell to the ground.
"Wh- what? What the hell is this!? SEVEN HUNDRED MILLION RESPAWNS?!" I yelped in shock, surprise and confusion colouring my face like a canvas. How is this possible? All I did last night was drink with a couple of my friends.. right?
\~\~
Hi guys! This is my first time trying out one of these writing prompts and I would love to hear what you guys this about this! I'm sorry if it's a tad exhaustive at first without any real story, haha I'm a bit new to writing. Please be gentle but truthful with your feedback and thanks for giving this a read! <3
\-zEragon\_ | 2019-08-28T13:44:08 | 2019-08-28T13:31:27 | 26 | 10 |
[WP] Your superpower is the ability to give other people a superpower of your choice. Your only restriction is that you can never give the same power twice. You've been at this a very long time, and you need to build a new superhero team to save the world once again.
Edit: This is my first WP, and it was so much fun! You are a talented bunch of folks. I'm really surprised at how entertaining they were. I love that everyone came from a different angle. Thank you!
p.s. /u/WratWrangler wrote my favorite. | Oh no. Not _another_ supervillain. How _scary_. For the fourth time this week.
"Bow down," he cried. Most people were just walking around him, as he floated at about head height. "Bow down before Necroman!"
Necroman‽ That's just about the stupidest name I've ever heard.
"Behold, the zombie apocalypse!"
Yeah, yeah… Oh, that actually _is_ a zombie. I stop to watch. He's actually got a good set of powers there. If he learns to use them right, he might start to cause an actual problem. For instance, he could make the zombies kill people, then reanimate their corpses. Assuming that he— oh, Channel 6 has arrived; maybe he'll be significant enough to get on the news! Anyway, assuming that he is capable of _controlling_ the zombies, he might stand a chance of doing something significant.
"Zombie, I command you to stand still!"
The zombie has stopped its aimless wandering and is now stationary. That was a lot of power exerted for such a small task. Enough to cause "Necroman" to fall from his very great height in the sky _almost_ above our heads, and land awkwardly on the ground.
I'm not the only one in the crowd who chucked at that. Yeah, he's had his fun; I think it's time to neutralise him now.
"Silence! You laugh now," he says, in _such_ a dramatic voice you could almost miss his voice squeaking, "but will you laugh when I unleash the apocalypse?"
Oh, this is going to be _good_!
"Zombie," he cries, "I command you to find and kill every human, and make them zombies, and give them this same command!"
That seems… curiously formal. Almost as though he'd been planning this. Staggering, he continues:
"Fools! I am the only one who can stop them now!"
Repeating cries of "Fools!", he backs away, trips, and falls over. It's a comical sight to behold. I decide that now's a good time to neutralise him without anyone noticing, since he's not using his powers anyway. I close my eyes to concentrate; formal logic doesn't come easily to me, even if I am simply rehashing the same old template.
It's at this point that I hear a woman scream, and then a sickening crunch. And then silence. And then panic. Doesn't matter; neutralising him just got more urgent, that's all.
Oh, shut up! It's hard to concentrate when people are screaming. What was it called? Mitrial. Yes, mitrial.
I murmur under my breath, "I hereby grant the one known by me as 'Necroman' the power to permanently neutralise all superpowers possessed or controlled by the one known by me as 'Necroman' at the time of invocation of said power, excepting said power, by the closing of his mitrial valve," before quickly opening my eyes and assessing the situation. Every time his heart beats, "Necroman" will lose all of the powers he's got at that time – no more chances for him – which should mean that the zombies will stop. Now all I need to worry about is not being crushed in the stampede.
I can hear the sound of snapping and cracking and squelching and groaning. I shouldn't be able to hear the sound of snapping and cracking and squelching and groaning because people are screaming.
People aren't screaming as much.
Crap. Time to run. | ######[](#dropcap)
"Get it out of my face, you monster!" Kennan smacked at the enormous jell-o blob Eliza had shot at him.
"Well, maybe I would if I didn't constantly find *grasshoppers* in my bed!" Eliza shouted, lobbing another stream of jell-o at him, until he was covered in all different colors of the bouncy, viscous material.
"Guys, please, we're here to talk to Gus. Can you stop fighting for just one second?" Marlene rolled her eyes, and with a snap of her fingers, a giant spring appeared between the two heroes who were about to lunge at each other. Instead, they bounced off the spring and shot backwards. Marlene shot Ben a look.
He glanced up from his book for a second before looking back down. Seconds later, cushions appeared under the two, right where they fell.
A small click, and the door leading towards the bedroom opened just a sliver. Kennan and Eliza stopped fighting, clambering off the pillows and standing at attention in a row with the other two, ready to--in a certain sense of the word--meet their maker.
"Gus!" Marlene exclaimed, as the door opened wider and a grey haired old man shuffled out in his Donald Duck pajamas. "You called for us."
She was met with a grunt as Gus headed toward the kitchen. He poured himself a cup of coffee, then shuffled back into the living room, where the four of them still stood. He gave them a side eye. "What are you guys doing here?"
Kennan's brows knit together. "You told us we had to save the world and gave us these powers, then *dumped us* in Antarctica and told us to come find you, and this is all you have to say for yourself?!" His voice gradually became more and more high pitched as he spoke.
Gus sniffed, then looked at the four of them. "You guys don't look any worse for the wear."
"That's only because we went home first and changed." Eliza rolled her eyes.
Gus took a slow sip of the coffee, the only sound in the room the long, steady sound of his slurping as he took in the four teenagers that stood in front of him. He'd had no choice. The threats only loomed larger, and he could no longer create superheroes the way he once could. His imagination was beginning to fail him, and his options were running out.
"Go out, git," he said. "I can't help you."
"What's the threat even? What are we supposed to be doing?" Ben asked.
Gus stared at him for a moment, his expression blank. Then he shrugged his shoulders. He was old now, and tired. He'd saved the world more times than Spiderman, Batman, and Superman combined. In fact, he'd given them their powers. "I don't know," he said. "Go ask someone else. Go watch the news or something."
Then he walked back into his bedroom and closed the door. What did they want from him? He'd already given them everything he could. His superpower wasn't knowing what the threat was. It was preparing for it.
****
r/AlannaWu | 2019-01-20T12:32:00 | 2019-01-20T11:39:55 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] You’ve been cursed to adapt to anything that kills you. Unable to be die, you decided to take up monster fighting. What could go wrong | "So, let me get this straight, you can't die."
I gave a small nod to my companion, before resuming my efforts. We had been tasked with removing a Vine Stalker from the forest, after it had been attacking local villages. Its name came from its bizarre body, made of hundreds of intertwined vines. They were dumb, vicious beasts who acted on instinct.
Of course, hunting one in its lair was suicide. It could meld through plants with ease, letting it strike from all directions. So we had to bait it out, and kill it then. With my... condition, i made the perfect bait. Not that she believed me of course. No-one did at first.
"There, that should do it."
I stood back up, looking at my result. It was a simple tripwire, leading to a net hanging up above. This was one I had acquired years before, during my misspent century of attempted self termination. It was designed to not let anything escape, binding them in place. Once it fell on the beast, I could stab it from the front, whilst Ginra applied one of her many poisons.
"It should, but I'm still having a hard time believing what you say."
I shrugged.
"Listen, it's not my place to make you believe it beforehand. Trust me, this will show you."
She shook her head.
"Whatever, just make sure it gets in the trap."
I grinned at her.
"Oh I will."
She rolled her eyes, scrambling into the treeline. I left her get in position, listening for her whistle. It came in a sharp burst, and I rolled my shoulders.
"Lets do this."
I casually cut my arm, the pain bearly registering. I had died so many times I had grown pretty numb to this sort of thing. I squeezed my blood out, flicking it around. I needed to smell good for it.
It took a few minutes for my scent to fill the air. But soon enough I felt the rumble as something charged towards me. Something big and hungry. It burst into the clearing, snarling. I got my first good look at this beasty, sizing it up.
It was roughly the size of a bear, though wolf in shape. Seven additional vines rose from its back like tentacles, waving through the air. As it got sight of me four came flying down. As I jerked back each wrapped around a limb. I paused, realising what was about to happen.
"This will be new."
Sure enough it pulled. My body strained, bone and muscle locking together. But mere meat could not withstand the power of magical vines. I felt my body tear asunder, legs split individually along with my right arm. My left was dangling from its grasp, holding up the rest of my torso. I felt organs slip out from my new hole, an odd feeling I had to admit.
It hurt. I was surprised at how bad it was, but still not the worst I had felt. That went to the time I decided to jump in front of dragons breath. That sucked. I swung from its grip, wondering what sort of adaptation I would get this time.
It roared, stepping into the clearing. The vine holding my right arm dropped it, wrapping around my torso instead. I assumed it was now going to eat me, when I realised what had changed. I was in pieces, but I could still feel each part. I grinned, pulling my right arm across to the tripwire. I put pressure on it, until it finally released and the net fell.
Ginra appeared, her face pale. But she was still a professional, aiming her arrow at the centre mass. The net enveloped us, and she fired into its core. The beast roared again, sounding almost like a scream and writhing in agony. Unfortunately it pushed me down, running my face into the dirt. Still I yelled, even as dirt hit my tongue.
"Good shot!"
"What?!"
I sighed. She definitely hadn't believed me. But as its movements slowed, I was able to move my detached arm over.
"I said I can't die. This was definitely an interesting experience though."
I managed to remove the crumbling vine from my upper body, picking up my detached limb. I let iut a sharp breath as it reattached, feeling dust and small pebbles slowly forced out.
"I don't suppose you could help me get the rest of my body? I appear to have lost it."
She came into view, wide eyed. I smiled at her, waving at the sudden end to my body.
"I could really use your help. I'm not half the man I used to be."
She blinked, before a slightly hysterical laugh came out. I winced at it. I hoped I hadn't scarred another person. It was getting harder to find people willing to work with me. | I re-read the online ad.
Multiple slots open. Desired candidate must be okay with the sight of blood and guts, have training in both martial arts and firearms. A flexible set of morals would also be okay.
I called the number that accompanied the ad, "Hunters for Hire, Teri speaking, how may I direct your call?" a rather bubbly female answered.
"I'm calling about your job advertisement," I replied, thinking bounty hunting could be a fun job.
The interview was set up for later that day, some other applicant had canceled, and Teri saying "I could be there in 30 minutes, and they could see me." thinking back it didn't sound like a question. Still, after telling Teri I wasn't sure the traffic would allow for the timing her response was a fairly nonchalant "Oh, don't worry, you'll make it. See you then." I took down the address and hopped in my car.
Not sure how I made it across LA in 25 minutes, but I'm guessing that the fairy godmothers had some kind of hand in it. Those ladies were a class act, and getting one assigned to you was better than winning the lotto.
I walked into an old bank building that had been converted into an office. I introduced myself to Teri and was ushered into one of the nicest offices I'd ever seen. In front of me were two men and a woman. They were introduced as Evan, Johnny, and Shannon. Everything about Evan screamed vampire. Johnny and Shannon, on the other hand, seemed human. Interesting.
Johnny looked like he'd been in a fight recently. His face and arms sported a few bruises and a black eye, and his weight rested on the right side, a broken rib, maybe? Shannon smelled of gunpowder.
Introductions out of the way, they asked why I'd applied. Knowing at least one of them was a super, let me guess their business.
"I know there's some crazy shit out there. I mean, one doesn't live to be 972 years old without knowing about the supernatural world."
Evan and Shannon were better at hiding their shock than Johnny, but all did a pretty good job. Evan was the first to speak. "Well, I can tell you're not a Vampire. You're way too tan for that. Far too young for the Angels and Demons. Don't smell of the immortal court. Honestly, I'm at a loss as I can't peg your type of supernatural."
"Human turned immortal," I replied. "A rather nasty hag cursed me for turning her vampire son down. Damn bitch knew it was a curse but called it a "blessing." I had to use air quotes. "I can't die, and if I do, give me about 20 minutes, and my body reknits. Another 20, and I'm awake just like fucking sleeping beauty. The curse was, 'Girl, one day, my boy will have his chance with you. Until then, you'll have the ability to adapt to anything that kills you.' Let me tell you, the first thing I did was kill her precious boy. The second thing I did was kill her before she could try to retract it. Don't think the hag could, but didn't want to give her a chance to either."
"I've learned every martial arts style ever invented, come up against about every gun out there, and yeah, my collection is "loaned" (more air quotes) out to museums regularly as they pay pretty well, and well bills, and all that jazz."
Oversharing, definitely, but in my defense, they had to be Monster Hunters. I don't think there was much I could say that would shock them.
Shannon, Evan, and Johnny looked at each other momentarily, and finally, Shannon reached out her hand. "Welcome to the team. Pretty sure you know what we do. This is our third expansion as a firm. We offer apartments to those who want them, onsite medical, and a decent pay package. Teri will get you all the necessary documents and waivers for the court. Welcome to the Hunters for Hire team. We'll introduce you to the team you'll work with tomorrow."
And that, my friends, is how I got into monster hunting.
*Author's Note: Thank you to the amazingly talented Jonathan Yanez for allowing me to borrow his world. If this sounds like your jam, please read his series* [*Hunters for Hire*](https://www.amazon.com/Hunters-for-Hire-6-book-series/dp/B08N499CHL)*.* | 2022-11-03T17:13:57 | 2022-11-03T16:15:20 | 233 | 71 |
[WP] Every day when you return home from work, your dog greets you by bringing you a seemingly random item, which will turn out to be useful throughout the day. One day, after a peticularly stressful day of work, your dog greets you with a sword at his feet, happily wagging his tail. | "God, what an awful day!" I wailed as I sat in my car ready to go home. Recalling how nothing was going right today. I was more clumsy and made mistakes every second.
"Should I even be driving? I'm a hazard right now."
I turned on the car and made my way out of the parking lot, "Look out people, shit might happen because of me."
Surprisingly nothing happened on my way home. Not that I mind of course.
I dragged myself to the door and heard tip tapping as I inserted the key. "I guess it's not that bad." I smiled to myself.
As I opened the door, Rufus rushed out to greet me. He ran around a bit before finally jumping on me. What a fluff ball of joy! Always happy to see me. "Come on boy! Let's go inside now. "
I fed him and sat to eat some pizza I had leftover yesterday. Leftover pizza always tastes better the next day. As I was finishing my last slice, there was a scraping sound coming from outside. I looked around for Rufus, he probably went out without me noticing.
There was barking and clanking sounds coming from the backdoor. "Rufus? What's wrong boi?" I got up and opened the door.
Now, I don't really know how he does it; he always finds the strangest things when he's outside. The weird part is there's no sign of holes, he doesn't dig. I used to suspect he somehow snatches things from the neighbors but there's no way. The fences are too tall and there's no holes or cracks where he can fit.
I was blinded a bit from the reflection of the object he was holding. As he tried to bring it inside I got a better look at it.
"No no no!"
Opening quickly as I could to remove the sharp blade carefully from his mouth.
"Rufus! How the hell... Where'd you get this from!?"
I put it to the side as I was more worried to examine my dog's mouth.
"Huh, no cuts. You lucky son of a gun."
He looked at me as if nothing seemed dangerous about what he just did.
"You could have become joker's dog you know."
I grabbed the sword. "I really wanna know where you got this. There's not even a bit of dirt on it."
Rust was the only thing slightly on the beautiful blade. I took it to my personal workshop, where I kept the objects Rufus gave me. As I wiped it down, something glimmered on the handle.
"Ouch!" Quickly withdrawing my hand and looking at the wide cut on my finger.
" Damn that's sharp. How did Rufus carry this without getting cut?" I looked down at him, gone.
"Rufus!?"
He was here just a second ago. How'd he even manage to get out with the door closed and not make a noise.
I opened the door, looking down at my hand to make sure I was pressing correctly to stop the bleeding. "Rufus!"
I must have fainted from the sight of blood and enter a dream. This wasn't my backyard. Rufus was nowhere to be found.
I closed the door several times and opened it in silence trying to process where I was. I tried to see if the scenery would change the more times I reopened the door. You know, like how it happens in a dream. It stayed the same.
I finally took a step out, there was nothing but forest. More to my left was a cliff, down below was a city? There was people walking all around.
Thunk!
"You're finally back!" | I have a Pomeranian, his name is Rix. He's too cute, like the type of cuteness which makes you go "Awww". Rix is smart too, but not just the fetch-a-ball kind of smart, na. He's almost a clairvoyant. You see, he has a peculiar habit of bringing random stuff to me whenever I come back home from work. But every other dog does this, right? Well, the catch here is - 9/10 times that random thing he brings to me proves extremely useful to me for the rest of the day.
Once Rix brought me a doll, and on that very day my neighbor left her son with me for babysitting. That doll proved to be really useful in keeping the baby calm.
Once Rix brought me a knife, and on that very day I used it to kill Sarah! Oh and Sarah is... err... *was* my girlfriend, by the way. She was an angel, a true damsel. A freak in bed too, if I am being honest. And she was... Oh, sorry. I think I wandered away from my dog. Oopsie!
Once Rix brought me a ball, you know, the ones they use in tennis. And on that very day I went on a dog-date with Liz! She was so happy when me and Rix played with her Lillie. She was genuinely cheerful, I saw it on her face! It was a nice evening.
Once Rix brought me a gun, and on that very night a burglar crashed into my house! Now, you see, I don't keep guns. They are just so... loud & abrasive. But that day the gun helped me in catching the burglar, and I handed him to the police. They thanked me! I was feeling like a proud citizen that day, not gonna lie.
Oh and I surrendered the gun too.
Now today, Rix brought me a sword. And nah, not the cosplay ones. The real deal. Here it is, let me show you.
How's it? Looks real cool, right? It just needs a good sharpening job and it will be as good as new. If you ask me, I am a fan of those European longswords, not these Japanese katanas. The European ones just look so much more sturdy and durable, these Japanese ones look fragile as hell. Not a fan. Ah well, a sword's a sword, I guess.
I don't know where the hell did Rix find it, but this is some good stuff. But the thing is, I don't think I can use it today itself, it needs some much needed repairs. So I think I gotta break the charm, I will use it after a week, when it will be shinin' like a new one. Oh and this is good news for you too, Alex. I have postponed your departure by a week, but you gotta be here in the basement, buddy. Just don't fiddle much here, okay? Liz is coming here for a sleepover with Lillie, and I want to have a good time with her. And don't worry, I will not leave you alone. She'll be gone in a couple of days, Lillie has a scheduled surgery appointment three days from now. Poor girl. Pugs always have problems with their noses, I tell ya. The government should ban their breeding, they live in so much discomfort!
Here's your food, I'll bring something to drink after a while, okay?
Good Night! | 2019-12-31T16:04:56 | 2019-12-31T14:49:19 | 36 | 12 |
[WP] You have the ability to double jump. Scientists are still trying to figure it out. | "Guys, it's not that complicated," I say to the increasingly frustrated group of scientists, "I just jump... and then I jump again."
Most of them stare at me open-mouthed, one flings his hands up into the air and storms out of the test room.
"Okay, but... what does it feel like when you jump the second time?" presses a particularly intrepid scientist, "Does it feel like you're kicking off from ultra-dense air? Is it like a floating sensation?"
"Well, " I start, "have you ever jumped before?" They stare at me, I can see the impatience tightening it's grip. A few of them nod tentatively. "It feels just like that, but if you did it again."
One of them snaps. "YOU KNOW WHAT? FUCK YOU! FUCK THIS. FUCK THIS JOB. FUCK ALL OF IT STRAIGHT TO FUCKING HELL." She storms out, drooling and flipping us off as she does.
"Okay..." sighs another scientist, massaging his temples in frustration and exhaustion, "let's pick this up tomorrow."
"Whatever," I shrug.
I don't get what their problem is. It's not that hard. You just jump, and then jump again. | Simon had been double-jumping for the past 125 minutes.
The scientists quickly got bored. They'd x-rayed his legs (3 times), MRI scanned his brain (4 times) and even ran LSD tests (on themselves) (twice).
This simply COULDN'T be happening. It was physically impossible, was simply BREAKING THE GOD-DAMNED laws of physics.
"You know what" said Simon eventually. "Double Jumping IS against the laws of physics".
The scientists eyes shot open. FINALLY this son-of-a-bitch was going to tell them how he pulled his trick off.
"Well you see", Simon began, "I made friends with this tiny invisible dwarf who agreed to carry me around.....and"
Whilst Simon began to tell a long and rambling tale about writing a tinder app for a race of invisible midgets, the lead scientist had already drawn a gun from the nearest drawer....
| 2017-02-11T09:05:42 | 2017-02-11T08:59:56 | 144 | 39 |
[WP] World War 3 has begun, every nuke is being launched or dropped...they've sat in storage for so long that every single one was a dud. | The early warning system lit up like a Christmas tree. Every agent in the room leapt to their feet. The Americans and Russians were letting everything fly, the Chinese were firing all over Asia, India and Pakistan practically blotted out the skies with their respective arsenals. Even the French got in on the mess.
The director started yelling for confirmation from all teams on the status of the their assigned assets.
A flurry of activity erupted as each team leader contacted their field agents. A cocophany of noise of phones dialing, keyboards clacking, serial numbers in every language of the globe being called out.
Within minutes the first weapons would be achieving their targets. Nobody could believe the day they had prepped for had actually come. It seemed like the world would never get this insane.
Confirmations poured in... Every warhead on the planet should be a dud. Surveillance footage filled the panels of screens in the room. Missile after missile impacting. Some slammed into empty fields. Some demolished building with the force of their impact... casualties were to be expected... but if the plan succeeded those numbers would pale beside complete nuclear war.
The screens dimmed as each warhead ended it's journey. Not one explosion. A hush came over the room. Every risky mission, every sleepless night, every dollar spent was all worth it. A nation sacrificing everything to be everyone's friends just to save the world from this day.
The only question left... how were the Canadians ever going to explain how they defused all those warheads. | ...
He turned to the Supreme Leader, his voice trembling almost as much as his hands, and delivered the news.
"Great Marshal, we have just received word from the Iranians that the Russian missiles are not detonating either."
Kim's face twitched slightly, as if caught up in multiple emotions. This was a moment he never thought he'd experience, a sensation of undeserved power that once seemed unconscionable. But somehow, this was the reality he now found himself in. The faintest smile slowly began to form, an involuntary reaction that he quickly did away with by squaring his jaw.
His mind raced. How could this have happened? How is it that their Minutemans, their Peacekeepers, their beloved Tsar Bombas, were reduced to useless hunks of metal after all these years? The sacrifices of his people, which had so recently seemed vain, took on a new meaning. The world would now recognize the true, furious threat its newest nuclear neighbor posed.
He snapped back to reality, and met the gaze of his General. Knowing full well that the words to follow would change the course of history, he straightened up ever so slightly and took a deep breath.
"Prepare to launch. We will show the dotard and his puppets the true meaning of fire and fury."
| 2018-03-01T18:04:19 | 2018-03-01T17:48:13 | 194 | 13 |
[WP] You have just found the cure to a virus that is killing millions worldwide, why do you keep it to yourself? | Dr. Hill sat back in her chair, feeling her stomach sinking like a stone. "I don't understand, why would it have this effect?" Her fingers knotted themselves together, almost hidden beneath the too-long sleeves of her lab coat. The project leader sat before her, grimacing and chewing his mustache. "It was your job to work out the kinks, so what the hell is the problem?" "I told you the problem!" She struggled to keep her voice from becoming shrill. "I don't know why, but it causes infertility." "So what's the problem, a few people can't have kids?" "You don't understand!" Her tone pitched, bordering on hysterical. "It's not just a few people, it's more than we can afford! Everyone is getting sick, don't you understand? If we release the cure as-is, then that's it. If we survive the disease, then at least there will be people to carry on, but what if as much people take this medicine as need it? There wouldn't be a viable population capable of reproduction!" "But not everyone's sick." "No, not everyone's sick, but it's burning through the world like wildfire- especially in young adults. Our future is dying, but we can't afford to neuter them!" Her chest heaved, and her cheeks flushed. The project leader eyed her speculatively from across the desk, still chewing his mustache. "Are you feeling well, Hill?" | I can't share it, it'd be too risky. There'd be pandemonium. Millions, if not billions of people rushing to get the cure. It doesn't seem fair, but it is right. It won't do anyone much good if they're trampled on in a massive stampede for it.
I was working on a chemistry project. I had the virus and it was slowly, painfully killing me. But I carried on. There's no point stopping, It's wasn't like anything could ease the pain. Something went wrong. I dropped a little too much Dihydrogen Monoxide in and it started steaming. Before I could move away I had a faceful of it. I started coughing and passed out.
When I woke up, the painful spots on my arms had gone, I no longer felt sick. I checked myself with a guide from the NHS website and none of the symptoms applied to me anymore.
I figured that with the amount of people dying, there would be riots everywhere. I wouldn't be able to produce enough to keep up with demand. People would fight over it. They would die over it.
A cure that kills more than it saves. I won't let it.
edit: punctuation and a sentence | 2014-05-30T02:09:17 | 2014-05-30T01:50:22 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] There's a new death penalty drug that acts as a hallucinogen, causing the prisoner to experience his worst fears until he dies of cardiac arrest. You were convicted of a crime and your execution is today. | The bell buzzed louder than ever when they came into the room for the last time. That green liquid the doctor was carrying like a baby was the newest thing these days. There was a lot of controversy on whether or not it was morally correct to inject this drug into people like me. I welcomed it. I deserved it. The once husband to the most beautiful woman in the world, and the once father to 3 wonderful daughters is finally going to get what he deserves.
"Mr. Jameson, we will be injecting you now with the drug. You should feel an immediate sensation and then it will kick in. What happens next is entirely up to you."
The needle dug deep into my arm as I watched the liquid slowly crawl into my veins. I immediately passed out and woke up back in my livingroom. "So this is it? I'm going to relive that godawful night...", I said to myself as I walked into the kitchen. Catherine was sitting down in the round wooden table we had gotten at a yard sale 10 years ago. Looking at it now, I had wished we could've gotten another one. "Good evening honey," I said in the most fragile way. She didn't respond. Hell she didn't even want to look at me!
Suddenly, the back door swings open. Yup, there I am. 2 a.m. with nothing but enough liquor in my body to put down a bear. My drunkin' self staggers into the kitchen while Catherine finishes up her last cup of wine. "Hey Catherine, you waited up for me baby?" He said as he leans in for a kiss. Catherine pushes him away and starts yelling. It's mumbled and barely audible but I know what she's saying. "You piece of shit", I yell at him with her. "Why the hell was the bar more important than your family? Why did you kill them? Why?" We both stop yelling and my former self starts walking into the living room to pass out on the couch like he's done a million times; pissed off and full of rage. Shakingly, she walks up the stairs to go to bed. I walk behind her whispering how much I love her and how much I regret what is going to happen next.
I lay in bed with Catherine until she falls asleep. What seemed like an hour passed by before the door creeps open and a shadow starts moving towards us with a shiny object. I get off the bed and close my eyes as I am about to witness my family die by my hands.
I open my eyes for a split second and see that it's not me! This man has a beard and is bald? "Who the hell are you?, I screamed. "Catherine! Catherine wake up run!" Suddenly the knife slices through Catherines throat. It sounded like air coming out of a balloon as she tries desperately to breathe. I run downstairs as quickly as I can to see myself sleeping heavily on the couch. "Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Save the girls you bastard!" I sit beside my couch and sob uncontrollably as I hear the small screams of my daughters. My stupid self didn't even flinch as I watched the man place the bloody knife in my hands. The murderer then proceeded to break plates in the kitchen and walk out the backdoor.
"It wasn't me! It wasn't me! It wasn't me!" I screamed until my voice drowned in tears. That man got away with it.
"How's he holding up? Did the sick bastard kick the bucket yet?"
"Soon. The duration varies on the individual but this is the first time I've heard someone speak during their hallucination."
"What did he say?"
"It...Was...Me." | I never thought I'd live a long life, but I never expected this. Most of my victims have lived a longer life than I will. How pathetic is that?
They told me I'm condemned to die by the tyron pill. Every single person at my trial seemed so happy about that. Even my lawyer, a moron who couldn't even pretend to be on my side. I never amused myself with thoughts of them understanding my actions, I knew they're too small for that.
But now I've got plenty of time to think and amuse myself. It's been 2 days and the pill is still working. Everything around me is empty, things are so still. I always thought hell would be something like this, but this is worse. There are no colors around me and by no colors I don't mean that there is grey, or white, or even black. Literally nothing to see, indescribable emptiness. I did't even know how something like this could bother me that much.
God damn. Was this really my worst fear? Could I not be chased by aggressive animals or stabbed dozen times all over my body?
This is pure shit. I have to fuck up my lawyer if I ever wake up from this. I have to get revenge. That son of a bitch will pay.
Pay? Pay, pay, pay, pay, pay, pay, pay, pay, pay, pay. PAY!!!
If I say the word pay 100 times in my head, will something fun happen?
Probably not.
Ok. Calm down. This pill can't go on forever. This is all in my head. I can imagine my lawyer if I want to, I can imagine him being stabbed. I can imagine whatever the fuck I want to because this is my god damn head and I don't want this empty shit anymore.
I'm imagining all of it. Vividly. Yes, tyron pill, yes, I am. I see everything around me and it's so, so clear. And fun.
Except for the fact that I'm full of shit. I can't imagine anything. I'm stuck here with nothing. They say the pill usually works for 4 hours, more or less, and you always die. When is this death thing coming here? I've been here for 2 days already.
Or was I? What if my comprehension of time is wrong when I'm here? Was it really 2 days? Did I experience any kind of night or day change here? Maybe hours right here are minutes outside, in the real world? Oh, I'm getting frustrated again. Maybe days right here are minutes out there. My heart is beating like a maniac, it's never happened to me. That means that I'll be stuck here for...
If I calculate that number I will die. Yes, that's my end. I'm not going to survive that stupid number.
Number. Number, number, number, number, number, number. NUMBERS!!!
"Why are you so calm? That pill is the worst thing in the world. You are allowed to show emotion," my stupid lawyer said one month ago. God damn, I really want him dead.
"I don't think that pill's got anything on me."
Well, apparently, I'm an idiot as well. Let's calculate that number. | 2015-02-10T07:14:55 | 2015-02-10T05:46:50 | 46 | 14 |
[WP] Mages choose the source of their power. Most pick things like fire, or justice, or love. You picked sarcasm. | "All this walking makes me *super jazzed*, you guys. Feet don't hurt at all, no sirree."
Eldrin, the youngest mage of Quelbrig Plains, slumped her shoulders and put her hands in her pockets. She lagged far behind the other three members of the squadron: Lord Eldemere, Ranmalt and Reenma.
Eldemere turned to his two accomplices. "One more moment of this and my patience shall expire."
Reenma sighed. "We must persist over the Western Peak, my Lord. Your patience need last only through the evening."
Eldrin continued to offer commentary from behind. "I love rocks. Don't you? Never get tired of 'em. Glad we took the scenic route, Ranmalt."
After five hours, the quartet reached the other side of the mountain and discovered an open stretch of snow-covered land.
"I gotta take a piss," Eldrin remarked. Before she could take another step, a thunderclap erupted in the night air.
"WELCOME, MAGES OF THE QUELBRIG PLAINS. I CORDIALLY INVITE YOU TO EXPERIENCE ONE ANOTHER'S DEATHS."
"Mmm, nice theatrics, Tralzanar," Eldrin said, slowly clapping her hands.
"I'M SURE YOU'RE ALL THRILLED TO BE HERE. I KNOW I AM. DON'T GET BORED AT ALL UP HERE, NO SIRREE."
Lord Eldemere gazed at his companions in shock. "My God," he cried. "There is another."
Eldrin stepped forward and sat down, crossing her legs nonchalantly. "Please, put me out of my misery."
The voice in the sky chuckled, causing the mountain range in the distance to quiver. "ONLY IF YOU DO FIRST."
"You better show me that pretty face of yours if you're gonna kill me. We all know you hide in the clouds to shield your insecurities, pal."
"WHA--I NEVER--BAH!" A peal of lightning struck a nearby tree. "I WOULDN'T HAVE TO HIDE IN THE CLOUDS IF YOU MAGES WEREN'T SUCH MEANDERING, WHINY ASS--"
"Enough!" Lord Eldemere slammed his staff against the ground. "Witness the powers of fire, wind, and rain! Come, Reenma! Come, Ranmalt!"
Eldrin shook her head. "Haven't seen this before."
Tralzanar chuckled. "I KNOW, RIGHT? EVERY DAMN TIME SOMEONE COMES IN TO KILL ME, IT'S THE SAME GARBAGE."
"Yup." Eldrin started to mimic Lord Eldemere's speech and dramatic gestures as he continued. But just as the three mages readied their staffs --
An enormous blast of light flooded the area, and Eldrin disappeared.
Lord Eldemere fell to his knees. "My God! She--He--He's taken her to the Realm Beyond Realms!" Ranmalt and Reenma ran to comfort him. "It is too late. Eldrin is no more."
*
Eldrin came to her senses in a dark, wooded landscape bathed in purple mist. She wiped her pants and stood up.
"Wow, nice digs you've got here, Tralzanar. Tasteful. Appealing."
Tralzanar approached her, now in his human form and dressed in full Dark Wizard apparel. He cleared his throat, having apparently toned down the booming voice from earlier. "You're serious?"
"Absolutely not. It's hideous."
"Mmm. Well, I made it hideous to compensate for your presence."
"Well, I made sure to look extra ugly today just for you."
"Bah!"
Eldrin and Thalzanar continued their battle of caustic sarcasm for the next five centuries. Even during a bout of silence, their attempts to one-up the other held firm through narrowed eyes and raised eyebrows.
The Quelbrig Plains experienced 500 years of peace, all thanks to a high concentration of snark just beyond the Western Peak.
| They say that you don't pick your familiar, your familiar picks you.
They say a lot of really stupid things.
"Surrender, James. You cannot hope to escape." I mean, who the fuck picks ***water*** as their familiar, right? Go-with-the-flow, steady, impassive, boring as all fuck. "My brother and I have you, you cannot escape two Masters."
I mean, listen to that little shit. *No* emotion in his voice, perfect monotone. Unbelievable. I sidestepped his shackling and countered with a spell of my own creation - it zipped around haphazardly in no particular pattern, a firework of perfect entropy, seeking chaos.
Of course he dodged it, he *was* a **Master** after all, the jackass. Heh, jackass. His name was Jack. Score one for me.
"Jack, Jack, the impassive sack. Steady and straight and quite the quack!!" His face grew bright red, *finally* a fucking reaction, Jesus Christ. That was almost more effort than it was worth!
Almost.
"James. *HEY MORON!* You can't win, dude." Ah, yes. The brother. Jordan. Fire to his brother's water. I *know* you can sense the eyeroll here. They probably huddled together on Dedication Day, said some quip about being part of the other half's whole, and as long as water and fire worked together, they could accomplish *anything!*
I'd put money on it.
"Jordan, the hot-headed...uh...accordion?" I scratched my head, cleanly deflecting his signature flame pillar with my own chaotic shield. "Yeah, I got nothing dude. Your name is stupid." *Jordan* was extremely easy - and satisfying as *fuck* - to get a reaction from. Fire - passionate, burning, fickle, full of energy. The problem was by antagonizing him I was only making him stronger.
More fun, I guess.
Jack sighed, deep and long. Dramatic much? "Fine. If you won't come quietly..." I mean, I could tell he was going for this epic, dramatic pause. Especially when he looked at his brother and nodded. Like they were saying:
"You ready big bro?"
"I'm ready little bro!"
"Alright, here it comes. We *did* warn him!"
"That we did, little bro!"
"I love you big bro!"
"I love you too, little bro."
All with one pathetic, *nauseating* look passed between them. I just rolled my eyes as they readied their combination attack.
That's enough.
Director's voice - no one knew his real name - rang through the PA system in our sparring ground. I felt the atmosphere *shift*, and my mind swam as my emotions righted themselves.
I slapped Jordan on the back. "Man, you were *really* gonna come at me? You two are fucking *MASTERS* man, how the fuck was I supposed to deflect that?"
He only rolled his eyes. "Because you are *literally* unbearable when Director takes down your emotional walls. Holy shit."
I smiled. "Figuratively."
"What?"
"Not literally. Makes no sense, friend." He punched me on the arm as we walked back to the mess hall, all three of us laughing about how ridiculous I had been acting. It was a mental state I'd have to get used to. Drawing power from sarcasm was...intoxicating. But certainly dangerous. Too sure of myself, it's something I'd have to work on.
Yeah, right. | 2017-07-20T11:26:09 | 2017-07-20T11:01:04 | 1,520 | 70 |
[WP]: A leading team of scientists finally figure out a way to communicate with animals. Three weeks later, Earth's entire panda population is launched into the sun. | “You’re useless you son of a dog”
It started almost immediately, throwing widespread panic into the visitors.
“Oh yeah? Why don’t you say that to my face you worthless hamster poop”
Then it spread, like a wave across all human consciousness, to all edges of the globe. Even to places in the deepest darkest rainforests of the Amazon, even where one had never been seen before, their name grew organically in the minds of children and adults alike.
“Your momma is so fat she just blocked all my sunlight”
We barely noticed that we could understand the other animals. The mutterings of a dog, the musings of a cat, the humble nonsense of an owl, the soft twittering of a robin, the hollow opinion of the donkey, all of these were lost to us, swallowed by the merciless, constant, mind numbing oppression of the Pandas.
“You piece of mouldy fungus that smells like blocked drain water, an idiot could do that”
Their observations were shouted into the heads of all humans, like they were omnipresent. They see everything, they hear everything. Every little mistake you have ever made, every time you dropped your coffee, every time you stumbled over your words in front of that cute boy, every time you wet yourself a little on that rollercoaster, they knew. They were watching. They were listening. They were laughing, taunting, insulting.
“Go home and cry to your fat momma dumb dumb”
We couldn't hear them until now.
“Even my ass is smaller than yours in those jeans”
The scientists tried to reverse it almost immediately, whatever experiment they did to bring animal consciousness in contact with human minds. But they couldn't. For whatever reason, it was irreversible, and now we are stuck with it.
“Are you really gonna eat that fatty?”
It is manageable, to heat a cat wonder why the red dot is so intriguing. It is sweet to hear a dog yelling your name when you walk through the door. It is enlightening to understand how an owl sees the mouse. It is beautiful to hear the robin put into words the sunrise, and the donkey express it’s love for carrots.
“Ah boo hoo, can’t handle the Panda?”
All of this is lost behind the insults of the Panda.
And that is why they must die.
| The PETA website was getting millions of views, probably having to do with the video on the front page. I clicked on the play button and was pleasantly surprised that there wasn't an advertisement before the video.
A bright young reporter stood next to the head of OLEOAS, now the biggest Facebook group ever. "One Like Equals One Animal Saved" was the new trendy thing. I cringed at the tinny voice of their self proclaimed leader.
"The Pandari have spoken and have chosen to return to their homeland!" the reporter next to him started inquiring in that voice that every reporter shares.
"Where is the Pandari homeland and what exactly gives them the *right* to return to where they are from? They are animals after all!"
"Well Kim, my good friend, I have an exciting announcement. As you know we are now the biggest group on Facebook. And to celebrate our billionth like, we are sending all the pandas home!"
"Well that's exciting of course, but you didn't answer my question. For the Pandari people, where is home?"
The reporter was about to ask again when the scene went dark. "What in the hell?! What's going on?!"
"Don't worry it's all going surprisingly well, as yours eyes adjust you can look up and see the answer to your own question."
The reporter turned to look up and the camera followed, and I finally got a glimpse of what could possibly be blocking out the sun's light. I couldn't believe my eyes, and neither could the person filming the video --he swore and nearly dropped the camera causing the video to shake horribly.
Pandas. Everywhere. Upon closer inspection I realized that they weren't actually pandas, but sleek looking ships of some kind shaped like pandas.
I could barely make out the head of OLEOAS trying to yell over the sound of people yelling and pointing so I turned my volume up. "And we also thank our sponsor for making this all possible. Coca cola. Open happiness!" | 2015-03-30T05:18:17 | 2015-03-30T04:08:14 | 78 | 12 |
[WP] You wrested the government from the tyrant. You ruled well, at first. But now there's talk of rebellion. At a presentation, you almost shout how you've given everything for this nation. But the words freeze in your throat. Those are the exact words the tyrant said before you overthrew him. | “Bring them out!” I shout to the guards, taking a large drink of my wine. My face feels flushed; I’m sweating. This god damn throne is so uncomfortable. After so many years fighting for it. After the thousands, tens of thousands of deaths. I thought it would feel like perfection sitting on this throne. But all it does is give me a backache.
The crowd is cheering as my knights bring out two nobles to the center of the throne room. My men, those who have followed me through hell and back during this revolution, sit at the mead tables. Laughing, drinking, looking at the girls who are serving them.
This is what I’ve wanted all these years. Finally, the last of the old order has been smashed and some semblance of peace can be brought to our kingdom. Our kingdom which has felt the devastation of war for so many years.
But these games will help the moral of my men. They have fought and died for me; it is the least I can do. Truth be told, I enjoy it also. I enjoy the fear in these noble’s eyes. These haughty sons of bitches. I enjoy their cries for mercy. I enjoy their blood pooling in the sand of the pit.
The war is over. The pockets of resistance smashed. There is no more to track down. I wonder what I will do to keep my men entertained, keep them in line. It’s much easier to rule when there is an enemy to point at and say *they* are the problem. *They* are the reason things are bad.
Peace is something I fear. Peace is complicated.
It is two of the old King’s Cabinet this time, along with their wives and oldest sons. They are dragged out in rags and I smirk at the change of fortune for these families. Last time I saw these Barons they were sentencing me to death for treason.
“Baron Gondrick and Baron Laion, so nice to see you.”
They, along with their wives and eldest sons, are dragged to the edge of the pit and held there with theatrical suspense. Their wives are sobbing, asking for their sons to be spared. One of the sons, Baron Gondrick’s, is old enough to understand his fate. The other, who must be no older than 10 winters, is looking around. Fear is in his eyes. He seems to know something very bad is happening, but he is not quite sure what.
I almost feel bad for the child. If he wasn’t the son of Baron Laion that is. The man who sat in this same throne room night after night as King Tharanis tossed family after family into the pit for his own entertainment. My own brother was consumed in the pit for the twisted entertainment of the old, dusty king.
He had the pit built in the early years of the revolution. He brought in Manticores from the Deserts of Qet. Pure bred. From a lineage that was thousands of years old. He took deep pleasure in watching the men of the early days of the resistance being torn limb from limb by his treasured pets.
I see the manticore now curled in the corners of the pit below, waiting, patiently.
I haven’t fed them in days. Their desperate hunger is magnificent.
I look up and see the two barons staring at me with a malevolence that I enjoy quite a lot. I take another large drink of my wine, returning the stare.
“It seems you will be our night’s entertainment,” I say. “I must say though, I was hoping for….” I looked at the Baron Gondrick’s large belly, “A little bit spritelier game—but of course, you will do. Truth be told, I will enjoy hearing your screams. I will enjoy it rising up slowly like noxious vapors from the pit. Gondrick, were you not the one that gave the orders to hang a dozen of my men from the walls of Stormthru Fortress?”
Baron Gondrick spit on the stone floor. ”Those men were rapists and thieves. They sacked the town, poisoned the wells, killed the cattle, and ravaged the women. Some girls not much older than your own daughter. They deserved their justice, just as you deserve the justice you will receive. No man is above the gods, and you insult them with your mockery. Your barbaric games. You are a false king and no better than the man in which you raped and pillaged the whole nation to unthrone.”
The wine was heavy in me now. I felt my face flush. The room was silent. The guards holding the children looked at each other, then at me. They seem unsure of what to do. I am angered by their weakness, of their hesitancy, and I stare at the Baron. My anger building with the warmth of the wine.
“Insolent until the end,” I say, the words dripping with venom. “I respect that Baron. I respect your honor. So much so, I was thinking of sparing your oldest sons. Let them grow under my tutelage. Let them learn from a real man.”
To his credit, the Baron didn't flinch. He leans his shoulders back, accepting his fate. “Get on with your pathetic show, Jonathon.”
I stand up quickly, too quickly. The crown falls off my head, but I catch it in my hand. I point at the Baron. “That is King Rathmore to you.”
“You are no king,” the Baron says.
I toss my goblet at him. I am not proud of that. But it was a rush of emotion. These nobles bring out the worst in me. I look forward to the day when every last one of them is washed clean from this earth. They are the ones causing me so much trouble. It is as if they do not know when they've been defeated.
I would be a better ruler if it wasn’t for them. Soon I will have cleansed this world of all of them, and then I will rule like I was destined to. I will be a good king.
The goblet clatters against the wall of the pit, which separates us, and falls silently to the sand-filled floor. A manticore looks up sleepily, then lowers its head again.
“Call me King Rathmore, or I will drag more than just your eldest sons into the pit. I will feed the manticore until they tire of the taste of your children!” The room is silent at these remarks. Again, I’m not proud of them. But it’s the wine and these Barons. “Say it!” I shout again.
Baron Gondrick bites his lip, looking over at his wife. I see a tear dripping from his eye. It is so pathetic I take no pleasure in it. But I’ve committed at this point. I’m hoping he calls me king, so I don’t have to follow through on my promise.
“I apologize, King Rathmore,” he says finally, looking at the ground in defeat. “You are a good king,” he says, and I lift my shoulders to properly accept his fealty.
“That’s more like it,” I say. “Now toss them in,” I say to the guards.
They grab the Barons and their wives and their eldest sons and push them forward towards the pit. The manticores rise now. They know what is about to happen and they stretch their limbs, their claws coming out and piercing the dirt as they stretch. They yawn. Their lips retract, their massive teeth shine in the light of the torches. It is time to feast you majestic creatures, I think to myself. I motion to my servant to bring me another glass of wine and I fall back in the throne heavily.
What a god damn uncomfortable chair, I think to myself. I will replace it soon. With something greater, just as I will replace the old rule of this kingdom with something greater.
“Stop!” I hear a voice shout out in the row of tables.
I look around and wonder who it is. And I see Yurick, my second in command, raising from his seat.
“This is madness, my king,” he says.
I take a deep breathe, controlling my fury. It never ends, I think to myself. I almost feel an empathy for King Tharanis. He must have dealt with the same annoyances with his own men. The same weaknesses. They don’t understand what it takes to rule a kingdom. They will never understand.
“Please, Jonathon." Yurick says. "Reconsider this. These are just boys. They haven’t done anything to you. These women have done nothing to you.”
I stare at my friend for a long time. My friend for the last fifteen years. A man I would trust with my life fifteen times over. I would not be here without him. I owe him everything. And yet I feel a deep hatred as I hear my simple name from his mouth.
“Do not call me Jonathon, Yurick.” I say. “I am King Rathmore, first of his name. You are my closest friend. But you will give me the respect I deserve.”
\---
*Part II Below.* | I almost fucking said it...
Who had I become? My mind whirled a moment as I sat behind the desk of many great and many awful leaders before me. I pulled my hands from my temples and slammed them on the desk's cold surface. The thought nagged at me as it always did, although, this time I didnt fight it.
'You are what you hated.'
My vision blurred a bit from the salty substance escaping the prison I imposed upon them. My eyes gazed up upon the flag I helped create and proudly flew to symbolize a new beginning. ...But this was just another season of the same drama, wasn't it? Just as the saying goes, power had corrupted me... same as it does everyone.
The truth was what I spoke at first. Difficult as it was to do so, I told it every time it was demanded of me. Lies were too easy, and the first time I uttered one to my people I promised myself to not make a habit of it. I promised to only use them to buy time. Time to create a plan, time to work out the kinks, time to relax a little and enjoy some peace for myself. But soon, I was entangled in them. Snared by my words and unable to wriggle free. I found myself indulging my hunger while the people starved. I vacationed while the people were still homeless. I enjoyed 24/7 medical treatment whenever I may need it while the people had none.
My hands grew as cold as the desk and my face paled at the acknowledgements I was finally making. The selfishness had to stop. The double standard couldn't be tolerated any longer. If I fail to bring about the change I promised any longer the cycle will continue. And while I still held the enormous weight of this burden I could not shirk my duties any longer.
I wiped my eyes, took off my expensive blazer, and rolled up my sleeves and called my secretary to inform her that I need my cabinet to meet immediately. Surely they will be upset. But it's time I make good on my promise. In a three days, I will address the issues after we hammer some things out.
*briefing room 3 days later*
I refused the make-up personel. And the wardrobe people. I told the cooks that morning that making breakfast was unnecessary. This moment needed to be genuine, not Hollywood.
"You ready, Mr. President?" My secretary asked.
"I've been putting this off for far too long."
The camera man began the countdown, "5...4...." then proceeded with his fingers for the rest. At 1 I just stared in silence for a moment.
"Good Afternoon, my fellow Americans, I'm sure you know who I am." I paused a bit and looked down at the podium. "I am a failure...." I gave those words a moment to sink in.
"Yes, you heard me right. I am a FAILURE!! ...After you all followed me and my vision for a brighter future, I began with the greatest intentions a man could have. I was idealistic and bold. And for the past two years I have lost my spine and given up my ideals for the choices that were easy. I have come to realize that I was weak when it came to the temptations of power. I let you all down in favor of myself and those around me." (I could only imagine how well this was going in certain living rooms around the country.)
"But, I want you all to know that I have a plan. And if I am allowed to live long enough to see it all the way through, I hope that you all will see that it helps us all. First of all, I have written an executive order that prohibits, now and forever, all lobbying to government officials. Along with that, I have made insider trading punishable by death for government officials. I have also instituted term limits on all government leaders forevermore. No one shall be allowed more than two terms in any form of office nor will a member of the senate ot the house be allowed to make more than 50,000 a year. I have also made it a prerequisite for anyone who wishes to go into government to study and pass a test on the constitution and a basic psych test. And whosoever abandons or fails to uphold their oath to the people of the this nation will be thrown in jail forever."
"Furthermore, I insist that all americans must be given access to honest and non biased news free from political influence. No longer will a person be able to simply change a channel to be told HOW to think or WHO is in the wrong. All news sources must simply report the details. Not the opinions. Written news is still open for opinion sections and comedy channels must have a disclaimer played before each segment. Anyone who knowingly and callously lies to the American people about an event to spin a narrative benefitting their political agenda will find themselves in jail. There is no more room in the world for lies nor tribalism. We are all ONE nation, ONE species, and ONE family. So, with that in mind, I am also announcing the end of the political party system. Red or Blue doesn't matter. We are all here to work for the American people. Not the other way around. Every candidate will have to run for reelection using government approved funding. No fundraising will be allowed for a candidate. The last two weeks of September every year will be known Voter Awareness Weeks. Work will be prohibited as much as can be safely done. Where in the first week, all candidates will be broadcast on TV for their state and local area. Then, the second week will be for the presidential decisions. Voting and counting will be completed by the end of the year and we will keep our January 20th inauguration day."
"The richest people will be taxed by the same percentage as poor people. Meaning that if a woman working 45 hours a week grosses 750 dollars but only gets to take home 500 of it weekly, then a rich person who makes 750,000 will only bring home 500,000. These tax laws will stay in effect until we find a better way or someone who is better at math. Law enforcement personnel will have to retake conflict de-escalation courses to continue their service on our streets. And I hereby decree that any officer willing to commit to our newly designed two year training course will recieve the course for free and recieve twice the salary as police officers who refuse to take the course. We want our police to be safe and more training will only ensure that. Teachers will also be better compensated for their extraordinary service to the youth of our nations. And I propose a new incentive to train new teachers. Teachers will now start out of college earning 75,000 dollars a year and an additional 5,000 dollars a year if they should choose to spend a portion of the summer breaks learning new methods and keeping up to date with new material. So that America's children will grow in the best possible learning environment. I am also guaranteeing that all Americans are entitled to a college education and making it free to students and adding a 1% tax for 5 years to those who choose to accept it. Then, the tax will be gone.
And.... let's see, weed is now legal. All criminals in prison due to a marijuana related charge is hereby pardoned. And fossil fuels are going to be slowly worked out of our nations infrastructure. Anyone who chooses to leave a job in fossil fuels for a job in green energy will recieve a 1% tax break for 5 years and free trade school training for their desired green energy substitute with guaranteed job placement.
How will you pay for all of this? You may ask. I will tell you. We will stop investing hundreds of billions of dollars into building the very weapons we have to send our troops over seas to fight against. We will stop bailing out corporations that engage in shady business dealing and we with the Equivalency Tax on the wealthy and unwealthy. America will be what it was always meant to be. A government FOR THE PEOPLE, BY THE PEOPLE."
I nodded my head at the camera and smiled. Good news was, I wasnt going to have to worry about revolutionaries killing me anymore, now, it would be my senators and congressman. Did I even remember how to live on 50,000 dollars?! I didnt know anymore. But now things would have to work wouldn't they? The gunshot I heard behind me said that I was in trouble, but i was no longer afraid.
(Sorry for the length, but I had fun with this one. I bet that's how Thomas Jefferson and them felt writing the first constitution. All like, "OOH! Good idea, Benjamin Breezy Franklin imma totally write that down, yo!" Lol let me know if I forgot any good ones.) | 2021-02-13T20:23:45 | 2021-02-13T20:07:26 | 953 | 64 |
[WP] You are the dark lord in a fantasy world however you rule a fair and just kingdom you just like to look evil while doing it. | The door crashed opened as the frame around it disintegrated into kindling. The fur-clad boot that had kicked it open landed with a meaty thud on the stone floors inside the chamber. The wild-eyed warrior held his knicked and scarred blade in front of him as he strode into the room high atop the tallest tower.
"It wasn't locked," the slight man dressed in black said from across the room. The warrior stopped.
"What?" the warrior said.
"The door. It wasn't locked. All you had to do was turn the little handle," the slight man said, miming turning a door handle, "and gently push it open. Now I've got to get Maintenance up here and see about a new door with frame. This room'll be drafty for weeks."
The warrior stared at the slight man sitting in hid highbacked chair of deep red fabrics and dark solid wood. "That, uh, that will be no concern of yours wizard!" The warrior took another step into the room.
"Well of course it is. This is my office and you just knocked the door clean out of the wall."
"No, I, uh, I mean you'll be dead foul demon!"
"Why's that?"
"Sorry?" The warrior had stopped his advance still several paces from the man in the chair.
"Why will I be dead?"
The warrior looked at the yard of gleaming steel in his hand then back to the slight man. "Because I'm going to slay you."
"Ah, now we're getting somewhere. Let me guess, you're some hero from the moutains or the great plains or some other equally gods-forsaken place and you travel the lands seeking fame and fortune. You wandered into one of my neighbors' territories and heard about the 'evil wizard' controlling Dekara? Is that about the shape of it?"
The warrior paused. "... Yes. How come you to this knowledge? Consorting with demons, no doubt. Your very tongue convicts you!"
"You're the fifth one since the Winter Festival. What is it about Spring that makes all you farmboys with delusions of grandeur come storming in? Can't get a date?"
"Enough with your attempts to ensorcel me, tyrant! I shall -"
"Wait," the slight man said, shifting forward in the chair, "how about a deal?"
"I care not for what you might tempt me with for my heart is pure and I seek -"
"Slow down there blondie. Here's the deal. We talk. For ten minutes. I've even got a timer over on the desk. At the end of the ten minutes, if you still want to run me through with that overgrown cheese slicer, I won't fight. Won't even argue."
"What trick is this?"
"No trick. Just ten minutes. Surely you can spare that for a 'condemned man.'"
The warrior stared at the slight man then nodded.
"Excellent!" the slight man said as he stood from his chair and crossed to the balcony. "Come over here, I'll show you something."
The warrior, wary for traps and tricks, trod slowly and softly to the balcony. The wizard was standing on the balcony with his palms down on the railing. The warrior stayed nearer to the relative safety of the door.
Below the balcony, in the courtyard, were at least two dozen people staring up at the two men.
"Good morning all!" the wizard shouted. "We have another hero come to save you all from my evil tyranny!" The crowd laughed.
"So," the wizard continued, "I thought before he does me in that he would like to meet some of you. The Chamberlain summoned you here to talk with this young man. Let's see ... Ah, Tom the Miller, isn't it?"
"Yes guv!" shouted back a dusty man in the middle of the crowd.
"Well, Tom, perhaps you'd be good enough to tell the hero what happened last month after the terrible floods destroyed your mill?"
"It was like this, see? His Highness dere, gave me a very reasonable repair loan at a minimal interest rate. I got me mill up an' runnin' again in no time. He barely even asked for collateral, knowin' 'ow important me mill was."
"You there," the wizard shouted, "Anne the Baker, if I'm not mistaken?"
"Yesssir!" a young woman answered.
"Could you tell the hero how you were able to start your own business after the untimely passing of your beloved husband?"
"I couldn't very well get me bakery up and runnin' with all me kids underfoot, could I? So the Highness there, he made the whatchacallit- Child Care Tax Credit. So I 'ired out me cousin Brenda to watch the little ones and now I've just opened me fifth franchise in Kreun. They love me stickybuns in Kreun!"
The crowd mumbled an assent.
"But surely," the hero said, "you cannot stand to be so oppressed? This black-hearted magician consorts with demons!"
"Son," a white-hair stooped-back old man said, "we don't much care who he consorts with. We haven't had a war in this land since I was a lad. There's nary a kingdom in a hundred days' ride can make the same boast. When the plague came through six winters back, ours was the only kingdom that was laid low. King Reltir - him as before the wizard - had us at war and starving more years than not. Far as we're concerned, the wizard can consort with all the Lords of Hell so long as he keeps treatin' us fair and protectin' our lands!"
A cheer ran up through the crowd. The wizard turned to the hero and smiled.
"You've cast some kind of spell across this land." But the hero's voice wavered as he spoke.
"No, just basic economics. Do you know why we haven't been at war in at least a generation? It's the same reason one of my neighbors sent you here. They have no idea how to run their coutries and their people are getting tired of it. Did you know we have upwards of ten thousand people a year immigrating to our fair land? That's in spite of the rumors about me. If any one of those kingdoms started a war, their people would revolt. Not to mention the fact that I'd call in all the debts they owe us, which would bankrupt any one of them. So it's easier to find some - pardon the term - backwoods lummox to try to kill me. Keeps their hands clean and gets rid of me. Sorry my boy, but you've been duped."
The hero stumbled backwards until he flopped into a chair. His head was shaking "no" and his eyes were unfocused. "So ... So what happens now?" the hero asked.
Six months later, another hero wandered the dirt road leading to the wizard's kingdom.
"HOLD THERE!" a shout rose from the small shack at the edge of the forest to the side of the road. A young man strode out to meet the traveler. "What brings you to our fair land, traveler?"
"I come to slay the evil wizard who has for too long -"
"Hold there traveler. Before you invade, I'd like to tell you a story of another headstrong young hero. He invaded six months ago, had a conversation with the wizard, and then decided to stay on. He found work as a border guard, specializing in heroes."
| "This is my property, so I should be able to do with it whatever I want!" The idiot shouted.
"Fuck personnel property if it can justify this." I replied. "You are subject to the same rules as everybody else, no matter who you are. And the rules in this case are simple: no killing. Send him of to the judiciary." The man had killed a slave, or rather, a slave to its condition. The monotheistic religion of most people condoned and promoted slavery, and I have been trying to end the practice ever since I got here from the future. The religious idiots were calling me an evil wizard, but the general public, especially the less religious farmers, had stopped listening, as all they saw was what I had done for them.
The first part of building a better society was building a better baseline, and the farmers had gotten a few greenhouses as a common so they could produce foreign, tropical fruit aswell as cirtain technological products and a few of my men who were building a working small scale solar powered electricity project in one of the villages, to see how this could work out.
"Sir, an embassary from king Bathe has arrived." A guard said. King Bathe was treating me like a vassal.
"First, don't call me sir, I am neither a knight nor a lord the way you think of it. But let him in." I said.
The man came in and bowed to the throne.
"My lord, I am glad to meet you."
"You do not have to bow, and I am not a lord. Just call me Glenn." This still annoyed me way too much, for now I was the first umong equals, not some king, but this was also benificial, as much of my populous didn't know I would not bother if they seceeded, I would bother though if some dictator were established and shoot that guy.
"The mighty king Bathe wishes that you stop your god defying deeds in your kingdom, he fears that this might doom us all." The ambassador said, the kings rhetoric had changed to a more respectfull tone after demanding a lot and being crushed when invading the land the people I had sworn to protect inhabited. I wished he would shove his god up his ass.
"As I already said, this is not a kingdom. Furthermore, what god defying deeds is the king referring to?" I asked.
"The crossing between the classes, for one, the... I think your grace called it 'emanzipation' of the slaves and women." He said.
"Oh, I forgot to ask for your name." I said, wanting to adress him by name.
"Juan, my lord."
"So, Juan, what did you see in this country?" I asked.
"People working in glass houses was the most extreme difference I saw to my own country, sir."
"OK, but how were the people?"
"I stayed in a monestary, the monks didn't like your leadership." He said.
"Were they criticising me on a theological basis or on the basis of the well being of the people?" I enquired further.
"I am afraid I do not see the difference, my lord. God will make the people miserable if they are heritics and make them prosper if they are godly." He replied.
"If that were the case, why wouldn't he vanquish the ungodly men to the south and east your kingdom has been warring against for centurys. If god were all powerful and omnisciant, as religious sholars suggest, why wouldn't he grant you victory?" I asked.
"Because we are sinners." He replied.
"But on the basis of your religious texts, they would be sinners, and even more so than you, and unrepentive, so why wouldn't he favor you, at least over them?" I finished my enquri as he had no fitting response for more than a minute.
"So, it seems your religious code has nothing to do with a prosperous society." I extrapolated.
"Yes, it has, my master has also said that, if not brought to reason, he might have to go to war with your grace." There goes the softening of rhetoric.
"I stopped the last army that threatened the well being of my citicens with 15 men, does your master really belive this to be a good idea? I do not desire to needlessly sloughter king Bathes population, whether it be on the battlefield or otherwise." I responded.
"Glenn, the council meeting was sceduled now, what is taking so long?" Alicia shouted through a side door.
"Sorry, I am busy treating with an ambassador. I will be there shortly." I shouted back.
"Would you join me at the council? I belive you would benifit from seeing the inner working of our government in your position." I told Juan.
"Thank you, my lord, it will be an honor." He said.
"Juan, just call me Glenn." I replied.
There were 17 people in the council. One was reserved for the elected representatives of all towns under my controll. I only had controll over a small earldom. Than there was a chair for the armed forces, one for the infrastructure team, one for a religious representative and two for me and Alicia, who was my girlfriend.
I grabbed one more chair from a second room and put it next to mine for Juan.
"This is Juan, king Bathes new embassador." I told the council.
"Oh, have we scared the king into cooperation?" Drew, the commander of the armed forces, concisting of one tank unit, some gunmen, a few intelligence officers and a few castle guards.
"Not really, he is threatening another invasion. If you are not following his orders and our religious traditions." Juan told us openly.
"Finally a reasonable person." The representative of the faith said.
"You can tell your king that we have enough explosives to blow his castle up." Drew replied.
"Drew, this why I don't like you representing the armed forces." Alicia said.
"Second!" I shouted along with half the council.
"Sorry." Drew said.
"But that is actually true, though that would be bad strategy." Garin, a village representative, said.
"Second!" Half the council shouted.
"So, what are the current issues?" I asked.
"We have found a survivior of Bathes Army wounded in the woods. Some of the villagers want to kill him others propose to nurture him back to health, he is badly wounded." Garin told me.
"Drew, that is your job, get him to Inas 'hospital'." I said.
"As good as done."
"But he wanted to kill our population!" James, another village leader, objected.
"I highly doupt that, most of the soldiers we captured said they were in out of fear and personnel profit. Some others sighted religious reasons." Alicia responded.
"But when we do not punish him, how are we going to look towards Bathe?" James asked. "Like weak covards to fearfull to decapitate our captured enemys."
"We will be seen as acting in good will, and we don't want another invasion, because that is worse for everybody." I responded.
"God demands his death." The religious representative responded.
"Fuck god." Drew said.
| 2017-06-12T08:32:01 | 2017-06-12T08:19:09 | 54 | 10 |
[WP] After WW3 and a century of rebuilding, the world has been at peace for 300 years. We've let go of our violent and aggressive tendencies and abolished war. You are the leader of an alien invasion that sees the Earth as an easy target; but soon you learn we can revert to our warlike past easily. | "They've taken Newtonport," Allen told me as I stepped into the ancient machine. Already the southern continental factories were busily upgrading a new batch up to current tech. We had gotten these old knightsuits from the old warehouses they had been stored in centuries ago.
"Shit eating fuckers," I said, actually having requested a good cursing term from my headtech. Hell, most types of aggresion had been banned after the war that almost killed us all. The ancestors who were left to rebuild and redesign society had left these knightsuits in storage in case something went wrong. The Kondraxxi Battle Fleet that had appeared in our skies and demanded our surrender was something that went wrong.
"We're going to war?" Lauralei asked me excitedly, at 30 I was the eldest in our newly formed squad, "That's forbidden."
"Only against other humans," I smiled, "Now let's see if these things still work. We've got to hold the planet for at least a day till the factories really ramp up production."
______________
Kondraxxi War Commander Somu stood looking over the smoking wreckage of the human's capital city. As was standard invasion protocol they had demanded a surrender then taken the largest city on the planet as a demonstration of power. Everyone in the city was slaughtered and this slaughter broadcast to the planet to demoralize.
"No resistance from any direction, Commander," his recon commander reported, "Satellites report... wait. I'm reporting an energy discharge on the southern defensive line."
"It's about time," the Commander smiled, "Slaughter them. Bunch of farming scum."
______________
Lauralei's recon knightsuit was lighter and more agile then the big bruisers most of her confederates were riding. She was smiling in delight as she rode the ancient tech forward. Her smile turned to a frown and then a scowl. The child's body she passed was burnt to a crisp.
"They killed children," Lauralei was crying as she said this over her radio, "They killed everyone, Mason, everyone."
"I see the corpses, child," I told her in reply, "Prime weapons, put your suits through their final checks. Remember these things are murderers. You're not killing people. No, these aren't people. These things from the sky are monsters. Look what they've done to innocents."
"Kill them all!" Lauralei screamed, and this shout came from a thousand lips over my radio. I shivered in anticipation.
____________
The Kondraxxi scouts stood around armored vehicles whose anti-g had been shut down to conserve energy. Some were playing games and very few were actually paying attention. What could this planet of farmers do?
"Get up!" Someone shouted, "Get your as..." The world around the Kondraxxi erupted in a see of plasma, missiles, death, and screams.
"What is..." someone shouted, reaching for a weapon and suddenly his head was gone. The Kondraxxi erupted into complete chaos as huge metal machines, shaped like the inhabitants of this world moved among them. They were bristling with weapons of death. The few shots the Kondraxxi got off were absorbed by the heavy armor plating of the mechs.
_____________
"Sir," the Scout Master looked alarmed, "There's now weapons discharge to the east, south-east, northwest... HELL! They're all around us!"
"What do you mean?" the Commander was standing up in his battle tank, "Slaughter them! Kill them! They're farmers!"
"We're trying," the Scout Master said, "They're closing within 2..." and then his head was gone.
The Commander looked on in shock.
_________
Lauralei smiled. Her recon suit had a plasma snipe with a range of almost 4 kilometers. She had taken the Kondraxxi insect-like head off from so far away.
"Stay focused, Laur," I told her, "Good shot by the way."
"No wonder the ancients went to war," she told me and I shivered again, "I've never felt so alive." I knew what she meant.
____________
"Answer me!" Commander Somu yelled into his comm, "Sector 3, report! Sector 8, what's going on?" There was silence on all frequencies.
He watched as the men around him, even those behind heavy armor, died one by one and stood in the middle of a now empty and eerie city. He was surrounded by strange machines. Strange, deadly looking machines.
"I surrender," he said in their dialect.
A large machine, human-shaped, approached and he was startled to see a human strapped in, piloting it through a series of neural wiring. He shivered at her smile.
"You came to our planet," a voice from a larger machine on the side told him, "You killed our people. Destroyed our city. Murdered our children. You are not worthy of a chance to surrender. Lauralei, he's yours."
"Thanks, Mason," she said and picked him up. He felt his arm ripped from his socket and screamed, "Now, you, let's show you what happens to bugs that kill children." | I should have known. They had it all there, available to view on their version of the Hypernet. So much information, the sum of all of their human knowledge all sitting their in that database they called Wikipedia. Their science, their religions, their philosophies, but most importantly their history.
&#x200B;
If only I'd had the automats download and search the database, it could all have been averted. I'd have avoided that Pale Blue Dot. That's what one of their scientists called it, What was his name? Peasant Kettle? Or something like that. The auto-translator has trouble with some of their names, despite having now scanned the whole of their Hypernet.
&#x200B;
I should have given the planet a wide birth, and I would not now be looking through the holoscope at the remnants of our armies. I would not now be watching as the humans use mechanical shovels to scope my brothers and sisters into waste processors, turning them into fuel to heat their
primitive homes.
&#x200B;
Had I not been so impatient for conquest, and to once again breath air that was not laden with toxins and microbes, I would have taken my time, read through the major events in their history, learned why no living being should ever threaten that backward little planet and it's insane inhabitants. I left it too late to learn the truth.
&#x200B;
I would have learned about their first great war, when men had stood in holes and hurled lead and toxic gas at each other across coils of wire. I'd have learned about the piles of dead, the starvation, the disease. I'd have learned that they swore it would never happen again, and how that promise did not even last a human lifetime.
&#x200B;
I would have learned about the second great war, when flight had been perfected and they could rain fire upon the homes of their enemies. I would have learned of the camps where humans forced other humans to breath poison and they pilled the dead into ovens to burn their corpses. I'd have learned of the weapon, the one they thought was the most powerful that could be created, and how they used it not once but twice. I'd have learned how they swore it would never happen again, until it did.
&#x200B;
Their third war was the deadliest, for it left one in five of them dead. Death by microbe, unchecked and uncontrollable. A fifth of all humans were dead within seven rotations of their planet, and a further two fifths died as their societies collapsed. They swore it would never happen again, and it probably would have, had it not been for one human.
&#x200B;
Big Tree Smelly Animal Rectum was the human that solved the problem. A simple mutation in their already weird and mutated genetic code was all it took. That human released a new virus on the planet, but this did not bring death, but the power of death.
&#x200B;
Can you imagine living in such a society? Where anyone around you can kill with a thought. Where you have to consciously make the decision not to kill every living thing you ever meet?
&#x200B;
There were problems of course. An entire island of people were wiped out within a few days of contracting the virus. An argument over a queue in an establishment that served boiling water filled with the extract of dried leaves was where it started. One human was unhappy about another human pushing in front of him, and thought him dead. That was the first mind-murder. Others panicked and thought those around them dead. Soon an entire nation was gone, but a lesson had been learned.
&#x200B;
It worked for them. They were forced to be civil to each other, to keep the peace, to forgive and forget. For when everyone has the power of life and death over everyone else, you tread lightly and make sure to never offend. There can be no arguments, no threats, no anger, envy or greed. When mutually assured distruction, is actually assured, peace is the easy option.
&#x200B;
My soldiers did not know this of course, for I have learned it all just now. My soldiers landed in their millions, the best trained, the best armed and the most ferocious warriors in the galaxy. They were dead the moment they met their first human.
&#x200B;
I can see their little ship approaching. It burst from their atmosphere and is heading for my battleship right now. I could blast them from space, but they would just send more. I could run, but they would follow. I think I'll just let them board. I'll see a human in the flesh for my first and last time, and let the little thing kill me with it's mind. Better that then let them try to follow me, for I can not imagine a worse plague to release on the Universe than that of humankind. | 2019-02-26T11:49:21 | 2019-02-26T10:58:57 | 54 | 25 |
[WP] A boy asks a girl out. It's high school. It's awkward. Narrate it from the point of view of a nature documentary. | Spring is an interesting time of year for this species, but most especially for the adolescents. As one biologist stated 'Ah Spring, when a young man's thoughts turn to thoughts of romance.' As another biologist stated 'As opposed to what?' (chuckles) Yes, as one might have guessed, this species is particularly hormone driven. Especially in their youth.
Oh, and here comes a young alpha male, wearing the ceremonial 'Letterman Jacket' that he won for some great feat of strength and skill. He is approaching one of the alpha females, the 'Queen B' as it were. He has a box of chocolates in his hand, it appears he is going for the gift giving ritual, always a risky practice. Let's see if he chose an acceptable gift or not.
Oh, it looks like he did, she hasn't slapped him at least. But what's this, she's refusing the gift! It appears the alpha male is talking to her now, not something his kind usually do. They're arguing now, never a good sign. And there it is, the slap of ultimate rejection! He's shocked, and she's storming away in a huff to...oh my, what's this? She's gone to one of the beta females. They're kissing! It appears the Queen has already chosen a mate from among the herd's females! Oh dear, this will throw the males for quite a loop! | *cameras zoom in on 2 wild homo sapien*
And now, we are observing two wild *Homo Sapiens* in their natural habitat: Starbucks. 'Starbucks' is a natural watering hole for the occasional homo sapien, and sometimes this rare species finds a mate at the watering hole. The male will, on rare occasion, give an espresso to the female as a sign of courtship. If the female accepts, they have been mated.
Oh, oh! Shh!!! Here comes the male.
*camera zooms in on male as he gets up and walks to the counter to order two double-shot espresso's* *audience gasps*
I have never seen this before! The wild male is making the first move... this has never been seen before! The female always puts on a vise of makeup to impress the male... look at him go.
*male hands female espresso*
Ladies and gentlemen, we are currently observing a rare sighting here.
*male and female turn to look outside window at the camera crew recording them. Their looks say it all.*
| 2017-04-04T06:46:11 | 2017-04-04T06:35:23 | 31 | 12 |
[WP] You wake up by a dusty road with 1,000 Mexican pesos and a note from your Spanish teacher: "Este es el examen final" | "Éste es el examen final" leía la nota atada a mi pecho. Después de levantarme del suelo y revisar que no tenga ninguna herida grave me puse a investigar donde estaba.
Era mi último año de preparatoria y con un poco de suerte ya no iba a tener que preocuparme de estudiar materias que nunca me iban a ser útiles. Solo necesitaba un poco de ayuda antes de los exámenes finales.
Mirando a mi alrededor me di cuenta de que estaba en alguna carretera desierta, mi mochila estaba casi vacía, lo único dentro de ella una billetera con 1000 pesos. Como iba a salir de esta? Como llegué aquí? Porque tenía 1000 pesos? Que tan lejos estaba del df?
Lo último que recordaba era estar esperando mi turno para hablar con mi profesor de física para ver si podía hacer algo para mejorar mis notas antes del examen final. Recuerdo haber escuchado algo extraño mientras esperaba, la curiosidad me invadió y abrí la puerta sin antes tocar. El profesor estaba de pie recostado contra la pizarra y al parecer alguien estaba de rodilla en frente de el, me acuerdo que me sorprendí al ver esto y di media vuelta, y justo antes de salir del cuarto sentí un dolor punzante en la nuca.
Ayer lo único que quería era terminar la prepa. Hoy lo único que quiero es encontrar una manera de volver a casa.
---------
Ive never written before here and I'm probably not a great writer but I thought it would be fun to give this topic a twist. | "¿Qué pasó, chico?" dijo una mujer.
"Uhhhhh hola uh... lost... soy Steve, dónde está escuela"
"¿Qué escueña? Estamos en Cozumel. Es estudiante? De dónde es?"
I was so confused. The last thing I could recall was walking into my Spanish class and the fire alarm sounding. Next thing I knew, I woke up parched, with nothing but this note in my pocket and my vocabulary flashcards.
Welp, I'd better make the best of this.
"Oh, policía! Edificio policía! Baño! Teléfono!"
"Pinche puta... sígueme"
The dark-skinned lady began to walk away through the blazing heat; it was beginning to get hard to see her... *pompís*. I had to follow her.
The town was the ugliest thing I'd ever had the displeasure of viewing; snakes, dried feces everywhere, old Mexican men smoking joints on the public toilets. Soon, the lady with the nice rumpus entered a small building. I followed, and to my pleasure, the pert melons of one of my favorite sights were attached to the body of one of my *compadres*. I think her name was Ashby.
"HEY! STEVE! DO YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON?"
Dang it, I always hated this chick.
**Part 2 coming out at some point!** | 2017-06-29T11:12:03 | 2017-06-29T09:12:30 | 255 | 30 |
[WP] Finally medical technology has reached the point where humans can survive to be over 200 years old. It is at this moment that humanity discovers as a species we have a 200 year pupation period. | With the advent of the Musk-Hawking Supraluminal Drive, humanity was finally able to explore the vastness that was space. From the first unmanned Tyson Exploratory Vessel to the manned United Nations Space Coalition "Icarus" class corvette, man has stretched his arms to every planet in his solar system. With the colonization of Mars and the mining of its two moons, Man began to test the limits of space. Pushing the boundaries of what it meant to be "human".
Social and scientific experiments were often done to unknowing colonists arriving from fair Mother Earth. When, over 75 years since the first ship landed on Mars, a chemical found in the depths of the underground frozen lakes had the potential to change everything. Dr. Manuel Xerxes Yeager was the first to discover and make use of the chemical, calling it the "Essence of Life".
This chemical, in a long and drawn out process, extended the human life cycle to 200+ years. Dr. Yeager was the first to test the medicine. Dr. Yeager was the first to Evolve.
You see, though man views life in 365 rotations of its planets around its central star, the rest of the universe views time as...trivial. To a human, 100 years is a long time. 200 years is...unthinkable. Dr. Yeager had gone absolutely insane by the time he was 150. At 175 he went into a deep, unbreakable coma. By 190, his body began to decay, but in a slow, almost deliberate state.
Studies showed that his Mitochondria had multiplied by the hundred fold. His body was producing so much biological energy, the scientific community couldn't fathom why or how it was happening. Though the Essence of Life prolonged a human life, it did not affect the body in any way other than "slowing" cell decay.
So in the year 2286, on the 16th of October, Dr. Yeagers body began to glow. Like a faint, tiny candle flame hid under a shaking hand his body glowed and heated until finally, after a few days of this, it burst. His corporeal body sloshed away and springing up and out of it came a faintly shining, ever younger Dr. Yeager.
Dr. Yeagers mitochondria had duplicated his body, had improved upon it. Had increased muscle mass, metabolism, brain activity. He was smarter, stronger, faster.
However, Dr. Yeager had no knowledge of who he was. Where he was. WHAT he was. He was like a new born baby. "it" had to be taught, shown, told what to do. How to speak.
And it learned. | "Are you sure he's fine? He looks so skinny."
"I'd say say not to worry, but this reaction is different from the rest we've observed. He didn't seem to have a lot of fat built up beforehand, so it looks like he's trying to absorb the required nutrients straight out of the air."
The frost on the viewing window started to disappear. If anyone had taken a closer look at the shell, they would have found that little fibers started breaking away.
"It looks like he's moving into the final stage. We have everything prepared, and enough tranquilizers for a herd of elephants."
Suddenly, large chunks of the shell started peeling away, like a reversed time lapse of his forming of the shell. About halfway through the shell's peeling, a pair of smooth, shiny wings punched through the shell.
A deep and muffled voice called from inside the shell. "Can someone turn off the AC? It's getting cold in here!"
"That sounds just like him, always complaining that it's too cold."
The wings easily shredded the shell, and he stood up. His head brushed the 10 foot ceiling, and his wings stretched out, each wing as long as him. Despite gaining 4 feet and no weight, he didn't look emaciated, just streched out like silly putty.
"God, I thought he was hot before. You'd think that after living together for 10 years, I would get used to seeing him. Could we, uh, put off the check ups until maybe tomorrow or the day after?"
The formally shelled man spoke up. "That sounds like a wonderful idea! A burger sounds great right now, and I can't sit still any more."
The doctor thought about it for a second, then acquiessed to their desires. "I suppose it won't hurt. Lemme go get some clothes for you."
"Oh no. He's fine as he is."
The doctor turned around. "What was that? I could hear you."
"Oh, nothing." and quickly blushed.
The giant stretched. "You know what, I feel like I could run forever." and a smirk appeared on his face.
"Now that you're back, I could too. And it would only be a few months before I would pupate too. God, I'm getting horny just thinking about it."
"Sounds like heaven. Pure bliss."
"Angelic." | 2017-05-18T10:51:04 | 2017-05-18T07:28:08 | 80 | 43 |
[WP] The zombie apocalypse has come and gone. Humanity has survived and prospered, but with the virus inside every single human. Centuries into the future, we are at war with an alien race, and they are horrified to learn that we don’t stay dead easily. | I sit in the dark, staring into the fire longer than I know is wise. My comrades are gone, flesh still sizzling with unnatural fire from the foreign weapons those monsters think have won them this battle.
But they don't know.
I almost feel sorry for them.
They don't know what manner of hell they just unleashed; the deadly hoard that will awaken in the morning light. They don't know about the virus that has inflicted our kind for generations. But I know, because I've seen it so many times before. I've survived when others have fallen.
The green soldiers from beyond think tonight is a night of triumph to celebrate a courageous victory. I can hear their strange revelry radiating in the distance.
But they are wrong. Tomorrow will be a slaughter like they've never seen. And I can't honestly tell you which side I am vying for. After the devestation they have both brought to this world, I hope they annihilate one another. I hope there's nothing left. | The contorted mass of flesh slugged towards his bewildered opponent; belowing screeches suffocating the battlefield.
The gaunt look of fear and disgust grimaces on his commanders face as he turns round to see his unit flee in horror, tramlping over the eviscearated remains of other Exo troops.
Grubo makes his final stand as he runs head on towards the monstrosity; his body flailed with one foul swipe hitting the ground before he could even draw.
"Augmented suit failed, critical failure"
he takes off his headset to see the faces of other troops, a deep sense of dread filled the command centre. These Foul wretched had expanded to every corner of the galaxy. | 2022-09-13T21:20:17 | 2022-09-13T19:49:36 | 109 | 57 |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.