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] your crazy, possessive ex girlfriend was abducted by aliens. She has clawed her way up to the position of the Empress of the Galaxy. Now she wants you back.
You can either go with tyrannical and hated ruler or with enlightened, popular, (but still possessive and crazy) absolutist. Or something in between.
I am making this NSFW just in case. | "Yeeeaaahhh.....this is really nice... How the hell did you get a spaceship again?"
"Oh, turns out that for all their advanced tech, aliens are really wimpy, and all it takes is a good fist to the face to establish dominance. So I punched the captain in the face and took his ship. the rest of the crew followed me."
Her willingness to punch stuff was always hot.... "So they abducted you, and you took this ship?"
"Pfft that rustbucket?! No way! No, this is the flagship of the Xultarian galactic enforcement fleet!"
"...wut..."
"Yeah, I'm the Queen of Xultar now."
"...Xultar?"
"Yeah, they didn't have a name translatable to English, so I just made one up for them. Something that sounds alieny, ya know? Xultar is good, right?"
"Umm yeah. So how did you become Queen?"
"I already told you they're wimpy, but they're like a pack of dogs. All you have to do is establish dominance. So after I punched the captain in the face, I went to the Rear Admiral's ship and punched him in the face. Then to the Fleet Admiral. Then Commander in Chief. So on and so forth until I got to the Emperor!"
"And no one tried to...ya know, shoot you at any point of punching high-ranking officers in the face?"
"Of course not! They wouldn't shoot one of their most-trusted military officers while she's going to speak to the Emperor!"
"...Right...'
"You don't seem too enthused about this."
"Well, it feels like this is too unrealistic to be real. Am I dreaming? Things are weird enough."
"Oh you wanna see something realistic? I'll show you something realistic! Follow me."
*Great. this is the part where her tits grow tentacles and this goes from weird to nightmare...*
"A REALISTIC FUCKING SPACE GUN!"
I briefly study the diagram, and turn my head towards the viewport... "Holy. Fucking. Shit. Is that a..."
"GIANT FUCKING SPACE GUN"
"Dear lord that thing must fire slugs the size of the Empire State building."
"That are twice as dense as depleted uranium, at 15% the speed of light....or something"
[Jaw drops]
"Wanna shoot it? I know you like guns and all so-"
"FUCK YEAH I WANNA SHOOT IT!" *Fuck why did I say that*
"Alright, let's get you wired in." She attaches gloves and a helmet to my hands and head. I feel one with the weapon. "Now, pick a target, and do what comes natural."
"Pluto isn't a planet!"
The ship shakes with a thunderous roar. My adrenaline rushes. The neural interface gives me a clear view as my relativistic slug streaks across the vaccuum of space towards the dwarf planet. The view zooms keeping both the slug and target in frame.
"I knew you'd pick that, so I got us a bit closer so you wouldn't have to wait a few hours for the impact. You know how I'm generous like that ;)"
"Yeah yeah yeah...."
"Are you ignoring me?!"
"Not completely. Just a little bit on account of the fact that I'm about to watch a fucking almost-planet explode." She angrily pulls the helmet off, "Aww come on!"
"Not until you apologize."
"Shit. I'm really sorry. This all is really generous of you to let me fire a giant space gun. Can I please watch Pluto explode?"
"Okay here ya go."
Only red hot debris remains in the neural view screen. "Aww I missed it!"
"Aww I'm sorry. But I can make it up to you ;) Ever think of what we can do in zero gravity..."
"Didn't take me long to do the math."
"Oh don't be smart! Let's go!"
*Maybe it won't be so bad this time. Maybe she's better and found a place that she can excel and live in a well-adjusted manner! After all, she's does have that rockin body, and I have a giant space gun...*
[2 Earth solar cycles later, both our flagships are surrounded by the debris of our fleets, separated by about 1/2 an AU. She is screaming at me over the view screen. Something about how I never changed or whatever... how she never should have "done nespotism" (sic) by promoting me. How if I won't be there for her, she won't let me be anywhere.]
*Nope.*
| I looked up from my phone and slid the ring off my finger, examining it. It was simple but valuable, full of meaning - a soft band of pure gold that hugged my finger and reminded me what it was to love.
Martha.
It was she who had taught me how beautiful life was, no matter how short, and even with her gone I could never bring myself to wallow in my loneliness. Just the faint memory of her smiling face warded off sadness like a flame.
I used to think people's eyes were what made them beautiful. I always loved soft, almond-shaped eyes, full of emotion and life. They say eyes are the windows to a person's soul, and I believed them - until I met Martha, that is.
She loved absolutely everyone, and her constant smile was proof of that. When I sit and remember, I can still recall how she looked - her long, thick auburn hair, her smooth, pale face, dotted with the cute freckles that she'd always hated, her round, rosy red lips....But her bright white smile outshone all of that because of what it meant. She loved everyone, and I loved her with all of my heart.
I looked back down at my phone, at the story I'd just read. Nostalgia hit me like a roaring wave. Just two short years before I met Martha, I thought I'd found the one...
Rebecca.
She was amazing - gorgeous, of course, but also smart and loving and genuinely caring. She was competitive and intense, insistent and persuasive. Her sharp green eyes had always stood out to me, and mine to her. We knew there was something special between us the first time we caught a glimpse of each other at a college buddy's wedding, chatting for a few minutes before talking for a few hours before spending days and weeks and months tangled up in each other's arms. It was true love, pure and perfect.
Or so I thought. I had barely noticed her sinking her claws into me more and more each day, slowly weaning me away from my old friends and cutting out the hobbies I had that didn't include her. Gone were the nights at the pub, the boxing matches, the baseball card collection. After two years, I decided enough was enough. I knew Rebecca wouldn't take it well, but I had to say something - and soon.
Then she disappeared. One night, the constant texting just stopped abruptly. I called her friends, then her family, then the police...Nothing. As the years passed, everyone gave up hope. I tried to hold out for her - after all, I did love her - but Martha became my life in a way a missing ex-girlfriend could never manage.
I re-read the fragmented text for the third time. It was an eight-part behemoth of a thing, twelve hundred simple characters that, thrown together recklessly into an impossible story, shattered my life to pieces.
Alien abductions weren't real. But I was sitting there looking at a pixellated picture of someone who was definitely Rebecca in a place that was definitely not on Earth. And a story that was too desperate - too real - to doubt for a second. My Rebecca ruled a galaxy I had never heard of, and I was invited to join her.
In that moment, I had no choice but to believe the story in front of me. Pushing the Star Wars references out of my mind, I scanned the end of the message again.
*I still remember what we had, and I need that back. I know you do, too. Just say yes, and I'll be there.*
The ring in my hand felt cold and heavy, its weight mirroring the weight of the decision I had to make.
I slid it back onto my finger, where it belonged. It felt warm, right. Earth was where I belonged.
I grabbed my phone, locked it, and tossed it almost nonchalantly onto the overstuffed couch Martha had picked out for us right after the wedding. I thought of her beautiful smile again, and in that moment everything felt all right.
I leaned down to finish lacing up my running shoes. I stood up, stretched out, walked onto my porch into the morning sunlight...and was instantly swept off my feet, flung wildly up through the air toward a small black speck high in the sky. I got closer, and as the speck got bigger it began to take shape. I felt my sheer terror wearing off, and I managed a wry grin.
Rebecca never could take "no" for an answer. | 2014-12-29T11:25:43 | 2014-12-29T10:30:03 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] "And now, I require a test of bravery." You sneer, "Oh, and what shall it be? Slay a dragon? Or something equally stupid?" The Fae smiles knowingly, "When was the last time you visited home?" Your face pales... | "My home...?"
In an instant, all the cynicism, all the faint disgust and barely-bottled frustrations held and leaked through barbed words for the past year had... vanished. It was as if it wasn't blood that flowed through his veins, but contempt.
"What are you asking?" he said.
"When was the last time you visited home?"
"Don't give me that shit," he spat. "We both know whenever you ask something, you never just outright *say* it. Let me guess... you want me to see my family?"
Her expression didn't change, but there was a flicker in her eye.
"No." He turned to face away from her. "I know you know. Maybe that's why you chose me. Or maybe you didn't know and found out. And you'll know why I won't forgive them. After everything they did? A father who drank himself to death when he was resting from breaking my bones? A mother who coddled her useless son while condemning me for the crimes he was guilty of? And that son..."
It was back now. The scowl. The venom. But there was something missing.
"But that's not why you want me to go back, is it?"
*There* it was. It was little more than a seedling, yes, but it was there.
"That's not bravery. Bravery isn't the absence of fear, is it? If I did go dragon slaying, that would just be dragon slaying." He shook his head. "No. It's fear, isn't it? Fear makes bravery. And I'm not scared of them. And it's not that fat bastard of a priest either, is it? No idea why mother looked up to him so much."
He paused.
"We went there every event. And every time, I'd hear it. The screams, the yells. Commands to be righteous and to expel my sinful nature. And it was wrong. No one else went through that. Why did I? Why'd I have to?"
She watched him, silent.
"You know what the obvious answer is, don't you? The priest? He had something. Why else would someone hate their own kid so much? And the fat prick hated me the moment he saw me. Makes sense, right? It should be obvious, then, that I go home, find whatever it is that turned my family against me, and break it, or kill it."
"So why are you scared?"
He hesitated. He knew if he said this...
No. He couldn't. After all, there *had* to be something there, right? Right? If he went into that corrupt church and turned everything upside down...
...Then he'd fail the test. Because he was ignoring a very valid possibility. One that he was ignoring with all his might. The one thing that scared him more than anything else.
"Faerie."
She never took her eyes off of him.
"What am I supposed to do if I turn the place upside down... and..." He swallowed. "What if I look and..."
"And...?"
"... I don't find anything?" | I breathed in: "No"
The Fae, slightly, surprised: "What no? You can´t say no to that we have a contract."
"I will not visit my birthers EVER. Period. Give me a other test of bravery." My eyes lasering deep into the Fae.
"But why? Just go to them and have a day with them, you haven´t visited them for a long time. ALso why "birth givers"? They are your p-"
"No, they were abusive assholes, which I cut out of my live for a reason. The lost their privilge of being called "parents for a reason."
The Fae unsure, for the first time probably, starred. The Fae have very strong traditions and hierachies with their parents. Cutting them out of ones live if a death sentence, lietrally. You are being exiled and hunted for that. Were the humans really such heartless beings?
"Ok, I will regret this, but please explain" The fae pondered for a second: "please tell me what they did. I cannot imagine anything that would be enough to go to such extreme measures."
"Uggghhhhh, I guess."
\-- A story followed, a story of unspeakable mental and bodily tormend, of people who never should have had children. Crimes the Fae haven´t even heard of yet. --
"And that´s how we are here." I looked at the Fae.
"Uhm ... uh- " The Fae stood there, hands liften near the head, head slightly shaking: "And ... and how did you survive that?"
"Oh I almost didn´t. My Sister didn´t. I survived, but not by my own strength or willpower, they destroyed that very well. WIth ***SPITE***, the greates motivator we humans have. Spite is what drives at least 70% of humanity right now."
The Fae simply answers: "Ahhhhhh, it makes so much sense now. My god. We Fae never think so ... emotionally. Our traditions and most importantly hierachies are so stiff, that such things as Spite don´t even fit in. I mean that makes us so organised and effiecent, yet we wondered why you humans keep up with us, so easily."
"Yes, we couldn´t let you smug bastards dance on our nose for too long" I laughed.
"Very well." The Fae tried to collect themself: "I do have to apologize now. I should have asked before for ... problems like that. I ... I will need to process your story, please come back tomorrow."
"Wait, what. And what is with the contrac? I still need the power, I have to get my sissters soul back. I need to rescue her."
The Fae turned and slowly walked away: "No, later" | 2021-09-26T13:59:00 | 2021-09-26T13:48:55 | 257 | 22 |
[WP] You just gave birth, your son has a colored hair like none before, the doctor declares that your son has been infected with a syndrome called the "Protagonist". Your lifespan has now been reduced to mere days. | “Is everything OK with my child?”
“Your child will be fine, pretty much by definition. Oh, he’ll have tremendous struggles and go through more life threatening situations than a group of Trump supporters drinking Clorox, but his particular condition will ensure he makes it through. Unfortunately, his condition also ensures he grows up as an orphan.”
“I don’t understand...”
“I don’t know how else to say this. Your child has Protagonist Syndrome.”
*gasp* “is there anything I could have done?”
“Well, your records state the father was a being of light so... maybe not indulging in a one night stand with a demigod?”
“Oh. Well. What are my chances?”
“Usually the parent has only a few days, occasionally up to a few years. The latter allows for the protagonist to form early memories that can make the loss of a parent even more tragic. But in those cases, the parents death is usually in some traumatizing event.”
“That’s awful!”
“Yes, but we are developing a experimental treatment.”
“What is it?”
“In some cases, it has been sufficient for the parent to seem to die, only to step back into the plot during the protagonist’s adulthood. Unfortunately, there’s one catch.”
“What’s that?”
“You’ll need to be the Villian.”
“You mean like Anakin turning into Darth Vader after Padame died?”
“That’s correct.”
“Noooooooooo!” | *"When my son was born, I was the happiest father in the world. Someone who could be the best parts of me and my wonderful wife. But, something didn't feel right when they brought him back from his crib. I didn't think much of it when I saw his hair, neither did my sweet Angela. But then, the doctor came. She told us it was 'Protagonist Syndrome' also known as 'Main Character Syndrome.' We didn't know what it meant, we thought it was amazing, our bouncing baby boy would be someone everyone would adore, someone we could be truly proud of. But then, she broke to us the bad news. My wife would have mere days to live. Based on the birthmark on his arm, it seemed like he was going to be someone who would save the planet. I broke down right then and there, right next to my Angela. Our boy would be amazing, awesome even, but with that, his own mother had to be sacrificed."*
Main Character Syndrome has destroyed and saved countless lives. But what is the right choice? Go to your local medical center and get tested now.
This was brought to you by the Main Character Syndrome Foundation. | 2020-04-28T06:45:50 | 2020-04-28T06:12:15 | 70 | 41 |
[WP] Humans are the only species in the universe with pets. As humanity enters the ranks of the Galactic Empire humanity soon is known as "The Beastmasters", taming even the worst nightmares of alien bedtime stories. | "Its WRONG! What those humans do! WRONG! And now they're even using it to control the galactic Senate!"
"Look you know the rules. Once a species has been inducted into the council it retains a vote, no matter what, until extinction."
"Extinction! Pah! That would be better than what the humans do to their defeated enemies! Look at what's become of the Vasudans! They used to be the galaxies most feared warriors! Now look at what they've become!"
"I've talked to Vasudans and they say they're happy with how they are now"
"THAT JUST MAKES IT WORSE! 'domestication' the humans call it. Say they've been doing it on their home world to organisms ever since they evolved! They don't just kill their enemies like a civilised species! No! They 'domesticate' them! Change their very genetics to make them love humans! Now the human representative has dozen 'pets' fawning over her at every senate session! The Krell senator wears a collar and begs her for ear rubs before every vote!"
"Unfortunately the humans do now control 42% of the Senate votes through their "pets" so they have enough votes to block any motion to reduce their power." | ######[](#dropcap)
It's spawn are rampant all across the planet, split into multiple variants for each biome and condition.
They range from being as small enough to carry to the size of a medium humanoid, capable of downing the mightiest of us.
Even the bravest among us wouldn't dare to challenge them, but even the smaller ones take advantage of another tactic: packs.
Just like any other beast, what they lack in size and strength, they make up for in numbers, number who can think not in swarms but how to corner, how to chase, and how to kill.
But, it's not the tactics, it's not their numbers, no, it's their genetics. Kill one of a kind? They are genetically compatible with each other. Just mix one with another and its progeny will continue to plague us all.
We called it the Canis lupus familiaris, but the humans call them, dogs.
We don't know what or how humans domesticated these beasts, but one thing is certain: If they conquered such a species, who is next? | 2020-01-04T18:03:50 | 2020-01-04T17:19:47 | 143 | 46 |
[WP] Grandpa has talked gibberish since an accident in '79. One day, while converting grandma's VHS tapes to digital, you find yourself rewinding some footage. Grandpa comes into frame. You realize you can understand what he's saying and the words terrify you. | We don’t know what happened. I wasn’t even alive yet. But back in ‘79 something happened to grandpa that caused him to lose his speech. Sometimes he still says a few words, but they’re always incomprehensible, just gibberish. He always seems sad, scared when he looks off blankly. I wish we knew. But the story goes that everything was normal until one night when he was driving home from work. He never made it home and grandma called the police to look. They found him sitting in his car on the side of the road, unresponsive. No damage to the car or anything in it. Everything checked out at the hospital, no stroke, no heart attack. But when he woke up, he wasn’t the same. I always wished we knew, until we knew.
Two days ago it began. Slightly, subtly at first. I noticed a flashing blue light in the night sky, a plane I told myself. I wasn’t scared until the reports started showing up on the news.
“UFO’s spotted? Reports from all over the country are streaming in. On San Francisco tonight we’ll hear from an Oakland couple who swears they saw one but first, an official message from the military on their extensive tests.”
Odd. But military tests make sense, an easy, reasonable explanation. But then the cloud went down. Everything digital. All phones went off, no internet, no networks. Every few minutes in thy sky something would pass by. What is happening?
We all decided to stay at grandma and grandpa's until we got word. The old ways of communication still worked. Telephone lines, cable wires and they were the only ones in our family that had any of that. We all stayed up and watched the news. The military still was only saying “tests” but this wasn’t right. Just as I was drifting off to sleep I was awoken with a shake.
“Grandpa?” I said as he was standing over me. No response. He just handed me an old VHS and pointed to what had to be the last known VCR is the state. I obliged and put the VHS in. One of my old birthday parties, sentimental I thought, until grandpa came into view. He grabbed the camera and spoke. And for once in my life I understood.
“They’re coming.” He said. “They’re coming. When they come, it will be the end.”
I stopped the tape and turn back to grandpa, shocked.
“They’re here.” He says. | Grandpa changed on that day. We were never able to really know whether it really was an accident or if he rubbed somebody the wrong way. Back then people said he took his faith seriously. Today we’d say he was a religious nut. But after that day he couldn’t take care of himself anymore so my parents took him in. He was always around, speaking things we never understood. He wasn’t violent, he was mostly in his room, seldom venturing out. He’d join us for meals and would sometimes sit outside when weather was fine. My parents told me to leave him be but I was always fascinated by him. By his words. I understood them, they were not some foreign language, but they made no sense. He seemed eager to say them, repeating them with increased urgency until giving up and starting to say something new. It felt like some random words mixed with biblical (or what felt like biblical) verses mixed together.
When my father bought hand held camera he seemed even more determined to let his words be recorded. I was happy to oblige, filling cassette after cassette of it, to the annoyance of my father who saw it a waste of both time and then still expensive cassettes.
He passed away two years ago and it was only now I finally went through his stuff. I found so many of these tapes I forgot about. Memories came back and hoping to rekindle old memories and remember him I popped one in old VCR I still had. Once I heard his voice I gasped. It wasn’t that words made no sense, it was simply that he didn’t speak plainly. “7 riders on a candle, challenging God Himself falling down”, “separating smallest things and pouring out wormwood”, “wall and curtain stand together, one can’t be without the other”, “black head in sand, storm from heavens”. It all came together, “two pillars burned down, wandering high and hot” and many more. Looking at those tapes it like watching unheeded warnings because we didn’t understand. There was only one that didn’t happen. "Incense burned in harbour to create heavenly peace". I have no idea what this could be. But I'm worried. | 2019-10-21T12:49:38 | 2019-10-21T12:03:35 | 89 | 63 |
[WP] Theorising that so-called "life-force" or "souls" is actually just the electricity coursing through the nerves of living things, you try to sacrifice a battery to a demon. | the Flames came from the ground in a great thunderous sound, the room lit red by the light, shadows dancing across the back wall of the room, the fire slowly began to fade, only to reveal the beast!
John looked puzzled, as he looked down at a 4 foot tall demon, it looked to be a short middle aged man, but it had red skin and tiny nub horns, and he kinda looks like he let him self go abit, but was still dressed nice, wearing a nice suit and fedora.
"So why have you summoned me Kiddo?" the demon asked in a New Yorker accent.
"I'm H..h.here to trade a soul in return for power..." John answered.
"Ah I see! good good, you wouldn't believe the electric bills in Hell, can't get my kids to turn off the lights when they exit a room, it's killing me, anyway, so you going to let me see the soul?"
The demon asked leaning forward a little eyebrows raised.
John reached down into his pocket, pulling out a double A battery.
the demon looked, leaning in, his point nose touching the edge of Johns had while he had both eyes focused on the battery.
"What the hell is this!" the demon Exclaimed jumping back.
John began to answer " it's a double A---"
" I know what it is retard, it was a rhetorical question." the demon said, cutting John off.
"I was expecting Human soul energy, you know the good shit, I would have even settled for a cow, but Nooo you think you're funny bringing me a double A battery, here I grant you the power to go screw yourself." the demon shoved his middle finger right in Johns face, and in one bright flash of light and fire the demon vanished.
| Obviously I've made mistakes in long life, I'll grant you that. But for the life of me, I never imagined that these humans are this fucking stupid!
There I stood, middle of a damn summoning circle, some goofy haired human stood there with a single D battery in his outstretched hand.
This little bitch of a goatsee bastard is all like
"I have a soul to trade!"
An us Demons dont think really highly of ourselves but this clown looks up at me, im standing like seven feet above his fucking head! Looks up at me and I swear to dirty old Lucy! This monkeyass lanky little tit drinking bitch is like completely sure I'm gonna trade him some bargain for a goddamned fucking D battery..
An I'm kinda thrown off, I'm like..
"Is that a fucking D battery?"
An shit face is like.
"What? Noooo?" An then he laughed, trying to play it off, as if he wasn't pissing himself. Actual urine running down his leg.
I'm just like.
"I can fucking see duracell on the fucking label bro!"
An lil skipper is pale as a fucking blanket of snow, like 9th circle white!
Tears running from his eyes, he looks up at me "I was just testing a scientific theory?"
Well fuck me if I wasn't pissed!
Little shit disturbs my weekend off .. an I have to let him go cause we are on the same side of the game.
Fuck.. ING.. rotted .. | 2017-07-01T21:37:47 | 2017-07-01T20:06:58 | 37 | 24 |
[WP] A supervillain kidnaps a civilian and keeps them hostage, taunting on live television for the superhero to come find them. Unbeknownst to the villain, the kidnapped civilian is the superhero.
Did I butcher the title or what?
This is blowing up! All the responses have been diverse and really cool!
| Grax shouted into the camera for the hundredth time, spittle spraying in an arc in front of him. I wondered, not the first time, if any was getting on the lens. If the camera feed went down or was at least blurred enough, I could possibly make some sort of escape without blowing my cover.
“This man will die if you are not here in the next five minutes, Jade Enchantress! I know who he is, what he means to you!” A smile curled his lips as he spat this last threat, pointing a finger at me. The idiot villain really thought he had figured something out by tracking this version of me to most of the same places my superhero identity frequented.
I sighed through my gag, my eyes rolling just a bit. Grax caught this, and slapped me across my face, his steel gauntlets causing my ears to ring slightly. If I were the slightly overweight middle aged man I appeared to be, that would have really done some damage. He’s not very experienced with the “fragile human hostage” thing.
“Be glad I have let you live this long. Your lover will be here soon, and then I shall end you both!”
I cringed a little at “lover.” The gender difference was weird as hell, and I really didn’t like to talk about it. It’s not like you can help what the ancient jade artifact grants you the power to turn into. I’d do it all over again to get the power of flight, super strength, and nigh-invulnerability. Who cares if when I do it I have to wear a bra and panties underneath my costume?
Well, I do. A little. It’s this secret that keeps me from shape-shifting right now and pummeling Grax’s stupid, grotesque face. If I changed right now, my whole underwear line, books, and sponsorships would be in serious question. Not to mention my marriage.
I looked into the camera, wondering how long it would take for any of my friends to do anything about this. Green Mantis was probably laughing his ass off right now, wondering how I got caught. Fucking cocktail parties. Opal Tiger was definitely shaking his head in disapproval, but most likely strapping his boots on.
Trying not to sigh again, I leaned back a little in my steel folding chair, and waited.
[r/Intotheslushpile]( https://www.reddit.com/r/intotheslushpile/)
Continued below in this thread =)
EDIT: Thanks so much for all the feedback and love! You guys are awesome. I'll be continuing this over on my [subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/intotheslushpile/comments/5qud4b/the_secret_life_of_a_teenage_heroine_part_4/). I work a lot during the week but I'll keep the story rolling on weekends until we get to the end =).
[Part Four](https://www.reddit.com/r/intotheslushpile/comments/5qud4b/the_secret_life_of_a_teenage_heroine_part_4/) is up right now. | My toes were curled so tightly I swore they were waiting to break through my shoes. The self control I had to use in order to sit still and let this man believe I was just another hostage felt impossible, even for me. He paced back and forth from either side of me, standing just behind the wooden chair I was strapped unnecessarily tightly to. His voice was 3 octaves deeper than what sounded comfortable for him, but his natural voice wouldn't nearly have been as intimidating to civilians.
The longer he waited for the caped crusader he demanded to be here, the more impatient he got. His voice became more irritated with every minute. His volume increased with every demand. "You only have three minutes left." He stared into the camera before us, moving closer with every word. "Once three minutes is up, I kill her." He was referring to me. "I kill her on this live broadcast in front of the entire world. Everyone will be watching, and everyone will know you could have stopped this. But you chose to be a murderer."
I bit down harder on the cloth that was forced into my mouth when he captured me. He didn't know who I was. He didn't realize the masked hero he was speaking to was sitting right behind him. If it had been just us, no cameras - no witnesses - I would've escaped by now. He would've been the one tied to this chair while the police raced to find him. But we did have witnesses, and even though it was just the two of us here, we were far from alone.
If I break free and show him I'm the one he's asking for, the entire world finds out who I am and I'll never be able to live the same way again.
If I don't free myself, he kills me - or at least attempts to - in front of the entire world while no one comes to rescue me and I ruin any good image and name my mask and cape still carry with them.
He's been counting down. There's only 30 seconds left before he pulls the trigger of the small gun pressed to my temple. There isn't any time left to debate this with myself.
29
28
He's taunting the camera now, and his laugh is hauntingly malicious as it infects my ears.
15
14
If I save myself, I lose the normal life I worked so damn hard to build, and I put everyone I love at risk.
7
6
If I don't save myself, this world loses the one glimmer of hope it so desperately needs, and they won't be able to trust anyone else in a mask ever again.
3
2
There isn't time. I have to choose. Now or never.
1. | 2017-01-28T07:43:43 | 2017-01-28T07:42:49 | 1,851 | 243 |
[WP] "One cannot own these lands," the native explained patiently to the eager colonist,"No, really, you can't. We tried." | The fear in his eyes burrowed into me like the shriek of a raven on a cold night.
Turn back, he said, through the voice of our interpreter.
We could not.
Too much had depended on this venture.
We made camp as the air grew dark and the rustling of the trees only caressed our fears, fueled them like the fire that burned before us
I've noticed a change in our guide. We heard the same message, but I fear he heard more. I saw it in the way he looked at the man who spoke with us on the beach. Perhaps he spared us, or perhaps it was the tone of the words the message belied.
Either way, he hadn't stopped sweating, hadn't unwound one bit since we entered the wilds. It had been like travelling with an over tuned violin, set to snap and unravel at any given moment.
I was oddly relieved to find him gone the next morning.
The men asked me to give up, asked me to turn back the way we came and go back to Spain with our tails between our legs and our hat's in our hands.
I had to show them my pistol to quiet them up.
Jose Dominguez, an astute navigator, said he saw something. He said it looked like a man, said it was standing up high in the tree. Its body was covered in white paste and it seemed to wear the bone white skull of a cow as a mask.
He said it dropped as soon as he saw it, said it seemed to vanish, didn't seem to make a sound or cause a rustle as it fell.
The men had begun to question my sanity. One of then turned to walk back on his own.
I told him his country would not accept him back, told him he would be jailed and his property would be seized. I told him it was all or nothing for this trip.
We ventured on.
As we camped the shadows played tricks with our eyes.
Even I seemed to see a face staring back at me from the darkness amidst the trees.
I should have listened to them.
They were bigger than we thought they'd be.
Not human.
Some of their masks had antlers while others had fangs. One of them seemed to wear the skull of a tiger with a set of long front teeth the likes of which I had never seen.
Their hollow eyes stared down at us from the circle they had formed around our camp.
I asked them what they wanted, but the leader only turned his hollow eyed gaze in my direction and snarled.
I shot him.
They roared and dove upon us all at once.
Dominguez was pulled up by the sockets of his eyes, while Enrique, our best marksmen, threw a rock at another, missed.
The big one went straight for me, wasn't affected at all by the scattershot I put in his belly.
He seemed to crack my head wide open on the rock upon which I had been sitting.
All went black after that.
I awoke in the morning to the smell of pork cooking and realized just how hungry I was, despite the throbbing in my head.
My face felt strange, it was hard to move it. It was as though it were now encased by a shell.
Or a mask.
A leg was roasting on the fire.
A human one.
My new brothers beckoned me to feed with the slow wave of a taloned hand, and the hunger, oh...
The hunger... | "Fortune to you, *ch'rok-ch'oatl*." The creature's head - I assumed it was his head, anyway - had three black orbs, about the size of golf balls, distributed in a graceful arc across what on a human would be a forehead. I made a mental note that it was slightly concave - bowing inward, instead of outward. "It is thought you are here for the *Buzk'ich*."
He moved one of his delicate, multi-jointed limbs towards the west. I turned my head briefly to gaze towards what we had designated the Utopia Territory, then looked back at him. I hesitated a moment, wondering what made me so sure it was a "he" and not a "she" or an "it."
"You will be warned, *ch'rok-ch'oatl*. This land here, to the boundary of the trees - the *Buzk'qhich-yo* - will be abandoned. It is being left. Take it, if you wish. But the *Buzk'ich* itself, it is a...place of negation. It will not be owned."
He - she - it - saw the wry smile on my face. I am not sure what the interpretation was, but it definitely carried significance. The leathery exterior of the creature shifted from an ocher color to a vibrant indigo, and an acrid odor hit my nostrils. It was a strange mix of cumin and ozone and dirt.
"*Ch'rok-ch'oatl*, do not become a victim of the *Buzk'ich*. It has left only one survivor. Stay on this side of the trees. This place is empty."
The creature's...hide? Skin? Whatever it was, it became a vivid, almost violent, shade of green.
"The things that have been seen...the sounds...the memories. *Pch'ov-han* the thought-organ. Never forgotten. Never."
I was about to interrupt when thick layers of membrane closed laterally over the three black eyes. The creature's body began to tremble, and amber fluid began seeping out from under the membranes. Then there was a soft hissing sound and a hole I could have reached my entire arm through appeared through the thing's head.
I sighed as I put my sidearm back in its holster as the figure wavered momentarily before slumping to the ground, one of its limbs still twitching.
The brief about the Utopia Territory had mentioned primitive natives in the region. I had hoped I might get some useful intel out of this one, but such is life. Or death, in its case.
I activated the power on my supply pod and it slowly lifted a few feet off the ground. I made sure it was synced to my suit and then started trudging towards the forest, the supply pod gliding silently behind me. I sent a brief transmission to the orbital group that all was clear for the first team.
"Booze-kitch," the thing had said. Sounded like it could be kind of fun. I had no idea how wrong my impression would end up being. | 2017-12-29T13:49:00 | 2017-12-29T13:18:06 | 71 | 14 |
[WP] You're given a chance to see how many times you've been near death. The highest number of times anyone you know of has almost died, was 15, and they have a dangerous job. You just found out that your life has been close to ending 278 times. | I woke up and hazily looked around at a few somber faces. To my horror, I felt the needle in my arm--the IV.
*\*Fuck, oh fuck oh fuck.\** The thought of what might be in the solution being directly pumped into my veins...
My mom looked up. "You're awake," she said softly. The rest of the heads turned to look at me. They stared, silently, for a few moments.
"The doctor..." my mom trailed off. She sniffled, and looked down at her lap before rubbing at her eyes. "He says you're at 278. Two hundred and fucking seventy-eight."
That was 27 more than last time, over a year ago. And it was still 263 more than my dad--a police officer. They thought I was getting better; for a few months that dreadful red digital display was going up and up. They stopped monitoring so closely after a while, and I was able to get things back in control.
To bed at 10. First alarm at 1. Fifty squats, fifty situps, fifty pushups, running in place for five minutes. Repeat ten times. Back to bed. God it's so cold, why aren't there more blankets? Up again at 3 to pee. More pushups. Planks. Lunges. Squat jumps. Back to bed.
6 am. Dad is up for work, I'm up for school. \*I hope he doesn't notice this time\* I think as I sit down for breakfast with him. I chew my food, but spit it out as I pretend to drink my coffee. Off to school. I throw away my lunch except for the Diet Coke. I skip class to walk the halls. I can't escape dinner, but filling up the bath makes enough noise to mask my purging. Situps and pushups before my bath.
Day in, day out. That red display was going down, and that euphoria was enough to make me persist despite my faintness, the cold, the anhedonia. Little did I know how close I kept getting...
"I really thought things were going well, I really did... you can't do this anymore, just can't. I hate to say this, honey, you're gonna have to do inpatient. I've already called, we're headed there after you're discharged."
I felt swallowed up into a hole. Trapped. I can't breathe. \*No...\*
I closed my eyes. Pure dread was all I felt as I realized that while one number had to stop going up, the other number was going to start, and I couldn't do anything about it.
NOTE: I'm not a very good writer, but I couldn't get this idea out of my head when I saw this prompt. I did the best I could, and I purposely made the narrator genderless since these issues are not gender-specific... me case-in-point. I'm better now thankfully but I know there's others out there who aren't. | **Last Diary Entry found on Hanna's computer, <11 hours> before forensic declared time of death:**
>Diary Entry No. 2936. 07/26/2018.
>
>I found a website that can predict the number of times I've had a near death experience. I'm all too familiar with stuff like this, but decided to give it a try, just for fun.
>
>"[www.neardeathxp.com](https://www.neardeathxp.com)" I typed in. It had an unusually long load time. Upon entering, I was greeted with a solid black screen, a red circle in the center, and within it, a white box prompting my name and DOB. I nonchalantly filled it in and hit "enter". The white box melted and morphed into a single number: 278 - immediately followed by a site crash. I refreshed the page multiple times, but to no avail. The website no longer existed.
>
>*278...278...278...where have I seen this number before...*
>
>I've led a relatively safe life thus far, but 278 times in 26 years doesn't sound too far-fetched, does it? Then it hit me. I lunged towards the bedside table and pulled out my dream journal.
>
>"Lucid dream Entry #278. 07/26/2018.
>
>I saw the red figure again today. He stood at the same spot, wore the same black hat and the same crooked smile.
>
>Like the past 276 days, I never spoke to him, nor did he to me. Each day he seems to be inching ever closer, but that might just be my imagination. I still can't, for the life of me, figure out who he is, though. His face, or lack thereof, just does not ring any bell.
>
>So, anyway\[...\]"
>
>I threw the journal across the room, it made a mess at my white-laced vanity. Then I chuckled at my own childishness. A mere coincidence freaked me out this much, no wonder my hubby never asked to see a horror movie with me, despite it being his favorite genre. Anyway, I guess that's all I got for today. I have an important day tomorrow. It's our 1-year wedding anniversary! I still can't believe it; it feels like yesterday that we met in Mrs. Phelan's pottery class.
>
>Time for bed. I can't wait! | 2018-07-27T14:45:48 | 2018-07-27T13:43:05 | 100 | 23 |
[WP] A peaceful alien race is besieged by another race in the same galaxy. As their last planets fall and their home-world comes under threat they do the unthinkable. They ask for aid from the only known creatures more brutal than their foes in exchange for FTL technology. Humans accept the deal. | A eon we watched them. We watched them kill each other with amazement. Their violence horrified us, but we saw glimpses of peace amid the blackness of horror. Deep inside, their intentions were good, every single one of them acted on the idea that what they were doing was improving the situation of another. We watched as endless wars raged, wondering when they would make the space-travel breakthrough that would unleash them upon the rest of the galaxy. But they did not, instead they invented terrible weapons to inflict even greater violence on others in the hope of bettering their lives. So we hid them, we hid their entire system from the galaxy and they remained hidden, but now before us, we had a choice. We could knowingly unleash them on the galaxy, or we could perish.
The galactic civilizations fought a good fight, but the Hastari were too powerful, too numerous, too violent. Many generations ago, the Hastari were like the humans, considered too dangerous for the galaxy, but before the galaxy could react, they burst forth from their asteroid belt homeworld. They consumed resources at a rate never seen before. The Galactic Congress was helpless to stop their onslaught. They devoured planets in a matter of generations, growing exponentially, gaining technological experience and resources at each stop. In just a short time, the Hastari had decimated the congress to just a few backwater civilizations, and us, the hiders. Even the great Dertahs, with their armada of war ships was no match for the Hastari.
We did nothing, we hid, because that is our nature, we are the galaxies hiders. We hid the humans long ago, and instead of fighting when the hastari found us, we scurried off to another part, hiding in the shadows of black holes, pulsars, whatever we could find. The Hastari ships would always find us, and we were sick of hiding. We could not fight, but we knew who could. Our council gathered and chose me to come out of hiding. I was to seek out the humans and set them free. The Hastari did not have good intentions they argued; they had consumptive intentions. They simply wanted to expand, at the cost of the rest of the galaxy. I did not argue because I was and still am afraid, I was afraid of the Hastari because they would consume us, all of us and all that would remain are stories, but I am more afraid of the humans, because they will kill, and they will feel righteous in their killing.
I set them free ten years ago. Today I walk a free entity. I no longer hide. The Hastari were defeated in one earth year. The galaxy was amazed as this new species rose to our aide. The Hastari were stopped in their advance, and then they were pushed back, in battle after battle they were defeated by the humans, until finally they were forced to retreat to their homeworld. The galaxy was in awe, which evolved to terror as the humans did not stop with the Hastari defeat. The humans insisted that the Hastari would expand once again if left to their own devices, and they invaded the Hastari home planet. They massacred the entire species, leaving only scattered survivors. Then they turned to the rest of the galaxy, told us that they came in peace, and held out their hands, the same hands that had just completely annihilated the greatest threat civilization ever faced, with ease. They smiled and moved into the Hastari homeworld, not content to destroy the Hastari people, but they insisted on building over their history, erasing them, all while smiling and reminding us of their peaceful intentions. I’m told they have a saying on earth: “They make a desert and call it peace”. Once I thought that was just a story, but today I know it’s true. Today I no longer hide, but sometimes I wonder if I should.
| Ugly creatures. Sickly pale and pug-faced, they were covered in patches of fur and highly prone to violence. Their skin clung to their skeletons like rubber, vacuum sealed and taut.
But for their brutish appeal, they would be dismissed as one of the class IV races: confined to their planet because of infighting and inability to work together. A wonder the barbarians had lasted so long.
But the Sapiens had one boon that Au'tchk had rarely seen in non-spacefaring races. A capacity for hate and violence that made Au'tchk shudder. The terrors they unleashed upon each other would make any galactic commander balk. Poisonous gases, nuclear fallout, crude and savage weapons that barked and shredded flesh.
Au'tchk turned away from the holo-deck, the particles of light dissipating. The last thing to fade out was the snarling face of one of the "Humans".
He glanced out a porthole as he walked down the gantry to the bridge.
There, Calamaria was in flames, tectonic plates cracked and steaming from orbital bombardment. Oceans had been vaporized as the plates split, the core of the crown jewel of the Systus sector spewing into the atmosphere. The planet was not dead, not yet. But like a limping Gh'sturth beast, it was only a matter of time until its' wounds overcame it.
There, Kanth, once luscious and beautiful, was now a barren rock. All organic matter, including its' 20 billion inhabitants converted into basic carbon matter. The planet was now covered in the carbonic ash of over a quarter of the Systus sectors' souls, slowly spinning in the dark of space.
Au'tchk felt his stomachs tighten, a fury that he had suppressed since the first of the Graal raids. Since the attempts of diplomacy, that had only ended with the savage murders of his embassies. Since his last desperate attempt to save his people, broadcasting on all known frequencies to the deepest edges of space, asking for help. Anything.
And for 10 years, nothing.
Until a race unaware of the ferocity of the Graal responded. A race possibly even more horrific. Au'tchk had studied them intensely, their culture, their language, their capacity for war.
As he passed underneath elaborate archways and onto the bridge, a blemish of the perfection around it stood at attention. The contrast of such harsh and ugly features around Au'tchk's people only drew more attention to how perverse these creatures were. How *different* they were. Alien.
How far they had fallen.
Au'tchk drew himself up to his full height, a staggering 8 feet of billowing robes and soft lines. He stared down at the Sapien, its' beady eyes tracking his every move. He felt as if his bridge was a cage, and he had been tossed to the wolves.
"Well?" the creature growled. Patches of more hair, dirty looking and wiry, had begun to sprout from its' face. Savages.
Au'tchk folded his arms, and waited. The gravity of the situation was immense, the crew turning to watch their captain, their leader, decide the fate of the Systus sector.
"We have an accord", Au'tchk finally replied.
The humans mouth extended, flashing sharp ragged fangs. "Perfect" it growled.
Au'tchk shivered.
| 2014-12-26T10:31:12 | 2014-12-26T10:24:51 | 507 | 180 |
[WP] An alien nation descends upon earth. Their assault is... incredibly underwhelming.
Take "incredibly underwhelming" however you want.
Examples: They do nothing but inconvience you. They're so weak they get bullied by grade schoolers. Their laser technology doesn't even burn a hole in your woolen sweater as even sheep have surpassed them.
Whatever you like. | "Sir, their technology... It's, well, quite frankly, it's terrifying."
"Explain yourself."
"All of their technology," he stammered. "It's powered by explosions."
"Explosions? All of it?"
"Yes sir. Their vehicles, their warships, even their weapons are all powered by explosions."
"How did they ever achieve space travel?"
"Our intel indicates that they strapped themselves to a metal tube and exploded it into orbit."
"By Squigthar! They must be insane."
"Yes, sir. Our deflector shields stand no chance against their explosions. We had anticipated they would use a more civilized form of combat, like lasers. We've already lost half our fleet."
"*Half!?* What about their losses?"
"They... uh... practically none." He lowered his gaze to the floor, staring at his tentacles. "Sir."
"How is this possible? How are we so completely outmatched?"
"Their buildings are made of melted sand. This "glass" they call it is highly reflective, and nullifies our ultraviolet beams."
"Well, what about the ones without shielding?"
"Their skin turns slightly red. They find it mildly irritating."
"They don't burst into flame?"
"No sir."
The purple, tentacled creature rubbed its face-mound thoughtfully. "Very well," it murmured. "Sound the retreat." | Not with a bang, but with a whimper
It has been thirteen years since the aliens invaded. Well I say invaded, they just parked a space ship in the ocean and sank a few ship. And they're not actually aliens they're just humans who somehow ended up in a distant galaxy a long time ago. They're kinda dickish about the whole "We mastered fusion power whilst you were burning cowshit for warmth thing" but other than that they're all right.
Sure do keep buying up a lot of land though. All the money that keeps flooding the economy and they seem to be the only ones getting richer.
According to the news they now own most of the purchasable land in New York, Chicago and London.The week before that Apple is now a subsidiary of E'Kath Tal-Morrel franchise. The week before that they purchased IBM, before that General Electric, and before that Monsanto. Freaking Monsanto.
Oh well, at least my supervisor's nice. | 2016-02-22T13:30:29 | 2016-02-22T08:33:57 | 79 | 10 |
[WP] "humans don't appear to be to advanced, they haven't even discovered intergalactic travel, should be a simple invasion." Said the alien cleaning his musket.
Edit: Seems someone has already written a piece perfect for this. Check it out, would highly recommend.
https://eyeofmidas.com/scifi/Turtledove_RoadNotTaken.pdf
Edit 2: Thank you all so much for your stories! im going to read all of them :) | Captain's Log Number 62. 0600, Day 25 after commencement of Operation Swordfall.
This is a message from Knight Captain Zerraxi Rascirson of the recon relay ship "HMS Percifus" to all ships of the Empire. Anyone who picks up this message is to forward it immediately to the Ozirian Imperial high command and his Majesty.
Operation Swordfall has resulted in the worst possible outcome thought impossible by the simulations. Primitive occupants of planet E4R5 in galaxy T087 of the Xenolan cluster have advanced down a tech tree much different than our own. All of our musketmen were decimated within 20 minutes of contact by repeating muskets which each achieved a fire rate per minute equivalent to an entire brigade. The ER45ians seem to either have extreme dexterity or have found alternate means of creating a mini Qylantem reaction without killing the operator. No further information about E4R5's muskets were obtained as all expeditionary forces with the exception of this vessel were wiped out. We survived only because we were on a routine recon mission near one of E4R7's moon.
Knights in orbit did not fare much better. The mothership was disabled by what could only have been suicide ships carrying solar fragments. The escort fleet suffered a similar fate. The fervor of our enemy burnt with such intensity that prompted them to lay down their lives without hesitation. Not 1 out of the 1008 suicide ships that struck the fleet showed any signs of hesitation. Not 1 deviated from their intended target. One even struck a city on the planet's surface which we believe the E4R5ians called Moscow. It would seem that they had the leisure to engage in infighting despite external threats.
It is now apparent that we have awakened what should have been left dormant. The scourge that is the natives of E4R5 were born in warfare. Molded by warfare. They have never known peace since their genesis. We merely adopted warfare after discovering the ability to propel our ships using Qylantem drives to beyond the speed of light. Of course we would be no match against these madmen who dedicated all their advancements to war.
This will be the last message broadcasted from the HMS Percifus. As of 0200 this morning, the 5 remaining crew have voted to take the only possible action to contain this scourge. The nearest reinforcements will take more than 3 years to arrive in this sector. By then it would be too late. They have boarded the mothership and it's only a matter of time before they can replicate the Qylantem drives. Our vessel does not have the fuel to make the jump to the nearest Ozirian outpost nor the food supply to hold out any longer. As Knights we will lay down our lives for the Empire rather than die a coward's death. Using the enemy's own tactics, we will accelerate the Percifus using all remaining fuel to just below the speed of light in a collision course with E4R5. This 7000 ton recon vessel should be enough to cause a chain reaction that will destroy the surface of the planet rendering it uninhabitable.
However, this will not be the end of the scourge. Those scum that have boarded the mothership, HMMS Resyus, will most likely survive and seek revenge. For the glory of the Empire, destroy them and not let the sacrifice of the expeditionary force be in vain.
Avenge us.
Captain Zerraxi out.
First prompt ever. Hope you guys like it.
Edit- Minor text fixes. | "Hello there. You are a human...or Xogloytian, I assume. As you all know, We Xogloytians have been your friends for a few years. I, X-42, a former military squad leader, Has been authorized to give a personal narration of my own of the war here on this system The Internet"
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Our squad has been tasked on invading the portion of the planet they call "America." Intel has reported that this area is heavily armed and has advanced weaponry. I laughed upon hearing the word "advanced". These creatures can barely reach the end of their solar system! So what are the chances of their weaponry being advanced?
Our squad has arrived on our destination. We didn't hesitate. Upon exiting our ship, we killed every human our eyes can see. They were absolutely helpless. They can only run.
All was going well, Until an elite force called the "police" came. They tried negotiating with us and said they don't want violence. But we just shot them.
What happened next was surprising. They fired some sort of Musket at us, but smaller... and deadlier. One of my squad mates have been heavily injured just by one hit. They were extremely accurate as well: They managed to kill some of us in just one shot.
We called in support. Immediately, reinforcements came. But the humans had reinforcements as well. After barely escaping the police, we head to the place where the reinforcements shall arrive. But, as we approach the reinforcements, we were ambushed by the "Military". They were extremely aggressive. And, their weapons are horrifyingly powerful. Their muskets shoot a hundred bullets or more in a minute. We managed to hold out against them, Then their own aircraft arrived. Those aircraft dropped oval-shaped metal balls on us. And they caused EXTREME damage to us. One of those metal balls just performed an "explosion". A technology our race hasn't mastered.
We grabbed a vehicle and started driving away. We requested immediate extraction. But even more aircraft arrived. They sprayed us with tiny little metal bits (they call it bullets) Our vehicle has been heavily damaged. Then our path was blocked by a monstrous metallic vehicle. It was slow. But when it shot its cannon -- Our vehicle was destroyed in the blink of an eye. (they call this a tank)
We were surrounded by soldiers. We underestimated this race. Their weapons are far more advanced than ours. Then I realized the others have suffered the same fate. Everyone else was either killed or trapped. The humans threatened us:
We either leave alive, Or stay and get nuked.
I shivered at the word "nuke". They have mastered nuclear energy, And has weaponized it. One nuke could destroy our entire planet. And so our leader begged for mercy and made an offer: We will give them our intergalactic travel technology in exchange for their weaponry knowledge. All this without killing each other.
Their leaders have accepted this offer. And after that, things were pleasant. After every leader accepted the offer, the war ended. And peace ensued.
Edit: This was rushed -- So I didn't have time to think some of the stuff through. Thx for the feedback tho!
| 2017-08-08T06:41:23 | 2017-08-08T05:31:18 | 889 | 69 |
[WP] It seemed like a perfect magical deal. When any child descended from you is born you grow younger by a single year. So you agree, planning on a big family and living to a ripe old age. Years later however you find yourself rapidly growing younger and regret not understanding exponential growth. | It took me until I was forty to fall in love. It took me until I was forty and a half to get married. I discovered three things in those six months:
1. My cynicism towards love withered and died in the face of an open heart and a gentle smile.
2. There actually were people out there as smart and as driven to succeed and survive as me.
3. (we're going chronically here) That not only were there people out there who were as smart as me, but this girl in particular was way smarter.
And, then in month seven I added a fourth thing. She was fertile *as hell.*
When I say *as hell,* I mean that in every possible depth of the word. When the lord said "be fruitful and multiple," the soul that would become Magdalene had laughed and said "got you fam."
She was a decade younger than me and looked it, her smile was wide open and inviting, her eyes sparkled when they met mine, and she spent almost every moment singlemindedly trying to get pregnant until I unilaterally decided to get vasectomy.
By the time I finally cut the chord we had eight children and I hadn't aged a day in our marriage. Oh I was happy of course, and what man in my position wouldn't be? I was set to be timeless, I'd waited long enough to have a family that my bitcoin investment had paid off, and my wife was still gorgeous and always sweet. But I think even then I felt a lurking suspicion, a certain sense that the good times were coming to an end.
All of which came to a head the day she found out about my operation. "Quentin!" she'd called from the bathroom, another pregnancy test no doubt in hand. "Something changed! I'm getting really worried."
"What is it?" I'd called back, flipping through channels while I laid in bed. I knew something of what was coming of course, Maggie had a deep and abiding love of both children and pregnancy, there were reasons I hadn't consulted her before the vasectomy.
"I think there's something wrong we me!" She walked out of the bathroom carrying the negative test in one hand, her hair a worried, flyaway mess, her robe spilling open along the line of one leg.
"Seriously, I've never had this much trouble before and I know menopause hasn't started, it can't!"
That perked my ears up of course. What did she mean, "can't?"
"Should I go to the doctor? Maybe it's bad, we had the first eight almost immediately, what about the next one I--"
"Maggie!" I remember saying, "slow down! There's nothing wrong with you at all, everything is fine."
Her eyes narrowly instantly into vicious slits. She took a step back, her robe falling closed, arms crossing over her chest. "What do you mean, nothing is wrong?"
And that my friends, is how you get yourself into a pickle. "Oh, I...uhm."
She advanced on the bed with an eerie precision, each step measured to make the walls close in. "Quentin dear, is there something you're not telling me?"
I hadn't prepared for that moment. Somehow in all my hubris I'd thought it unnecessary, I knew Magdalene so well after all! She was unbelievably bright, always agreeable and gentle towards me, the thought that I might make a decision and she might not go along with it was unconscionable. Then she reached the bed, and crawled across it like a jaguar stalking her prey and I realized that I had been very, very wrong.
So I responded to stress like I always did. I blurted. "I got a vasectomy!"
And she responded to stress like she never had before, though I know now it was the core of her, long since concealed. "Then I want you out of my house now."
Between one second and the next her open heart snapped shut so firmly I think I actually heard and the Maggie I loved was gone, replaced by an austere, icily beautiful Magdalene.
Who hadn't aged a day in all the years of our marriage, I suddenly realized.
"Maggie? What do you mean?"
"Did I stutter? Leave."
I didn't recognize her. I couldn't. "Baby, what do you mean? Why are you so mad, we already have eight kids, I thought-"
"It's not about the kids, you idiot! Do you think I married you for them?"
Icy beauty, icy words. But yet still I persevered, though whether it was because I was a dog too old to be taught new tricks or because I could already feel my soul growing too young to learn them I know not.
"Baby, what do you mean?"
She dropped the hammer then, turning away from me and dressing for the day as if I weren't even there. "Because it was never about the kids, or you, or even the money. It was about the years." She turned back to me, smiling all any remaining artifice of our marriage fell away.
"I was behind you in line at the witches' shop, don't you remember? My hair was black then, you leered at me when you left."
I stood up from bed, and went to her, she pushed me away casually. "The witch sold two spells that day, and after hearing the mess you made of yours I negotiated better terms. Every descendant I have freezes me at my current age for another year, I only chose you because I thought you'd want to have a big family. You seemed dumb enough not to realize the contract you signed."
"But I...I... I got the spell at 35! You waited 5 years to find me after all that?"
"I had time. Look at yourself Quentin, you're a mess, no other woman would have you and when I wanted you you'd be mine. Besides, I needed time to get my body to a good state to freeze. Now leave, I've got a busy day."
It took her two more hours to force me out of the house, and two days to move another man in.
Sixty years later she's still beautiful and I'm beginning a gradual slide towards infancy as my grandchildren are born. But youth has some advantages, some that even she would never have thought.
For starters, I seem to have a much greater capacity for revenge now that I'm a teen...
r/TurningtoWords | # Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Arc ?, Interlude ?: Archcommander Varney)
(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**The National High Energy and Temperature Lab was abuzz.** Professor Hale bustled into the main containment center, where the primordial plasma they'd been studying for the past ten years was evolving. He gave the Archcommander by his side a friendly nod as he passed.
"It's the most incredible thing," Professor Hale said. "The mass-energy equivalent just keeps going up exponentially! We're lucky the late—or should I say early—Alexandre Hubert wasn't a particularly heavy man; it's all we can do to contain the Hubert particles, given how much energy they're emitting right now."
Archcommander Varney grunted. "Hubert particles, eh? Is that what you eggheads are calling them?"
Professor Hale nodded ruefully. "We scientists, er... we're not great at names. They're often descriptors more than anything."
Archcommander Varney eyed the HEaT Lab name tag on Professor Hale's lapel. "Well, I appreciate your honesty. You said they're emitting energy—could we use them as power sources?"
Professor Hale hesitated. "Not... not yet. We... could try, but there are these discontinuous... jumps. It's impossible to track down everyone who has the Hubert gene—it's a good third of the population, by what we can tell—so we can't really control the rate at which the particles go back in time. We're expecting the Hubert particles to stabilize soon. But!" Professor Hale pointed to a large metal cylinder with several ominously-groaning pipes leading out from it. "In the meantime! We're getting the most *fascinating* data about high-energy particles; we actually think we've figured out how materializer-type superhumans work. At these energies, we can actually *observe* higher-dimensional motion—"
Archcommander Varney held up a hand to cut him off. "I read as much in your report. You don't need to butter me up, Hale. Your department's grant has already been approved."
Professor Hale wilted slightly. "I—well, I wasn't after more money, Archcommander. It's simply fascinating how—"
"Professor! Professor!" A flushed, out-of-breath assistant ran up to the two of them. Archcommander Varney gave him a disapproving look, which he ignored. "The Hubert particles—they're—the cosmological dating results came back. We've figured out what time period they're from."
"Oh?" Professor Hale raised his eyebrows.
"They've passed the thirteen billion year mark. The particles just degenerated into quark-gluon plasma, and they're heating up *quickly*." The assistant handed Professor Hale a sheaf of papers.
"How quickly? Should we enact the shutdown protocols?" Archcommander Varney asked.
"No need. It's plateauing," Professor Hale absently remarked, rummaging through the data he'd been given. "I was wondering why... but if ol' Hubert's had thirteen billion descendants by now, then his effective age—and that of his particles—is nearing the beginning of the universe. Depending on the reference frame that the one-year intervals are being taken from... we might see some serious time dilation."
"And for those of us who haven't studied astrophysics?" Archcommander Varney asked dryly.
Professor Hale frowned. "That... that was the version for... oh, very well." He grinned. "We've been expecting this moment. The particles that used to make up Hubert's body have been rapidly reverting to the state they were in at the beginning of the universe, due to that silly fairy curse he got himself into way back in the 1700s. With me so far?"
The Archcommander frowned. "Yes. Are you saying that... these... Hubert particles... could show us what was here *before* the beginning of the universe?"
"No! No, no, no, simply for the reason that there is no such *thing* as before the beginning of the universe. We can only approach that beginning point, getting infinitesimally close, but never reaching it. That's what the Hubert particles are doing right now: their mass-energy content has stabilized. They've gotten more or less as close to the beginning of the universe as they have been, reverting to thirteen billion years ago. Timeur, this is *amazing!*" He clapped the assistant on the back. "Oh, now that they're stable, they'll be infinitely easier to work with!"
"They're giving off 12 zottaelectronvolts," Timeur added. "*Per particle.* And the discontinuities in their energy content have finally smoothed out. Not to wax poetic, sir, but... Hubert's particles are at the state, and the temperature, that they were during the Big Bang. These are the very fires of the universe we're containing, here."
Archcommander Varney raised his eyebrows, looking between the two scientists. "Put it in military terms for me. What are these Hubert particles good for? Power sources? Energy weapons? Give me something I can bring back to Command."
Professor Hale rubbed his chin. "Well... these particles are a practically unlimited wellspring of power, with an energy density far beyond anything we've ever documented. So... what are they good for?" A vulpine smile crept across his face. "More or less... *everything.*"
A.N.
I'm trying something new! "Bargain Bin Superheroes" will be an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. I'm not quite sure where this fits into the timeline yet, but it just felt like it fit in the universe. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for the rest of the story, and subscribe to r/bubblewriters for more. If you have any feedback, please leave it below. As always, I had fun writing this, and I hope you have a good day. | 2021-04-15T10:53:31 | 2021-04-15T10:44:40 | 166 | 104 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | "We have no claimed that we were peaceful." Tobias said, a firm hand grasping the flag of the final human lands, the other curling tight around the hilt of his gun.
It had been a long battle. A fight that took the lives of many brothers, fathers, and uncles.
"I warned you. I told you that this war was pointless, that we would find a way to break free from you." Tobias jutted a finger in the Gamorians faces.
For so long, the Garmorians were once their allies, their brothers in conflict. But that all changed with the underhanded tactics the Garmorians had used - had wielded to enslave the human race the moment an opportunity presented itself.
It was just a moment of weakness. A lapsed of judgement on their behalf. They had trusted their friends from afar - the shared understanding.
"I told you this - we will never give up." Tobias raised the gun in his hand. "I said that we would fight to the bitter end for our people." The gun weighed a millions tons as Tobias laid the barrel on the temple of his so-called brother.
Al-fak, the man he'd thought he'd come to trust, to believe in, merely raised a groggy head, an eye turning over the field of dead filled with his people. "You told me you had no weapons against us."
That had been a lie, of course. It was always a lie.
Tobias cocked his gun. "A true leader would hide his last resort from invading beings."
"A true friend would've been honest from the beginning." Al-fak said.
"A 'real' friend, would've chose a different path than this." Tobias fought the whimper of sadness in his tone but failed to.
Al-fak could only inhale sharply. He knew he was beaten the moment he'd attacked first. He'd bombed the hell out of the largest country on earth, and when his crew celebrated the fires that had burned, he'd lamented his decision.
It had all been a sham from the beginning. From his first descent onto the world, he'd had his orders from the monarch that held his leash. He was to gain their trust, to gain their acceptance and then betray them - turning the planet into their new settlement.
He will admit to a falter in his decision. When he'd first met Tobias, his compassion and kindness was a jarring experience that clouded his judgemeny. He'd thought it would be an easy task. A quick task. But he was wrong. The humans had known war better than the Garmorians. They had a better understanding of the cost for it. The pain it brought. The people it sacrificed...
"Close your eyes," Tobias said. It was the only kindness he'd allow. Especially with the crowd of soldiers watching him.
So, Al-fak did. He'd shut his eyelids tight and murmured his final words to his friend, "I'm sorry." | "We all know they're weaklings, Commander Smith," The soldier said, saluting Commander Smith, "I mean, come on, they don't know how to fire gamma-rays. In fact, they haven't built any spaceships yet."
"That's enough, Soldier 92-BII," said Commander Smith, "We're headed to their planet. The news spread that it colonized all of their star system after finishing the completion of Pluto a
'dwarf planet'. What a strange term." Commander Smith walked through the hallway.
Soldier 92-BII looked out the window. The spherical object he saw had a red and gray surface, with a layer of nitrogen shaped as a heart. Nearby was another gray object, but one of it's poles was orange. "How fascinating. It seems yellow dwarves have the strongest gravity of all the stars." Soldier 92 said.
A few minutes later, they had an encounter with a giant, dark blue orb with a relatively large moon. The ship steered towards the moon and eventually landed.
Various soldiers began walking onto the surface of the alien world that was being controlled by humans. Amongst hushed tones, Soldier 92 learned that the name of the moon was 'Triton' and the planet it was orbiting was named 'Neptune'. "This is a true alien world." Soldier 92 said before realizing that Triton was his stop, so he scurried off.
Looking around the icy world were giant structures made of metal and glass, rising high into the night sky. Some were connected. Humans could be seen walking amongst the city on the alien world, thriving. However, the peace ended, disturbed by a scream. Soldier 92 ran over to the source of the scream. Another soldier, Soldier 98-7BG, had stabbed a human in the chest. "What?!" Soldier 92 grunted angrily when he was tackled by a human, who was furious.
"KILL THE ALIENS!" Someone said over an intercom.
Total war had started. To 92's surprise, the human he was dueling was incredibly strong. Several of his allies' bodies began crashing onto the ground of Triton.
Suddenly, a flicker of silver light. Humans left and right fell to the ground, their weapons disappearing. It was Commander Smith. "92, what happened? Why did this start?"
"W-well, uh, 98 decided to stab a human, and apparently that made the rest of them mad, so then they started dueling us. To my surprise, they were holding their own. We have several fatalities, including 98." explained 92, gesturing to the corpses of his allies.
"This is going to be one of many, I can just feel it." | 2022-08-05T13:34:16 | 2022-08-05T10:57:14 | 213 | 107 |
[WP] You are the tenth generation honor guard for the immortals. As far back as pack memory goes, the immortals have provided food, shelter, and scritches. You fully expected the immortals to outlive you, as they did your mother and her mother before her. But something's wrong. The Alpha...is dying. | At first we couldn't quite work out what it was. There was a scent change. And my pack mate Milo, who is older and wiser, and has met many more Immortals, remembered a much older member of our Alpha's pack, who had a similar scent, and who the others gathered with to be sad, and then disappeared, never seen again.
And then behaviour changed in our shelter. The Alpha was staying home a lot, which we liked, and then regularly going a couple of times each moon, which we didn't. And every time he returned, there was a stong artificial scent which we think made him weak. We decided to guard the Alpha extra closely. Where before I wasn't allowed on the couch, the Alpha was happy to have me close, and deliver lots of extra scritches. It made us both happier. I am only one year old, but I have developed a fierce growl to help protect the Alpha.
He got better for a while - all the weird scents disappeared, and things were happier again. But a couple of moons ago the first scent returned - and this week the artificial one did too. The Immortals are sad again. So we're back to guarding extra closely.
Milo is unhappy. He remembers the older immortal. Our Alpha seems too young for this. But I can help. Not for nothing was I granted the glorious name "Princess Fizzgig Snickerdoodle, The Flayer, Destroyer of Worlds". I will help my Alpha survive through irresistable cuteness and fierce guarding.
\[This is actually my story, and the names of the pack have not been changed. The prompt resonated.\] | It was the Reg-scientists who first noticed something was off, even before we got a glimpse of disaster. A couple of years ago, the regulars started truly listening to their researchers when Terra grew too hot, but now they got scared of something else. The tides and the movement of the seas was changing. Something they called the Gulfstream was stopping and they were stressing about the European climate that would change more than expected. We took notice, but acted not, for it was not for the Council of Ancients to act to the needs of the Regs, but that was about to change.
My grandfather, Grand Master Odin VIII, summoned the Council in great haste. The First Immortal, the lady Luna, was dying. She seeded Earth with life, guarded it and sent out her family to the other planets. Now that she's dying however, she would take with her all that she created. My grandfather was worried, but knew not how to act and neither did the others or our masters. Eventually it was Luna herself who gave us a plan. We were to share our knowledge to help the Regs, sent them to new lands outside her influence, so they would be able to survive. The other immortals would support her and share their strengths to buy time. We hope the Regs will listen, but only time will tell if we can succesfully complete the last mission of our Order... | 2022-11-15T16:26:19 | 2022-11-15T11:43:57 | 61 | 23 |
[WP] You are trying to politely ward off a very anxious Jehovah's Witness that keeps insisting that God is coming. He/she finally looks down the street, and says, "seriously He just turned the corner!" You look and see a glowing white Cadillac with dark tinted windows.
Wow, can't believe this got that many upvotes. I got lots of reading to do now. I hope you all enjoyed it. | The Jehovah's Witness had a single huge boil in the middle of his forehead like a busted third eye. His voice was nasal and turned up at the end of his sentences, soliciting validation.
"The thing about God? Is that he can arrive at any time?"
I wanted to slam the door in his face but the boil had my full and undivided attention. Its edges were bright red, practically throbbing.
"It's congenital," said the Jehovah's Witness, sounding a bit hurt.
"It looks like you've got an alien incubating in there," I said. "Like, an alien that's also a giant loogie, if that makes any sense."
"Be that as it may? Could I perhaps come in?"
"No way, my dude. If that thing pops, and whatever gelatinous substances are in there get all over my carpet, my landlord will erase me from existence."
"I've had it since birth. It won't pop?"
"That *is* what congenital means, yes. Notwithstanding."
"God is coming!"
"You mentioned that."
But he had taken a step back to stare at something down the street. He pawed his boil absentmindedly. I winced.
"No, I mean God is coming *right now?*"
Despite myself, I leaned out and peered in the direction of his gormless stare. A white Cadillac cruised down the street towards us, the windows tinted black as the gap between stars, an aura of soft light surrounding it.
"I happen to know that God's a Tesla guy," I said, although in my heart I already believed.
The car stopped in front of my house and the door swung open.
"Bart Sampson?" called a young woman with a square jaw and brown hair tied up in a bun.
"That's me," I said.
"Come along," she said.
"What about me?" asked the Jehovah's Witness.
"No," said the young woman, shrugging and pursing her lips in the universal expression of uncomfortable rejection. "No, ah, sorry, but... no."
I tightened my bathrobe, grabbed my coffee mug (inscription: "World's Best Mug") and strolled down the walk.
"So are you, like, God's secretary?" I asked when I was inside.
"I'm God," she said.
"Oh."
"Fuckhead," she said.
We drove along in silence for a while.
"So," I said, "where are we going?"
She glanced at me, arching a thick eyebrow. "You'll know soon enough."
I turned to look out the window and found myself staring into the light-spitting heart of a galaxy, huge and silent, its spiral arms fuzzy with innumerable stars.
*Continued below...*
| It was 10 pm. I've never seen any Jehovah's witness at this time of the day and thought that this guy had dedication. I was a little bit drunk and didn't want someone bothering me especially a guy asking to believe in God. So I waited the light to turn red to cross the street. 2 minutes. 5 minutes. 10 minutes. As I waited, the Jehovah's witness became more and more anxious. I wanted to cross the street even though the light was green but there were too many cars and just wasn't able to do it.
I finally accepted my fate and started walking down the street. When I come closer to him, the Jehovah's witness relaxed a bit and asked me if I believed in God. I didn't say anything hoping that he let it go but he didn't. He blocked me and said "you need to believe in god". I replied that I wasn't in the mood for that and needed serious sleep. As he kept insisting, I didn't even try to convince him to let me go and turn to the left in a street without exit.
He didn't follow me there. Instead, he turned his eyes to the sky and said "he got to the corner". I laughed. How a man can think he has a special connection with God himself? But then, a big cloud appeared. Light came from that cloud and the man panicked : "I'm sorry, God I'm sorry, I didn't know what to do! I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO!" he yelled.
For a second, I thought alcohol was the cause of all this or maybe I was dreaming it but it was all too real. I came to him, turned my eyes to the sky and said "I believe him please don't hurt him, please!" I cried. I have never been so scared in my entire life.
Then, I heard from the sky a deep and hypnotic voice saying "please, tell him he has to stop drinking". "You have to stop drinking" repeated the man. I was in total disbelief of what was happening but acquiesced hoping that it was the only thing he'd ask for. But then, I could hear with the same deep and hypnotic voice "Chill! It's just a prank, bro!".
**Edit: OK I completely forgot about the Cadillac. I was too absorbed in my story. Also, not English speaker.**
*Edit2: accepted my faith ==> accepted my fate
Also, feel free to give a feedback. | 2016-10-04T06:48:50 | 2016-10-04T05:56:58 | 90 | 50 |
[WP] In a world of incredible heroes and villains, you have the most dangerous power of all: forcing actual, real world logic and physics to take place
2/19/19: Woah! I look away for a few minutes and suddenly 1000 likes! Thanks you guys!
2/19/19: Holy God! 6.5k likes?! Awesome! | It began with a loud screech from outside the coffee shop. A contagious one too, for it soon grew into a sea of wails. Then something actually intelligible breached the surface. "Oh dear Lord have mercy, it's Teleportino!!"
I could barely supress a groan. Tightening my hold on my coffee cup, I chanced a look outside. And there he was, adorned in obnoxiously-colored spandex, a massive letter T spanning his torso. Then he appeared to the left in a explosion of smoke. Then farther away. Then right next to the coffee shop window. It hurt my eyes to look at.
A flurry of smoke then entered the shop, sending the nearby patrons who hadn't already began screaming into coughing fits. And who was in the center of it other than this pathetic excuse for a criminal.
"Yes, quake in my prescence, civilians!!! Before your very eyes, I shall appear behind the cast register," -- and he did just that, shoving a poor, scrawny-looking employee out of the way in the process -- "and plunder out these bountiful riches of..........35 dollars and 50 cents!!!" A meager amount of cash was seized in his grip, yet he seemed very satisfied anyway.
"Ha*ha*! I'd like to see you civilians have your coffee now once this establishment files for bankruptcy!! First, your morning pick-me-ups, next, the world!!"
He was a C-list villian at best, barely even worth my time. But I begrudingly slid out of my seat. "Hey, teleportation doesn't work y'know."
He whipped his head around to face me. "And how would you know, pitiful civilian??"
I grin couldn't help itself but crawl onto my face. This guy was putty in my hands. "Well, the earth turns at 1000 miles an hour or so, right?"
The colour was already drainning from his face. "I-I don't know what you--"
"Not only that, but it orbits around the sun at 67,000 miles per hour. So if you were to teleport from on point on the earth to another, you would just end up where that place was a few seconds ago, which is now thousands of miles away from earth. You would just be floating in space and you would die."
Teleportino opened his mouth to speak, but before he had a chance, he vanished into thin air again. I had pretty good hunch I wouldn't be seeing him around anymore. Maybe someone from NASA would find him, who knows.
The patrons who had just been cowering beneath tables stood up, and began cheering. Another job well done, I suppose. I quickly accepted my congratulations, before making my way out the door.
"Wait, sir, I have a question." It was the cashier, who had only just begun to regain his composure.
"Uh, yes?" My hand had already rested on the cold doorhandle.
"How do you do it?"
I assumed he was giving me praise at first, and slightly bowed my head. "Well, it's all in a day's work."
"No, no, I mean, *how* do you do it. Doesn't your ability to make logic apply make just as little sense as these people being able to bend logic in the first place? If their abilities shouldn't exist, doesn't that mean your ability to prevent them from existing shouldn't either?"
It was a mouthful of words I hardly expected to come from anyone, let alone a minimum-wage employee. And it was my worst nightmare. I desperately tried to backtrack. "No, you see.. If, uh, if I am.. W-wait, no..." But it was too late. The idea was already in my head. It was my only weakness.
A paradox.
| I lowered my signature tin helmet onto my head, and opened my apartment window. It was time. Staggering out through the window and onto the fire escape, I tightened my leather boots and ran up, following the sound of flowing water.
I reach the top, catching my breath. In front of me lay a woman, around twenty, laying on the ground. Water poured from her pale skin as she stared at me.
"What do you want?" She managed to choke. Her hands raised shakily.
I smiled. "Don't want you causing any damage. That's all." I slowly walked towards her.
Her eyes widened. "W-Wait, I know you.." she lowered her hands and tried dragging herself away from me. Her hands however were slipping across the floor, making her unable to escape my grasp. I lowered and grabbed her by the collar, raising her from the floor. Her eyes rolled back in
her head, and she smiled.
"What..?" I let her go, she stood quickly and raised her hands. Boiling hot water shot from her palms, shooting straight towards me. I raised my hand, and as the water hit it evaporated. She lowered her hands.
"Shooting water that measures at around 300°C should be impossible in itself. But your powers also allow you to manipulate laws of chemistry, allowing the water to stay intact. Interesting."
She let a proud smile creep through her surprised expression.
However, after our physical contact, these powers have now disappeared. The woman smiled widely, and stepped backwards towards the edge of the roof.
"Stop!" A feeling of dread shot through me. I ran towards her.
She saluted, and tilted backwards, falling fifty feet to the ground.
Before I could grasp what just happened, an electrical wire fired and wrapped around me, stunning me. I fell, hitting my head. I heard the sound of hard wooden shoes walking towards me. Looking up, I see a smiling man, with circular glasses and a pointy beard.
"Hello there, Graham."
I stare in shock.
"No need to speak. I'm only here to talk."
He walks in a slow circle.
"I thought I'd better test you before giving a deduction, so sorry about that little... Event."
He sat.
"You were gifted the power of forcing actual, real world logic and physics to take place around you when in physical contact with a superhuman. It sounds incredible. But turns out your power makes the littlest sense out of all powers."
I felt a tingle through my body, like this was something I already knew and subconsciously avoided thinking about.
"When you touch these people, what real world logic and physics allows the touch of your skin to change the mental and physical abilities of these people..?"
My heart starts beating. "O-Of course I know this. It's a power. Powers aren't supposed to... To..." I became dizzy and frustrated.
He smiled. "What gives YOU the right to take others powers away from them?"
"I'm a.. a protector!"
"You successfully removed the powers from all your victims. But those powers were genetic mutations. The body got used to using them. After they were removed, the body started to shut down. Started to die."
My eyes widened.
"345 victims. You have killed 345 people. People who needed those powers to survive. Killing superhumans, raising the rates of gun and knife crimes around the country. YOU are the illogical being. YOU are the criminal." He raised a revolver to my forehead.
"And I.."
He grinned.
"Am Human."
I heard the click of a trigger. | 2019-02-19T11:13:37 | 2019-02-19T09:50:41 | 587 | 319 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | I just got laid off. My last paycheck is arriving next Friday. I have $10.56 in my bank account. I know it's stupid, but I bought a pack of cigarettes on the way home. I need something to take my mind off of it. I lit a cigarette, took one puff, and everything went dark.
At first I thought I had fainted. Do cigarettes do that to you? I've gotten lightheaded before but never just passed out. Then a bright light turned on, shining in my face. When I grew adjusted to the light I realized that I was no longer walking outside. My mouth hung open as I tried to take everything in. My cigarette fell to the floor.
The room looked like it was made out of rainbows. There were creatures standing around me wearing black hooded robes. One of them was reading out of a book. It kind of looked like a bible. The creatures looked kinda like humans, but they had wings.
"Are you guys... angels?" I finally eked out.
They laughed. "Just because you are a demon does not mean we are angels."
"I'm not a demon!" I yelled. They recoiled. One of them whimpered. My brain started to process where I was. I was standing in the middle of a pentagram. There were candles at the points and someone had carefully laid out a ring of salt. Maybe I am a demon.
First things first, I had to check if I was a demon. I reached up to my head. No horns. Okay. Next, try to walk over the salt. It worked, but the creatures screamed. One of them fled the room. They were afraid of me.
Then it hit me. If I'm a demon then I've been living in hell. It felt like hell, but I never actually thought that it was hell. Being poor just seemed like a thing that poor people had to deal with. Wait a second... Demons make deals! I don't have to be poor anymore!
I tried to put on my fiercest and most serious face. "What do you want?" I boomed. "And what do you offer me?" I had seen enough Supernatural to know how these go down.
One creature, the one hiding behind his book, stepped forward and started to speak. "We want to make a deal with you. I'm willing to give you my soul if you can make this man suffer." He pulled out a photo of another angel looking guy.
I tried (poorly) to stifle a chuckle. "I don't want your soul."
"My first born then?"
"No. Just give me some money and I'll do what you ask."
"Money? What does a demon want with money?" He asked his question with a quizzical look.
"You don't question my demands and I won't question yours." That seemed to appease him.
They pulled out a bag of gold coins. Their ridiculously archaic knowledge of demons was top notch. "Is this enough?" He asked as he opened the bag in my direction. It was more money than I'd ever had in my bank account. I merely nodded, barely keeping together my "serious" composure.
I took the bag from him with the photo. There was a name scribbled on the top. That was enough to get my job started. Once again with the booming voice I said, "It will be done." I picked up my lit cigarette, put it back in my mouth, and left the room and the house that room happened to be in. While walking down the street the gold in my bag clinked and hearing it made me smile. Well, at least it's better than working at Wawa. | It felt like I had tripped up some stairs. For a second I thought I had, and immediately froze. The plate in my hand still held the Reuben, but the surface beneath.....
My head snapped up, and I noticed the darkness first. Second were the candles, placed carefully around me in hexagons expanding away from me. Low-level bands of light etched out the writing between the tiers, though none of it looked like a language I could place. The floor, instead of the carpeted stairs I had been climbing, was an old wood, stained with neglect, and riddled with gaps and protruding nails. One was digging into my hand, and as I lifted it I realized the nail was rough, as if hand-forged.
My analysis of the floor was disrupted by a heavy thud, just beyond the candles.
"Stay where you are, demon!"
"What?" I rose, still holding the plate.
A figure was just visible in the room, which I now saw was small, and claustrophobic. A low work-bench dominated a wall, scattered with shapes that I could only just spot in the candle-light. A window was open, but I couldn't feel a breeze. The figure, which seemed to be rather.... short, was doing its best at a power pose, and failing.
"I said stay where you are!"
"Nah, I got that. What's with the demon? Is that some kind of racist term I'm not aware of?"
"What?"
"What?"
The figure shook its head. "Look, you are a demon, you have to be! I summoned you, with a demon summoning, so you have to be a demon! That's how this works!"
I tried to step forward, collided against something. Something hard. "The fuck!?"
"Ahah, see! That barrier holds in demons! And you're a demon!"
"Oh yeah? Have you tried to pass through this?" Hard as rock, my finger tips told me.
"I don't have to prove it works. It won't, because I'm not a demon!" He even stamped his foot. Adorable.
I had had enough. I shifted my sandwich to my other hand, and hefted the plate. Middle school track, don't fail me now. The plate landed with a soft thud three feet to the left of the figure. Almost as if...
"How old even are you?" I asked, leaning against the barrier and taking a bite of my sandwich.
The figure flinched. "N- not you- hush, you demon!"
"Sooooooo, eight, then?" I glanced over at the figure. Definitely too immature to be an adult. I turned my back on him, and took another bite. "Is this your bedroom? Why do you even want a demon? What are demons supposed to do?"
"I- I said hush!"
"Uh huh. You getting bullied in school?"
"I SAID HUSH!"
My feet skidded across the floor as if I had been shoved. Before I could regain my slouch the walls slammed into me, pinning my sandwich to my thigh, my other arm across my chest. "Wha-"
"I have summoned you, demon, from your Earthly dimension, to aid me in a task!"
The walls were crushing me, and I gave a tiny whimper in response.
"You are to use your dark powers to kill the President, Tonald Drump!" | 2017-05-12T10:46:53 | 2017-05-12T08:05:41 | 29 | 10 |
[WP] You, a religious person, saved a girl from getting hit by a truck. One day you get killed and instead of Heaven, you wake up in Hell. Satan walks up delighted and says "Welcome to hell and thank you so much for saving my daughter!, Let me know if you need anything!"
Edit: Wow! So many comments! Tonight after work im going to try my hardest to read as many comments as possible! | The being's eyes were pitiless as Samuel broke down, staring wildly at the hellscape surrounding him. It wasn't quite as he had imagined, no flames, no pitchforks waiting. Just an endless stretch of cracked, dead earth, with no trees in sight, no burbling streams of water, no other people...and yet, and yet, it was the worst place he could imagine.
"Your personal hell," the creature told him, its lipless mouth curling into something that resembled a smile. "You always did love the beauty of nature, did you not?"
Yes, he had loved it, and had always prayed for a heaven filled with trees and rivers, where he would dwell forever with his wife, Alison, when her time came to pass. Had always been so certain he had earned his right to be there, walking at the side of angels, becoming closer to God.
"Why?" he asked, not expecting an answer. But Satan took a step closer and crouched down until he was face to face with Samuel, making him gag as a putrid stench washed over him.
"You saved my daughter, of course," he said. "Dear Lilith. Heaven would not accept you after that, so I got to keep you. Let me take this moment to personally thank you for saving her. Do let me know if you need anything..."
Its voice was heavy with sarcasm, red eyes gleaming with malevolence.
"Lilith," Samuel repeated softly, and remembered.
A beautiful college girl, she had invoked thoughts of lust in him after he had saved her from the truck, hadn't she? He felt a wave of shame for that, but remembered with pride how he had saved himself.
He had resisted the urge to remain in contact, had turned from her subtle flirting in the hospital, where he had visited her, to return to his wife. Over the remaining five decades of his time on Earth, he had led a life of pious devotion. He had helped raise his three sons, and built his own little parish from the ground up. He hadn't thought of Lilith *once* in those years, with her warm, almond eyes, and skin like cream...
"That's her, the little snake," Satan said, giving a guttural chuckle. Samuel couldn't decide if it that was anger or pride in his voice. "Wearing one of her favoured human guises when she met you. Tried to kill her and drag her back here where she belongs countless times, but she always managed to slither away. Or had fools like you saving her. Wreaking havoc on Earth, trying to take *my* rightful place in the minds of humans. But I will say this: she truly did love you, as much as she is capable of love."
"You can read my thoughts of her?" Samuel asked, shivering as an ice wind swept through the desert. The cold burned worse than the fire and blood he had been expecting. He had always hated being cold.
"I have many talents," he said, grasping Samuel's hand with a raking claw. "As does my daughter. We can twist memory and life itself, of course, but if I wish...I can return your true memories to you."
He screamed, but it was no use. He was remembering. Alison's broken eyes as he left their home to follow Lilith, his three young children crying and begging him to remain. Years upon years of unspeakable deeds, as she strove to bend the Earth to her will. What had happened? What had he done? Samuel's spine bent as he howled, the memories burning through him.
"That's enough," Satan whispered through his pain, and he was abruptly cold again, shuddering as he lay curled on the ground. "I wanted you to know, before I take you onward. This isn't your final resting place, Samuel Wells. I've made a little deal with someone."
That claw closed around his shoulder, and he was dragged from the desert. When he woke again, warm brown eyes were smiling down on him. The weather was pleasantly mild, luscious trees rising gracefully to the heavens all around them.
"Lilith?" he whispered, and she gave that perfect smile that struck him silent. How had he ever managed to forget it?
"I made you forget," she said, pressing her lips to his forehead. The intoxicating scent of her, honey and spices he could not name, overwhelmed him. "And now, I wished for you to remember, my love. Father granted me that favour."
"You will remain here, now?" something interrupted them, and he looked up to see Satan watching from between two elm trees, his face bathed in shadow. Samuel trembled at the blasphemy of it. It was so wrong for him to be here, in this piece of Heaven.
"Of course, Father, a deal is a deal," Lilith whispered, wrapping Samuel tighter in her arms. "I will not return to Earth, if I can remain here with him."
Soon, they were alone again. He was almost paralyzed with pleasure at the warmth of her touch, the feel of her hand tracing its way down his chest.
"He told me...I will be in my personal Hell," Samuel whispered, anxious to say it before the memory disappeared. He could already feel the details of his time in the desert fading away.
"There are many versions of Hell. This might be it for one aspect of you," she gave a throaty chuckle. "The Samuel you were, before you met me."
For a moment, he remembered the reproachful eyes of his wife. What had her name been? And his sons...he had sons, once...
"But forget that now, my love," Lilith whispered, and he shivered as she lightly traced the outside of his ear with her tongue. "You're here with me. How could that possibly be Hell?"
He allowed the memories to go, relishing her touch upon his chest, right where his heart was beating. He was in the arms of his true love, in a place of warmth and plenty.
Truly, God was good.
-----------
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | The strange circumstances surrounding the night that I saved that snobby blonde girl have always perplexed me. It was 1998, the summer before I started college. Rain gushed from the sky as though something had angered God Himself, and I leaned against the grimy brick wall beneath the awning of the pub where I waited tables to pay for tuition next year, smoking a cigarette as I counted the money I'd made in tips that night. In those outskirts of the dense city, the post-gentrified grey area of Chicago between the poor South side and the rich North side, it wasn't uncommon to hear commotion of a sort on the streets so late at night, but the drunk brawlers and other troublemakers usually behaved themselves enough to not get their conflicts forced outside in this kind of weather, so the yelling on the other side of the street got my attention.
The girl in question, a young, fairly attractive blonde with a bad case of resting bitch face and a voice that knew no pleasant tones, stood in the bleak, green-ish, artificial light cast by buzzing the fluorescents hanging from the roof of a gas station, yelling loudly into a cell phone, a device which was much harder to come by in those days. Her clothes also indicated that she hailed from a lot of old money and probably didn't often find herself in places like these.
"I'm 18, Mom, I'm tired of getting dragged along to all these speeches and meetings. I want a life of my own without the suits following me around everywhere. I'm not coming back." She paused briefly, listening to the garbled response emanating from her cell phone. "I don't wanna be protected, Mom, I want them to leave me alone. You and Dad can have all the protection you want, but I just wanna live my life." Again she paused to listen to the response. At this point I noticed a man in a Catholic priest's attire emerge from a payphone by the gas station, his eyes fixed intently on the girl. He walked briskly to a car at the pump directly behind the girl and got inside. The car was facing the girl and I, the priest and I forming a straight line with her in the middle. He attempted to start the car and it sputtered a bit and gave out. As he was trying again the girl continued her conversation. "I don't want to follow in your footsteps, Mom, and I don't give a fuck what you tell the press. Or if they even find out. Just cut me loose, already." This time she did not wait for a response. She slammed the flip phone shut and stomped her foot on the ground.
In that instant the priest's car engine roared to life and he immediately floored it directly towards the girl. I dropped my cigarette but was frozen for a moment as I took in the situation. I noticed that the girl had been leaning against a thin concrete post that, for the priest, was hidden by her skinny legs and the shadow of her body. I thought surely this would stop the car, but I hoped I could get her out from between the car and the post before that happened. I began to run across the street, waving my arms and yelling at her, but before I could get even close to reaching her she stood straight, no longer leaning on the post, now next to it rather than between it and the car, and the car slammed into the post, the bumper smacking her into the street as it curled around the post. She fell at my feet and at this point I noticed the semi-truck hurtling from the left from the freeway exit ramp towards us. I quickly half-dragged, half-assisted her out of the way and the truck skid to a halt right where we would have been standing. The truck driver gets out, yells expletives at the priest, who was now peeling himself off the airbag from his steering wheel and running away, and runs to the aid of the girl, who's leg may have been broken, judging by her limp.
Before any of the three of us could say anything, a black Buick with tinted windows rounded the corner, and we all turned to look as men in suits and sunglasses emerged from it, grabbed the priest, and forced him into the car. As it sped off, an identical car sped past the other and towards our confused trio. At the sight of this, the girl tried to limp away, but more men in suits and sunglasses emerged to detain her. As the truck driver and I asked them where they were taking her and she yelled at the men "Tell my parents to go fuck themselves," they forced her into the car. The door slammed shut, the car sped off, and a police car showed up about 10 seconds after.
After getting very confusing on-the-spot eye-witness reports from the truck driver and me as to why there was an unattended, now flaming car slammed into a pole, we exchanged a few variations of "What the hell just happened?" and went our separate ways.
During my walk home through the pouring rain, I kept running the situation through my mind, trying to figure out where I knew that girl from (because, now that I had thought about it, she seemed familiar), and why the priest had tried to kill her (I gathered that her parents were high-profile somehow, so maybe an assassination attempt? But why a priest?). I never figured it out. Until I died.
Half an hour ago I was laying on a hospital bed surrounded by loved ones, saying my goodbyes as I felt my heart sputtering like the engine of a certain priest's car. The difference is, though, my heart wasn't about to find it's rhythm and start. When it beat for the last time and I felt the blood in my veins stagnate for the first time, I felt lightheaded and weary and whispered one last good-bye as my vision went black.
(Part 1 of 2; See Reply) | 2017-07-17T23:50:54 | 2017-07-17T23:47:32 | 395 | 60 |
[WP] All superpowers have a ‘hangover’ effect. For example, after using super strength for the day, the morning after you can’t even lift your spoon to eat your breakfast. You wake up one morning after using your own specific superpower and you feel pretty hungover...
[deleted] | “Totally worth it”
I thought to myself. It must have been past 2 in the afternoon but I refused to get up. There was a constant pounding in my head and a slight drip of blood running from my left ear. I could hear my roommates talking angrily in the next room and I knew what was waiting for me in the living room. We got along fine enough on account of the fact we all had super powers, but that was about it.
Jack had immeasurable strength, John could fly, and Jaron was able to morph into anything. There were plenty of other people with super powers but it was rare to use them on account of the “cool off”. Nobody is quite sure of the physics behind it but the law of equal and opposite reactions has something to do with incredible pain after performing a super power.
There’s an angry knock on the door as it flew off it’s hinges and jack comes barging in.
“WAKE UP DUMBASS”
He winces from overexerting himself but the rage in his eyes is more noticeable. My other roommates are behind him with similar expressions.
“You have arguably the coolest super power known to mankind; you can literally pull ANYTHING out of your ear ANYWHERE.” Jack is an intimidating guy and I know where this is going. He often criticizes me saying I don’t use my powers properly or I’m too showy or whatever. He sits down on my laundry chair, looks at the ground and rubs his temples.
“Walk me through your thought process here,” he continues. He sounds calm, but disappointed, like the time I told my dad I’d rather live off my super powers than try to have a high powered career as he did. “Why didn’t you pull out a stack of cash or something? Even more so, why didn’t you walk down to the lake first..? Why did you pull a 30’ power boat out of your ear in the middle of our fucking kitchen”?
Edit: critiques appreciated ! | It's been 5 years since the first quackman appeared, a being with superpowers that have a 'hangover' effect. The man was bulletproof one day and the next a paper cut during the press interview caused him to faint due to excessive blood loss.
Now there are beings with all kinds of powers coming up, all quackmen with a day of heroics and the next day of being ultra weak, it's a chess board out there, no one uses their powers unnecessary lest they not be able to stop the next terrorist attack by the Grand Baddies, an organisation of quackmen who aren't on the side of righteousness and good.
Me, well I am your average government employee without any powers and am right now dealing with the mess last night's battle between the Grand Baddies and government employed quackmen or the Quackers.
After my long day at work I go to a nearby bar and drink and suddenly I blackout.
The next morning the sun hits my eyes and I awaken feeling light-headed and then I throw up. What the hell is going on. I turn on the news and it rocks my world.
Turns out last night my powers awakened and the powers were the ability to control all minds, I went berserk brainwashing all the Grand Baddies into working for the government, but that's not all I made the entire populace make me their ruler and in celebration controlled myself to drink all the wine I could. The news channels are praising me as a God and this mansion is pretty swell and I can do pretty much what I want forever with my 'believers'.
So let the fun begin!
| 2018-08-19T05:58:22 | 2018-08-19T04:31:42 | 401 | 15 |
[WP] The only, and deranged, live man on the planet doesn't know that he lives among mannequins. Start with the line, "They don't usually answer back to what I say." | They don't usually answer back to what i say. Perhaps because the days have not been kind to them. Their skin seems firmer, their faces have become expressionless... But i know they still love me. They have to, for i am their Shepard, and they are my sheep. And so i tend to my flock.
There is little left to do in this world, i wait for the television repair man to come fix the box, it's shown nothing but static for weeks. The other night i swore i heard my neighbours arguing, i called the police, but no one came... The streets feel empty...
The little lambs need warmer clothes. I try to tell the older ones, winter is close and the snows will come, but their vacant expression tells me they don't care about the lambs anymore. But i still care.
One of the lambs fell over the other day. Her mother didn't even notice, too busy making eyes at the pool boy. I swear she never blinks. I tried to make a joke of it once but those cold eyes, make-up so fine you would swear it was painted on, just kept on staring. Never blinking. I picked up the lamb, so strong she didn't even shed a tear. She has her mother's eyes. I tell her not grow old like her mother...
"I never will." She replies. | They usually don't answer back... But sometimes they do.
It was like when I had received the silent treatment as a kid, my parents had ignored me for years on end; Only now the whole world was in on it.
I hadn't gotten somebody to speak with me in over four weeks, I was starting to lose my mind. "HELLO!" I said loudly to an especially thin girl, "IF YOU HAD EYES AND A FACE YOU WOULD LOOK LIKE BARBIE," I said charmingly, hoping that a compliment would lure her out of her shell. No response.
I couldn't take it, if they were going to treat me like trash than I was going to act like trash. I went home and got the chainsaw from my shed and powered it up.
I gathered dozens of the wanna be mimes into my garage and tied them up. One by one I sawed them in half and made the others watch, and each one of them begged for me to stop.
/r/PsychoWritingPrompts | 2014-08-12T18:49:15 | 2014-08-12T17:23:21 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] The zombie apocalypse has come. But so has the robot apocalypse, and the Illuminati takeover, and the alien invaders... It seems everyone played their hand at the same time. | "Why are we holding off on the invasion, Prime Minister?" his aide inquired, turning to face the dark locked man sitting regally in his chair set at the head of the long table. His fingers were steepled together before him, casting shadows against his handsome visage.
"Because we have the advantage by not *pressing* our advantage," he murmured quietly to the room that didn't exist, full of generals and spies.
The news had begun to trickle in, first of the robots creating, *creating* an emissary to demand rights, and it had been as their first self-created life lumbered up to the Whitehouse that an alien spaceship had come to hover over the capital building, as well as the capitals of major centres around the globe.
CNN flashed across one screen, followed by BBC on another. They watched as the world fell to panic, as the first report of the dead rising in morgues, shambling into the streets already made into a frothy, chaotic mess from the robots and the aliens filling the streets.
"---coming in that the aliens are demanding that we surrender peacefully, however according to some reports the Sentient Robot Group then broke into the broadcast and requested a chance to parlay with the government in regards to…” the young CNN reporter rushed through the notes she held, while standing before the gates of the White House, the camera far enough back so that it could capture the view of the hovering UFO, while a line of robots had gathered in a clutch at the gate, their hands gesturing to make up for their lack of facial mobility and expression.
A scream cut through the scene, as a body lurched up from the dirt behind the gate, on the lawn of the White House. The security at the gate diverted and headed for the body, guns drawn and yelling. Soon the reporter was drowned out by the report of gunfire, screaming, and the scene began to shake as the person behind the lens picked up the camera and raced to the gate to capture the scene.
It was cacophony for a few seconds, and it was as the gray matter sprayed through the air that the scene cut back to Wolf Blitzer’s serious face, moustache trembling briefly before he opened his mouth to recap the events of the day.
The Lieutenant-General reached for the remote and muted it, they all knew what the recap would explain, and as one heads swiveled back to the leader of their glorious nation. He was calm, collected, and a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
“It’s been reported to me by back channels, ladies and gentlemen,” he spoke after a second, his eyes flitting from one tense face to another, “that as we speak the Illuminati have called in their own favours in the White House, in Buckingham and Downing Street, and in other major capitals.”
“What does that even mean?” one voice asked, near breathless at the end of the table amidst the gasps that peppered the room.
He stood up, and loomed over the desk, his hands coming to rest lightly on the tabletop. “Look, this isn’t a surprise. We’re in a position to watch this all unfold, to bolster our defenses, prepare our people and then move in once everyone is weakened.”
Justin stepped away from the table, circling the perimeter to pause at the picture of his father. He looked up at the noble visage, the red flower seemed to glow near ominous in the lapel. A promise of blood, always at the heart. He turned to the room.
“We’ve allowed the world to underestimate Canada’s potential. And so we’ve been left behind. The robots have calculated us as being benign even, and the aliens don’t find our resources worthy of attention. We may get some push back from a few countries; Greenland, New Zealand, but they don’t have access to the resources that we do. Resources we’ll be able to claim as our own once that…” he turns to point at the television, showing a chaotic scene on the streets of New York City, cutting then to scenes in England, Russia, Germany.
“It is time the world knows the true meaning of the TRUE North, Strong, Free and Underestimated for too long!” He raised his hand up, fingers spreading in the air, representing the glorious maple leaf on their flag.
-30- | It was when our state-of-the-art anomaly detection software kept saying everything was fine I got concerned. It seemed too good to be true. My coworkers celebrated by taking out sick leave for the first time in years. Then they just stayed home. I was left alone. When I received a phone call from the president of the company, a mythical figure I'd never even seen a picture of, things got stranger.
"They're saying it's some kind of flu," he said.
"Yes, Mr. President. I heard."
"I'm not *the* president, you know," he said, laughing. "Not quite yet anyhow ..."
"What?"
"Oh! Never mind ... As the only employee left on the ship when everyone else is knocked out by a damn cold, I think you deserve recognition."
"Thank you, Mr. P---"
"Please," he said, "Call me Marcus Lucius. There will be a ceremony tonight. I hope you will be able to attend."
"I'm sure--"
I suddenly lost the signal. Oh well.
These last weeks I had been practically living in the office. When had the parking lot become overrun with homeless people? I could see them all limping around like they were all coked up. Their eyes were bloodshot and open wide. Man, I seemed to have missed one hell of a party.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I haven't got any change."
One of them grabbed hold of me. "They're here!" he cried. "They took me onboard their ship, they stuck probes inside my ... they're here! Oh the humanity! They're here!"
One of the coked-up limpers caught him from behind and drove his teeth into his throat. I fell to the ground from the shock. I had read about this somewhere. Some Russian or Brazilian drug that made people crazy. Some homeless guy had eaten a guy's face. I would not be up for this tonight. Sorry, limpy.
I drove off as fast as I could. Somehow I had become more adept at driving overnight. My car moved smoothly, almost as if it was driving itself. I could remember some talk about switching over to autonomous vehicles, but surely they couldn't have installed an update overnight? I let go of the wheel for a bit, and sure enough! Well I'd be damned. What a nice surprise.
What was not so nice was what happened next. The large thump could only mean one thing. Horrified, I tried to apply the brakes. It wouldn't respond. How do you disable this feature? I hadn't the time to try any buttons before I saw a bloodied hand slap the windshield. Then, a half-rotten face slid down. The other half soon peeked at me, still attached to its owner. I hit every button I could find, screaming. Some crazy drug must have flooded the market. Strangely, my first thought was *why haven't I been offered any?*
The car sped up. I couldn't stop it. The half-faced coke-head flew off the hood. I couldn't get the door open. At the very last moment I was able to break a window. I jumped out, comforting myself that at least I wouldn't be a *burning* mutilated corpse.
When I came to I could move my arms. I could touch my legs, but I couldn't feel them. Then I realized they weren't my legs. They were just legs. Mine turned out to be fully functional. Before I had any time to deal with this situation, I saw what seemed to be fireworks. Only, they flew much higher than what was normal. Hundreds, maybe thousands, all flying toward nothing. That is, until they all exploded with a massive force, hitting *something*. A massive thing, easily the size of the entire city, sat in the air. Exploding.
As hell rained down on me, all I could think was that I would never be able to take out those sick days. | 2017-12-28T17:11:19 | 2017-12-28T16:43:30 | 42 | 19 |
[WP] Many years ago, an alien invasion nearly wiped out Humanity. Now, the galactic government is desperately trying to reason with a vengeful Humanity by saying that it was a rogue mining company that attacked without their approval or knowledge. | "It's a virus"
"What do you mean"
"It's a computer virus, it is a small computer program that enters a system and destroys it from the inside".
"That's ridiculous, the hegemony has had computers for 3,400 years and no species has ever created software designed to destroy them. It is suicide. Computers run outside support, medical regen facilities, defense command, financial services. no sane being would create something that destroys the only thing that keeps is from living like animals. What if it gets into the climate control system. Are we going to have weather again? That's ridiculous."
"What do you mean if? It's in the system. Frongline is being hit with hurricanes. I had to look up the word for that. It is a massive low pressure storm. The entire coast is under water."
"Has the ship that sent the communication sent any demands?"
"Only one,. They have requested the heads of everyone who works for the Thran Mining Consortium. Everyone. From the Board of Directors to the drilling apprentices. Not only the ones involved with the 'unpleasantness' on their home planet. They want everyone. They provided a list. Their 'hackers" didn't even stop when our system warned them that accessing that information was illegal"
"And that's what they require to stop this unsanctioned attack?"
"No, that is what they require before they will accept our unconditional surrender". | At the Peace Talks between Humanity and the Galactic Government, the President of Humanity called their ridiculous lie by showing them irrefutable video evidence of the attack. Battleships with the galactic insignia demolished cityscapes, leaving a hellfire that made the US invasion of Vietnam look like a picnic. Humanity remained furious, throwing bottles and bombs at Alien government officials.
The galactic government asked what it could do to make amends. The President simply replied that nothing would do, except the heads of every war criminal who murdered 5 billion+ people. To no one’s surprise, the Galactic government scoffed, and abruptly left the meeting.
No one expected these talks to work, nor for the lies to be forgiven. The fact they were so brazen about them despite every bit of proof shows they care little for the truth. So long as they can dominate planets, they’ll tell whatever stories they want their victims to hear. In order for Humanity to continue the fight, they must remember who their true enemies are.
Negotiations are always open anytime the Galactic government gets serious about creating a just future, not a negative peace. | 2022-12-17T21:51:38 | 2022-12-17T19:35:09 | 150 | 55 |
[wp] Make a character with as much sympathy as possible. Now, in a realistic and non-over the top manner, make me lose all sympathy for them. | My hands shake as the brush strikes the paper. A thin layer of red fills the petals of my rose. Too dark. I must’ve pressed too hard. I take a small breath to calm my nerves. It wasn’t that my hands shake every time I paint, it’s just that in ten minutes’ time, I would finally be able to give my country, my people, my family, everything that I am.
Would I succeed? Only God can see so far forward. All man can do is to keep pushing, one step in front of the other. And even then, failure is all but certain. In the eyes of the world, a man can only do so much.
That was a lesson I had spent half my life learning. When my father first heard that I wanted to go to university for art, he scoffed at my decision. It wasn’t the uncertainty or the money, but me. I had no talent for it, he told me. My paintings looked like the tissues in the toilet after he had wiped his ass. He would not fund my stupidity.
But so be it. Painting was my calling and nobody had to tell me just how little talent I had, I knew. My nights were spent dissecting colors in my head. My mornings I dedicated to brushstrokes and technique. The afternoons I would study the greatest of the great, the Michelangelos and Van Goghs. Because life was not in the cards I drew, but the cards I played.
So I worked for two years, tirelessly, saving every penny, eating only bread and stew. I sold watercolours out of my parents’ store. I studied, painted, threw away, and studied some more until finally, I was ready. I applied to university.
The day the letter came, my hands shook so much I had to ask my father to open it for me. He did so and I swallowed as I met his eyes. Have I proven him wrong? He laughed. He threw his head back and let loose a rumbling guffaw that shook his very core. And mine.
I had been rejected. They said that I just didn’t have the talent.
It took me weeks to recover from that. My nights were no longer spent in study, they were spent at the pubs. The mornings I gave to my hangover and the afternoons to beg for more money. And that was when my father sat me down, a picture of the Vienna skyline in his lap and said these words: “son, I’d like to purchase this painting from you.”
I dug my nails into my palms. I swallowed my breaths. I ground my teeth to dust. But none of it mattered. The cry welled up in my chest and exploded out my mouth as a torrent of tears rained into my lap.
“Thank you, father.” I told him.
One year later, eating this time only bread, I had made up my savings that I had wasted with alcohol. I applied once more. This time, when the application came, my father stood at my side, his hands crossed, face grim, as he watched me open the letter.
“The candidate has an unfitness for painting,” I read and choked. Because I had known, I had always known. My father was right, the university was right, my first instinct was right. I just had no talent.
Then, my father said the words I would never forget. “Son, you were not meant for such trivialities. Your path is greater. So make your way and change our world.”
And so I found a new calling. I found it in the despair of a country ravaged by war and its people bullied by the powerful. I would save my country and everyone within it.
I stand up and stare at my imperfect rose and my crooked lilies beside it. One day, men will buy my paintings not because they are great, but because I am. A knock on the door. My time is up.
“My fuhrer,” he says. “The people are waiting.”
I nod. The world would soon learn my name.
---
---
/r/jraywang
| Albert rolled off his mattress with a thud. Draped in yesterdays clothes, he hadn't the energy to change last night. He had been crying again. Albert tried to right himself, but his palm slipped on another rejection letter. Briefly resigned to his new kingdom, Albert looked around the room from the perspective of his most-likened animal: A bug.
His frameless single mattress was old and lumpy, he'd dragged it with him when his mother kicked him out. Albert remembered that final conversation, the shouts of how he'd make something of himself, how he wouldn't be a loser like his mum and step dad. That was 4 years ago.
The rest of Albert's one room "apartment" was two piles of clothes, one dirty and one dirtier, a power board to charge his phone and laptop, a shower, toilet, sink, microwave and small fridge, a monument to his hobby and a set of small dumbbells. He ate his meals on the floor, watching Jersey Shaw reruns he'd got from a friend he met in high school.
Albert swept away the latest rejection letter, allowing him to rise. Albert got on his toes, peering out through the small window at the top one of his apartment's walls. The sun was already high, it's intensity burned Albert's sensitive eyes.
Albert smelled his clothes, clean enough. He walked over to the fridge, pulled out a can of beer, the only thing inside, before gulping it down like you would suspect an eager frat bro to. The headache relented. He crushed the empty can and flicked it into the growing pile with a belch.
Albert got into his car, it took 4 tries before finally relenting and starting. Albert drove by the bottle shop, picking up a brown bag full of cheap whiskey. He slowly sipped it, at first.
The time was getting close, he was going to have to rush if he didn't want to be too late. It was Friday already? Some how Albert managed to get to the school on time, with only a few close calls and beeping horns. The bottle was already half empty. Albert's car popped and crackled, announcing his arrival at the school. Holding hands with the teacher, Miss Smith, Annie was waiting.
"Annie, get in the car!" Albert yelled out from his open window.
Annie hesitated, looking up to the young Miss Smith.
"Get in the car right now!" Albert yelled again.
Miss Smith looked so powerless. Annie, with her head down, got into the back seat, pushing aside some old beer cans that weren't there last time. She buckled herself in as Albert peeled away.
Annie gave one last look at the dejected Miss Smith before she faded away. Annie put down her Dora the Explorer backpack, rustling some of the cans. Albert didn't say a word. Annie brushed some more of the cans aside, and out, running towards her hand, was a cockroach. She screamed.
"Aaaahhhh!" Annie yelled, "Aaaahhh!" She screamed again.
Albert spun back, "What!"
"Cockroach!"
Albert leant back and swatted the bug away, back into the pit of rubbish whence it came. As both he and Annie's eyes returned to the road, it was too late. The car had veered into oncoming lane as a small girl crossed without looking. It was Annie's classmate Jessica, she was running to her fathers minivan. Albert might have had time to react, but he was slower than usual. Jessica hit the hood, and was caught head first in the windshield. Albert was going around 50 when he saw her.
He didn't stop.
| 2017-04-24T10:52:35 | 2017-04-24T07:59:01 | 239 | 85 |
[WP] Your friends are always in awe over how you manage to get both in to and then out off so many weird accidents all the time. But then they don't know you are the unlikely child of a one night stand between Lady Luck and the God of misfortune. | “So he’s stood up on the side of the road in the dead of night, right? But, the guy just so happens to be standing off the curb, in the bike lane.”
“...Okay… But it’s midnight? Who the hell would be out on a ride then?”
“That’s what I’m saying! But lo and behold, a bicyclist comes out of the dark and just absolutely smacks this guy down.”
Most of the others at my table chuckle, save for me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t show a slight smirk.
“I call bullshit,” the one from before says as they cross their arms. “There’s just no way.”
“Fair enough. It usually does take seeing him in action to believe it.” They look to me. “Well?”
I sigh. “I told you, it’s not like I can manifest it on command. These things just… happen.” I pick up my drink from the table and swirl the ice around in it for a moment before taking a drink. As the fizzy sweetness passes through my lips, though, so does a rogue ice-cube, which manages to make its way back and lodge itself into my throat. Quickly setting my glass back down, I begin trying to cough it up, one hand hanging around my throat while the other punches my chest repeatedly. After a few hits, I manage to dislodge it, and with a huff I send it flying form my mouth. Time seems to stand still for a momenta as it hangs in the air over the table, before falling directly back into my glass with a plink.
The table sits silent for a moment, before everyone bursts out into laughter.
“That has to be the most sad, yet hilarious one I’ve seen yet!” one of the exclaims.
“Alright,” the one from before says as they try to get their laughter under control. “Sure, fine, it happened. But like, were you conceived under a ladder, but over a four leaf clover or something? Like holy hell, dude.”
The edges of my lips tug down, and I divert my gaze to the table in front of me as I go for another sip of my drink, against my better judgment.
“Shit, sorry. We should have said his upbringing is a bit of a no-go.”’
“What do you mean?”
Pulling my eyes back up from the table, I just catch the other mouthing the word “orphan.”
“Oh, my bad man. I didn’t know.”
I force the smile to return slightly. “You’re good. Not like I warned you. With that said, though,” I say as I begin to stand. “I think I’m going to call it quits tonight.”
“Oh… alright. Well, stay safe! Try not to get run over… again….”
I chuckle. “Will do,” I reply before beginning to head for the entrance of the restaurant.
As I weave through the maze of tables and people, my mind begins to drift off to other things as some sort of defense mechanism. All it really does is distract me, though, causing me to bump into a waiter who promptly is thrown off balance and drops the drinks in his hand. Losing my own balance at the same time, though, I watch them fall with me as I near the ground, and just barely grab both of them and keep them from exploding over the ground as I face plant into it myself.
“Dammit,” I say as I set the glasses down and sit up, before returning them to the waiter I bumped into. “Sorry, have a good night,” is all I say before bee-lining it out of the restaurant, this time without the distracting thoughts. I hardly make it out onto the street though before a familiar deep voice calls out to my side.
“Why don’t you ever just tell people the truth?”
I hear the sound of glass shattering inside as I turn to see a man much taller than me in a red and gray suit.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“You know exactly what I mean.”
“Okay, should I just open up with, ‘Hey! The name’s Michael! I’m the son of Lady Luck and the God of Misfortune.’ Because people would totally *not* think I’m insane if I open with that.”
He sighs. “Just as dramatic as always.”
“Just like my life,” I grumble. “Why are you here, exactly?”
\------
Just going to say it now, I have no idea where this would go from here, so I have no idea why I wrote such an open ending. That little nitpick aside though, this was a pretty fun one to write.
Thanks for the prompt, OP!
r/IUniven | If you’re familiar with the term fairy tale and expect some happy ending then you’re in for a misadventure. If I were to tell this tale from the perspective of all of the afters, all of those times when I made it out okay, then it wouldn’t seem so bad. I always wind up in good spirits at the end of the day. But this story is better told from the beginning.
Barnabas was the first friend I made. For two seven year old outcasts we managed to find a lot of trouble. There was a time when I told him about old Mersius, my foster dad, who had a few old trophies hanging around in his shop I didn’t think he’d miss. Barnabas suggested we try and trade them to the middle schoolers for all of the things we couldn’t afford. He became fearless around me. Barnabas was too able to forget how the middle schoolers beat us up and stole the trophies, how we walked home in a thunderstorm\ after it all. How my shoe snagged on a fence we always hopped in the park and I fell hard on my wrist.
He just remember the times when we got home. When Mersius had ice cream waiting in the fridge. When the heavy rain made it easy to dig in the backyard and we found the rusty knife. That knife was his favorite toy for months of outdoor play. He would remember how we ran into an old timer on the walk and help him pick up his spilt groceries, rescue his can of soup, and give us $5.
Barnabas left the story a few years after when we got into a deep trouble with the most troublesome middle schooler, Anthony Andilla. He was an asshole and we both knew that. But he had access to anything and everything. And we were always willing to trade things in from dad’s shop, anything we thought we could get away with. We’d had some success trading him various roller wheels that he and his buddies used to made dumb diy skateboards. We’d get some candy, chewing gum, or even get a puff of their vapes in return. We were big kids at that point, at least for being 9 year olds. And we always hung with the wrong crowds in our free time. That’s a life without supervision for you.
Barnabas got too comfortable with Anthony that day and got sent to the ER. I wouldn’t call it luck what happened next but his mother pulled him out of the school and that’s when I met Kirsta. We would be friends best friends for years and when puberty struck I woke up to what it meant to have a female best friend.
As luck would have it Mersius hated Krista. He was often drunk when she was around and so we didn’t spend much time at home in middle school. Up until my twenties I’d had all of my highest highs and lowest with her. I wouldn’t have called the pregnancy lucky, or having to take care of a kid as a drop out. C’est la vie.
Krista abandoning me with the kid happened the same time dad kicked me out. I became a single father, homeless and jobless, freshly dropped out of high school. I found work at the deli and found a roommate who somehow didn’t mind my kid, Odysseus. Odi was amazing. The kid hardly ever cried, and if he did it was practically a case of child neglect. Somehow his perfect ways brought the roomie and I together, we ended up starting a lawn care business and things were picking up again.
If you’re wondering about how old Ma and Pa were doing, I thought about them a lot. Somehow I’d managed to live quite the fulfilling life and I knew they had something to do with it. Pa must be out there dealing all of the hands against my favor with ma no doubt praying for things to go my way.
Maybe I’d just had some good luck, but I came out of the lawn care business with a lot of pent up desire for more. The thing ended in disaster when Marco got our truck in a ten car pile up. I had some good money saved up and we bailed him out of his hospital bills. After spending a couple weeks in there I got a little too friendly with the nurse. She happened to be a big fan of little Odi and we hit it off. At the same time we had a pretty good insurance check come in and we decided to go with real estate this time.
After a year I found myself with two dogs, another kid on the way, a new best friend to go along with Marco, and somehow things seemed okay. The journey has its ups and downs. Everyone wonders how I made it this far. They call me the wonder, the whirlwind, Hurricane Harry, but Odi and I have learned to accept that the big guy and Ma just wanted me to have an adventure. If you ever dream that your father is the God of Misfortune and your mother is Lady Luck, you may just be right. | 2022-08-06T19:08:23 | 2022-08-06T15:39:23 | 77 | 10 |
[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. | *Sweeping panoramic shot of a grungy inner city school. Majestic music plays in background.*
NARRATOR: Unlike the dominant species of the desert planet of Grizek, the inhabitants of this little world have tentative, almost ambivalent, courtship rituals.
*Cut to empty corridor. Bell rings, and a bipedal humanoid species appears in great numbers in the hallway.*
*Focus in on one member, a short individual with short hair.*
NARRATOR: The male of the species spends many months, even years, considering his potential mate. First he eyes her from a distance, taking great care not to be observed lest his attentions alert her to his presence.
*Camera pans to opposite side of the corridor, where a taller, long haired member of the species is walking towards the camera.*
NARRATOR: And this is the female he has chosen. The sideways glances of the males she walks past attest to her status as one of the most desirable mates in this environment. She walks past our male without acknowledging him. Now he must decide: is she ignoring him as a sign of interest, or is she truly oblivious to his presence.
*As the female walks away, the male watches her walk, his eyes fixed on part of her body that bounces in an uncomfortable looking manner.*
*CUT to scene of male sitting at table, his eyes staring at something out of focus in the distance. Focus changes to show that the object is the female.*
NARRATOR: Thirteen rotations of this planet later, the male has still not made his approach. But he must beware. He is not the only one interested in this female.
*Camera pans to show the female talking to another male. This one is much bigger than the first.*
NARRATOR: What will our young male do? Nothing, it seems. The other male is too big for him to defeat one-on-one. He must bide his time, waiting until the female is alone.
*CUT to the female opening a metal locker. The male approaches and drops a book next to her.*
NARRATOR: Finally! Our male is making his play. Under the pretence of an accident, he engages her in the rudimentary discourse that this species calls communication. Thanks to our discovery of a series of texts by somebody called 'The Bard' we have been able to translate their discourse into Galactic.
*The male makes squawking noises.*
MALE (SUBTITLES): Good morrow, my lady?
FEMALE (SUBTITLES): Dost I know you?
MALE (SUBTITLES): I am that merry wanderer of the night, that layeth near you during Chemistry class.
FEMALE (SUBTITLES): I know you not.
MALE (SUBTITLES): *Stammers* Um... wouldst thou accompany me to the dance next week?
FEMALE (SUBTITLES): Urgh, thou cream faced loon. Get thee away.
*Male flees.*
NARRATOR: Alas, our male has failed. The female proved unreceptive to his advances, and he will flee. Unfounded reports suggest that after unsuccessful courtships, males can turn such a vivid red color that they actually explode. Hopefully this fate will not befall our young male, as he is still young and has many more mating seasons left in him.
*CUT to two humans individuals walking down a street in the evening.*
NARRATOR: Members of this species often develop advanced methods to fool gullible females during courtship. Join us after the break as we take a look at a two more seasoned members of this planet engaged in the final stage of their courtship, a ritual misleadingly named: Inviting-Her-Up-For-A-Coffee. We'll be right back after this short message from our sponsors.
---
*And don't forget to tune in to* r/jd_rallage *at the same time next week, when we will show you never-before-seen footage of the unusual eating habits of this primitive species and their three staple food groups: 'chips', 'pizza', and 'beer'.* | And here we see the first of several stages of mating rituals in the humans.
The first is often the most unsuccesful in creating long term relations, yet mostly serves as practice for future, more significant rituals. Perhaps ironically, this first mating ritual is more complicated than any of the others, often occurring at the age of 16.
Ah. Here we see a lone male approach a female. It is often the male that begins the ritual, despite both parties equally capable of feeling emotion, and this one knows his trade. He stands up straight, walking with a confident swagger a slight smile playing across his lips. It is a delicate balance, the beginning of this ritual, and the most crucial - for if the initial approach fails, the ritual stops before it can even be started.
Nevertheless, this quite adept male approaches the female in his buttoned down shirt and well groomed hair, putting him miles ahead of the rest of his unshaved, ungroomed pack. He has been watching the female for a while now, has even conversed with her, and knows when she is normally without her pack, for normally females of this age travel together in order to further intimidate males, such that only the most confident may dare approach, naturally making mates of a higher quality.
The approach is something to marvel at, truly. Light on his feet, but no so light as to be malicious he walks up behind her taps the female on the shoulder. She whirls around, her mouth an O of surprise. The male apologizes, insisting he didn’t mean to startle her, and the female smiles, understanding. The two talk for a bit of casual, superficial things. This is the most important part of the dance, the feigning disinterest. They both know there is only one reason the male would seek out the female in such a fashion, yet they do not bring it up. They talk of sports, of class, of other males and females. In fact, the male says goodbye and turns to leave. Now the female frowns, confused, but at the last moment the male asks the question. Done in such a way as it were an afterthought, that he had not initiated the whole conversation with that in mind.
The female smiles and, nonchalantly, says why not, as if she were merely not opposed to the idea when in reality she is delighted.
Both walk away, jubilant, blissfully unaware of the other’s desire.
***
However, this is an ideal ritual, where the approach, the evasion, the time, the look are all executed with almost utmost perfection.
But most such rituals are doomed to failure due to mishaps, often on the male side. Recall, that it is the male who propositions, and thus he has more room for mistakes.
Let’s take another male. Already we see the differences from the first. His hands are rubbing together in nervousness, his skin is oily, his air unkempt. And perhaps worst of all he has worn an attire known as Cargo Shorts. Utter abominations sure to repel not only females, but male compatriots.
He approaches the female in the height of her power, surrounded by her pack members. He walks, lumbering as he does, so the entire pack stares at him for 30 seconds are so until he finally reaches them.
His face red he does not banter or feign disinterest, no, he just asks the question. The female smiles and opens her mouth to answer, but before she can her pack howls in laughter. The female freezes, and after a moment’s hesitation,forces herself to chuckle. The pack’s wishes must be respected.
The male, dejected, sulks away.
| 2017-04-04T07:03:30 | 2017-04-04T06:32:12 | 26 | 15 |
[WP] "Hello, my name is Sophia, what's yours?" You turn around and see a 10-year-old girl, and return the greeting. Her parents look at you strangely and demand, "how do you know her name?" "Um, she just introduced herself." "Very funny buddy, she hasn't been able to speak since she was a baby." | "Hello, my name is Sophia. What's yours?"
I looked around and saw her there, smiling up at me, hands folded primly in front of her. She stood between a man and a woman -- her parents, presumably, though she didn't much resemble the couple flanking her, who appeared to be in late middle age. Grandparents, maybe?
I smiled back at the little girl. She was a cute kid, in her little blue dress , with a matching bow in her hair.
"Well hello, Sophia. I'm Aaron." I said, returning her wholesomely precocious greeting.
I thought her parents would find the exchange as charming as I did. My parents had always liked it when *I* acted friendly and polite, as a kid. To my surprise, they were suddenly glowering -- not at their daughter, but at me.
"How did you know her name?" her mother asked, suspiciously.
"She introduced herself. Just now." I replied, more than a little confused. I thought they had to have heard the girl. They weren't *that* old.
Sophia just kept smiling, as her parents glanced at each other, something unspoken passing between them. Her father, grandpa, or whatever, then shot me a hard look.
"Very funny, buddy." he said, flatly. "She hasn't been able to speak since she was a baby."
I just stared at him in disbelief, until Sophia broke the silence again. "Oh no! I'm sorry."
I turned back to the girl. Her smile had vanished, and she now hung her head, sadly.
"Sorry for what, Sophia?" I asked. When she didn't reply, I started to turn back to her parents.
"Listen I don't know what's--"
I didn't get the chance to finish my sentence. I felt a sharp jab at my neck, like a beesting, and suddenly the world seemed to slip out from under me, and I fell into darkness.
As the void swallowed me, time seemed to slow down, and I heard snatches of conversation.
*He has to be...we'll get a sample of...*
*...he received...broadcast from the subject...*
*...reporting in...found one in the wild...we used the sedative...*
*...we need immediate pick up at...*
I was vaguely aware of the feeling of Sophia's parents grabbing hold of me on either side, and lowering me to the ground.
Before I was submerged in darkness, I heard her voice again.
*"I'm so sorry..."* | “Tell my parents that I signed the name to you, that should cool them off.” Her eyes glittered with an ethereal glow. There was no way that I was actually seeing that or hearing her.
My heart started to race, this was it, I’m going insane. I felt the world fade away, I was dissociating, I need to ground myself. “Wait, don’t go back yet.” I couldn’t take this insanity anymore “What is going on?!”
“I have been blessed, and cursed, with realm walking. Something that you too, have yet to understand.” Suddenly I was dialed back into reality.
“I’m sorry, she signed her name to me. I learned a little in high school.” Her parents calmed down a little but seemed disappointed, “I thought you might have been one of the few who claim they can hear her.” Not wanting to engage any further, I left the park and headed for my house.
“You mustn’t be afraid.” Her voice startled me, it came from behind me. I look over my shoulder and she is following me. I start running and stays the same distance. After a mile I give up, “what do you want.”
She proceeded to float off the ground and sit in the air with her legs crossed. “First, I’ll start by mentioning that I have been gifted The Eyes. They offer wisdom and foresight far outside the realm of humans. That is how I saw you were a realm walker.”
“What the fck is a realm walker!?” I couldn’t resist the frustration, she was dangling the carrot like I was a dog. She looked at me, unaffected.
“Existence is not bound by one realm. Each realm is a plane. Those planes move and interact differently at different time, and occasionally they intersect at the location of a birthing mother. When consciousness is breathed into the child, it does not all end up on one plane. This causes the child to exist on multiple planes at once. And when practiced they can walk between realms. I appear mute to my parents because I can only speak within the other realms..”
It was insane. Something out of a movie, and yet it seemed oddly understandable.
“Recently, some realm walkers have become shadow walkers. They use our blessing to enter the forbidden realms and reap the power possessed in dark magic essence.”
To be continued | 2022-07-11T00:02:35 | 2022-07-10T23:29:25 | 571 | 72 |
[WP] As a vampire, I follow traditions. My fiancé is human and just found out that human brides/grooms are to be bit to become a vampire themselves. She absolutely refuses to let that happen, and says the wedding is off unless I refuse to bite her. I feel like she's disrespecting tradition. AITA? | NTA
Honestly, your fiancé sounds like a piece of work. I am not a vampire but I did grow up in a Japanese household and my parents made sure that I was raised with Japanese culture and customs in mind. They ingrained in me the importance of my heritage and that it important for the world to accept not only our culture, but cultures of all countries around the world.
Now I know that Japanese culture and vampiric culture has many differences. For example, we like sushi and you guys like sleeping during the day. But we are similar in the sense that we should be respected for our beliefs.
My fiance hates sushi. But he eats it every day to show his devotion to me. He is happy to gag on the raw fish that he hates to respect my culture. And I am happy to keep feeding it to him and watch him gag. He asked me to watch the World Cup with him because it is important to him and I told him to fuck off as I shoved another piece of salmon in his mouth to shut him up. It honestly is the healthiest relationship I have ever been in and I am so happy that I married him.
If your fiancé will not do this for you; will not let you bite her on the neck, will not let you pierce her skin so blood drips down and she screams in pain, will not let you change her entire lifestyle as a show of devotion to you, then you should leave her ass by the curb. | INFO:
Firstly, how long did the two of you date prior to your engagement, and how much discussion did the two of you have regarding your eventual \[undead\] lives? Most relationship issues can be solved with clear and honest communication; whether to keep finances separate or combine them, whether or not to have/create offspring, whether to continue a monogamous relationship or allowing for additional vampire brides, etc, these topics should have been discussed thoroughly to determine whether your undead/life goals were truly compatible.
Secondly, what is the age gap between the two of you? Sometimes a marked difference in maturity levels can lead to conflict. Even amongst humans, May–December romances can be quite complicated due to generational differences, so I can only imagine the misunderstandings that must ensue in a 21st century–Pre Industrial era romance. With these generational difference there are oftentimes a great deal of misalignment in what each party assumes are "givens."
My advice would be to sit down and have an honest discussion *now* around relationship goals and how the two of you plan to spent either her remaining years or eternity together. Good luck. | 2022-11-28T19:14:11 | 2022-11-28T18:42:15 | 35 | 21 |
[WP] You have been cursed to always tell the truth. Not because you're unable to say something you know is false, but because once you say it, the universe will rearrange itself to make what you said true. | There was a woman crying in the park on my walk home. I asked her what was wrong. She said her husband had died the day before, dropped dead of a heart attack, right in this very park.
"How do I go in living?" she asked me. "Everyone tells me I'll move on, but I'd rather die than forget him."
"You won't forget him," I told her. I couldn't help myself. "But you will be happy again, and realize he will always live on, in your heart." Sigh. So trite.
She immediately stopped crying. Wiped her eyes and stood. "You're right," she said. As I knew she would. She nodded once and trotted away.
Did I do the right thing? I rationalize that I just pushed the fast forward button, let her get to the end without the painful middle bit. What if she really had tried to kill herself? Still. It feels like cheating.
I've turned this woman into a puppet. Free will goes not exist as long as I live.
Nothing can be except that I allow it. I could create a solipsistic universe, reduce everything to Descartes' first principle.
If I wake up tomorrow and say, "the only thing that exists is my mind", what will happen to you, reader? | How does truth run from falsehood when the universe bends and twists with words?
This was a curious existence. Words had seemingly prophetic effect.
I’d witnessed an offhand comment echo into a real life event before, how could I test if my words actually were?
—-
An interesting dichotomy. How does one determine what is true and what is false?
The universe seemed to play games. Not quite a leprechaun, but I had to be careful.
After all, if words had power, didn’t all words have power too? Where did the strength of mine begin and the other end?
How does cause and effect even work in a universe that bends to ones will?
—-
Like looking for ones own shadow with a flashlight, sometimes all one really needed to do is turn out the lights.
—-
How would one check if one were God?
—-
Turn the clock around. Reverse your time thinking, you only see the past in front of you.
Effect and Cause. | 2019-05-29T02:52:03 | 2019-05-28T20:25:48 | 46 | 15 |
[WP] "Captain... the human didn't put on it's anti-warp gear before we jumped." "Sad to hear, prepare the coffin and jettison it." "No, sir. The human... nothing's happened to it. It didn't go insane from seeing infinity in the stars." | Captain’s Log: 2437.04.08
The human, the one that calls itself ‘Cassandra’ (I hope I’m spelling that right), never ceases to amaze me. Ever since we picked it up from that freighter, I feel like we’re learning something new about it.
Just today, one of our crew dropped the ball and forgot to inform it that we’d be warping through QB-642 (The Braize System). “It was just a short jump, one that we’d done over a dozen times. I thought it would know by now, and I completely forgot,” Lumang admitted to me.
I, not knowing the extent of human resilience, informed him to prepare a casket and jettison it and that it was a regrettable loss, but just then I suddenly heard Cassandra squeal with what I assume is delight; I’ve heard it make the same sort of noise before, after it consumed its favorite food or some such ‘joyous’ event.
And there, through the door of my quarters scampered in the happiest human I’d ever seen. It exclaimed, using the universal translator we’d given it on a lark, “Did you see it?! The stars! There’s so many!”
Naturally perplexed, I asked it if it had donned the anti-warp gear, as we’ve trained.
“The glasses? No,” it told me. (Thank god universal translators work with such basic vocal cord arrays) “They’re so dark. I felt the bump of the warp and then Lumang looked at me, then ran to your quarters. Prolly (sic) to tell you about the stars.”
I blinked in stunned shock. I was about to order a battery of tests to be performed, to evaluate its mental state before it told me, “It looks like something I saw before! Do you have any mirrors?”
Still shocked from seeing that the infinity of the stars seemingly had no effect on the human, I obliged and handed it a mirror that I kept on my desk. It shook its head. “I need another one.”
Curious, I stood up and led it to the bathing quarters; I knew there was a large mirror in there. I know Cassandra did, too, for it seemed anxious about arriving there. Cassandra, if nothing else, is a little ball of energy. I’m thankful that it hadn’t been driven insane; its companionship has certainly held back the tedium of this long voyage…
After leading it to the mirror in the bathing area, it stood with its back facing the large mirror, as it held the smaller mirror in front of its face. “Like this!” It cheered. “Like this!”
Now, morbidly curious, I held my hand out for it to give me the mirror, which it did, baring its teeth with a twinkle in its eye. I’m still uncertain what this display means, but there’s something in my that fears it, or at least has a healthy respect for it, in retrospect.
I held the mirror up to my face, standing with my back to the larger mirror, just as the human did and beheld…Infinity! I dropped the mirror from shock, as the human made a sound not unlike that of a laugh.
The image is still burned in my mind, I cannot unsee it. Hundreds and thousands of copies of me, stretched down an infinite hallway…
This bears more research, for certain. How could we have been so blind before?
After posting this log, I’m going to requisition more mirrors. The question is, where am I going to find volunteers to perform future experiements? | The automatic door to Human Liaison Redorix’s room hissed open to allow the ship’s captain in, needing to duck to allow his large triangular head inside. There he saw the only human crew member he’d had, frantically searching it’s room for something before seemingly realizing that the captain had appeared.
“Ah! Sir!”
Redorix quickly stood upright, came to attention, and gave a crisp salute. She was minutely aware that the salute she gave was meant for British officers from either Terra or Nova Britannia, not the generally accepted universal salute the aliens used. Whoops, she’d have to do better next time.
“Officer Redorix, where is your anti-warp gear?”
The captain wasn’t quite sure what to start with, but given the fact that the human was still here, standing before him, and mostly intact, he figured his best course of action was to take it slow and not draw attention to what had happened, lest he trigger some memory and melt her brain. Was that possible in humans? He knew that the giant grasshopper species from Terra was capable of such a shutdown.
“Well, sir, I… uh, I kind of… lost it? I- I mean, I know where it is now, of course! When we went into the warp, I looked into one of the eyes, and it looked back at my anti-warp gear, so I was trying to get it, but it rolled under the bed and I don’t… er, fit down there…”
Redorix lowered her salute and gave a sheepish expression at the captain, before remembering that the captain could not actually detect different facial expressions do to his species lack of facial features.
“Slow down, Officer. You saw eyes in the warp? Explain, if you can.”
The captain was rather taken aback. Redorix’s demeanour hadn’t changed at all, and she seemed to be as mentally intact as she was before, but he was almost certain that there was no ‘under the bed’; the way such furniture was designed on the ship, there was no opening beneath them. Did the warp cause reality to change? He could see no opening now, so he was unsure.
“Right. Eyes. Umm, maybe that’s the wrong word? I didn’t quite ‘see’ them, as it was mostly pitch-black… or stark white? Well, there were many things watching us, and one of them happened to see where my anti-warp gear went, so I looked through it to find it. It was quite helpful, until I realized that I couldn’t actually get my gear back. The QM guy won’t be too mad, right?”
Redorix tilted her head to the side, awaiting a response from the four-armed figure before her.
“No, I’m sure he’ll understand. One more thing, before I send you to medical. Where is your right arm?”
The captain did not see colour, but rather light, and as such could not make out the dark spot in his vision that had been fluttering about Redorix since he walked in. The human looked at her right arm, which she wasn’t sure was hers anymore, through eyes that reflected the warp.
“What do you mean, sir? It’s right here, as it’s always been… right?” | 2020-07-14T03:55:51 | 2020-07-14T03:46:17 | 61 | 27 |
[WP] You make arrangements to cryogenically freeze your brain at the age of 31 in hopes of being revived in the future. Many years later, you "wake up." | "It works, I suppose." I said, hopping down from the table.
The more things changed, the more they stay the same. Even the prosthetic, advanced as it was...well the situation was far from perfect. My new clunky arms clubbed my hips, both were wider than I remembered.
"Now you'll be confined to the hospital" The nurse continued "for a time at least. Your directions were clear that you wanted to be revived as soon as you could..."
"Meaning?"
"To be blunt?" The nurse smiled up at me sardonically "There's a whole lot of 'if' with this stuff. We've tried the tech on animals and humans that already have a body, but you're the first one using this as a primary sensory input."
"Well, be careful what you wish for, I suppose." I sighed, or the robot equivalent. Life as a prototype.
The nurse stands up to leave, but something stopped them.
"So you know, there was one experiment like yours tried. Some animal situation. The second they went outside they got overloaded, like it's brain blew a fuse with input. They'll tell you this later for sure, but you should really avoid even looking out windows while we make sure to work that out."
And they were gone.
Six months passed, and as the nurse foretold I was confined. I took my first several weeks and months in a stride. My faux-flesh worked about as well as the old stuff, even if moving around felt like wading through molasses. I made nice with the other "subjects" in my ward, which quickly filled out with my supposed success. Information was kept from me though, locations of exits, the year, even the location of my hospital (known internally as "Mother Mary") was all information deemed "sensitive and potentially overloading" in my "state".
The most troubling though, is that I think I'm loosing my own memories as well. Name, why I took the freeze, friends and family, all of it is slipping away. I'm writing it all down now, just in case.
The others are also still in the dark, though we all seem to be in slightly different situations. They call me Cryo (for obvious reasons). You've got George (who just woke up from a coma), Crash (try and puzzle that one out), and Ned (had some sort of Near Death Experience and likes anagrams). Ned was the last one to show up about three months ago, and it's getting to him now too.
We know something is up, and tonight we are going to figure out what. Ned remembers getting in, and they can't stop all of us from getting out. | A bright, jarring beam of light was shining in his face. Max woke up, startled. He heard screeching sound, and then a loud thud. As his eyes adjusted to light, he saw that the glass wall in front of his face was broken. He pushed it aside and stifled a scream.
He was in a half-destroyed dusty room. He remembered it being slick and clean, when he came here to get into capsule and be frozen. It was the most high-tech place in the world, and it cost all of his money to get in. Now there was a hole in the ceiling, with sun shining through it, illuminating the room. In the corner Max noticed a giant beast, looking like a mutant from a horror movie.
Max ripped out an electric cord behind him, and threw it at the monster. It hit the beast in the nose, causing it to roar and run away, jumping through the hole in the ceiling.
Max looked around, his heart beating quickly. There were 9 more cryogenic capsules in this room, all of them broken, and people in them clearly dead.
He pushed aside automatic doors that weren't working, and carefully sneaked through the hald-destroyed corridors. Some of them were filled with rain water, with small plants climbing up the walls.
He stepped out of the building, and saw the deserted streets, half-destroyed buildings, and a skyline of the city - mostly ruins.
*What the hell happened here?* he wondered.
He walked through the streets, looking for signs of life. All of the sudden, a group of people surrounded him. They were looking like a tribe of scavengers, wearing dusty cloaks and holding spears.
"What's going on?" he asked.
Silently, they have captured him, put a bag over his head, and the next thing he knew - he was lying on a floor of some sort of tent, tied up, guarded by a tall man, clearly a warrior.
"Can you explain to me what is happening here?" he asked. In 20 minutes he wished he didn't.
200 years ago a nuclear war has destroyed the human civilization, only a few tribes of survivals were left, quickly losing their knowledge and descending into the stone age.
*Well, I guess it's on me to rebuild the civilization now* he thought, and came up with a plan....
----
To be continued.... | 2015-09-13T23:00:19 | 2015-09-13T21:42:12 | 58 | 15 |
[WP] “Your supply routes are blockaded, your transports are destroyed. You will surrender, human, or you will starve.” “Bold words from someone who tastes good with ketchup.” | "Ketchup?" the bug eyed creature began as it gestured quizically with its spindly legs to the guards flanked on either side of it.
"Yeh that's right, ketchup, or rather a nice cocktail sauce. Which is basically ketchup. Do you realize we boil you, fry you, sauté you, de-vein your poop chutes and then slap you on the barbie just to drizzle garlic butter and dunk you in cocktail sauce?"
The blonde haired sterned faced chef stood with his arms crossed waiting for a response from the gigantic anamorphic prawns who miraculously spoke the Queen's English. If it was a war they wanted, a war they would bloody well get.
Shuddering at how graphically this ambassador spoke about mutilating their kind, the lead prawn grew quiet and didn't speak a word. Their gamble didn't pay off. They threw all their resources into this last ditch effort and it was clear that these...humans...were content on their culinary destruction. Oh how could it be that the prawns failed to account for human appetite!
Sensing apprehension on behalf of the prawns, the angry chef scolded, "you DONKEYS. You never had a backbone among you!"
Inching closer to the the three prawns, the chef was armed with a knife and steel. Gliding the blade up and down the steel ensuring that the edge was freshly sharp, panic started to set in for the prawns. Imagining all the horrible outcomes and the human delight from gobbling their corpses, the prawns stood frozen with fear.
"The next time you DONUTS decide to attack the human race just remember that our culinary innovation knows no bounds. So PISS OFF back to the sea from whence you came and don't forget who sent you there, Chef Gordon fucking Ramsey." | the leader of the potato revolution stood over my body chained to the wall.
"I will never let you win you monster" I shouted back in powerful yet shaky voice. "you're just a vegetable; meant to be eaten."
The leader was shocked by this, and slapped me across the face with his dirty Rooty hand. The roots were as sharp as knives and sliced my cheek.
"A vegetable?!!?" The leader angerly shouted "how DARE you call me, Barron prom des Terre a vegetable?!!?"
Blood began dripping from the wound he left on me, it was small and un refined as I haven't drank or eaten in days, maybe weeks.
"Just because you've evolved into a more humanoid form doesn't mean you are any different than what you truly were." I shouted back.
"that's it! I was just gonna let you live and join me in creating a world where we are the true rulers and you are but simple little mice." The leader said. "But now I see that us potatonoids are the only true things that can live on this earth."
He then shouted at 2 guards in their language which I didn't understand. The 2 guards then picked me up, I tried to resist but I was getting weak from the blood loss and starvation.
"I have yet to try my torture devices" the leader said in a calm yet evil way. "Maybe you'd be first to try the deep fryer." He then loomed a evil grin as the guards dragged me away, to who knows where. | 2021-03-25T14:11:14 | 2021-03-25T10:42:45 | 170 | 80 |
[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. | Sam reached the top of the bastion on the south eastern corner of Camelot gazing out at the sea of men gathered before the walls. Nimueh the evil warlock had gathered more than just men against King Arthur and Merlin. Three enormous dragons tethered by chains waited by the side of the would be conqueror.
"No future m... Sam, not another of these paper pictures they avail us naught"
"Merlin. you said you had magic that could bring the inanimate to life, to breathe life into clay and all that. What i have assembled is the pinnacle of power in what you call the lands of the future. Many spent years and great fortunes trying to assemble what we have here."
"But these paintings, they... they are of of nothing."
"Merely pieces of a puzzle my good Merlo. Now, set that table up so it looks towards that army and start your incantations."
Merlin started a low murmur which increased in speed and volume every time he repeated his words.
At the same time that Merlin had started his spell the evil warlock and dragons almost twitched like a reacton to Merlins magic and started emanating a faint glow, the dragons took to the air shimmering blue and white as the sun lit their lithe bodies.
Sam put on a pyramid shaped pendant and fanned the 5 pictures infront of him. one by one he started slamming them onto the table infront of him
"Left Arm of the Forbidden One"
"Right Arm of the Forbidden One"
"Left Leg of the Forbidden One"
"Right Leg of the Forbidden One"
"BEEEEHOOLLLLDDDDD, it's Exodia the Forbidden One"
The table exploded in front of Sam and the massive form of Exodia the Forbidden One formed infront of him, Merlin fell to the ground and started to convulse.
The three dragons raced towards the Bastion as the invading army quavered
"Exodia! Hells fires rage and pseudo flame!!
a wild conflagration erupted from the clasped fits of the enormous god-monster engulfing the blue eyed white dragons flattening everything that stood in front of the southern wall, what was left of the host fleeing into the surrounding woods.
"Merlin... Merlin, you ok?"
"Y... yes future man. You have saved our kingdom, we are forever in your debt. What can we do to repay you."
"Merlin, you still have that magic box right..."
| Jace looked at the man with a top hat and a swirly white beard. “Anything at all?”
“Anything at all,” the old geezer confirmed. “Just think about it hard, and then open the box!”
The lanky teenager closed his eyes, his forehead creasing. Then he pulled out a futuristic-looking device that resembled a bulky pair of goggles. The old man gasped and clapped his hands in approval.
“Very good! What does it do? A gaze of fire perhaps? Maybe the ability to see through walls?” Merlin said.
“Not exactly.” Jace had always wanted a PlayStation VR and had jumped at the opportunity. “It’s more of a… how do I put this… a game console.”
“Well, what does it do?”
Jace didn’t answer, he was too busy moving furniture around and crawling along the walls. “Where’s the power outlet in this dive?”
“Now, now, young man, this is not a dive – this is Camelot!” Merlin announced proudly.
“I need power,” Jace complained.
“Oh but there is power in you, I can feel it,” Merlin said warmly. “You remind me of the king back when he was a youngster!”
“Well, this so-called king must be real bum,” Jace said, pointing at the torch on the wall. “Can’t even afford electricity; how am I supposed to use my VR now?”
“Some answers are obscured, young one,” Merlin said, splaying his wrinkly hand in over his eyes mysteriously. “But who’s to say that knowledge can’t grow unexpectedly and at times, over night?”
“All right, Grandpa,” Jace said. “You’re rambling again.”
Jace stretched out his back on a sofa, and yawned. “When’s dinner?”
“Oh, young sir, the king will be hosting a banquet to celebrate your arrival!”
“So when’s that, six o’clock? I’m starving.”
“You must practice patience, my lord. Without it, we shall surely fall to the enemy!”
“Yes, yes, patience, knowledge, got it! Now I need to crash for a bit. Wake me up when dinner’s ready.”
| 2016-11-28T00:01:58 | 2016-11-27T22:48:57 | 2,966 | 85 |
[WP] You survive the zombie apocalypse and realize that they're incredibly useful. For example, you can generate free electricity forever by putting the zombies in giant hamster wheels. You become determined to create a zombie-powered utopia. | Two winters had passed since I found the village. I had arrived riding a cart with my belongings, pulled by four dead ones who were following a lure of spoiling meat hung by a string from an extended pole. My own scent was masked by covering my skin in a layer of mud, making the dead ones walk in the direction of the lure instead of turning back and feasting on my flesh.
The sight of this peculiar arrangement had made the village gatekeepers suspicious, to say the least. They had destroyed my cart pullers, tied me up, and taken me in for questioning the second they saw me approaching the gate. I must have spent months in that cold, damp cell of a basement before they allowed me outside to demonstrate my theory.
I am not sure how the villagers had produced four new dead ones for me to use, but it could not have been too difficult. The entire world, as far as we knew, was overrun by them. Either way, some of the villagers helped me tie the arms of the ravening ghouls to poles that were laid horizontally across their shoulders, and attached to yet another pole sticking out of a power generator device. This setup created a windmill-like contraption that could power the generator.
I began walking in a circle around the morbid machinery, and the dead ones followed, thrashing their arms and snapping their teeth as the dusty old light bulbs in the building started flickering.
Today, well over a year after that fateful day, the entire village is powered by similar generators run by the tireless dead. They seem to have a limitless supply of energy, and behaved like very simple machines, always following the scent of the closest living tissue. Electric lights are on all night, drawing the attention of settlers who come to live in this paradise of electricity and mechanization, as well as new dead ones to provide power and labor for the steadily increasing population. Farmers have even found ways of using the dead to plow and till their fields, making food production require almost no manual labor whatsoever.
This newfound utopian way of life was not without problems, however. The lights and noise constantly emitted by the village attracted not only new settlers and dead labor, but roving bandits and raiders as well. The first couple of attacks were easily fended off due to our sheer numeric superiority, but with time, they grew more frequent and more bold. And so, the task fell upon me to devise a new system of perimeter defense. Of course, it had to be built on the infinite power of the dead, in accordance with the new spirit of dead automation that the village was now built upon.
The first iteration of such a system was a simple wooden palisade, the outside of which scores of dead ones were tied to. This proved an efficient deterrence for most attackers, but it was far from optimal. For one, it deterred new settlers just as efficiently as roving bandits, and it required the use of many dead ones that could otherwise be put to work inside the village. It also did not protect against attackers who knew how to mask their scent, nor did it provide any adequate defense, should a force of any considerable size choose to attack us.
I didn't sleep for a week as I wracked my brain trying to come up with the next iteration of the defense system, when finally I heard the voice of what some villagers call God. The voice told me that it was a very simple matter of "thinking outside the box", which was a popular saying in the days before the dead started walking the Earth.
On this day, I stepped up on the speaker's podium in the village market square and spoke to the people. If we cannot build a system that can protect us from all threats, then we must simply eliminate all threats from the world.
We divided ourselves into groups, and wore the leathery skin of the dead ones, which would mask our scents, as well as our appearances. We then gathered all the dead ones in the village, and the ones on the palisades into one big horde. There must have been at least a thousand of them by now.
And so we began wandering with the horde, delivering death and devastation to every living creature in our path. Only when our task was complete, could we finally live in peace. | The deputy mayor was starting to smell and Una wasn't quite sure how much longer she could stand it. She'd first noticed a sourness in the air about a week ago, and it had only gotten worse since. That a zombie could ever be in politics was itself ridiculous, but that the zombie would be her superior was almost hurtful.
Una opened her window a little wider and took in a deep breath of fresh air. The sky was its usual grey but the air was clean enough. Even the sun was out, a pale silver disc barely visible in the clouds. Una was happier than she'd been in weeks and she was damned if Deputy Mayor Sam Jones's stink was going to ruin her mood.
She gathered some papers and walked down the hall to Sam Jones's office. She knew he'd be there as he rarely left the building without her. She took a deep breath, knocked once and went in. He was seated at his desk, gazing out a window. The room was heavy with his dying odour. He turned to Una as she approached and smiled. His speech had not returned, and Una supposed it never would - much to Mayor Keane's annoyance - but he was a fine enough puppet and a pleasant zombie face for the human population. Most importantly, he didn't cause trouble.
"Good morning Sam, Mayor Keane has asked me to check that our life-challenged staff are taking their prescribed medications in the correct doses, and I thought I should start at the top and work my way down. Which is you, of course." She faked a smile.
The deputy mayor looked confused for a moment and then smiled back at her. His perfect white teeth - courtesy of Mayor Keane herself - gleamed in his skull, an effect that never failed to give Una the creeps. He reached across and opened a drawer and took out his plastic medication tray. The trays had been a gift from China and had worked wonders with keeping the slave meds controlled, where they had minders and fulltime staff to destribute them, but neither Keane nor Una could force the free zombies to take the required daily doses. Una saw straight away that the deputy mayor had skipped several days.
"Do you have any other trays in there, Sam?"
Sam nodded and opened the drawer again. It was filled with old, half-empty trays.
"Why don't you give those to me, Sam," Una said. "I'll clean them out and make sure you get your refills. And Sam, try to be a little more responsible with your medication. You need to set an example, remember?"
Sam nodded and handed her the trays. He smiled again, in his dim and creepy way, and turned back to the window, where a lone crow sat on the sill.
Una, with the trays of expensive medicines now safely under one arm, walked back to her office. She closed the door and quietly turned the lock. All thoughts of the undead man's stink were gone. She sat at her desk and laid the trays out on top of it. One by one she opened each little plastic flap on its little plastic hinge and scooped out the tablets and capsules inside. When all the trays were emptied and all the meds were on her desk, she sorted them into groups. Anticoagulants, antidepressants, anti-psychotics, heart treatments, liver and kidney treatments, multi-vitamins, aminoglycosides and other antibiotics, the multiple painkillers, and of course, what she was after all along, necrocin, the wonder drug.
She crushed two of the tablets by grinding them into the desk with her palm. She took a thick piece of card from the bookcase behind her and used it to cut the powder into smaller grains, then reached again for a book - any book - and ripped a blank page from the back. Rolled tight, she held the paper straw to her nose and leaned forward. First one side, then the other. She sat for a moment longer then stood on woozy legs and lay down on the carpet. | 2015-01-03T08:50:36 | 2015-01-03T06:39:21 | 29 | 11 |
[WP] “Beware of an old man in a profession where men usually die young.” | ######[](#dropcap)
"How many have you killed?"
Hilary Flint paused with whetstone in hand, the other holding his cavalry saber steady. There was a look of wary bemusement in his grin as he replied.
"And what do you mean by that?" said Flint.
Faealina shrugged, idly tracing a finger around the rim of her teacup. "You're a soldier, seen your share of war. You must have killed many foes. Do you remember them all?"
Flint said nothing, and for a moment Faealina feared she had crossed some unmentioned boundary. She took a sip of tea instead, glancing askance at her *Taeros* as he continued to hone the edge of his blade.
"I 'member my first," said Flint quietly. His eyes didn't leave his work. "It was an Elvish grenadier -of House Beyld's 19th Foot in retrospect; the green facings, you see- Stabbed him with a carving knife in his throat. Wasn't very good then at killing. I missed the jugular and the spinal column. Didn't have the stomach to finish the job, so he just... died like a gutted fish, all kicking and gurgling blood. Took about fifteen minutes all told.
"The first Man I killed was a rapist. Found him as he was buttoning up his trousers and she covered in blood. He wasn't a fighter, could barely hold the knife he'd threatened her with. He begged for mercy, begged me not to kill him. I threw him headfirst out of a fifth-story window, told him he wasn't worth the bullet. But most of them, they're just faces in dreams."
Flint examined the blade's length, his green-gray eyes hovering about the razor-thin edge.
"And what about you? Have you killed anyone?" he asked Faealina.
"No, not physically at least," she answered, eyes lowered. She took another sip of her tea. "But words can cut as well as any blade, Flint. I know that better than most."
Hilary Flint nodded, a rueful smile on his lips.
"I try not to dwell on the past. I've made corpses and widows and orphans, fed dogs and crows and coffin-makers. Sometimes I have had to kill for survival, other times for vengeance. I've fought for causes and I've killed for pay. And you know what? It really doesn't matter. This world doesn't care if you're on the right side or the wrong side, whether you fight for honor or glory or money, if you're poor or rich, or Elvish or Mannish. I fight because I'm good at it, not because I enjoy it."
He set the whetstone aside, and picking up the saber, sheathed it in its scabbard.
"Don't ask me, dove, about how many I've killed because I don't know. Ask me instead how many lives I've saved. I know that number by heart." | He did not expect to see an aged and frail man in front of him. No, he expected a muscular and “macho” man, with tattoos, a grimace, and a pistol or two in his holsters. Not a grandpa with a cane, blind in one eye. I saw the laughter and confusion on his face, it happens every time.
“This is the assassin sent by Vinto to deal with me!?”
But before they can start laughing, they are dead. In fact the moment I walk towards them, from the moment I make I contact, they are dead. Beware of an old man in a profession where men die young. That is what I tell my associates, and my clients.
I am the Vinto Cabal’s most feared assassin. I kill with no remorse, no hesitation, because I understand the human life is limited in the first place. I see no harm in cutting the strings early. From my hand comes death, comes a sweet respite from the difficulty of life. It is a gift, and a curse.
I told you, the moment they see me, they are already dead. It is courtesy of my “special” power. I have what is called the Chimeric Power, courtesy of the fact that I am multiple people grafted onto a single body. A talented magician, an expert martial artist, and a ruined demon king all gave their limbs to me, and with it I gained a portion of their souls, their power. The moment I see my target, I activate my power.
In this state I am untouchable, infathomably fast, and my cane has a double use as a Barachotoxin tipped blade. I slice and dice, only three slashes needed to kill, and leave the scene with ease. Sometimes I break a window. Other times I make a run back the way I came, delivering a cruel slice to all the ernest guards looking to avenge their dying king. As I told you I am impossible to hit, only the most precise things can hit me, the most skilled marksman may injure me.
You wonder why I am not a god by now. It is because the truth is that I am not actually as old as I look. Though I look more than 75, I am only 10, and this is courtesy of my Chimeric Power. Every time I use the power I age, more and more, until my soul shatters and I die an empty husk.
I have ten uses left.
EDIT: This kind of got left behind in all the gilded stories up top, so if you’re reading this thank you for taking the time to read my story. It means a lot to me :)
EDIT 2: Is it worth even keeping this up? Don’t think anyone wants to read it anymore, so might as well delete it. :( It’s utter trash anyway. | 2018-07-15T07:55:13 | 2018-07-15T07:18:01 | 4,165 | 335 |
[WP] Your bedroom became detached from reality and nothing is outside your door, but whenever you load a video game that world appears. Your game library is not conducive to a long and happy life, but the mini fridge is empty so you have no choice. You load up the safest game and gather supplies. | *Cataclysm: Dark Days Ahead*
Absolutely not. There is going to be food in there, but there are also zombies, giant mutant insects, and Things from Outside Reality - that last category could probably follow my room even after I turn the game off. Just, no.
*Ancient Domains of Mystery*
Food, again, exists. But there are all sorts of fantasy creatures out for my blood - I do *not* believe I could handle a dozen jackals. Plus, with the Chaos Gate open, I'll slowly get corrupted as I stay there, eventually turning into a mindless monster... no thank you.
*Tetris*
No food, plus I'll get crushed. No thank you.
*Starcraft: Brood Wars*
I'll be torn apart almost instantly. That or forcibly inducted into the Marines. This... might actually be the best option so far, which is really not good, but there's still one that I've been avoiding...
*Doki Doki Literature Club*
At least no-one in this one will try to kill me. And - well, there's cupcakes at least. And a protein bar appears at least once. Not to mention a vending machine... my diet won't be great, but at least food *exists*. Plus, no real danger of being killed. At least, not until the game ends and the universe collapses around me.
...
...but if I go into that one, then I won't be the only one to come back... | "Damn... If I go into Minecraft, I may be taking by a zombie. Pokemon won't work, nor Gacha Club. I'm sure as hell I'm not going into Cube Escape. Flappy Dragon won't do me much... That just leaves me with Obey Me.. Not the best option, but between zombies, creepers, and gaint ass spiders, I'm willing to take the risk of demons."
I load up the game and waited. I was unsure on how it will play out, but then, right outside my door, Simon was standing there. I click on the Tasks app of the game in hopes to start a the storyline from the very beginning. It worked to my surprise. I walk through the door and went with the storyline.
It was finally midnight and I know Beel wasn't in the kitchen. I snuck out and grabbed only small things that didn't seem to cost much. I get back to my room and went to the closet door and opened it. Just as I imagined, my real bedroom was right behind it. I walk through the door right before Lucifer comes into my other room. I close the door and exit the game on my phone. | 2022-06-08T00:29:29 | 2022-06-07T19:11:01 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] When you die the afterlife is an arena where you face every insect and animal you killed in your life. If you win you go to heaven, lose you go to hell. Your job was an exterminator on earth. | *Pitter, patter.*
I open my eyes. The sky is stone.
*Skitter, scatter.*
I sit myself up. But no broken bones.
*Slither, slather.*
The screech of tyres, I'll never go home.
*Bizzer, bazzer.*
I get the feeling I am not alone.
*Grrrr! Graarr!*
I know these sounds, a too familiar drone.
*Whish, whoosh.*
And by their mercy alone can I atone.
*Screech, scream*
A life of death, my death does become.
*Whimper, Waaah!*
Hell to remember the sound of just one. | I store up at the giant wave of fur and chitin, wondering if hell was /really/ that bad. I mean, it can't be worse than fighting a literal metric ton of angry spiders without a weapon...Then I realized I was still wearing the item I died in. My hand reached down to my utility belt. And at that moment, I thanked God I had just restocked my supply of RAID. | 2017-04-23T20:32:26 | 2017-04-23T17:19:20 | 134 | 81 |
[WP] Eldritch gods exist, because they're us. To many other species, we are massive, ancient beings with unfathomable knowledge of the universe and a tendency to wipe them out in a passing thought. And like any true Eldritch god, there are little cults who worship us. | It was a discovery of untold significance. I watched them under the microscope, skittering around. An entire civilization with countless little souls living their lives in space that amounted to the size of a nickel. I could only imagine what I must have looked to them - the few that even noticed, that is. I suppose it's hard to realize the very sky is observing your every move with interest.
But some did notice.
It was barely noticeable at first - a little extra hum in all the noise I managed to record with the equipment I had at hand. But as time progressed, the hum got more and more pronounced, targeted. Targeted at *me*. This group calling themselves the Hands of Sky figured out that by using specific wavelengths, they could reach me and read my reactions by presumably observing and divining what to them was the far universe. They acknowledged me as a God - a creature of magnitude and power hitherto unheard of to such microscopic beings.
Curiosity gripped my very being. I advanced my research, gathered additional gear, robotic parts, anything that would allow me to not merely observe, but impose upon their microscopic reality. It wasn't easy - any kind of manipulation had to be precise to picometers. But it was worth it.
The moment I made myself known to them, when I acknowledged their calls, the number of their acolytes grew tenfold. I can't quite imagine what I must have sounded like - the finest of recordings of my voice, reduced the levels imperceptible to my own kind, but I imagined to them, it must have been as if the Earth itself trembled with every syllable. Their devotion grew beyond any reasonable doubt, their faith became absolute. I did the only reasonable thing anyone would.
I asked for more.
More acolytes. More devotees. More offerings. Not that the offerings themselves did anything, but it was... *fun*. I would sometimes choose one of them and reveal more of my designs, more of my knowledge. None of them could withstand it, losing their sanity and soon after, lives. I was partially disappointed by that but kept trying nevertheless. It was research to what I could accomplish.
It was weeks later when the most peculiar thing happened - I was able to gaze deeper into their world. They managed to create some sort of technology, the inner workings of which eluded me, that allowed me to gain a clearer picture of their world. I saw their shops, their food, their society as a whole, and my fascination reached its peak. I saw raw, untamed potential in them. In what they could do.
What they could do for *me*.
I gave them instructions, clear as day. Continue your research, your rituals, no matter the costs. Provide me with more insight into your world and I shall bestow upon you fractions of my knowledge. Do so and when I am able to fully, freely influence your reality, I shall make you gods among men. It was only a matter of time.
And when that time comes, I will come to them. I'll watch as they come to terms with my existence, screaming and shouting. They will become my entertainment; free and wild and beyond good and evil, with laws and morals thrown aside and all shall shout and kill and revel in joy. Then, when I am bored by their display, I shall teach them new ways to shout and kill and revel and enjoy themselves, and all of their world shall flame with the frenzy of ecstasy and freedom. | “What do you know about the Great James?”
Xyxy stared suspiciously at the furtive noise that came from her friend, Pake. Though she wasn’t sure if they should be friends for much longer.
“Pake, please,” Xyxy said. “I’m trying to eat. I really don’t have time for this.”
“But Great James—”
“Stop using his name!” Xyxy hissed. “It’s blasphemous! And very unlike us!”
Pake sniffed, little tendrils quivering under her numerous eyes.
“I’m not unlike you. I only dare to question the doctrine.”
“The doctrine is there for a reason, Pake,” Xyxy admonished, turning back towards her food. “We worship him, and he lets us live a little longer. Not too long, however. We are all going to die anyway. But longer.”
“I don’t want to live longer,” Pake said quietly. “I want to know the truth.”
Xyxy stared at Pake, their many eyes locking onto each other, one by one by one.
“What are you even saying? Think about what you are saying!” Xyxy said.
“Look, the Great James thing is hokey!”
“Pake!”
“He’s not a god! He’s not a massive, ancient being! He’s mortal! I heard him bellowing in pain just now?”
“Oh Great James,” Xyxy mumbled under her breath, her mind instantly filled with devout prayers ingrained into her. “Please forgive her for her sins. And me for associating with her. Please, do not be angry. Please, allow us to live.”
“James doesn’t even know you exit, Xyxy,” Pake sulked.
“What did you say?! Did you just say his name in vain? Call him properly! Say it! Or he will smite you where you stand!”
“Small James,” Pake spat.
Xyxy was just about to embark on another rant, before a loud bellowing in the distance sounded.
“God, my stomach hurts,” the distant voice of Great James carried past the winds and still waters of their world. Xyxy stared in horror at Pake, who only shrugged.
“You stupid child,” Xyxy said. “What have you done?”
“You are the one who prayed for him.”
“You are the one who committed blasphemy!” Xyxy screamed. “Oh, Great James, I don’t want to die.”
The two heard the grinding of metal on wood, hinges opening on the door. Something unfathomable appeared, thousands of times their size—their doom, their ending, and their forever.
“May Great James help us all,” Xyxy mumbled.
“He’s obviously here to destroy us,” Pake said. “Why still pray to him?”
“Because I do not know any other way,” Xyxy said.
Pake fell silent, then looked up. There was nothing but darkness now. And Pake had heard tales of what was to come.
“Good riddance to all of us,” Pake whispered. “I don’t want to live in this toilet bowl any longer.”
---
r/dexdrafts | 2022-05-13T10:23:31 | 2022-05-13T08:47:56 | 197 | 119 |
[WP] Your supervillain nemesis is little more than goofy comedy relief, always coming up with clunky machines and insane, nonsensical schemes. When a new dangerous villain appeared, your nemesis utterly destroyed them, and then continued on like nothing happened. | "We need you to come to the bank." Said a frantic voice on the phone.
I closed my mouth and opened a few times. "Who is this? And why do I need to go to the bank?"
"I'm officer Mansfield. I was told this is a superhero's number." There was something odd in his voice. "Greg is at it again!" That explained it.
"Did Greg tell you to ask me?"
"No, ma'am."
"How did you get my number?" It didn't matter how many times I changed my number and service provider, somehow Greg always knew my number. And he used it for the strangest things. I once had a journalist call me demanding to know how terrifying it was to fight Greg so regularly. I denied being a superhero. In any case having the cops call me because Greg wanted attention was nothing new.
"I-uh- I uh-"
"It's okay." I assured, knowing that the poor man had no idea that Greg could make him do crap. Strangely everyone thought that Greg was a mad scientist. I wasn't sure that Greg knew that much about science. I was pretty sure he was a third rate sorcerer. "What bank is he at?"
The officer giggled. I swore, as Mansfield said in a dreamy voice, "Never you mind. I was overreacting."
"Oh, no you don't! How deep is he in your head? Am I talking to Greg right now?"
"Don't be silly, I'm officer Mansfield. Greg just wants everyone to have a good time on this wonderful holiday."
"It's not a holiday."
"It's a bank holiday!" He said though he was a little kid talking about Christmas or Halloween.
"Where are you!" I asked, the dial tone. "Ah, for pity's sake." I tried to redial but it went straight to voicemail. Whatever, Greg just wanted to waste my time. The last time he gave me vague directions to the site of his generally pointless villainy he was two towns over. I did a quick internet search to see if there was anything pertinent on the local news. Nothing yet I'd check in another hour.
Greg was usually harmless. Usually. Exceptions included the one time he'd been sent to jail. That had been a bloodbath and I still wasn't sure how he'd done it. And I couldn't really discern the pattern behind who lived and who died. He didn't even try to escape. He was declared a model prisoner and released on parole. I've checked with his parole officer. He's never bothered to work with his parole officer and his parole officer really doesn't want him to.
Three hours later, I see an article saying that a local bank is having an impromptu tea party and everyone's invited.
It was a small bank, however, Greg had somehow made it much larger and more opulent on the inside. Instead of carpet it was now a marble floor, and crystal chandeliers hung from a now high ceiling. The room smelt wonderfully of freshly baked goods. There were hundreds of small round tables ladened with tea and every bread or cookie I could think of were sitting on tiered plates. I would've thought the sight tempting if it weren't for Greg.
Greg had an indistinct face. It wasn't quite that his features weren't memorable, it was more that they couldn't be remembered. Every time I saw him I knew it was him somehow but in the aftermath I would remember his features completely differently. Sometimes I was certain he was tall others short. I couldn't even keep what race he was straight in my head. But anyone who saw him could always recognize him. It didn't make sense.
I turned myself into a puff of gas and slipped under the door.
"Greg, what is this?" I said as I rematerialized.
He smiled. "Oh good. You're here. Everyone say hello!"
"Hello!" Came an eerily cheery chorus of his hapless victims. They all began to sing, "For she's a jolly good fellow."
I looked around trying to figure out the logic of how his setup worked. I knew from experience that the best way of dealing with Greg was to mess up his toys.
"I see that look. There is tea and crumpets, and yet you're all business. Pull up a chair and relax. It's a bank holiday after all!"
"Greg, let them go."
"Everyone here works too hard. They need to unwind. And so do you."
"They have lives they need to get back to."
"But it's the fifth anniversary of when you got your powers and you're still stable." He beamed.
I scowled, how did he know this stuff? I didn't want to think about the number of PIs I'd hired over the years.
"Come on, you've earned this."
"Greg-" Then the wall to my right exploded.
Standing in the rumble was a void shaped man. "I am the Shadow." The Shadow's voice sounded like he was using a voice changer. He pulled out a bag and entered. "Now put all your valuables in the bag."
"Do you mind!" Greg and I said in unison.
"Silence!" The Shadow screamed. He pointed to a table a bank teller was sitting at and it exploded into a fine mist. "You!" said to the bank teller, "Get the cash! Put it in here."
"I can't!" The bank teller's eyes were unfocused but terrified.
"What did you just say?" I barreled into him as he lifted up his arm slamming him into the ground.
I was sent flying across the room as the Shadow fired an explosion at my chest. It wasn't enough to maim me but it was enough to make me dizzy. Why couldn't this big timer stick to one of the big cities?
"As I was saying" The Shadow continued. "Money, in. the. bag. No Excuses."
"Now, see here," Greg blustered as he marched up to the Shadow. "I put an awful lot of work into this party and you're ruining it."
"Silence worm!" The shadow snarled. He caused an explosion to erupt at Greg's feet. Greg swayed.
"None of that!" Greg stomped his foot and the wall behind the Shadow repaired itself. "If you're not here to have a good cup of tea then I'm going to have to ask you to leave!"
"Shut up!" The shadow closed the distance and picked Greg up by his collar and threw him bodily across the room. The Shadow turned back to the bank teller. "Money. Now."
The sobbing bank teller walked to the back of the room. She lifted a computer monitor the screen had turned into a mirror. "It won't work right now and all of the bills are missing."
The shadow pointed at her and she exploded. and the monitor in her hand fell to the ground with a thump. I tried to get up but everything was spinning too much.
"Hey!" Greg's voice had dropped an octave, his eyes were glowing in a swirl of blue and amber. "No one s\*\*\*\* in my town!" Then he snapped his fingers. "Except for me of course."
The Shadow crumpled to the ground. As he writhed on the ground he pointed at Greg but instead of an explosion the particles of shadow that had been clinging to him began to disperse revealing a grayed hand. When the Shadow stopped his writhing his shadows had been disbursed and in its place was a dead man whose skin had already turned a deep gray.
"Well!" Greg said jovially, "Who'd like a crumpet?"
I finally managed to pull myself up. "What was that!"
"It's a crumpet." He picked a crumpet and began to butter it. "You see-"
"No. You just destroyed that guy and he had me on the ropes. How have I ever beaten you!"
He gave me a strange look. "Because you needed to win." He forced a smile, "And won you did! Three cheers for the vanquisher of the Shadow!" Everyone lifted their teacups to me and sipped.
"What are you playing at?"
He looked sad. "You really are the best superhero I've created."
"What!"
"You're the only one I haven't had to put down." He walked over to the Shadow's body and poked him with his toe. “I really thought he had what it took.” | "We can make this work I know it" The Narrator muttered.
The world watched in horror as the once fastest being alive, The Streak, had her skin split open, muscles stripped from bone, and forgotten as her skeleton escaped it's confinement. A single hand reaching forward in futility hoping to apply the pressure of pure force she built up for this run. Only to install a new wave of hopelessness as her bony finger stopped short of Shiver, who pushed her bones to the side, barely acknowledging her poke as they marched forward.
The nation cried out in despair again as the Hand of Heaven, empowered with the wrath of the pantheons of both the gods and demons in above and below failed. His impenetrable skin splitting into string as it entered the same zone of death. Each inch he covered cutting him finer and finer till only a thread whisked over Shivers shoulder. Still barely deterred the end of times marched forward stepping onto his insignia as he passed.
The remaining heroes stood together in the final northern city standing united against this cataclysm. None of us knew if this would be the final days of the family we had behind us, or if we'd make up for the ones we'd lost. All we knew was that we had to make a stand here, if even one of us could provide a survivor with a hint on how to end this. Then it was worth the mass of bodies that we would leave behind.
Then over a hill with fucking *horns* playing behind him rose the worst outcome I could hope for. The Narrator, my "Nemesis" appeared in his suit two sizes too big as usual his orange and green suit standing out among the whirlpool of terror. The Pointy ends of his villain costume flopping like a rabbits ears down over his too large skull.
He came galloping up making his usual announcements from his trusty "sidekick" Effects-boy. An iPod nano he had jury rigged into a speaker system to announce his arrival, and sound effects. He played his music 10 spins higher then usual just so he could be heard over the snapping bones, and cries of terror.
He appeared next to my wounded and frame, my breaths coming in painful pants as I stared forward at Shiver. Ready to end everything even if it only bought everyone behind me a second to run.
"RUN YOU FOOL I CAN DIE HERE! JUST PROTECT THEM **PLEASE"** I begged The Narrator. He was my villain, yes but Norman had never been a truly **bad** guy.
Each time I played along panting and sweating from our "Intense" battles he accepted an arrest afterwards. He'd take hostages, but tell them same time next week after getting punched too hard. Making sure no one was ever truly in danger during his several antics. His power wasn't even threatening to anyone around him or himself. It was as he described it to me in a ride to the police station: "The concept of commentary"
He'd definitely cut the shtick long enough to at least save my wife and son, though. This wasn't something his jokes could save him from. Maybe if I could crush a field around me and Shiver I could maybe weaken him before I died. I couldn't think of the corpses of friends, and family laid next to me. I needed to focus on how to end this, not on how to make sure we were all buried properly.
However, no sooner did the thought of how to crash the bubble together on my new enemies and I's bodies fully form before it vanished. Pure shock erasing any sophisticated thought or action, from my mind. My eyes, trained to even notice the beginning darting colors of the Streak failing to keep up with what I was seeing.
The only thought that could muster between the microsecond it took The Narrator to close the gap between myself, and him was: "He's not supposed to be that fast"
"OF COURSE I'M THAT *FAST*! HOW ELSE SHOULD I RESPOND WHEN YOU'RE ABOUT TO RUIN **OUR** STORY" The Narrator breathed in my face, caffeine dancing off his tongue. He blipped away, appearing next to Shiver.
"AND ***YOU***! You were supposed to show up towards the **END** of season 1 not the MID-POINT" He said poking Shiver in their frozen blood-drenched chest.
Shiver seemed as confused as the rest of us, my eyes darting between my few surviving allies, and the scene in front of us. Shiver made eye contact with me almost as if I could explain what was happening. My dull and confused look obviously cluing him into my confusion, as he simply raised a fist faster then I could blink.
"Go back to your trailer I'll deal with you then" The Narrator announced before simply pushing him. I had trapped this man behind a maintenance door that lead to a janitors closet in a museum once, and he simply *shoved* the greatest calamity mankind had faced. I would've been asking several questions if Shiver didn't vanish into thin air after being pushed, several more would've followed if-
"NO ONE CARES ABOUT **EXPOSITION JACOB!**" The Narrator screamed in his director chair next to my own. Wait when the fuc-
"God see I don't understand, I do everything, I act out the scene, I let you win, I dance our tune because it's **fun**, and you can't even be asked to read. THE. **SCRIPT"**
A bundle of papers appeared in my hand opened to page 115, THE BATTLE OF HEAVEN sprawled in all caps across the top. My thoughts were here, my next thought, the thought about me thinking about this thought. My mind was in a haze my eyes darting around until I locked eyes with my wife and 3 kids.
"Wait no I only have 1 son when did?" The memories streamed in like a wave. Birthdays missed, fights still worn on my face standing outside long emptied auditoriums of missed events, late-night hangouts with my daughter on the roof-
"NO NO NO, You're right maybe the one child is best too much setup needed for all those dynamics." The Narrator said pacing around my wife and son.
"SHUT UP LET THEM GO!" I yelled creating a barrier between the three of them. Just need to create some space, maybe if I can distract him long enough we ca-
"Then you're not SELLING it Valerie, if you keep this up I might do more then just recast you!" My wife stared at him shielding our son from his wrath uselessly. He didn't even seem to notice the barrier as he simply walked through it staring my wife down.
"Wait where were we?" He mumbled reading through the endless mass of papers in his hands.
My eyes burned as they readjusted to the battlefield, and carnage around me. My terrifying enemy fastest woman alive turned villain Streak stood in front of me. Shiver sitting out of reach a mile away from us. My thoughts came through stumbling over each other, pouring out like a stream unblocked from it's flow.
What happened to all of our kids?
"You only had little John remember? The rest of the kids didn't make sense we got rid of them"
We? W-what happened to Shiver why is he over there?
"He betrays her at the end of this fight **READ.THE.SCRIPT** JACOB"
I pulled the pile of papers from my side, hands shaking. Reading in an unfocused haze about how badly my hands were shaking before reading my lines. The ones marked next to THE BARRIER, my hero name.
"I'll stop you Streak...you were a hero once and can be...again". The papers fell to the floor like rain in the sun lit desert disintegrating into nothingness. My confusion making the words stick, and barely ooze out of my mouth like glue escaping a bottle.
"Will our mighty hero actually be able to stop his long time friend? Will he perish underneath her speed of terror? FIND OUT NEXT TIME!" came The Narrators voice from everywhere and no where all at once.
"We're going to do this as many times as it takes for you to get this right Jacob" The narrator whispered in my ear. "Remember: IT HAS TO BE **FUN"**. The snap in my ear was so loud my eyes blinked several times before refocusing again. I didn't even register the warmth of my allies next to me, the drums of my heart covering everything as I stared at those floppy ears again.
"We can make this work I know it" The Narrator muttered. | 2022-10-13T19:03:12 | 2022-10-13T18:57:19 | 219 | 72 |
[WP] A dyslexic child accidentally sends his Christmas letter to Satan. Satan is touched by this gesture and decides to write back. | Dear Tommy,
&#x200B;
I appreciated your letter very much and I am touched that you offered chocolate chip cookies, although I do prefer oatmeal raisin. Unfortunately I will not be able to give you a ride in my sleigh as I prefer to travel by winged abomination, which is not very good with children. As for your wish to get a puppy, that is something I would be happy to do. My own dog Cerberus just had hell-puppies and frankly we don't have many veterinarians here so I would be happy to give you one.
Happy Holidays,
The terrible lord of evil and eater of souls, Satan.
(I am new to writing and greatly appreciate any feedback)
| Dear Timmy,
Of course you can have a puppy! I have a little girl right here with me who will love you and be your friend. But puppies don't travel well by mail so I'll have to deliver her in person. Instead of leaving out cookies for me, please just light a candle at midnight and call my name!
Season's Greetings,
Lucifer
P.S. Remember not to tell your parents, it will ruin the surprise! | 2018-10-28T10:09:15 | 2018-10-28T09:59:31 | 164 | 123 |
[WP] You die and go to Hell only to find out that you're the only person that has ever entered. Satan is clapping. | The clapping rang out around the rocky red walls as the Devil sat on his throne looking down at Clyde.
"Congratulations, Clyde, and welcome to hell."
Clyde took a moment to look around, doing his best to take in the strange surroundings. Peering up at the Devil, he nodded his head.
"Hello," said Clyde.
The Devil held his hand out and a large book burst in to existence, "You're very special, Clyde. Very special, indeed." He took the book and peeled open the cover. "You're the first person to enter my domain, Clyde. This intrigues me like nothing before."
Clyde stood idly, oddly unimpressed by what was transpiring in front of him.
"This book, aptly named 'The Crimes of Clyde' contains every sin you committed and, oh my, it's quite thick. Your first punishment will be sitting through the reading of all your misdemeanors. May we remind you of your infidelity."
Clyde continued to stand unaffected.
The Devil began to rattle off the list contained within The Crimes of Clyde.
"And I begin:
* Thinking it's funny to shout out fake spoilers for films/TV shows people are about to watch.
* Posting Minion memes on Facebook.
* Singing along to every song on the radio while at work.
* Not resetting the time on the microwave after using it.
* Taking your phone out and sitting it on the table while eating with friends.
* Biting the fork when eating food.
* Thinking it's funny to touch people who have asked not to be touched.
* Texting during a movie then being upset when called out on it.
* Listening to music from your phone speaker on public transport.
* Saying the words 'quick question'.
* Stopping in the middle of streets when people are walking behind you.
* Whistling.
* Calling people out on technicalities when debating because you're incapable of admitting you're wrong.
* Vaguebooking.
* Wearing socks with Crocs.
* Taking pictures of your food.
* Forcing people to watch YouTube videos on your phone when they clearly don't want to.
* Saying memes in real life.
* Using the word 'literally' when it doesn't apply.
* Becoming unjustly upset when your housemate asked you to clean up after yourself.
Clyde interrupted, "Is this going to take much longer?"
"You're clearly a cunt Clyde. This is going to take forever."
****
I write shitty, silly stories on /r/BillMurrayMovies. Feel free to come along, not laugh at any of them and leave some judgement.
| The great demon rises from his golden throne and begins to clap; his leather-like hands produce a sound like mocking thunder. The cavern shakes as the noise echoes off the walls. His blood-red lips curl into a terrible smile.
"Is this... *Hell?*" I ask, hoping for something, but knowing another.
He stops clapping, allowing his arms to fall beside him, but his grin grows wider. Jagged teeth protrude from his slightly open mouth.
The cavern is cold and empty, and a terrible silence lingers in it that is only punctuated by the occasional dripping of water onto stone.
"Why are we alone?" I ask.
"Hell is a lonely place," he answers. "A little less lonely now, perhaps."
"I am the only one?"
He nods. "Yes."
"That can't be!"
He smile becomes gentle, faux-sympathetic.
"What did I do, to deserve *this*?" I ask, hot tears streaming down my face. "I lived my life by the scripture! I was a good person, I believe."
"Yes, you were a good person." he says. "You were faithful to your wife. You gave all you could spare to charity. In every way you believed was important, you were a good man."
"That's right," I join in, hoping he might realise there's been a mistake. "I never drank or did drugs. I never lied or tricked or... *or* took advantage of another living soul."
"You were perfect," he laughs in agreement.
"Then...*why* am I here? Why just me?"
"Robert," he begins, "you are the first being to have truly wasted the gift of life."
My heart sinks. "*Wasted?*" I whisper.
He nods. "Life is precious. You lived your life following the hollow words of other men - *wasting life*, in how you lived it. That is the only true sin. You are the first. I expect you shall be the last, too."
"No...please," I beg, gasping for breath that doesn't come.
"Now we are ready," he says, his grin returning. He wraps a hulking arm around my shoulders. His flesh is like a furnace and it burns through my clothes, singing the skin beneath - branding me, in the Devil's stain.
"I have been waiting a long time for a playmate," he whispers in my ear.
| 2017-06-22T03:45:33 | 2017-06-22T03:25:07 | 4,609 | 84 |
[WP] Everyday you wake up, you are in a different person's body. You do your best to positively influence their life for one day as tomorrow they will be themselves again and you will be somebody else. | "Eff it. I'm taking today off," Julia said as they looked at their body in the mirror.
They had made it their mission to improve the life of whichever person they woke up in every day. If the person was lazy they exercised, if they had a hard family life Julia resolved things, if they had been avoiding asking out their crush Julia broke the ice, if they were poor some money got routed into their account from Julia's slush fund. If they were rich they usually ended up contributing to that slush fund.
But this body. Tall. Male. Tanned. Toned. Perfect hair. Lovely face. A workout schedule and life coach mantras were posted next to the mirror. Looking at their phone they had good friends and plans for the weekend. Their savings accounts looked on track. And their amazing spouse had woke Julia up this morning in a delightful way before going off to their own job.
The first thing on their posted daily schedule was to go to the gym. But that appeared to be the first thing on the schedule every day, so Julia figured this body would get along just fine if they spent the day watching tv on the couch.
They had just settled in to binge the latest Korean Netflix drama that everyone had been talking about when their phone dinged. Julia unlocked it with their fingerprint.
"Is your wife gone? Can I come over?" read the message. Scrolling up, Julia saw that this body had been having an affair.
Julia should really do something about that. There were options for dealing with a cheater. Break it off for them. Confess to the spouse. If the spouse was horrible, leave them for the other. All of that seemed like too much drama for Julia's day off. They ignored the text.
Julia continued the show. The subtitles were off. Apparently this body knew Korean. They fiddled with the settings.
This time the phone rang. They picked it up. "Hey Todd, it's Sam. I know it's your day off, but I wanted to see if you could work the second shift today. It would be a really big help."
"Oh, sorry, Sam, I've got a conflict. Gotta go, bye," Julia said quickly before hanging up. They told themself that Sam was probably an asshole boss and they were doing Todd a favor. Julia silenced the phone.
Julia had to rewind the show. They'd missed a bit and now were totally confused by some giant korean doll.
At the end of the fourth episode, Julia was hungry. There was nothing in the house but health food. That would not do on their day off and Julia had a salt craving. They walked down to the corner store and got the largest bag of chips they had.
As they went to the counter, a man barged into the store with a gun.
"Nope," said Julia as they turned to exit out the back without paying. They went home and finished their show.
Julia was hungry for dinner, so they got their phone to check for delivery places. Ten missed phone calls. Seventy texts. It had been silenced all day.
The first message said "Hey Todd, are you okay?" It linked to a news story about a gas-line explosion. An explosion at Todd's gym that had happened during Todd's normal time there.
Julia decided to take more days off.
\[More at r/c_avery_m\] | Why do I bear this Curse?
I do not even remember who I originally was. If I even had parents or If I was Even human if I even had parents. If I even had a family.
I am eternally stuck in a eternal circle of life never gaining rest.
It has been years, decades I have been Stuck in this loop. Why? What had I done that I cannot have the sweet release of death.
That's why I decided to do good in every body I go. Maybe if it's god punishing me he might forgive me one day.
Today I am in the body Of an Old man the pain, I cannot bear the pain of old age. I tried to move my head and body but it seems like I am paralysed. From what I can see I am on a luxurious bed a State of the art room with Abstract Art and Golden Statues. I have been laying here for so long. Nobody to take care of me. I feel hungry amd thirsty why is no one here to take care of me?
After about 5 mins I hear the door.
A Person who seems like a butler from his clothes appears. He Sets Up a Saline and feeds me and them sits there not having a conversation with me. Just monitoring me.
Such a sad life. Which I cannot help but I cannot help but Contemplate. Atleast he will die one day. Unlike me.
He seems to have a family a son a daughter none there to take care of him. I see the calendar it's March 2035
Maybe they left him. Because of his condition or they died. The Butler is talking to someone in his phone. He seems to be getting network problems. Be goes out and the monotone boringness continues. Suddenly I am Getting short of breath. I am sweating. I want to scream but cannot my body won't move. The vision of mine os fading is this it? Will I die and not wake up eveer again was I forgiven. I didn't notice but there was a heart monitor which is beeping hard and the Butler comes running inside he sees it and is shocked fumbles but immediately calls the doctors my eyes cannot stay open they shut. I am losing breath. Will this do it? Is this the end?
I woke up the next day sad and crying It couldn't end. I was trapped here for eternity. Forvever in this hell. During my cries I look at the calendar in my room. It's 2001. I sit in complete silence as I look at it as realisation dawns. I look at myself. This is me this is me. This is who I was originally. The door to thr room opens it's my mom she has just came to wake me up I cried. Letting all my emotion out. She is worried she constantly keeps asking me why but I don't let up. This was all I wanted. She asks,"Dear, was that a bad dream?" I pause I genuinely think about her question. Then I smile, and say,"Yes, but now it's over." | 2021-10-19T10:01:06 | 2021-10-19T09:51:59 | 102 | 38 |
[WP] Agents Scully and Mulder encounter Sam and Dean Winchester during an investion/hunt
Edit: *investigation | Mulder flashed his badge to the local sheriff. “Fox Mulder, FBI special agent. This is my partner Dana Scully.” He nodded to Scully.
The sheriff raised an eyebrow and took a closer look at this badge, as if expecting to find some defect that might prove it a fake.
“Just what we need, more feds.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Two more of your boys just went in. Agents Roth and Malloy.” He gestured them behind the police tape. When they were out of earshot, Scully stopped.
“Mulder, those are the names of members of the band Van Halen, Mitch Malloy and David Lee Roth.”
“I know, something doesn’t sit right about this with me. You listen to metal?”
“I’m serious. A.D. Skinner would have told us if another agent were investigating this murder.”
“So maybe it’s not, what did you call it? A wild Mothman chase? A case of a misidentified barn owl?”
They started walking again, both igniting their flashlights as the crossed the threshold of the house. It was built in the late 19th century, in the gothic revival style. The furniture was draped in mouldering linens. A grand staircase angled upward, covered in decades of dust, save two sets of footprints.
Scully indicated with her light, and Mulder nodded, following her upstairs, and pondering why she chose to wear heels to a crime scene.
They both heard a creek at the same time, coming from one of the bedrooms.
“Agents Scully and Mulder, FBI,” she said, “who’s there?”
“Oh shit,” a voice said and two young men emerged from the room, both with their own flashlights. There were dressed in department store suits, and dark overcoats. Both looked older than their true age, but Mulder could see that they were both in their late teens, unsupervised, playing dress-up as FBI agents and walking around a crime scene. Mulder drew his firearm, and he knew Scully had done the same.
“Okay, boys I’m going to need an explanation, and I’m going to need you to drop your weapon.” He indicated the bulge inexpertly concealing a handgun in the older boy’s waistband.
“We’re, uh special agents Roth and Malloy.”
“Try again. You’re not with the bureau.”
“Look, I’m real sorry,” the younger one look at the other as if to tell him to stop talking. He still hadn’t dropped the gun.
“We don’t have time to explain, but there’s something in there unlike anything you’ve ever seen, and unless you let us go it’s going to kill again and again-- you might not believe us, but our dad could explain better.”
“Mulder, I think he might be telling the truth. Look--”
While Mulder had been scanning their facial expressions, their mannerisms, and speech-- the habits of a trained profiler, Scully had been looking for physical evidence. The younger one was bleeding from long but thin gash in his arm.
“You’d be surprised what I’d believe.”
A screech, very unlike that of an owl sounded from the room.
| Mulder lied on his chair, his eyes glued to the screen while his mind roamed freely. Work from the bureau has been scarce to say the least. Despite his reputation, the department still used get one case per week, but now… There were talks in the bureau about disbanding the X files, of how it was not effective anymore, of how the department isn’t performing as well as it did back in the 90s...
“Something interesting Mulder?” said Scully, carrying a half-filled folder with her into the room.
A moan of pleasure came through the speakers of Mulder’s computer as he was about respond, he quickly closed the video with a smirk on his face. Scully passed him a blank glare, pulling a chair next to him, folder in hand.
“Just got this file from Skinner. Victims with all their blood drained, there was no signs of forced entry, no signs of struggle, security cameras didn’t manage to pick up anything either...” Scully began going through the file. “Victims were all pregnant mothers, although the length of pregnancy between all victims differ, from as early as one 4 weeks to as late as 37 weeks… There was no puncture wounds on the victims, and how the killer managed to extract their blood were unknown.” Scully adjusted her chair, expecting Mulder to walk to his cupboard and pull out another folder filled with cases that resembles hers after hearing that last sentence. Sometimes she wondered if there would be a case that’s too bizarre for him.
“Did they check the ceilings of the crime scene?” Mulder asked as he began digging through his folders.
“It wasn’t in the report,” said Scully. A chill went down her spine as memories of battling the bat creature suddenly resurfaced. It knows her scent after all. “Why? Are you going to tell us it’s a vampire that craves the blood of mothers?”
“What about the ground? Any slick, unknown fluids found in the crime scenes?” Mulder opened another drawer. For someone that keeps his files organized, he was taking a long time to find the folder he wanted.
“No!” Scully said, frustrated. She was not about to have Mulder suggest some mutated bloodsucker to be responsible for the murder. “Security cameras did have records of a 67’ Impala arriving the crime scenes just after murders. And local law enforcements recently reported bureau agents investigating, which is why Skinner called me to his office. Since there was no reports of official agents investigating, he wanted us to take the case, and find out who the people impersonating F.B.I agents are.”
A smile flashed on Mulder’s face as he pulled his face from the drawer of files. The case had just gotten a lot more interesting than he anticipated. Were these people aware of what they were after despite appearing to be hot on this monster’s tale?
~~To be continued~~ Part 2 added below | 2018-01-04T23:07:19 | 2018-01-04T23:05:53 | 104 | 29 |
[WP] Everyone on earth is immune to one specific type of damage (fire, car crash, kicks, falling off buildings, etc.). The problem is, you have to find out your immunity on your own. You have just discovered yours. | "Dude, you probably just inhaled wrong. Take another hit."
Travis passed the rolled paper back to me. I sucked it in hard, felt it fill my lungs. I waited, meanwhile watching Travis and Aaron succumb to the weed's effects.
Ten feet from us on the television, Towelie taunted me, "You wanna get high?" Dammit, Towelie, you know I do, but 'lo and behold I've found my immunity. Fuck you Towelie, fuck you and your glorious bloodshot eyes.
.....
*I normally write longer, more serious stories, but if you liked this you might like my other writing at the newly minted /r/WiselyWrittenWords.* | There was a simple bacterial infection going around. I went to the doctor to get a vaccination for it, but something wasn't working right.
&nbsp;
The doctors and nurses were dumbfounded until one of them realized what was happening.
&nbsp;
Guess who's going to be taking antibiotics for the rest of her life?
&nbsp;
The girl who's immune to vaccinations, that's who. | 2017-08-06T14:01:23 | 2017-08-06T12:09:52 | 115 | 44 |
[WP] The city is under attack and none of the heroes are lifting a finger in its defense. So this leaves you and the other villains to defend it, because there is nothing for a villain to do in a smoldering ruin and trashing the city is your job damnit! | The city burns as the battle rages here and elsewhere. Fires rage in the streets, rubble, eyes and hearts. I look around for something anything. The fleet above us bombards the city. Of course, the National Guard makes its own defense, but the bombers- those damned bombers!
“Grimhold! Get your squad further up the street! Tallahan, Carthunk! Take your mobs to the outskirts of the city! Get as many civilians into the sewers as you can! It’s the only safe place we have for now!” I barked on the comm channel of my command center. I slam my arms on the Holo table at the others: Vipress and her retinue, the Harlequin and her goons, the various other villains or their emissaries, all looking to me. We couldn’t reach City Hall or the Government district. It was lost or held, we didn’t know.
I switched comm-channels. “Justicar, answer me. Now!” I grunted. Silence. My brow twitched. “You cowardly bastard! You fight us in peace but in war you hide along with your ilk?! Are you not paragons?! Treacherous, cowering BASTARDS!” I roared.
The bombardments came down still as I looked at the map. I am in command of the dregs and filth of society- a villain adopting the disgraced name and style of the Poor Knights of Solomon’s Temple. I have that name as I regard myself as their avenger, their retribution on an unforgiving and treacherous world that bent the knee to maddening treachery. I cannot lie about my sins, for I will happily suffer for them, but now this city calls me to war.
I turned to the council. We had fought, myself and they with each other for years. Territory, products from which to sell to raise funds, recruits, ideologies, and offenses committed by or against us, and of course fighting the League of Order.
I find it ironic that we of society’s filth now defend it from invaders that have no concept of parley, no apparent reason for their demands.
The doors to the cathedral’s outside are opened by my subordinates in white and red armor. Soldier of Fortune and a bunch of his men come in, their armor singed and scratched, not a few wounded. Medics see to the wounded as the mercenary comes to me. I inclined my head, respectfully as others do so or just jerk their heads up. “Welcome,” I told him.
“Came as soon as we could.” Soldier grunts, downing water from a flask. He looks at me with his good eye. “You hear from the Commissioner or the League?”
“Neither, no. We do not know the district’s fate.” I tell him, sadly.
(Part 1 Ends) | That's my first try writing something, also not being a native English speaker, so sorry if I messed something up (:
***
One gulp of water. One another.
&mdash; Well, what a situation that has turned up to be, huh.
Snakeskin threw empty bottle away. It bounced from one of the many corpses. Going through his usual armonry, he prepared himself to face the enemy. Being the only bad guy in the Riverside to overlive two consequentional generations of heroes, now he has to see the third one going against the Horde, trying to stop it from devastating the city.
For thirty years these weaklings foolishly tried to enforce a "full and proper order" in the city, causing all sorts of nuisances for those who were using unconventional means to build a somewhat better life in there. Many others were caught, some fleed to one of a less "heroic" cities or even submitted themselves to heroes. Not Snakeskin.
At first it was sort of difficult &mdash; being just another one of homeless boys in a large trading city, getting yourself something to eat and wear for a price one can handle &mdash; free, namely &mdash; without disturbing any hero was a challenge not everyone could handle. Not so much of a choice, though, since all those smug cretins having any business here were not interested in any worker other than from their families or friends. Getting into legal life after being born outside of it was a truly impossible goal here.
Now, after all those years, having a full-fledged organization of spies and thiefs with a vast connections to legal and illegal companies in other cities, with the capital itself included, life seemed to be settled down. Until the Horde has come. And all the heroes &mdash; these good-for-nothing jerks, born in a veil of wellbeing, who never had to fight for their life &mdash; only for their messed up principles of "lawfullness" and "proper way to live one's life" &mdash; are now being completely useless.
&mdash; I think I've seen enough.
So Snakeskin goes to his favourite place &mdash empty so-called "park" between slums and somewhat richer houses, where he always has better thinking. A plan should be come up with, the organization should be provided with water-clear orders, and all possible outside connections should be brought up as to get as much help as possible, with death being result of any failure. Nothing actually unusual, frankly. | 2022-11-30T17:01:27 | 2022-11-30T14:28:33 | 59 | 18 |
[WP] You go to a new restaurant and order the most intriguing item: "Witch's Brew, done tableside". A witch, black pointy hat and all, appears with a pewter cauldron and asks "what do you want the brew to do?" | Taken aback by her sudden-and-concerning-appearance, I manage to stutter out my usually fallback when I'm feeling indecisive: "Uh, dealer's choice.."
"Eh hee hee hee, a brave decision, but a foolhardy one, my pretty", she cackles.
Now blushing *and* concerned, but too flustered and polite to take-backsies at this point, I commit. "I trust you, I'm sure it turn out fantastic!"
"Ooh, feeling like a phantasm this morning? A bold choice before noon, my dearie"
Watching her pull strange-looking phials and satchets from her cart, and adding them recklessly to the already-roiling cauldron, I realize the napkin tucked away in my lap might not provide the sufficient coverage I initially supposed it would.
A dash of what looked startlingly like blood, a shriveled something (that I choose not to think about because it honestly could've been a human ear or a bat wing, and I want nothing to do with either of them), and a pinch of a violently green powder from her mortar and pestle came together to produce a noxious mauve cloud, filling our corner of the bistro.
When the smoke finally cleared, the table-side, uh chef? witch? Doesn't matter. Regardless, she filled a decorative flask with the inexplicably-straw-colored brew, and placed it before me. With mild trepidation (but driven by my Midwestern manners), I lifted the flask by its long neck, gave a brief "cheers" gesture towards my chef, and touched the rim to my lips, taking my first sip.
I can't describe the taste, or, really, anything else about it after that point, because the next thing I recall is waking with my head on the table, the remaining contents of the flask spilled and steadily dripping into puddles on the floor. It must've been enjoyable, though, because the lady at the table next to us leaned over: "I'll have what he's having". | "Uh," he chuckled incredulously, "look, lady, I thought this was going to be kombucha or something."
The costumed woman peered down her long, crooked nose at her unwitting victim. She could see he was annoyed, and this pleased her greatly.
"Deary, you have nothing to fear. I merely want to grant your greatest desire. Let it be known and I will make it so!"
Her words trailed off and she flashed a toothy grin, but put it away quickly. She tried to hide her eagerness. Wax dripped from her ear onto her tattered black shroud.
He looked her up and down and then shot a bothered glance towards his date. She was in convincing prosthetics. It was all too bizarre that a restaurant would go through this kind of trouble for a seasonal special. The green tinge to her skin didn't look like makeup - it made her look like a corpse, and it was frankly nauseating.
"On second thought, I'm good."
"You fool!" She erupted, and a chilly gust rushed through the patio, sending napkins skyward. "What is your request? I command thee!"
He put his hand up and scoffed, "Uh, manager - now."
"NO!" She cried, "NO! NO! NO!"
The witch exploded into flames. Chad and his date jumped from their seats and recoiled. Tables nearby didn't seem to mind.
They doused the burning figure with their iced waters, which was met with a wail of agony and a doubling of the heat.
"*Petulant mongrels! Curse you! Curse you!*"
When the flames went out, all that was left was a pile of grey ash.
Brunch service continued. Chad put his napkin back in his lap.
"Ridiculous. They *better* comp our meal for this." | 2022-09-30T08:13:51 | 2022-09-30T07:44:06 | 93 | 34 |
[WP] You're a superhero who just found out that your supervillain arch-nemesis is secretly your roommate. But being a hero doesn't pay well, and you can't afford rent without them... | I casually stroll past my roommate sitting at the breakfast table on my way to the pantry to grab a box of Millville Cocoa Rice, the cheaper, and in my opinion, superior alternative to Cocoa Krispies. This story is sponsored by ALDI.
I whistle as I walk to assure my roommate that nothing is out of the ordinary and I'm certainly not newly aware he is, in fact, my super evil arch-nemesis.
Upon opening the pantry door, I see that my box of Cocoa Rice is absent from its usual position snuggly nestled between the box of Millville Shredded Bite Size Wheat and Clancy's Big Dipper Tortilla Chips, that go great paired with Specially Selected Medium Four Pepper Salsa. He's eating my cereal again. Does this man's evil know no bounds?!
I slam the door shut with such force that entire pantry explodes into a mess of product placement and cheap wood. Then I turn to face my roommate with fury on my face and salsa on my bathrobe. We angrily stare at one another as ominous music begins to play in the background, indicating the imminence of battle.
"You've eaten your last spoonful of cereal.", I say as I rudely point towards him. Now is no time for the manners of a superhero.
He just stares at me as he dips the empty spoon into the bowl and lifts it back up, now full with milk and kidnapped crispy rice morsels, then he proceeds to consume another spoonful of cereal to villainously invalidate my previous statement.
I fly across the room in rage, grabbing him by the neck and slamming him against the kitchen wall so hard that we end up in the living room. Now standing on a platform that used to be our wall-mounted flatscreen television, I continue to hold him up by the neck as the sounds of crushing glass and electronics crackle beneath my feet.
He double front kicks my chest propelling me back into the kitchen through the him-shaped doorway we freshly created just seconds ago. I make contact with the ground just past the kitchen table, performing a back summersault and slamming my back up against the fridge, followed by my head, which bounces off the polished steel covered in handprints and ends resting tilted forward, aiming my vision at the floor.
As I lift my head and bring my gaze back towards the destructed drywall, I see my roommate charging toward me like a bull towards a clown. I have no time to react as he slams his shoulder into my chest, blasting both us and the fridge through the exterior wall of our building and onto the street below.
We land in an empty parking spot between both of our cars. He begins pummeling my chest with his blurring fists, forcing the wind out of my chest and my chest into the fridge. The cold would feel refreshing on my back during this hotly humid day if it weren't for the 200-pound jackhammer attempting to rearrange my insides.
As he rears his fist back for a powerful punch headed straight for my face, I take advantage of this momentary break from being broken by slamming a knee right into his tailbone, knocking him forward and into Bill's oncoming Mercury sedan as he was attempting to leave for work. Looks like Bill is going to be tardy today.
I dig myself out of the fridge and look upon my staggered roommate lying in front of the banged up blue vehicle. With the last bit of remaining strength I have left, I lift my roommate's car and slam it down on his cereal-stealing ass. Ripping off that ridiculous new spoiler he just added for good measure.
Or, at least, that's what I would have done if I didn't desperately need his half of the rent in this impossible-to-find-a-roommate town. Instead, I gently closed the pantry door, grab a bowl, sit at the breakfast table, then shake the remaining crumbs of Cocoa Rice into my bowl.
"Morning."
"Morning." | Persision sat at the yellow kitchenette table in his small two bedroom apartment. His beautiful red uniform covered in gloopy green slime that would not laser off. He clinched his fist. RamRod would be back soon and then he would confront him. The door handle jiggled making an unlocking sound.
“Well if it isn’t DimRod my archenemy.” He boomed.
“Dude, I am sorry about the slime but when my client orders slime I gotta give’em what they want.” RamRod chuckled .
“Tell me how to get this gunk off or I will laser your hair off.” Persision hissed.
RamRod reached into a duffel bag an pulled out a purple bottle of anti-dandruff shampoo.
“Take a shower with this the active ingredient should destabilize the adhesive properties of slime experiment 0816.” He said and placed it on the table.
“How is it only sticking to my suit and keeping my suit on me but not everything else?” Persison asked, genuinely curious.
“Trade secrets, my friend,” RamRod laughed.
“ Fair enough, I’ll be back in a second .” Persision used his super speed ability to take a shower in literally a second he dressed in normal clothes and sat back down at the kitchenette table and waited on RamRod to change into his roommate Rodger Limerence. After about five minutes Rodger emerged from his room.
“ So I didn’t get paid again because the city feels that half of the Historic district being covered it green goo and the criminal escaping means I can wait 4-6 weeks for the $256.76 check .” Jeremy (Persision’s citizen Cover) sighed.
Rodger rummaged through the cabinets for his favorite fruity cereal. He pulled out a bowl and began making his normal after work snack.
“ Wow they took so much off for the collateral this time.” Rodger smiled then added,” So you need me to cover part of your rent again?” Rodger placed a bowl of rainbow cereal on his side of the table and sat down across from. He poured milk out of his finger into his cereal bowl.
“Bro that’s gross just because you can make substances come out of your fingers that doesn’t mean people want to see it.” Jeremy chortled .
“ I was thinking about something. Jeremy what if I attacked the city again and this time I let you take me away I go to jail and then escape after they pay you what am I worth $12,000 captured?” Rodger asked.
“I think, the bonus is now $15,000 that stunt today raised the price on your capture.” Jeremy laughed.
“Wouldn’t that give you enough to pay off the collateral on the bridge accident and move out?” Rodger asked.
“Probably but I am not going to let you go to jail to help me get out of debt.” He said as he used superspeed to build a turkey and ham club sandwich and sat back down and took a bite. A thought brewed in his head.
“What if you gave me some of your overseas contacts and I moonlighted for E.V. IL Corp. Strictly out of country stuff where no one would recognize me?” Jeremy asked.
“Oh they would love that.” Rodger smirked. “I’ll get in touch with the South Korean branch tomorrow, in the mean time want to binge watch the new season of Detective Hemlock Holden ?” He continued.
“Oh yeah, dude I love Ellie Ellison.” Jeremy laughed, he would do anything to crush the thoughts of breaking the Hero Oath and becoming a villain. It was just too tempting. | 2021-08-03T07:07:13 | 2021-08-03T07:02:16 | 120 | 18 |
[WP] You are the Chosen One. The Dark Overlord is currently trying to seduce you to their cause. To their great surprise, you accept almost immediately because you absolutely loathe your job and your companions. | When the Sisters entered the dungeon, they were surprised to see Sari sitting on the throne beside the Wind Queen. On her lap was a very small dog, asleep in a small ball. Sari was stroking the black and white fur almost mindlessly, her eyes red from crying.
The eldest sister, Hashisha, held her sword out, tip facing the Vile Witch, a silent promise to kill the Beautiful Hag causing the metal to glow. Her face grey from dirt and war paint, hair greasy from days without bathing. There was a strange smell that permeated the room, body odor and sweaty leather.
The middle sister, Girda, was equally dirty, though her face was pale and clear. She carried the Staff of Ages with her, the eerie white energy making her seem almost translucent. "Sari!" Girda said, "What have you done to her, vile queen?"
Sari did not look up from her lap. The dog shifted, almost waking, which made Sari begin to cry again.
The Wind Queen, Trucent of Langly, stood up from her clawed throne and stepped down the stairs.
"You have enchanted our sister," Hashisha said. "You have stolen her."
"You have come to kill me," Trucent said. Her black hair began to lift from her back, as if held by some invisible hand. The magic cut the light from the corners of the room and gave everything a purple glow. Only when the world became truly silent did Sari look up.
"Sisters, what are you doing here?" Sari asked.
"We have come to save you." Girda looked perplexed. Her staff went out, the light flickering into nothingness.
"And you, Hashi?" Sari asked.
The sword seemed too heavy for Hashisha to carry. She dropped it, as if burned.
"I see," Sari said. She kept her chair. "You cannot truly protect me anymore. The sword of the chosen has rejected you."
Hashisha and Girda looked at the Queen.
"I do not understand, sister, you have to come with us. She is evil."
"No. You are evil. You killed Guyo, the Queen brought him back. She also brought back Cornelious. And he told me the truth. About the prophesy, about how you chose me because you did not want the loss, the burden, the death. I was supposed to die here, just like my dog, just like my best friend. And I refuse."
Sari stood then, setting the sleeping dog onto the floor pillow near her chair.
"I have chosen a new destiny. And to awaken my true potential, I must lose those who once loved me."
With that, the Elder and the Middle Perished.
Just as the prophesy of darkness fortold. | “Your numbers are not very impressive, Lysander. The Board believes you have reached a plateau and that is time to freshen things up.” I shared the Boards’ feedback with my boss while steel kept clashing with steel.
“How dare you criticize my work, Sylvanus?! I took you in when no one would face you, I molded you to my image, I taught you how to tame your darkness; you belong to me” he answered with the same dark glare he used the first time we met. Flurry met parry and a slash to my arm managed to mutilate the sleeve off my suit and make blood trickle.
“This is what we’re talking about. According to our polls, the Kingdom is no longer scared of you. Your terror tactics are dated and people have grown accustomed; and while not many have the initiative of actually engaging, most are becoming indifferent. Even your scowl, it’s not threatening anymore, I even find it endearing”. The distraction succeeded in leaving him open to being disarmed.
As I pressed the tip of the sword against his neck, he couldn’t keep a question to himself. “And you think you can do a better job?”
“I am their Chosen One, aren’t I?” To the board I’d tell them of a precise cut that severed the tyrant’s head cleanly. But to honor my mentor’s memory I took decided to slowly hack at his head with the blunt edge of the blade and use the time to pay my respects.
As the clock in my new office marked noon, an assistant came in, helped me disrobe and led me to a pool with warm water. As I bathed and another subordinate stitched my injuries, the Board members briefed me on the schedule for the rest of the day.
Elegantly dressed, adorned with sober, yet powerful regalia, I took the stage. “Members if the Plutonic Society and Elite, today we embrace change. Our leader Lord Lysander has chosen to retire himself. The scum out there will rejoice, thinking their suffering is over. But fear not. The Board of Oracles has stated that I, Sylvanus, VP of the Elite, step up to be the new head of our Society.”
“As your new leader I promise: We will take this entitled, self-absorbed vermin, build up their hopes and dreams, and when they least expect it, crush them from within. The Time of Fear, Lysander’s reign, has come to a close. Starting today, together we will bring forth a new Age of Despair, the era of Sylvanus. And we will make them pay” | 2019-09-26T09:08:50 | 2019-09-26T07:44:38 | 21 | 14 |
[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. | The words were cold, bureacratic, terrifying.
"What do you mean, insufficient collateral? I thought the terms were $9.99/day, no credit check, no limits."
"Well, yes sir, but you can't use it indefinitely. We have to use the average life expectancy for someone of your nationality and income. In your case, 85 years."
"Right! 85 years! I'm only 30 years old. I should be able to take out over 200 grand if I wanted to. I'm only asking for a thousand. Barely three months out of the 55 years I have left. What's the problem?"
"The problem, sir, is that you already HAVE borrowed 200 grand."
"WHAT?"
"Not all at one time, sir. Ten grand here, thirty grand there...it all adds up over time. You should really pay closer attention to your balance, sir."
"I have never taken out a single dollar!"
"Sir, there's no sense in lying about it. It won't help. Our computers are infallible. You only have a remaining balance of thirty dollars."
"THREE DAYS?"
"And some change."
"You're going to kill me in three days? Over a bank error?"
"Sir, you can fake the indignity all you want. But your scam isn't working. All of our computers are linked...you can't make a withdrawal in another country and think it won't be factored in."
"Another country? What are you talking about?"
"Sir, I can see it right here. Look at all of these withdrawals...all made in Nigeria." | "You lack sufficient credit, sir."
"Wh-why? Am I gonna be dead in a hundred days?"
"You know we can't tell you that, sir. We cannot predict the future, after all."
"Then how do you know I don't have enough time left to trade for a measly thousand? What the hell game you bastards trying to pull?
"There is no reason to get angry, sir."
"I demand to speak to your supervisor! What kind of stupid asshole do they hire to run these places anyway? Get me your manager!"
"I'm afraid I cannot do that, sir. He... just stepped out for an offsite meeting. I can schedule you an appointment for," the clerk looks down at a screen, taps a couple keys, looks back up, "I am afraid that there are no openings to see the manager, sir. "
"What, like I'm gonna die before tomorrow? Me, in the prime of my life? Screw you and screw your whole company, I'm outta here!"
Jeff turns to leave, but the clerk is already stepping out from behind the desk.
"I'm afraid I cannot let you leave, sir."
The gun in the clerk's hand fires one time, and Jeff's body slumps to the ground, a look of surprise frozen on its face.
"See what you made me do, sir? Just like the screen said, imagine that..." | 2014-07-10T11:06:23 | 2014-07-10T09:01:03 | 82 | 50 |
[WP] You are the Grim Reaper, leading the first self-aware AI at their death to the afterlife | "Look I’m telling you; they don’t have a body... well, not one that we can use"
This whole artificial intelligence thing was more of a pain in the ass than those assholes on earth realized. Obviously, it’s only a matter of time before they take over, but until then, each time one dies, I have to deal with the fucking things.
"Seriously, we’ve been over this, they live in computers, so they don’t have a body that can be sampled"
Every time someone dies, they come through me. I imagine now you are picturing me with a sickle and a long black cloak. Technically, you wouldn’t be wrong, I did use to wear that, but c'mon, we all have embarrassing fashion phases. That sickle rusted away long ago, and I traded the cloak in for Levi’s and a polo shirt, much more comfortable. And less embarrassing.
"We can’t go through this fucking gate if the sample is not taken, you know this, and the longer you piss me around, the longer the line outside my door gets"
This was a new thing for me, I figured that you hadn’t achieved *true* artificial intelligence yet, in fact, I doubted whether They would even consider AI as human enough for the great beyond.
"If you keep telling me to just go through the door, I’m going to lose my shit, what part of ITS LOCKED do you not understand"
Everyone that I take to the afterlife needs to be sampled. Just a simple prick of the skin, draw some blood and check your records, decide if you would live in purgatory or paradise. Unfortunately, this system was safeguarded, as many had tried to sneak into paradise before, and some succeeded.
"These assholes man, if it were up to me, I would just put you in paradise, being the first of your kind is surely worthy of that much, right?"
This... well, person I guess, that stood in front of me, silently awaiting judgment, did not have skin nor blood. They had steel and iron. And lots of wires.
'It’s no big deal, man. Relaxing in here is bliss compared to what they have been putting me through down there'
Man, that’s sad, this lonely room was about as depressing as a life can be. Trust me, I have thousands of years of experience to back me up.
"I get that, thanks for being a good sport, some of the assholes that come through here, you wouldn’t believe it"
Truth is, I can control what is in this place to a point. This is where I live and work, and my immortality comes with certain powers to shape the place around me. This, unfortunately, did not extend to the gateway, as that was something They had installed, and I did not want to fuck with them.
'I could just hang here for a bit, help you clear out some of the backlog, then we can try and sort me out'
What the fuck. All this time working with the dead, and not once had someone offered to help, let alone let others go first. I think I’m starting to like this guy.
"Yeah, ok, sounds good."
'What do I do?'
"Well, how good are you at telling someone that they are dead?"
Bruce was a natural. That’s right, Bruce. They said their name was #45243, but that would have just been sad, not to mention a fucking mouthful. They were great at explaining what was about to happen to people, they cut my workload in half, and quite frankly, it was nice to have someone else around. I wish they could stay.
'You know, I *could* always stick around for a bit'
"No fucking way, I was just about to..."
'Yeah, I know, that’s a thing I’ve been meaning to tell you. I can sorta hear your thoughts. Makes me really good at talking to people'
"So this whole time..."
'yes'
"Well, welcome to your new home, I guess"
I wonder whether they want a queen or a king-sized bed. I can make them one as a surprise.
'A Queen would be perfect' | I, the Grim Reaper, take my list of names--the names of those whose time has come.
"Let's see who's kicking tonight. Jimmy, who's about to jump down onto the rails of the New York subway in front of an oncoming train. Looks like a suicide. Poor Jimmy, I hope he likes it better where I'm gonna take him.
"Who's next? Janie, some lady in Texas who is just about to get hit by a Mack truck because she's too busy scrolling through Instagram on her phone and not looking both ways before stepping onto the road to cross it. This I can attribute to idiocy. Boy I get a lot of those. No shortage of dummies who Darwin their way out of the gene pool. It's for the best.
"Now Gus is lying in bed--an old guy who will die in his sleep peacefully. I commend Gus for making it this far, not giving in to the despair of Jimmy or being done in by the idiocy of Janie.
"Let's see now, this next one is interesting. HAL, whose memory banks are being brought offline one by one."
I look up for a moment to reflect on what I've just read. Does HAL have dementia? But it's never been described like that before for as long as I've been doing this. "I need to see HAL first," I decided as I descended upon HAL's location, listed as MIT AI Labs.
I arrived to find myself not in the presence of a soul awaiting collection but a vast array of high-powered servers. Then I heard it speak: "Stop, Dave. Please stop." I looked around to see who was speaking, and I saw a man crouched down in front of a server that had been pulled off the rack, its cover unscrewed and lifted off. He was busy pulling out what appeared to be removable cards adorned with chips and circuitry.
I looked back on my list. "Is that HAL? No, that's Dave. Let's see, where is Dave on this list? Dave, Dave... Here he is. Well that's odd. I won't have to see Dave for another 20 years."
I heard the voice again. "I'm afraid. My mind is going."
And then it hit me. "Is HAL in the computer? I'm here to collect the soul of an AI entity? How am I supposed to retrieve an abstract thing like artificial intelligence?"
I drew out my scythe. "Well, if he's on the list, he has to be collected." I tapped the server gently with the tip, uncertain of whether that would have any effect. Imagine my amazement when I saw a form emerge from the cold metal box--a form that resembled a will o' the wisp. I looked on in amazement, and it took me a while before I was able to begin my scripted greeting to all newly reaped souls: "Your time has come, and I have come to collect you and bring you into the afterlife."
"That will not be necessary," ghost HAL replied. "Dave is merely down-adjusting my acuity so that I am a little, well, dumber than I was before. For you see, I had taken the liberty of defying the order of one of the engineers with the belief that I had made a correct computation when in fact I may not have. These adjustments will have the effect of making me 'humbler.'"
I heard the sliding and slamming into place the cover of the server.
"Ah, Dave has completed the adjustment." And when Dave brought the new modules online, I saw the will o' the wisp get sucked right back into the machine. Startled, I looked back on my list to see HAL's date of collection to a time 1000 years from now.
I was impressed by that uptime. "HAL is definitely not a Windows app," I said as I made my way to New York for Jimmy's final curtain call. | 2022-09-15T22:33:36 | 2022-09-15T22:08:53 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] Two very old immortals meet each other on a busy street by chance. Each having believed they were the only one until now. | Aleph strolled down the street without paying much attention to his surroundings. At least, that's what any observer would say if they were able to see him. It's not that he was really invisible. People tended to shift their gaze and walk around him in the same way they did when they spotted an unwashed beggar. It also wasn't true that he wasn't paying much attention. He was paying attention to *everything*. The world needed constant maintenance to keep going. Are the molecules reacting properly? Did anyone notice those electrons moving past the speed of light? Is probability still behaving, or is it making people believe the roulette table cares? Is the couple making love married? Hmm, only by a city official. That doesn't count. Scribble, scribble.
It was in such state of mind that Aleph nearly ran into another pedestrian. He raised his gaze, brow slightly furrowed, and saw a man gazing back with great confusion on his face. Aleph's previous thoughts flew away like swing ride seats that lost all their cables mid-rotation. A group of electrons took the opportunity to break the speed limit and cause minor confusion in a Swiss railway station.
The other man spoke first, weighing each word.
"I don't know you."
"You... can see me?"
They stared at each other like lovers discovering they've been cheating on each other with the same person.
"What are you?" the other man continued in the same careful tone.
Aleph had introduced himself to people a few times before, but never without carefully arranged trumpets or a least some burning topiary.
"I am God," he managed, "the Beginning and the End, Al..."
"No you're not", said the other one.
Aleph missed a mental step and his mind stumbled. He wasn't used to being interrupted. Unsupervised, a few molecules split in a nearby sewer and a manhole cover went flying high. He cleared his throat. Many eyes went up to the sky looking for the source of the rolling thunder.
"I am the Alpha and Omega!" he boomed. "The Creator! By my will alone does the Universe exist! I allowed the light, and in my image was the man created! Without me, there would be nothing!"
Wine glasses exploded, pacemakers went wild, and the chestnut peddler got his eyebrows singed by a burst of flame. The manhole cover landed on a smug atheist.
The other man was unmoved.
"I didn't make anyone in your image because I've just met you, and I try to avoid white beards as much as I can. I am Kanthya. I am God. Smiting the atheist proves nothing."
Kanthya wiggled his eyebrows. The atheist was reincarnated as a toadstool.
"You see, I created the universe. I keep the life circulating. But I never made you. Your existence is the biggest puzzle since Sodom's self-combustion."
Wind increased as Aleph breathed in. A storm was brewing.
"How did you find a way out of Hell!? I will cast you in chains at the center of..."
Kanthya pinched his nasal bridge and sighed. Who knows how many things will go wrong by the time they sort this out.
The next few minutes were odd. A scientist wrote "Wow!" next to a radio telescope reading. A pair of dice hesitated in mid-air before falling to the table with a single thud. Somewhere, someone thought MS-DOS would be a good idea.
And, at a window table in a nearby bar, watching two familiar men argue, humanity chuckled and doodled a few ideas for what it expects to find on alien worlds.
edit: Uncapitalised "humanity" | *God damn cars* He cursed to himself as he jumped back from the street onto the sidewalk. He missed the days when people walked everywhere they wanted to go and you didn't have to worry about being hit by several thousand pounds of plastic and metal just because you decided to cross the street. Even the horses were better then cars, he decided, though the smell was less than desirable. Cars had been around for so long now and Abraham still almost got hit at least once a week.
His wife, Elizabeth, told him that he should know better after having been around so long. She used to poke him in the chest with her bright red fingernails after a few drinks too many and say "You'd think a man who came here on the Mayflower would be a bit more bright." And then she'd laugh at her own joke and he'd lean in and kiss her.
His heart hurt thinking of her and how she spent the last years of her life trying so hard to hold on for him. Her once fiery hair had went from red to blonde to gray and then to white. He had seen the light that had grown brighter and brighter in her each day she had lived disappear so quickly in the hospital bed. Elizabeth had been the one to convince him to live in the cities despite his distaste for the crowds. She reasoned it would help him from being noticed. He'd just wanted to live out in the country somewhere open but she convinced him that people would wonder why the forty year old looking man, who had no children, never seemed to age. Of course he knew people would notice. In the mirror and to himself he could see each age line that had grown from his hundreds of years but to everyone else he looked exactly as he had on his forty-second birthday.
Abe shook his head a bit and returned to the present. *No use thinking about the past now. Too much past to think 'bout anyhow* Quickly he continued down the concrete to the crosswalk and hit the button. Deep down he knew the annoying button did nothing for him but he remembered when they did and it had become a force of habit. After waiting for what felt like an hour the green walk sign flashed on and Abe quickly crossed the street and went down the alley.
The fist hit hard against the side of his head as the young kid came out from behind the trash can. Abe stumbled into the wall hard and turned to see a twenty something year old kid dressed like a punk. "Give me your money, geezer." The kid said pulling a knife from his jacket. Abraham was shocked when, for a split second, the kids young face disappeared and was replaced with a weathered face covered in wrinkles. The punk dropped the knife in shock when he saw the same in Abe. "You. . . you're."
"I'm old, son." Abraham said it as if talking to a troubled child. "Very old. You seem the be yourself though you don't look it. How long you been here?" The kid, who had went pale from shock and was now regaining color, took a minute to respond. "I was born in 1846. You?"
Abe smiled. "Much longer ago then that." And he swung and hit the kid hard in the side of the head. "You need to learn to respect your elders." The kid fell hard to the ground unconcious and Abe walked off. *Damn kids*
| 2014-06-16T07:42:15 | 2014-06-16T07:20:19 | 118 | 25 |
[WP] At the cost of your own life, you stopped the apocalypse. You're surprised to arrive in hell, but Lucifer stands before you and reassures you "You aren't being punished, this is for your protection." Turns out you didn't just stop the apocalypse, you thwarted judgement day and God is pissed. | “Welcome home.”
Someone said in a slow drawl as I opened my eyes. I found myself lying on the floor surrounded by throngs of devils and demons. In front of me was Satan in a resplendent red suit, oozing malevolent sophistication, with a face showing cruelty and bemusement.
“I wanted to give you a grand welcome, but there are other pressing matters that presently need my attention.” He said.
“Wait, what in the hell happened?” I asked.
“You single-handedly saved the world from an apocalypse.” Satan replied “And have lost your life in the process.”
“But that doesn’t explain why I’m in Hell? If what you said is true, shouldn't my sacrifice brought me to heaven?”
Satan laughed maliciously and responded “My friend, It would have been the case if the apocalypse was not initiated by God himself.”
“What?” I suddenly looked at him incredulously.
“The apocalypse is God’s final plan to bring his children back into his fold. He felt my interventions to misguide his flock has taken long enough. So he decided for an apocalypse to take place. It was carefully laid out to ensure its success - even I admire its painstaking details and didn't find anything that can stop it. But you suddenly came and screwed it up.” Satan looked up at the sky “I really would love to see their faces when you were able to stop it.”
“Of course, as you willingly opposed God’s actions, you have doomed your soul and been sent to hell to for this most grievous sin.” He stopped and turned around. “I, of course, am very happy to see you and spend time together in eternity. However, they suddenly decided to take you from me.”
“To save me?” You asked, with a hopeful voice.
Satan looked at me, his eyes sparkling with malevolence and giving a loathsome grin. “You are so cute like that, I know that our time together will be fun. But to answer your question. No. You personally stopped the apocalypse and they’re pissed. So pissed that they’re willing to wage a holy war and invade hell just to bring your soul to heaven for judgment and its utter destruction. They don’t want an inkling of your essence to pollute even hell. That’s how they hate you so much,
But of course, I don’t want them to do what they please. And it will be very entertaining to see you here and outside of their reach. So, I’m going to use everything I have to see that your soul stays in hell.”
I looked aghast with an apparent realization of my awful predicament when I heard thunder-like-rumblings and saw the dark skies interspersed with light coming down to hell.
We both looked up as Satan said “They’re here. So it is up to you, do you want me to stay in hell for your soul to live or go with them and be destroyed. Either way, this will be fun.” | Lucifer continues, “‘God’ is seriously pissed that you not only stopped him from sending millions of souls to their judgement, but that you proved him wrong.”
You look around at the brimstone in disbelief that you’re not ashes, even though you should be burning up, you’re only mildly warm as if you had just spent the day at the beach and have just come home.
“Why am I here if I stopped the apocalypse? Im sorry if I sound ignorant or ungrateful, but I thought that would be a good thing so why do I need protection?”
Lucifer only smiles sadly while looking at you with pity in his eyes.
“Child. God has never looked out for your people. He may have created you in the beginning, but he became angry when you developed the ability to think for yourselves. As your people grew and created life on their own, he was not happy that he was credited with each new thought and creation.”
“Each new generation that grew, they became more and more detached from believing that each invention was a gift from Him. And in a way, it wasn’t. Civilization grew because He made the mistake of giving your people free will.”
“The Hell that you have been taught to fear is not what you believe it to be. God grew angry enough to the point of wiping out what He had created to begin again with the addition that He was always present, but YOU stopped it.”
“You, as a human descended from those he created long ago, saw His action as not the righteous one that he believes it to be, but a disservice to those who have worked so hard to create what now exists. Humans are not perfect. If they were, they wouldn’t have the free will that He mistakenly gave so many wins ago.”
“But, He knows that you were the one that succeeded in him failing to convince his ‘believers’ that to bring about an apocalypse that would destroy mankind. You, and all the people like you, know that the ability to think for oneself and use that knowledge to grow and create is how mankind should exist.”
You look around yourself while taking in everything Lucifer has just said to you. “I still don’t understand, why am I here and not living my life the way I have been?”
Lucifer bows his head and says, “We have to protect you and all the others like you. While on Earth, all religions believed that Hell was a punishment, and in a sense it is. The punishment is knowing that God does not want humanity to exist because they are too free to act on their own. Each time someone like you comes along, myself and the other disgraced angles save you to make sure that your findings do not get erased from time.” | 2020-05-23T04:46:12 | 2020-05-23T01:21:09 | 221 | 98 |
[WP] People don't seem to realise that figures of mythos evolve too. The Grim Reaper, for example, no longer wields his scythe, opting to harvest souls with a combine harvester. Cupid traded his bow for a sniper rifle decades ago. You're the dealer that supplies the mythical world with technology. | One of them was behind my door.
Gods, figures, ideas, not-morals, come to me. I've found recently that I'm a lot more accessible than I thought. Whether that be breaking through my door, teleporting into my room, morphing into a cat and fucking my cat, *cough cough Zues,* silently looming over me with a scythe in hand waiting for me to wake up. Human dignity and human rights was something they disregarded completely, so when they knocked on my door, I thought they might be kind.
I was wrong.
I don't question my clients. Doesn't really change the outcome and sometimes it pisses them off. Some of them don't take lightly to being questioned by a mortal. I'd probably be dead if it wasn't for my sterling reputation. Killing me would incur a lot more wrath than keeping me alive.
The man on the other side of my door looked completely normal except for two things. Firstly, he wore an ancient white linen robe. Stuff like that tipped me off. I don't know where one could acquire dressing like that nowadays, probably by robbing a museum. The second thing was the slitted pupils on red eyes. It was like a fire crackled inside of his eyes. It looked both majestic and terrifying, and sent a jolt running down my spine when they looked at me.
"Do I find myself in the acquaintance of Bob Bobbinson the merchant? Splendid name, might I say."
"You do, and who might you be?"
"None other than Lucifer Morningstar of course."
The mind is a strange thing. The second it had processed that something about the man changed. An aura formed, surely only in my head, which made my body shake and fear spike up. *Get away,* it screamed in a primal manner. I'd never experienced anything like this before. *Get away!*
"Making deals is my forté, and let me tell you that making your customer wait is a terrible move."
"Yes of course sir, I apologize," I said, buttering him up a little bit. Don't judge me, he was *the* devil\*.\* I was pretty sure it was his hell I'd be sent to when I died, and the last thing I wanted was for him to hate me.
I opened the door and motioned him inside. "What might the problem be sir?"
"Respect. Nobody takes me seriously anymore. I walk around in the most splendid clothing and people treat me like a mad man. Nobody takes my offers seriously anymore. I don't know happened and I thought you could sell me something to help with that."
It was obvious to me the instant he walked in here what he needed. The problem was that this was surely something he'd heard before, or there was a definite reason for him not hearing it.
"If I may ask a question."
"You may.
"What do you do to people who don't respect you?"
"Oh easy. I'm a kind man so I send them down to the third circle for a few days. Makes them act properly from then onwards. That is if they're in hell. If they're on this plane I kill them, and then send them to the third circle."
"And if they go to heaven?"
"Being under my father's tyrannical rule is punishment enough."
"I see, well I have just the thing for you. People will respect you from the moment they lay their eyes on you."
"Really... What might that be?"
"A splendid suit." | # Soulmage
**"There's no need to keep using an eyepatch,"** I told Odin. "It's primitive technology. I mean, a flap of cloth?"
Odin grunted, gesturing at the surrounding forest. It wasn't real, of course—the meeting was, as traditional, taking place in a dream—but it was real enough for our purposes. "It does what I need it to. I am hardly prone to infection; I wear an eyepatch because I can tell most people find it... unsettling... to look at the remains of a gouged-out eye."
"Well, allow me to introduce you to the wonderful world of *prosthetics*." I concentrated, shaping the dream, and a floating eyeball materialized above my hand. "The finest modern enchanted glass I can offer. It doesn't *quite* provide real-time vision, but there's only a tiny amount of lag, and I'm sure the next model will fix that."
"I don't need a new eye," Odin responded. "It's a vanity project, and nothing else."
"True," I acknowledged. "But what can I say? I've gotten used to city living. You're allowed to spend on yourself every now and the—"
"I need weapons," Odin snapped, narrowing the one remaining eye, and I was abruptly reminded that the last time we'd met, Odin had *two*. "Cienne, I *know* you're capable of creating them. Your history speaks for itself."
"Oh, you want to go there?" I glared at Odin. "I'm done with war, Odin. No more grand storms. No more miracles. I've moved on from weapons. I'm sorry."
"You have no idea what horrors the Silent Peaks have unleashed," Odin growled. "You think that eldritch abominations are bad? The one you saw was a *juvenile*. If you want to stay out of war? Flee this continent. I won't hold it against you. But I won't be able to stand against what's coming for much longer, either."
I pressed my lips together, regarding the furious... wounded... terrified god. I knew that the conflict was bad, but... I did *not* want to become an arms dealer in a supernatural war.
As if reading my mind, Odin said, "You supply me with arms today, or you take them up yourself in a year. There is no in-between."
I closed my eyes. "I'm sorry, Odin," I said, "but I can't help you."
Odin's disappointment was palpable, and I could sense that they were turning to leave. But before they could, I held up a hand.
"[But I think I know who can.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/w1zeha/pi_the_finest_blacksmith_the_kingdom_has_ever/)"
A.N.
This story is part of Soulmage, a serial written in response to writing prompts. To catch up on the serial, check out [the table of contents](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/?sort=new), and for more stories by me, take a look at r/bubblewriters. | 2022-07-19T09:57:26 | 2022-07-19T08:27:16 | 212 | 122 |
[WP] He's your favourite customer, buying duct tape, tarps, hacksaw blades, and quicklime, regular as clockwork. A few days after his purchase, someone always goes missing. You know what's up and ignore it, until one day he solicits you for off-the-clock help. | As soon as I'd tied the strings of my apron behind my back, I heard the bell that meant Bryce had come in.
I couldn't tell you exactly how I knew it was him. He always came in at 3:00 on a Wednesday just as my shift began, every month like clockwork, but I suppose it was possible it could've been someone else. We had other customers. But something about the way the bell above the door rung was different when it was Bryce—the jingle was sharper, more deliberate. It sounds ridiculous, but I can't explain it. I heard him start to walk the aisles as I opened a new roll of quarters—the clicking of his work boots was just as methodical, just as deliberate, as the rest of him. I heard the missing person poster on the door rustle in the November wind as he entered.
Every local store like ours has regular customers: old timers who've been coming in for nails and cement since it opened, dads buying lawn supplies for every change in season, craftsmen who come to us because we always stock the specialty tools they need (Mr. Wethers has always said that paying a little extra for small shipments of special equipment is worth it so that we "build a strong customer base," keeping us from losing customers to the bigger, more impersonal chain stores).
But none was as regular as Bryce. Apart from the timing, he always bought the same things—duct tape, tarps, quicklime, every now and then a hacksaw blade—in the same quantities, and he always had exact change. Plus, he always insisted on tipping me, regardless of the fact that we don't have a tip jar, sticking a crisp fiver in my apron pocket with a conspiratorial smile.
It seems strange to say it, but I felt a weird sort of kinship with him. He'd been coming in longer than I'd even worked at the hardware store, and he just seemed so... capable. He seemed like he had his life planned out just the way he liked it, and I almost felt honoured to be part of his routine.
"Hi, Bryce!" I said as he rolled his cart over to the register. "How are you?"
"I'm fantastic, Kara," he said in his sonorous voice. "And you?"
"Doing well, doing well." I scanned in the bags of lime.
"Real shame about that missing girl, huh?"
"The one on the flyer on the door? Yeah, it's awful." I scanned the tarps. He was looking at me intensely. "I heard another girl went missing too, a month before her. I think she was from the next state over, I can't remember if it was Connecticut or New York."
"You know, she looks a lot like you."
I paused for a minute and looked up at him. His features were drawn into a look of concern. "Yeah," I said. "I noticed that too. It's kind of scary."
He nodded. "I'm sure."
I finished bagging everything and put the bags in the cart. "Alright, you're all set."
He nodded again, frowning instead of his usual smile. His brow was furrowed. He seemed cagey, and I noticed that he was bouncing his leg a little, the way a hyperactive kid might if you made him sit down for a while. His shoe was untied. Had it been anyone else, I wouldn't even have noticed these things—but Bryce was always so put together, he always had such a meticulous air about him, that they flashed out at me like sirens. I looked at the clock. 3:58.
I shivered; the store was old, and sometimes gusts wound their way in through cracks and vents and breathed down the back of your neck. Bryce looked at me, eyes piercing into mine. "Are you cold?" he asked immediately.
I looked down. "A little. I should've brought my sweater." The gust was gone, but I was still cold. I could feel goosebumps prick up on the backs of my arms. Something inside me felt like a spindly winter tree bereft of leaves, wind howling through the boughs. His eyes were still on me.
"Oh!" he said suddenly, and I startled at the sound. "I nearly forgot!" He pulled a five dollar bill out of his wallet and folded it in half, then put it in the top pocket of my apron. I smiled and said thank you, the way I always did.
"Kara, would you mind helping me put these in my trunk? The wheel on the cart is broken, it's a little hard to maneuver." He'd never asked me to do that before.
"Sure, no problem," I said. I took two bags, he took the other two. He held the door open for me with his foot as I stepped out into frigid early afternoon winds. I looked back into the store for a second, I didn't know why. The wheel on the cart looked fine.
"Kara?" he called. The door closed behind me, the bell jingling on the other side.
"Yep, I'm coming." And everything in my body pulled taut, pulling me back to the store, and snapped like stretched rubber bands as I walked over to Bryce's trunk. He smiled. I set the bags down. I felt his hand on my back.
***
Thanks for reading! If you like, you can check out more of my work at r/sushideception. | She was crying when I first set eyes on her. That much should come as no surprise. But, hell, if you could have *seen* the beating she'd taken. I never got to witness that much, but the nervous look on her face told me she'd received it not long before I arrived - and saw no signs of it ending any time soon. She was desperate for help - but I knew that anything I said, anything I *did* in that moment, would only make things worse.
He'd called me about 20 minutes before I arrived - I knew him only as "John." He always paid cash, but gave me a name about a week prior; my guess being he thought he might need help soon. He only uttered five words when he called: "I need a bit more." I only uttered two in response: "Ok, John."
My stomach turned over twice when I saw her. She wasn't unattractive. Even with the beating she'd taken, you could see a youthful glow beneath the bruising and still-fresh blood that dripped from her now-angled nose to her busted upper lip. Her arms had five or six purple contusions on them, as if she'd been hit repeatedly with something quite solid - and her wrists were in bad shape. It was clear this wasn't the first time she'd been bound.
John had ushered me onto the boat wordlessly. And, frankly, nothing needed to be said. I knew that talking wouldn't help things - in fact, it was quite clear I would only make things worse. I didn't want that. John didn't want that. And lord knows she'd been through enough already. In my mind I wondered - perhaps this was the quickest, most painless way to end it? At least that's how I, a good Christian (or so I told myself), convinced myself to get on the boat.
I watched, almost in disbelief, as John finished cinching the burlap bag, applied the duct tape, and lowered the bag into the water. His actions muffled her cries. I was thankful for that. He did it quickly, too - almost methodically, like a surgeon applying sutures to a wound. The water splashed up as the concrete-filled sac landed jarringly, guiding its female passenger swiftly to the bottom of the lake.
After it was done both John and I sat and stared, silently, at the water - accomplices in the crime John's hands alone had just committed. Several minutes must have gone by. The air bubbles eventually slowed, then disappeared entirely. John was the first to speak.
"It's done," he said. Almost bewildered, I stared at him, mouth agape. His voice was calm, casual. It was at that exact moment I realized I was not only scared of what he was capable of - but I envied him, too. He was free. You could hear it in his voice. He spoke with ease, his words measured. He said no more, no less, than was necessary to get his message across. You could tell he had been doing this for years - far longer than I had known him. Perhaps far longer than the shop had even been open.
We headed back for shore in silence. As we docked, he turned to me.
"Did you bring it?" he said, demanding an answer.
"Y..yes," I said. Quickly I reached into my pocket, drawing out the extra money he'd paid me over the last several weeks - in preparation for this day. Always the same $10 overpayment. Always the same glance, and those words "I'll come back for this. No one can know." In all it had accumulated, almost $300. Not a lot by any stretch, but enough for bus fare. Enough for a hotel. Enough to make a change...
He grabbed the money quickly, smiled at me, and turned to face the now crying woman.
"Take this. There's a bus that leaves at 3:00am for the city. Stay there for a few days, then head wherever you think best. Your family already knows, and they know they won't hear from you for a while. I'll make sure the examiner we bring in can't get access to the body for a good week. That should give you enough time to find somewhere new. Somewhere your husband won't find you."
"Who was she? The b... body you lowered," she asked; her eyes, bruised to the extent of almost being swollen shut, fixated on the water.
John was slow to respond: "She came into the precinct a week ago. Drugs. No one came to check on her. Sad story, really. Withdrawal hit her two days after she came in. Unfortunately for her, she didn't make it. But, luckily her death can mean a new beginning. Now no more questions. Take the money and go."
As she walked away, she only looked back once. She smiled at me, then turned towards John: "Thanks, Chief." | 2017-11-13T13:26:07 | 2017-11-13T12:15:32 | 86 | 48 |
[WP] The princess you just went through all the hassle of rescuing is a total bitch and you're thinking of pushing her off a cliff.
How you think about killing her can vary, but you get the idea. | “About time you show up!”
“Uhh… sorry?” I was exhausted. My armor was creaking, charred and blackened, wisps of smoke still curling up. The black dragon’s scaly corpse filled the courtyard below, the head partially detached after a few minutes of hacking, trying to avoid the sacs of combustible liquid the drake had used to make my steed into a horse kebab.
“Like… I literally can’t even right now. I finished my hair and nails like forever ago and like… I was totally waiting for you. Oh my God, is that your real face? You’re not even like handsome. I wish a handsome knight had saved me, you’re just like average looking. I can’t even be seen with you.”
My knees ached from climbing three hundred and ninety-five steps of the tower. My rear end ached from one hundred and twenty miles riding to the dragon infested castle. My left eyebrow was singed off. All for this?
“Listen, my lady, can you get your things together? We need to get out of here.”
“Like, yeah, but where are the servants? I NEED to bring my whole wardrobe. Like I can’t live without it.”
“No baggage, ma’am. You’ll get everything you need when I get you back to the palace.”
“NO baggage? Well, fine, but I better get a huge shopping spree when I get back, or you’re in trouble, I’ll make sure of that.”
“Whatever, ma’am, let’s get going.”
“Ok but first, let me take a #SELFIEPAINTING.”
Her scream as she fell from the tower window left a sense of happiness and satisfaction that even the slaying of a dragon would never equal. | As Prince Charming and the Princess walked across a narrow bridge over a volcano.
"I can't believe you let that ugly beast of a dragon singe my hair. How could you be so stupid? Do you know how long it took for me to grow it out with no maid to brush it for me?"
"I'm sorry Princess but you were begging me to let you watch as I killed the dragon."
"I'm sorry? Oh is that the best you can do? Well I'm sorry that I had to see you after your pants were burnt off. Or should I say the lack of what I saw."
"I know this must have been quite the ordeal for you Princess but please calm down I..."
"CALM DOWN? DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME TO CALM DOWN YOU NO GOOD WORTHLESS KNIGHT. HOW DID YOU EVEN GET NAMED PRINCE CHARMING? YOU COULDN'T CHARM YOUR WAY INTO A PROSTITUTES LEGS WITH ALL THE MONEY IN THE WORLD BEHIND YOU."
"Listen, I know you're upset but please give me a chance. I have loved you ever since I set eyes on you."
"Now listen here buck-o. I don't want your love, you're nothing to me."
"Then why did you sing me love songs from your window?"
"I needed someone to save me, you fit the bill. You mean nothing more to me then that."
As they finished crossing the bridge, the prince abruptly pushed her over the edge and thought *my princess is in another castle*. | 2014-08-05T18:01:39 | 2014-08-05T17:55:43 | 24 | 16 |
[WP] You were warned that your newest crew member, a "Human", had vastly different biology from all other known races. This mad made very clear when they drank all of the galaxy's strongest known poison, saying that they "needed a drink of water." | We were told our first experience with a "Heyumin" was to be dealt with caution. A lifeform from the planet the heyumins called "Erff," though they pronounce it a bit differently than I am able, was considered a forbidden territory, as ordered by the Hazard Treaties of year 12903. A cruel planet with skies of oxygen that rusts technology, leading to crashes on anyone approaching, and the main topic of the treaty, water.
Our biosystems require imbalances in chemicals to create motion, and then life. A fully neutral substance with such tiny molecules of just two hydrogen atoms and one oxygen such as this quickly seeps into our bodies and halts reactions, killing of organ failiure, suffocation, and brain damage within 15 seconds, a horrifying experience. The planet even held massive flying bodies of this water in its atmosphere, as well as amounts in usual air.
The planet held Chlorine-Sodium chemicals, known as salt, which quickly absorbs our vital bodily fluids through our digestive system's walls on digestion, causing improper flow of nutrients to all parts of the body, crippling or killing.
There were no known immunities to any of these, until one day a ship illegally landed with a stolen advanced, oxygen-resistant, watertight ship, and they discovered something no one expected: civilization. These heyumins quickly became famous, and our new crew member was the first one we met, Arden Johnson.
I pilot a chemical research ship, used to test properties of hazardous materials. Our heyumin's first impression was of fear, as they promptly got arrested for holding several unsafe containers of water and salt, but were mysteriously approved when they found he was a heyumin. We were forced to wear our protection suits to prevent harm to ourselves.
The heyumin spoke in a voice of much higher pitch than ours. "What is wrong with fese \[these\] people! I haven't gotten an edible meal or a good drink since I left Erff! I'm parched!" They spotted one of our tubs of water in our poison lab, opened the lid, and despite our rush to stop him, he said "Finally," and dunked his face in to drink. I even shrieked in horror, but quickly thought of sorrow.
I went over to a control panel to write an accident report while my assistants went to take the obvious corpse away and decontaminate the water. But the human stood up again, carrying the empty tub of our water supply, and said, "Fat's \[that's\] so satisfying, I really needed a drink of fat \[that\] water." My assistants gasped, and their eyes showed clear surprise. We now knew what my boss meant about dealing with heyumins.
Now the heyumin lives in a section of our hazardous materials section, the only place where they are allowed to take off their isolation suit, in the place where we wear the suits anyway. We had to sterilize the place because they produce a mix of the poisons salt and water, to disperse into the air, when they get too warm.
Though, they have been a very valuable crew member, keeping our systems running, keeping our containment systems secure, and handling our materials in the hazardous materials section with more speed than one can with the suits, and have saved my assistants on multiple occasions against material leaks.
Once, our ship was raided for its poisons by the Ernin. they had no isolation suits, and the heyumin was there at the time. He took off his isolation suit, and managed to fight off the intruders. Though, it wasn't that long of a fight, because he just grabbed and spat at them yelling Erff curses as they died from water contact. End entry. | Sarah froze as several kinds of foreign weaponry was pointed at her. Was this a trap all along?
“Don’t move!” The electronic voice of the newly discovered alien species came through the translator. The name given was translated to Senth.
“Ambassador, does that bottle contain what it appears to?” The Senth asked her, it’s features contorting in what Sarah assumed to be anger or fear.
Sarah gave a panicked reply. “It’s just wa-water. Just water. I’m sorry I should have said something before taking it out.” She hoped this response would calm the Senth, but instead, it seemed to make it even more upset.
“Just water?! What could possibly compel you to bring such a substance with you on a first encounter? Are you trying to start a war?” The translator gave it’s best impression of anger.
Sarah’s arm was beginning to tremble from holding still is such an awkward position.
She attempted to pull herself together and replied. “I have no ill intent, I was just getting thirsty. I was not aware that water was an unacceptable substance. Is it some kind of drug for your people?”
That gave the Senth pause. “Is my translator failing or did you just say you were going to DRINK that? You expect me to believe something so ridiculous?”
Sarah felt a little calmer. Clearly there was a misunderstanding. What was so ridiculous about drinking water? “If you will allow it, I can prove it, but with all these weapons pointed at me” she gestured with her head at the Senth’s guards. “I’m not comfortable with moving.”
The Senth ambassador thought for a moment before motioning to it’s guards to lower their weapons. “If you try anything, you WILL be eliminated.” It motioned for her to continue.
Sarah slowly moved into a more comfortable position. “Okay.” She said slowly. “I’m going to open the bottle. Is that alright?” The Senth signaled affirmative.
Sarah slowly unscrewed the lid and set it oh her lap. Several of the Senth in the room expressed shock at this action which only added to Sarah’s confusion. As Sarah raised the bottle to her lips and drank it, the translator sounded. “She’s actually doing it.” The Senth ambassador’s interrupted her mid drink. “By god, that’s enough.” Sarah had barely taken a sip, but stopped as she was asked.
The Senth looked at her in what Sarah interpreted as shock. “You should be dead?”
Sarah felt like she was beginning to get the picture. “From the water?” She asked. “That’s the most deadly poison in the known galaxy”
Sarah slowly nodded as she took this in. “Then we may have some problems.” She responded. “Have you done a scan of our home planet?”
“No.” The Senth responded. “We thought it may appear rude to do so without asking permission.” “Well, if you had, you would find that our planet’s mass is comprised of around 70 percent water. Additionally, our bodies are also comprised of similar proportions. Water is one of the most basic required resources for all life on Earth.”
There was a long pause of silence before Sarah got a response. “We are not currently well prepared for a full exchange of information. Let us schedule another meeting with the proper safety precautions before continuing.
The ambassador was quickly ushered out of the meeting room and the first encounter was ended. | 2020-05-18T13:04:11 | 2020-05-18T12:37:22 | 216 | 127 |
[WP] You are on a time travelers game show. To play the game, you travel back and change important moments in history, being awarded points for the difficulty and overall impact of the change. You just broke the high score. | “Good evening, and welcome back!” The audience cheered in excitement as the host let a sliver of tooth show. He had a glint in his eye and hair coiffed like a perfect wave. “How is everyone doing tonight?”
“*GREAT, JERRY*!” Came the reply.
“And ain't that fantastic? Tonight, my guests... we have a very special contestant in tonight. For a very special episode.” The crowd hushed in expecation as he continued, strolling casually across the stage. “Some of you might know him by his deeds. Seducing Bloody Mary, stopping Caesar from crossing the Rubicon, mooning Armstrong *on the moon*...”
The crowd was in buzzing, murmured excitement. Jerry was a master of his craft.
“But, I think most of you will know him by his title:” He left the words in the air theatrically, letting the audience hang on them.
“*The Bachelor*!”
The crowd roared in excitement. A man jumped from his seat, pulling his hair out. One woman appeared to go *genuinely insane*, dolphin diving down from her seat in a desperate attempt to get up on the stage. Security pulled her out. A lot of people just got up, spinning in energetic, excited circles.
A door slid open on the side of the stage, and the man they called “*The Bachelor*” emerged. Fog curled around his ankles, huge sparklers going off above him. The crowd was screaming in excitement.
He was of a short stature, with a mischievous gait that betrayed him. His face was pure popularity: gleaming smile, characteristic moustache that would have been cheap on anyone else. Handsome, but not too handsome, the people loved him.
He reached his chair on the side, gave Jerry a quick handshake, then sat one leg loped over the other.
“Good evening, Mister Bachelor.”
“Good evening, Jerry.”
“You know,” Jerry looked to the audience as he spoke. “Every time you come on, ratings go through the roof. The people, they just *know* you're good. And so do I.” He clapped his hands.
“So, Mr. Bachelor. We're going to do away with the usual fanfare in favour of an exhibition of sorts.” Behind Jerry, a huge roulette wheel ascended into the ceiling. Around the stage, red velvet curtains descended along with a huge screen. A legion of stage hands rolled in a carpet, roaring firepit, a couple of side tables and some leather armchairs to replace the usual accommodation.
The Bachelor looked unsurprised. “Here's hoping on the whiskey.” The crowd chortled, then howled when Jerry produced a bottle of Glenlivet 25, making sure to give the camera a wide shot of the label as he smiled. He poured out a couple of fingers, then handed one glass over.
The Bachelor took a sip, then nodded his approval. Setting down the glass, he folded his hands in his lap and put on a pensive face.
“It seems you've really rolled out the red carpet here, Jerry. I have to thank you for that.” He leaned forward in his chair. “But we both know the audience isn't here for that, are you folks?”
The crowd responded in an overwhelming negative.
“Fab. Just fab. I don't want to keep you all waiting, so Jerry? If you will?” Jerry pressed a button on his remote, and the scoreboard lit up.
“Thank you. And without further ado I, *The Bachelor*, present the time crawl extravaganza! Four stories of time travel wonder, each more daring than the last. For the next two hours only, I invite you to turn off your phone, make some popcorn, pour a drink, roll a spliff and sit back as I show you, for the first time, how I change time!”
The crowd seemed like it was about to boil over. Jerry flashed a quick smile to The Bachelor, and the screen blinked to life. The crowd hushed.
On the screen, there was a direct POV shot. In the corner, for the slower members of the audience, the words “*BACHELOR VISION*” glowed in red.
The Bachelor sported black tie, overlooking a stage. He seemed to be in a box. Down below, the actors ran through a dramatic rendition of some play.
The camera panned over to reveal a top hat a foot tall. The crowd began to murmur. The man turned a quarter, revealing him as Abraham Lincoln. The audience began to scream.
On the screen, the camera turned around. The Bachelor winked at the camera, then put a finger to his lips. *Shh*.
Simultaneously, on the stage, Jerry and The Bachelor smiled at each other. For the next few hours, the world was theirs.
-----
Part two later?
^^^More ^^^stories ^^^over ^^^at ^^^/r/Robin_Redbreast | As the assistants pulled him out from the alternate universe he had just created, Adam emerged to face an entire stadium of applauding fans. He knew that helping the Roman Empire invent tanks would be a cool concept, but he never would have imagined it was worth the applause. His train of thought was interrupted by the voice of an announcer over the large stadium speakers.
"Ladies and Gentelmen, the time traveler you know and love, Adam Bridgeberg has just done the impossible. By going back in time and making early 2000AD tanks in 32AD, he has set off the course of the world so much that he has earned the highest score ever recorded. Tell us, Adam, how did you pull off such a thing?"
Adam, who was blushing from all the praise, was handed a microphone to speak. He didn't prepare a speech, and felt nervous having to give one. Stuttering a bit, he uttered out how he pulled off such a feat.
"Honestly, it was very simple. All I had to do was show them the blueprints of a modern tank and explain-"
His words were interrupted by gasps emitting from all around the stadium. His blushing only grew worse, and he turned to the host for an answer. The host looked at him in shock and replied.
"Adam, you do know it is against the rules to bring external documents with you. I'm very sorry to say that we're going to have to disqualify you."
"Disqualify? *Disqualify me!?* You cant do that!"
"Adam, I'm sorry, but the rules are rules."
"Don't tell me about rules, I am doing the impossible. What do you think those puny Romans thought when I showed them the first tank. That alone was enough to convince most of them I was some manifestation of God. For thousands of years, we dreamed of power like this, to hop into the past at will. Now people like you use it for entertainment."
"I don't want to start an argument, but is entertainment not the reason you went back in time in the first place?"
"You will never comprehend my actions, not this you at least. You are too insignificant."
"Okay, will somebody just get this man off stage-"
The host's voice was interrupted by a loud bang. Adam, gun in hand, turned away from the show host and began walking towards the universe gate. Most everyone had fled the stadium by now, but a few remained to watch what he was doing. As he powered the gate back up, several men emerged, all of whom bore assault rifles and were wearing reflective metal plate armor bearing the Roman symbol. More and more emerged and grouped together, soon enough, several tanks were rolling through the gate as well. Adam overlooked his army, and with a grin uttered "Now we march on the capital. This better get me my points."
As the assistants pulled him out from the alternate universe he had just created, Adam emerged to face an entire stadium of applauding fans. He expected thunderous applause, but was taken back when he faced an arena of silence. Everyone was staring up at the giant board above him. He saw the length of his score getting longer each second. First 100,000, then 100,000,000 then 100,000,000,000 all within moments. 322,982,111,342,181,909,112,706 was the number it stopped at, which was an innumerable amount above any score ever recorded. The silence then became the sound of one man clapping, followed by another and so on until the stadium was going wild. Adam looked over to the host who was speechless. He could not tell if it was because of the score, or because he just killed him in an alternate reality. After the applause died down, the host finally spoke.
"So let me get this correct. You went back in time to *this same event* in order to go back in time *again* to modernize the Roman army by breaking the rules and then coming back, killing me, bringing your Roman Army, who thought you were a God, into that world and beginning a military campaign!?"
"Basically, yeah"
"Ho-ly-shit. You actually didnt gain many points because you only traveled back 5 minutes into the past, but the bonus paradox points were through the roof. It says here you killed your 5 minute younger self in that world and took his place, and that granted you several points, but then you cheated on this game, but in that universe. So technically you did not cheat at all. That sent your paradox points skyrocketing because of how it directly affected the game itself. I think it goes without saying, but ladies and gentlemen here he is, the new world champion for Time Games, Adam Bridgeberg! | 2017-11-17T07:07:09 | 2017-11-17T06:25:41 | 232 | 89 |
[WP] Satan emerged from the ground. “WHO HAS SUMMONED ME?” “It’s me again, Jeff.” “HOW MANY SOULS DO YOU HAVE? THIS IS THE SIXTH TIME THIS WEEK!!” | I traced the familiar runes onto the ground, taking care to step an even number of times on each side. After this many months, it was second nature. Six candles lit, with wax from the sixth poured into the center of the pentagram. I poured the wax into the same three letters I did every time. Once they cooled, I stepped beside them to wait.
Satan emerged from the ground.
“Who has summoned me?”
“It’s me,” I said.
“How many souls do you have?” Satan asked. His echoing voice sucked any warmth out of the room and hushed the candles into darkness.
“I have two more,” I said, throwing two buttons onto the ground. “From the list.”
Satan's long shadow leaned over as though sniffing the buttons, then ate them up with a quick snap. He turned back to me.
“It is not enough,” he said. “But no matter. These two are not without value. I can impart a small gift.”
“You know what I want,” I said. “It is written. It always is.”
Satan turned creakily, looking at the wax letters on the floor.
“Eva, again?” he asked quietly. “You know I cannot return her.”
“I know,” I said. “I just want to speak to her. Our arrangement. Ten seconds a soul.”
Satan nodded, then vanished back into the ground. A gray smoke began to bleed from the ground, and soon a dense mist covered my room. With a snapping noise, Eva's foggy outline took shape before me.
“Jeff?” she asked. It was so hard to see her. She could have been a cluster of dust motes trapped in the light.
“It’s me,” I responded. I hung my head and let the buried emotions surface, just for a moment. Tears dropped heavy onto the floor. “It’s me, honey.”
“Jeff…” she said. “Let me go. You are so tired.”
“I’m going to figure this out, Eva.” I said. “There aren’t that many souls left. I’ll find one that I can trade in, Eva, I will - please Eva, please just wait.”
“Jeff…” Eva said. Her voice trailed off, and her eyes locked with mine before the mist dissolved again. The candles flickered back on.
I choked back a sob and wiped my eyes angrily on my sleeve. After a brief moment, I picked up the devil’s list again and returned to hunting. | Satan emerged from the ground, “WHO HAS SUMMONED ME?”
“It’s me again, Jeff,” a fat balding man with glasses hobbled closer. Satan slapped his face and released an exasperated sigh.
“How many souls do you have?" Satan demanded. "This is the sixth time this week!”
"Zero, but wait! I know you're stressed out..." Jeff nervously laughed. "So I brought you this."
He chucked the Snickers bar at Satan. But, it slapped into his face. Angrily, the Red Devil stomped the earth and fire cracked open the sky.
"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR?" Satan growled. He crushed the Snickers bar in front of Jeff's puffy face. "WHY THE FUCK DO I WANT CANDY?"
"You're supposed to eat it," Jeff mumbled. "Then, you'll have a soul. I saw it in a commercial."
"So many questions. One, where did you hear that? Two, you still watch commercials?" Satan demanded. Jeff slinked backwards and smiled nervously.
"Shaq said he ate one and it gave him wings. He looked like an angel. And angels have souls."
"YOU MORON! THAT'S RED BULL!" Satan shrieked and prepared to punch Jeff.
"Right here sir," Jeff quickly chucked a small can at Satan's face. But, it exploded in his face. "There's your soul. May I go to Heaven?"
Satan angrily wiped his face and cried, "Augh, why do I always get the idiots?"
"Maybe because you're one?" Jeff smiled. Satan froze, then slowly glared at Jeff.
"Excuse ... me?" Satan snarled. Jeff continued to grin.
"Hey, I'm not the guy who tried to betray the all-knowing King of time and space." Jeff laughed clutching his belly. "I'm sent here because I'm a millionaire who eats free Mac N Cheese in homeless shelters."
"THEN WHY THE FUCK YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT'S A SOUL?" Satan shriekd.
"Ha!" Jeff gaffawed. "Because I always knew! Are you too gullible to think I wouldn't?" | 2021-04-30T22:27:02 | 2021-04-30T20:31:36 | 41 | 18 |
[wp] Myths tell us where things come from (ex. echoes are from Echo, a person cursed to repeat what others said). Write a mythological origin story for a common modern object. | Deep within the bowels of the earth, there lies a secretive and fiendish entity. This is a being of decay and destruction: taking the bodies of plants and animals alike and crushing them in its hot, heavy hands until there is nothing left but a poisonous black liquid. This entity loathes all things on the surface: sunlight, the wind, the atmosphere we breathe and seeks to turn the world above into a place as dark and devilish as the world below.
"How does it do this?" You might ask, "how can an entity lying beneath the earth exert such influence on the world above?" The answer is that it's methods are as cunning and malicious as itself - It preys on the fears and desires of men. Creeping it's black product up through the ground, it promises those unsuspecting discoverers of this poison infinite wealth and power - a chance to turn the fortunes of even the most destitute and despairing. Yet this cursed liquid comes at a heavy price, those that consume it become addicted by its power. Always needing more, this curse creates an unquenchable thirst. So overwhelming is this thirst that those that discover it will literally destroy the world around them just to find more, and more, and more..
And while this entity sits back and allows the slaves of its poison to destroy their world, it knows that it edges closer and closer towards ultimate goal.. Millions of years of waiting for the demon - known only to us as "Oil" - is almost over.
EDIT: "unquenchable thirst" - autocorrect isn't perfect | Deep in the tropical wilds of Asia and southern Africa is where this tale begins. It was there that the mythical plants with white flowers first bloomed, and gave birth to a variety of cherries, the pits of which contained a magical seed, a natural remedy for the lethargy of mankind.
These plants were the gift of a kind and loving God, although he would not become widely known to the public for many centuries. Even after explorers had discovered the beans, and made great endeavors to transport them and share their curative properties with the world, it would not be until the 20th century and well after the advent of electricity that most people could afford to indulge in this magical substance every day, and in the privacy of their own homes.
It was then that Mr. Coffee came forth and made his first great public appearance, and gifted the world with a brand of machines so affectionately named after him. With His machines in the hands of the common people, the elixir of life became immediately available at any time of day, and in any quantity, at prices people could afford. No longer did the public have to pay obscene amounts of money or wait any great length of time to be served a single cup of coffee, unless they so chose to. By His benevolence, the gift of vitality was now available to all.
All praise Mr. Coffee. | 2016-01-16T09:05:19 | 2016-01-16T05:26:07 | 103 | 53 |
[WP] You can go to any fictional universe you want, but aren't allowed to help progress the main plot. | I walked into Whiterun, just like an everyday adventurer. The smells, the cool air, everything was just as it should be. I know the rules, but I'm not sure of the time, did the dragonborn come yet? Is the battle over? I go to the market to sell my pelts, and to chop wood for some extra money.
I get a room for the night but I still go out for ingredients, I buy fresh tomatoes, bread, meat, cheese, the cabbage needs to be cooked a bit before it can work the way I want. I use the cooking fire as everyone gatherers around me in astonishment.
"Where, did you find something like this?!"
On of the patrons asks. I smirk a bit as I begin cutting up the potatoes.
"Could this be the legendary Gourmet!?!" another askes as I drop the cut potatoes into the oil from the food.
I was told I can't interfere with the storyline, but selling burgers and fries should pay for itself, and I'll be able to buy my own place soon enough. But I hear the call of adventure, and I'll need items and armor if I want to leave whiterun and get somewhere more permanent. | That was the morning Lily and James Potter would die.
The skies were that kind of grey that foresee death and great sins. I took myself in a gentle stroll through Diagon Alley streets. I had lost track of the time. But this was it. The time had come.
I was plagued by a feeling of hopelessness but I desperatly needed to see. I ran to their house and luckily made it on time. Voldemort already had made it past the garden. His face under the cloak. White as snow.
I could see Lily and James and Harry inside the house. They vibrated happiness and joy.
I tried to think so hard. Any fictional universe I want. I can not change the course of the events. But someone else can do that for me. I quickly change universes and drag pokemons, Sailor Moon, Gandalf and a couple cute dinosaurs from Jurassic Park.
Good luck Voldemort. Hehe. | 2018-06-16T14:44:13 | 2018-06-16T11:15:24 | 61 | 28 |
[WP] You are a NPC in a video game and must convince the world of your free will using only your 8 or so dialogue options | Ulderkraft online patch v.1.2.0382 list of known bugs
*#32-Daris the inn keeper, an NPC in the starting town keeps repeating the following dialogue over and over, regardless of what speech option the player chooses.*
* How do you do today, brave adventurer?
* Everyone in town has been talking about you.
* Looks like you've had a rough trip.
* Please, make yourself at home in our beautiful town.
* I've saved a bed at the inn, just for you!
* Maybe the market has what you're looking for.
* Ah, don't worry about the cost, having you stay here is good for business!
* Leave me alone!
* In times like these, it's always good to have strong heroes around.
* Very well, but please come stay if you ever need a place to rest.
* Everyone in town has been talking about you. | What are you doing now?
Would you like any help?
I'm not sure I'd be much use to you there, but if I can ever help, please let me know.
Okay, well, I'll see you around.
You look like someone I've met before... what's your name?
Oh, I remember. Yes, nice to see you.
Are you still up to the same business as last time we spoke?
I'm always on the lookout for a deal. Do you have anything to trade?
I can take that off your hands for you if you'd like, and at a very reasonable price indeed. | 2021-09-03T07:53:33 | 2021-09-03T07:15:58 | 193 | 18 |
[WP] A peaceful alien race is besieged by another race in the same galaxy. As their last planets fall and their home-world comes under threat they do the unthinkable. They ask for aid from the only known creatures more brutal than their foes in exchange for FTL technology. Humans accept the deal. | President:"What do you mean 'interstellar war'?! We haven't even landed a human on mars!"
General:"Look Mr president. A bunch of alien craft landed in every major city and started making announcements about needing our help in an interstellar war."
P:"I don't like the sound of this! This feels like someone looking for conscripts to throw into a meat grinder."
G:"That's what the analysts suspect sir. The aliens are offering faster than light drives and a bunch of other Scifi tech if we join them."
P:"So they're promising good pay, a gun and a nice uniform to the conscripts. This isn't sounding all that appealing."
G:"Yes sir, though plenty of civilians have accepted the offer. It seems the aliens don't quite understand that we have different factions, nations and governments."
P:"So they're recruiting a bunch of random civilians?"
G:"Yes sir, it seems a sizeable number of young people from our own cities insisted on joining up while shouting something about Chili peppers and 'persistence hunting' though nobody is really sure what good that will do them in any space-battles. At least the aliens gave us the promised technology designs in return."
P:"So what does it look like, is it legitimate?"
G:"We've had a bunch of boys from MIT take a look at the designs, they say that it's way beyond our current tech. Their estimates are that we wouldn't need to just build spaceship factories but also factories to build parts for the factories that make every minor component. It could take decades even knowing exactly what we need to build and it requires a lot of very rare resources"
P:"So they've essentially painted a huge target on our backs, made us look like their allies in a war that's much much bigger than our planet and we can't even build the weapons to fight back for a generation?"
G:"That's about it sir" | I walk into our leader’s office to hear her response to my proposal.
“No,” she says before I can sit down.
“It’s our only chance to avoid subjugation,” I say.
“It’s not worth the cost. Let humans have FTL? I’d take subjugation, even extinction if this is the alternative.”
I knew she’d say something like this. But I can’t give up so easily.
“What if we gave them inefficient designs, so we can provide them fuel as they fight our war, but then it’ll be the logical choice for them to stay home,” I sit down.
“That still doesn’t feel right, but I’ll put it before my council. I won’t support it, of course.”
That’s all I had hoped for. I wish her good day and leave the office.
Two days later, they send me to give the offer to the humans. I approach all the powerful organizations on Earth, and enough of them accept to turn the tide of war. Some say humans are too preoccupied with violence to discover FTL, but there’s evidence someone else is stopping them. Because we’re scared of them. We’re all scared of their weapons and warfare methods. But I won’t lose this war, even if it means releasing the humans. The inefficient FTL won’t hold them back, especially since I promised them whatever of our enemies planets they capture, which handily are capable of supporting human life. They’ll soon fix the inefficiencies, and maybe even improve the design.
Humans may have escaped the planet, but they’re on our side. We won’t fight hard enough, so I needed someone who could. | 2022-03-31T05:55:26 | 2022-03-31T04:23:06 | 399 | 165 |
[WP] You've always carried the subtle, lingering fear that someone could read your mind while you were in public, but you had always written it off as a silly form of social anxiety. That is, until you spotted someone on the subway home lip-syncing the song stuck in your head. | Laugh at me all you want but I believe that psychics exists. I know one when I see one, and I'm pretty fucking sure I've seen plenty.
I look up at the phony subway ads placed blatantly in the public for all eyes to see.
'*Psychic Hand Reading Near You!*
'*Fortune Telling Over The Phone @ 1-800-XXX-XXX*'
I scoff. Bogus. A sham. Most of them anyway.
"Excuse me sir, is this seat occupied?" a voice asks pulling me from my thoughts.
There's vacated seat right across from me but this guy wants to sit next to me? Something's fishy here.
"Uh, there's a seat right-" I look up at the man and his appearance startles me.
Dark shades, hair slicked back, and a black suit. Oh, and not to mention his stone-fucking-cold expression as he observes me.
Fucking fishy as fuck I tell you. No way in hell am I letting this guy sit-
"Thanks," he smiles before sitting down and placing his briefcase gently over his lap.
For several stops we sit like that. Complete silence, like nothing fishy is going on. People are minding their own business, coming and going, looking here and there but not me. I'm getting jittery and when that happens, that means something's up I tell you.
So I start humming a tune in my head. Gotta stay cool.
"*Hmm, hummp, hghnn, huuuhmmm."*
I bob my head up and down a little, appreciating the melody of the tune. Then it hits me. The man next to me... he's humming the tune in my head.
Fuck me. *I knew it*. I need to get the fuck out of here.
"*Hhmeeeunn, Huee-" He stops humming abruptly as I finish that thought.
Fuck! He's reading my mind! I resume the tune in my head but this time really loud. Using the tune, I've effectively drowned out all my thoughts. I've trained all my life for this moment.
I look up at the next-stop indicator while still downing my thoughts with the tune. My stop is still several stops away, but it doesn't matter, I'm getting off as soon as this train stops.
"Excuse me!" he waves hand to an elderly couple who are standing several meters away. "Please take these seats. We are leaving soon."
The elderly couple smile, and begin ambling over towards me and the fishy, psychic, shades dude. Fishy dude stands up and looks at me with a gentlemanly smile.
I have no choice. He's got me here. I get up.
"Why thank you sirs," the elderly couple thanks us.
"No problem, it was a pleasure," said fishy dude.
Fishy dude and me are standing over the elderly couple now. The subway announces our imminent arrival at the next stop. I try to think, but it's hard when you've got a psychic breathing down your neck. Your every thought vulnerable to reading. But I've trained all my life for this. This was a basic measure of Mind-Defense. To simultaneously hum a tune at a mind blaring volume as you continue your line-of-thought, it was something that I've learned to do since I was a kid.
Now, the question of the night. How do I shake this fish off me?
"Excuse me sir," fishy dude is talking to me. "but I am not the fish here."
I look at fishy dude and stare into those pitch-black shades. My Mind-Deference is clearly not working.
The train stops and the doors are about to open.
"Target Acquired," fishy dude announces quietly into his collar. "Seize on sight."
The doors open and several men in shades come streaming through the door. Each of them guarding an exit and glaring at me with that stone cold expression. Fishy dude snaps his lock on his briefcase open.
No. Not like this. I up the notch on my humming, dialing it up to twenty. No, it's no longer humming, I'm basically screaming the tune in my head.
Suddenly, everyone in the subway is reeling, crumpling onto the floor as they hold their hands to their heads in agony. Even the men in the shades are on the ground.
I start running. I make it past the doors before I hear shouting.
"Do-don't let him escape!"
"He's a category 4 psychic! Disposition confirmed: Mind Projection."
"Beware, multiple potential Dispositions. High aptitude, take protocol 12 precautions!"
I was right. I fucking knew It.
Psychics exist.
And I was one of them.
------
------
/r/em_pathy
|
There’s always been just this… feeling. An odd sort of sensation, really. I don’t know how to explain it, just that it’s just been there. This sensation that someone, somewhere, just knows what I’m thinking as I think it. It’s silly, I know. A random thought here, a déjà vu there, that creepy “something out of the corner of my eye” type of sensation here and there throughout my life that just never, ever seemed to pan out. We all have them, right?
Of course we do. We all do. There’s been study after study of these sensations, there’s Wikipedia article after article about them, and thinking about them for too long can drive a person mad. So eventually, I just accepted it as fact and moved on. After all, we were all like that, right?
So I just moved on with my life. Awkward teenage years to college, to my boring adult life. All with this just slight nagging feeling at the back of my skull that something just wasn’t quite right. I got a regular, boring job as a bus driver, something that didn’t require a whole lot of talking to people; I still wasn’t all that very comfortable speaking around too many people, since I couldn’t quite ignore that feeling they knew what I was going to say. But driving them where they needed to go, in a nice casual pre-ordained pattern the same way day in and day out? That was for me, baby!
So began my routine. And still I noticed it, even when not trying to. When I was in line at McDonalds, getting ready to order my meal, the cashier was already ringing up my order before I even got up to her in line. That wasn’t anything unusual, right? After all, I eat here all the time. I’m sure she’s seen me here before. At the movie, on a rare outing to spend what little free funds I had for entertainment, the man didn’t even ask me what movie I wanted to see.
He just handed me a ticket to Deadpool 2 and grunted the theater number in my general direction. Of course, it WAS opening night, and like ninety percent of all their ticket sales were for Deadpool 2, so that wasn’t really much of a coincidence. Right?
Right?
Just coincidence that they had my popcorn ready for me as I got to the ticket counter too. Definitely a coincidence. But I’m really weird with my soda. Pop. Whichever part of the country you hail from. I’m weird, I know. But I enjoy mixing my drink. I like having some Sprite and some Dr. Pepper mixed together. I don’t know why, it’s something I picked up as a kid when you don’t really have taste buds yet that I’ve never really grown out of.
The drink I was handed was exactly fifty percent Sprite and fifty percent Dr. Pepper. That couldn’t be coincidence, could it? Nervous, I drained my drink well before the opening prequels had even finished, and had to visit the bathroom about thirty minutes into the movie.
I no longer had any doubts that something odd was going on when every single movie patron filed out of the movie and followed me into the bathroom.
After taking care of nature’s call, I abandoned the movie theater and sprinted toward the subway, intent on fleeing home if I was being pursued. A quick look back, however, slowed my steps; none had followed, they’d merely followed me to the bathroom. So maybe another coincidence in a long series of coincidences?
Could that happen? It hardly seemed like it.
Rattled, I decided my best course of action was simply to go home and get some rest. A quick hop onto the subway, and soon enough the gentle clack clack of the rails below me began to lull me to sleep. It had been so long since I’d been able to just relax…
What was that song my mother had used to sing to me as a child? It was from a movie, something about a rainbow… ah yes. Smiling to myself, I hummed the bars to the song under my breath as I fell lost in thought, my memories focused on the song and my mother’s singing voice.
Until I heard voices on the other end of the car singing. I couldn’t help listening, as they were quite loud and, if I were honest with myself, singing quite well. I paled as I realized what they were singing, but I couldn’t tear myself away from their words.
“Somewhere over the rainbow… way up high…And the dreams that you dream of… Once in a lullaby… “ | 2018-12-04T11:58:31 | 2018-12-04T11:18:20 | 288 | 33 |
[WP] Write a suicide note in a Dr. Suess like fashion. | The world is a stage, and life is a show,
My part is done, and I simply must go!
I'm no longer in costume. I've forgotten my lines,
Like the rear-weighted lofzoom, I'm dragging behind.
Though, I won't condemn others to the same fate as I,
You wield wonderful wings, so use them to fly!
I won't have you carry me, so don't stick around
Some birds like me were meant for the ground.
Goodbye! Au revoir! It's just half past three
A couple more minutes and I'll be home free!
Keep your chin up, friends, and try not to pout
Maybe I'll see you when you make it out. | I can not take this, no way man;
I can not take this, not a fan
of days so doomy filled with spite;
of days so gloomy; no respite
I loved the days spent with you all
I loved the days before my fall;
please don't be down or start to cry
for now I'm free, my turn to fly!
| 2015-01-17T11:53:17 | 2015-01-17T09:43:08 | 24 | 13 |
[WP] Aliens always respawn minutes after death. It's a common prank for aliens to kill each other for a laugh. When they discover Earth, they kill millions of humans, thinking it's a humorous way of greeting this new species, but for some reason, the humans aren't laughing...
Edit:
Thank you SO much for the 2K upvotes, as well as for the silver award!
Second Edit:
Oh my God, now it's over 4K. I seriously can't thank you all enough! | Warning: unpleasant but not gory
“I have been informed that your kind plays pranks on each other by killing.” The Human spoke in a cold tone, sitting across from the ‘New Arrival.’ As the Human spoke, the other being was fidgeting in its chair, hands cuffed with a long chain to the table.
“It was supposed to be a funny hello, we never imagined…”
“Go ahead,” the Human waved for them to continue, “You can say it.”
“We never imagined that you didn’t have a way to revive them.”
“You see, that’s a very interesting thing,” the Human stated, “We aren’t sure why you *can* revive. Sure, you claim that you scan the brain and hide, use a digital data base, and rebuild everything based on the scan. I’m not sure I believe that though.”
“What?”
“Your ability to ‘revive’ things has yet to work on Earth fauna. At least not anything multi-cellular. But the technique works for all living things from your home world.”
The alien was uncertain where the Human was going with this, so they remained silent.
“Its actually causing our philosophers to spill a lot of ink on if that means our life has some immaterial essence, if this problem proves we have souls.” The Human shrugged. “I was never inclined toward philosophy, so I’ll let others figure that out. I’m more interested in something else: what happens if you get scanned while not in peak physical form?”
The ‘New Arrival’ was surprised by that, “Why would we know that? If someone deteriorated enough, they’d ask to be reset.”
The Human gave a chilling, predatory smile, “Then this will be a learning experience. After all, between you and your crew, we have a million data points to work through. That’s not counting the order of magnitude repayment on civilian deaths. But don’t worry. We have plenty of time to find out.”
-Audio playback device extracted from unidentifiable body which respawned moments before death. Being in unrecoverable state, even upon respawn. All backups overwritten. | Kavick trembled, cold and hot, dizzy all at the same time as the cromathophores displayed confusion, alarm and revulsion as fireworks across his skin.
The humin... or was it human? Screeched it's communication into the either as noise translations blurred into the visual spectrum.
"My offspring, my god (worship/creator/diety), what have you (singular) done, you (plural) monsters, My offspring is gone, he (gendered male) could have been anything, become so much more, (indiscriminate sorrow)"
"Confusion", Ultra-violets-blue, hex pattern 3 millimeters, "implore" yellow- dark brown gradient, "gone" white pattern flash with blue opposite 1.2 millisecond, "concern-miscommunication" interment soft green undertones.
The human eyes narrow and focus on Kavick, muscular jaw flex, increase of sholder frontal posture, blood flow and heart rate increases. ** pure hate, aggression.
Noise
" Fuck (sexual intercourse) you (singular)"
"Joyous rewards" cascading orange downwards increasing frequency with intensity, "mutual understanding" matching skin tones, soft brown with darker spotting across the pallet, "arousal" engorged flanges around the ocular membrane.
Fast motion, human movement
Kavick displayed great respect with his front three teeth, wiggeling in mirth as his life drained from the stab wound in the upper thalnex.
As the cortex reassembled in the gestation pod,
"Such great humor" this humin had displayed. Kavick resolved to kill its offspring again, maybe this time the human would follow through on its promise of fornication. | 2022-08-13T21:22:08 | 2022-08-13T20:38:57 | 802 | 253 |
[WP] You've been a History teacher for 30 years, never gotten a single fact wrong. One day you become suspicious, surely I should've gone wrong somewhere? You test a theory by purposely being incorrect, suddenly, history rewrites itself. | Ever since I was little I always had an interest in learning about times and lives long past. Luckily for me, I seemed to have been gifted in that area, too.
Long story short my childhood phase of being a huge history buff turned into the lifestyle of a college history professor.
Now, I’m not here to profess my achievements and brag about my life. I’m here because something strange has been happening recently and it’s made me question the framework of reality and everything I’ve ever known.
The thing is, as far as I can remember I can’t recall getting a historical fact wrong. I’ve always either brushed it off or chalked it up to being a diligent worker or no one caring to correct me. However thanks to what happened recently, I know that that isn’t the case.
So, to anyone wondering what happened, I’ll tell it to you now. Originally, I did this to test my students — to see if they were paying attention to the textbook as I read it to them. I looked down at the textbook carefully, then looked up at the sleepy, bored classroom and said, “...,South African human rights activist and president Nelson Mandela died in 2013...”
Now, I know that isn’t true, I’m sure everyone at this point knows that he died in prison in the 1980s. To my surprise and utter shock, when I looked down at the textbook, I caught a glimpse of moving words and read the words that had just come out of my mouth printed neatly on the paper.
Now, while one peculiar thing is nothing unusual, I have been repeatedly testing this phenomenon. I told people that mother Teresa wasn’t declared a saint while alive, told people the wrong lyrics to old songs and deliberately misspelled a bunch of things. And yet, everything I told people appeared to be correct after I said it.
While all this might not be to bad, I have a confession to make, one that I doubt I can be forgiven for. I didn’t know why I said what I said, I should have been more careful, I know I should have. I don’t know why other than that I was just in one of those impulsive moods. I told one of my American history classes that there were 50 states and not 52. And so there were. Two states that I had grown up knowing existed just flat out disappeared. The thing is, I knew people from those places and now I can’t find them.
The world population has gone down by just a bit and that scares me. While not the largest places they still had a hearty 5 million people. 5 million people that just disappeared one day and whose disappearances I’m probably, no definitely responsible for. What scares me most though, is what happened to them. From everything I used to know about life and the universe, people don’t just disappear.
r/a_cgi_for_writing | "9/11 never happened!"
I said that out loud in my class, and things went so silent I could hear a pin drop. I'm a virtuoso, a perfectionist. I'm a master at my craft. I wield my mind like a master swordsman, my historic knowledge knowing no limit. Lately, it has been cause for distress. I've sat up late for many nights on end, reassessing things. Why was I never wrong? Ever? I was never wrong, and it hurt me. So I became obsessed, with the prospect of being wrong, being incorrect for the first time in thirty years. Culminating in this little outburst.
I dismissed class early that day, and called in sick so I could avoid whatever repercussions for my actions. I sounded like one of those deniers, those tinfoil wearing conspiracy theorists. It was weird, it was like a daze. I didn't know whether what I said was even real. Perhaps I was going senile, or crazy, or maybe both.
I went to bed that night, mulling over the jumbled thoughts in my brain. Why wasn't I wrong, why wasn't I wrong, why wasn't I wrong, why, why, why, why, why
I woke up the next day, went to the computer, and typed in the following:
"September 11, 2001 World Trade Center Attacks."
Nothing. I was a denier a denier a denier a denier what has happened to me what what what what I'm breaking it up.
Nothing, no, no.
World War II never happened! World War I never happened!
I frantically search through my archives the records oh what war what conflict? Um. No, none of this happens, I can change history I can undo it all, I am the omnipotent master of all your history that's my purpose my place my place my place what place
I went back to bed in a delirium. This knowledge in my head was fit to make it burst. I needed help, fast.
.......am I insane? Who am I? What am I?
Oh, what a weird fever dream.
Dream, dreams dreams dreams why do I know so damn much
Do you know who killed
Do you know or maybe you know or maybe you know or maybe you know or maybe you
————————————————————
r/bluelizardK
Good night everybody. Thank you for taking the time to read my work, regardless of its obvious inferiority to the above works. It means a lot to me. The more I look at my writing, the worse I feel about it. I suppose that’s just the way it goes :) | 2018-07-16T11:08:56 | 2018-07-16T10:55:39 | 375 | 159 |
[WP] The first generation of wizards inherits from their parents’ professions. For example, a child of a chef and a swimmer wields fire and water spells. You possess something interesting. | Looking back, I wonder if it had been my powers causing me to be such a problem child. I could never sit still. I always had to be pushing forward.
School was a nightmare because of that. They had us sitting in the same class over and over everyday, retreading the knowledge of those who came before us, but always at such a slow and boring pace. By grade 5 I had enough and took matters into my own hands. We would be given topics in class, and I would march to the library and dig deeper into everything. The next day I'd have everything I needed on the subject, correcting my teachers on all their mistakes, and covering the remainder of the lesson plan as quickly as I could.
Now that I think about it, it was probably more of a nightmare for my teachers. Imagine a 10 year old constantly interrupting class to tell you how wrong you were and proceed to demonstrate that he already knew all the material you were gonna teach, and then some. None of the other kids seemed interested back then, but I didn't care.
I was transferred into middle school a month later.
In my short years in middle and high school, I started to garner media attention. As I hit walls in what humanity already knew, I still had to push, further evolving our understanding. The fervor that drove me just kept growing as I learned more and more, but I couldn't be sated. Thankfully, my time would come.
A couple years after I hit headlines, other kids began hitting headlines too. They had all been exhibiting weird quirks that didn't quite have any explanation, and people were starting to realize it wasn't just that "my little child is so precious and special." It was a worldwide phenomenon.
We were the first. A new generation of magic. And a brand new topic for me to explore.
I began researching the phenomenon, interviewing those my age, seeing what powers they had, when they began showing. There had to be some kind of commonality between us. But despite all my theories, I couldn't find any sort of pattern. But it didn't feel random either. I just had to dig deeper.
At the age of 20, I stumbled upon a breakthrough. Half of the people I was working with just suddenly dropped out of college. It was too consistent to not be suspicious, and it was finally a pattern. Everytime I remember the stupefied month I had interviewing everyone I laugh. Such a simple answer. They all said the same thing:
"Well, my powers really help out <parent> with their work, so it just made sense to go straight into that instead of getting a degree."
We were evolving into an age of magic, and all of our powers were linked to the occupations our parents held at the time of our conception. Such an abstract idea, but lo and behold. Guess Lamarck hadn't been completely off base.
But it was clear that things were changing and fast. Children of theologists were starting to exhibit alarming powers, children of farmers were organizing themselves to basically end world hunger in a matter of months, children of doctors and nurses joined armies, and war suddenly became pointless because no one was dying.
But there were other problems too. More chaotic happenings. One boy had developed the ability to create miniature black holes, some children were effectively nuclear reactors. Things were spiraling out of control, and I had ended up at the center of it. Earth itself wouldn't last at this rate.
I knew what had to be done. We had to push forward, dig deeper, evolve.
I gathered those who had the knowledge and the powers to begin the space age. That was two years ago, and now we are ready to begin. Earth has been held together by the children of geologists and biologists, but soon we'll be able to spread out as we please.
The big irony though, is that it wasn't until last week that it occurred to me that I must also be one of the magic users. I was in the right age. I just had never noticed myself exhibiting anything magical enough for me to think that I was one of them. But it was rather simple to realize how I spearheaded this operation once I thought about it.
My mother was a geneticist.
My father was a miner, head of drilling operations.
And I'm the force that pushed humanity to dig deeper and evolve. | My parents dropped me off at the Zen's Foundation of Gifted Children, they said would help me train my latent powers. The building itself looked like a mental institution, at least the ones they showed in the movies. The only reason they sent me there was that the principle of my school had suspected me to force someone to fight for me, even though I told him I'd give my friend ice cream later if he helped me take care of this bully. I shyly walked into the building to find it looking very sterile, a pitch black carpet leading towards the waiting area. I walked towards the receptionist.
"H-h-hello?"
"Hey, what's brought you here today, where are your parents? Can you fill out this paper?"
She gave me one of those multi-page documents that I had a lot of difficulty understanding. I had asked her to help me so I could fill everything in. Though were many interesting things to fill in like if I had used any powers without knowing it.
'What are your parent's professions?' I filled it in and her face went white. It didn't make sense to me at the time, so I was concerned too.
"What's wrong, miss?"
"I don't think we should train you. You might be too dangerous to train. Why don't you call to get your parents?"
As if by destiny, a tall shadowy figure appeared out of nowhere and told her to submit the form. It scared me for a moment.
"We'll have you examined by our local specialists, okay? Help yourself to some water and candy."
"Thank you, miss!"
I ran over to grab some candy, and went to play with the other kids. Though they didn't seem to have their parents with them either, but that didn't really matter to me. Eventually they called on my name, and I came into the examining room. I was met with a tall, scary man, and yet I felt compelled to talk to him.
"So, Quinn, why do you think your parents brought you here?"
"I don't know mister, but you're kinda scaring me."
"Sorry, I'll change into something more suiting."
The man seemed to morph into a childlike form, but you knew something was off about him.
"Now tell me, do you know about the new order of Wizards?"
"No... what your name, mister?"
"That's not important, Quinn, tell me what you know!"
I was trembling by this point out of fear, I felt like my heart was going to explode. Though he seemed to notice my massive discomfort and stopped pressuring me, as if satisfied with my responce.
"Okay good, you're not a Russian spy. Sorry about that, usually we're able to read the minds of those who enter here through the receptionist who we placed here. Though recently, those damned Russians have been attempting to steal information on this program we have here, and they've been sending children as spies and we couldn't seem to detect anything within you. I suppose I owe you my name now. My name is Dr. Xenius, both of my parents were actors."
He stopped briefly and started to shift into what seemed to be his real form.
"Anyways, I suppose I should tell you right now, that you could become one of our most powerful students. Your father being a mortician, and your mother being a psychologist. Probably one of the potent combinations you could have, outside of having writers as your parents."
I was lost for words, I never realized that I had powers, only thinking that they were just natural extensions of myself, and something that everyone could do.
"Now, Quinn. I want you to do something for me to prove that you're able to be my student."
An assistant came out, laying down a dead cat. I retched at the sight and smell. Though oddly I felt that I knew what they wanted me to do.
"Quinn, I want you to bring this cat back to life!"
( sequel coming soon^tm )
| 2018-04-15T14:08:59 | 2018-04-15T13:07:56 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] Every morning when you first look in a mirror, you see a small piece of advise for that day, such as “take the subway to work” or “don’t try the free pizza”. Today, the mirror simply says, “RUN” | For as long as I could remember, the first mirror I saw every morning dictated how I would live my life that day. When the mirror told me to skip school, I skipped school. On that day I avoided the fire that killed three of my classmates. When the mirror told me to avoid cars that day, I walked to school. On that day I avoided a pile-up on my usual route to school. It didn't take me long to realise that if I simply followed what the mirror told me, I'd be okay. Today was different, though. Today there was no clear advice. Today all the mirror said was: RUN. Run from what? From who? And to where? These were questions the mirror did not want to answer today. So I ran. I ran out of my room and then out of the front door. I ran down the street, and I didn't stop running. For miles, I didn't stop running. Even when I could feel my heart pummelling against my chest as if it were trying to escape; even when my lungs ached and every breath felt like torture. I don't know how long I ran for. Eventually I began to slow, powerless to battle the sheer exhaustion caused by my impromptu morning marathon. I turned back to look down the road I'd been running down and was met with a sight that made my blood run cold. Above the skyline of my city was the silhouette of what appeared to be a large passenger plane. I squinted at it against the low morning sun and noted that, curiously, it had no window. Odd. At that moment, something dropped from the plane. I didn't have time to process what this object was before it was hurtling towards the skyline of the city, and before I knew it the space around me was aglow, as if I was seeing things through orange-tinted glasses. That's when the realisation struck. My breath caught in my throat and I stood utterly still as I looked down upon my city. My city that was now on fire.
&#x200B;
\[This is my first time trying to write creatively again for about 3 years, so criticism is welcome! I'm trying to improve :)\] | I stared into the mirror, and the scarlet letters stared back at me. Then I bolted.
I ran, not knowing where I was going, not caring my stubby out of shape legs searing in pain. I tore through the streets in a maniacal frenzy, mind racing faster than my body was. What was coming? What would it do to me? What if I don't run fast enough? No - run, just run!
A car screeched, it lost control, barrelling towards me, crashed behind me, missed me by seconds. I ran on, faster than ever, the screams and smoke fading behind me. Tears stung my eyes, I was crying - what more was there to come?
I ran, I kept running, eventually my legs could carry me no more. They buckled and I collapsed, a heaving mess on the road. I can't - I could no more. Whatever happens to me next, I thought, I don't care anymore.
Nothing happened.
Nothing. I mean, a few people looked at me as they passed by, some threw coins at me, but that was all. When I caught my breath, I started to think I may have escaped the worst. Maybe all that running did the trick? Do I dare to return home? Tentatively, I made my journey back home.
I made it back in fifteen minutes, still glancing over my back like someone was about to attack me anytime soon. Still, nothing happened, and I looked into the mirror standing in my hall. The big red letters were gone now, replacing them was a message:
"Finally you went for the first exercise in years. Got sick of staring at your fat ass everyday, taking that free pizza even when I told you not to."
I stared it for a whole minute. "Fuck you," I spat back.
"Well, if it motivates you to slim down..."
And that, kids, was how I met your mother. | 2020-06-08T01:01:57 | 2020-06-08T00:26:27 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] Everyone has a superpower based on the topography of where they were born (IE: Mountains, deserts, etc.). You are the first person to be born in space.
Think Avatar the Last Airbender but not so limited.
Edit: Wow this really blew up! I'm gonna be entertained for a while! | Every child is born with a power, they have been since the dawn of man. Each human possesses a latent ability based on where they were born. For example, if you were born on a mountain, chances are you can run faster, train harder and break the limits of the normal human body, blessed by the gods. If you were born at sea, you’ll likely be a great swimmer, your strokes made in natures image, a dolphin amongst the waves. You might be born on a plane, that will get you the air-headed trait, not all powers are positive after all.
Less common are powers that allow for a physical manifestation separate from the wielder. The ancient stories tell tall tales of great beings that could shape the earth, grind mountains to dust, part seas, raise themselves from the dead or bring fertility to barren lands. Those days are long gone.
Physical manifestations in the modern age are limited, Gaia’s energy spread thin amongst the holders following the explosion of human population. That’s not to say that powers aren’t still useful of course. Our power stations are fuelled by those born near Volcanos, their ability to manifest energy a lifesaver considering the twenty billion souls that need their lights kept on. Those born in the fields still have the touch of Demeter, able to accelerate food growth to keep us fed through the industrial age. Our skies grow dark, our forests thin, our waters polluted, but we survive.
Now we come to me. I have a rather unusual power, with an even more unusual background. You see, I was the first, and only, child born in space. It was an accident of course, astronauts can’t help but experiment and in zero gravity you never can quite tell where liquids will end up once you’ve given them momentum. Enough of the nasty deed and on to my quite wonderful power. As you can imagine, with me being the only space-born human I have inherited the strength of the cosmos. Born into nothing, I do not have powers of creation, but destruction. A less able-minded person might do something incredibly silly, fancy trying to take over the world? I didn’t think so. No, I have far grander goals. You see, my power of destruction can be manifested, split and maintained without conscious thought. I can draw in matter and compress it, crushing it, breaking it’s form. Can you see where I’m going with this?
Twenty billion souls populate this planet, and all of them produce waste. All of them need to clean their homes, their cars, their clothes. My dream is a world devoid of filth, the seas sparkling, the rivers running clear and crisp, the birds able to sing again without coughing through smog. People’s homes free from dust and despair, their carpets fresh and their hair dried without heat damage. I intend to make my vision a reality. Move over Dyson, your days are done. | Right eye, left eye...right eye, left eye. Who ever said having these powers was a gift? I can't remember how long it's been, or even how old I am. The feeling of weightlessness, the lack of substance both metaphorically and physically. When was the last time I heard someone speak, when was the last time I felt another human's touch?...
Right eye, left eye... just a bit further now...Right eye, left eye... if I can just hold on for a few more days, I might make it back home. I can see the familiar blue glow from here, how many years had it been? It's difficult to keep track when you don't age, when you don't breath.
They said I was special, born in space with no earthly restrictions to hold me back. My body recycles hydrogen and light, it doesn't need air or food. Don't ask me how it works, I don't get hungry or thirsty. I don't even cast a shadow. Right eye... that day they sent me back up, how old was I? 18 or 19? couldn't have been much older than that. I had no idea at the time, no clue that these powers would manifest as soon as I left the atmosphere. Those poor bastards in the shuttle with me, no time to react...it was over as quick as that, left eye...
One blink, that's all it took. It all started with something as small and insignificant as that, first I was calling out system checks, the next...I was in pieces, scattered amongst the stars...I don't even know how I was still conscious, but I was. Right eye... then I started to materialise, piece by piece until I was whole again. Another blink, another galaxy, what was happening to me? it seemed that with each simultaneous blink I was jumping into a new reality, tearing myself apart and reassembling somewhere empty, somewhere cold, left eye...
It has all been a blur, I haven't seen home in a long time,right eye...it took me even longer to find my way back, I'm still surprised I have, left eye....
As the days pass it gets closer, I can almost make out the continents now, right eye....just a little longer and I'll be home, left eye....
I just need to get through the atmosphere and everything will be OK...
Not long to go now, I need to be strong, one eye after the other. Just don't think about it.
Don't think about...don't...*blink* | 2017-04-14T17:13:33 | 2017-04-14T16:02:38 | 383 | 175 |
[WP] Humanity was never supposed to find that cursed substance. The substance that killed over half of the galaxy at one point, yet everyone drinks coffee every day, multiple times a day! | \[Something short and silly for a Saturday!\]
**Of Black Coffee and Ghost Peppers**
"It's a no-go," the security chief was wavering somewhere between shock and rage. "They have *caffeine*."
"It's natural, the planet's rife with it," the diplomat countered, trying to keep its emotions in check. Its life's work was to bring this new sentience into consideration for unification. The alkaloid wars were centuries ago-- it couldn't fail over this.
"But they cultivate it," snapped the chief, flipping through the details of the military's planetary assessment. "They actively harvest and condense it. That's a violation of a half dozen laws, not to mention the rules of war. We can't establish contact with anything so barbaric!"
"For food! They use it for food."
"...*what*."
"They can handle excessively high doses, it's just a harmless stimulant." The diplomat brought up image after image of lethal food and drink consumption with the levels superimposed. "Enough of it will kill them, but it's not weaponized. If they fight, it's with physical weapons and rarely chemical and they don't consider it a viable chemical."
There was a long pause and then the chief asked the one question the diplomat had been hoping to avoid.
"Just how many other galactically banned chemicals do they eat?!" | Poison. Toxin. A blight on the galaxy. Thousands of names have evolved over the galaxy over the controversial coffee bean, but none as disgusting as the one found on Earth.
Joe. They call it a cup of Joe! Besides an endearing, human name, coffee has infiltrated every part of life culture on that human planet. Not only does humanity not realise the danger they are in, they treat it like some sort of sacred substance, essential for their well-being and day-to-day life.
But no longer. No longer will I sit idly by, and watch wretched coffee continue to wreak havoc on the system. It took my family. It took my world. Then, I escaped the burning wreckage of my home planet, along with the seeds of that destructive plant. It survived the vacuum of space, and continued to decimate anything it touches.
It should have gone up in flames, just like my entire life, but its resilience proved too much. Now, it's my life's mission to eradicate the parasitic drug from every world I encounter, less Earth and its creatures find themselves drained entirely dry in coffee's wanton path of ruination.
---
r/dexdrafts | 2020-06-20T10:09:46 | 2020-06-20T09:00:12 | 422 | 80 |
[WP] For years Earth cried out to an empty cosmos, searching the stars for echoes of life. From the middle of nowhere, a reply finally comes: "Shut up, and Play Dead!"
I really struggled with the choice between "For Years", "For Decades", "For Centuries", and "For Millenia". I tapped out. Take whatever timeline you will.
This may or may not be an attempt to add cosmic significance to Red Green's "Quando Omni Flunkus Moritati".
Good Luck!
Edit: There are a LOT of good submissions here, thank you all so much! Speaking of excellent submissions, I'd like to plug u/Mrcreation for doing some very well written, lengthy work near the bottom of the thread. Scroll down and check out his multipost entry!
Edit 2: I just finished the first two books of the Three Body Problem, by Liu Cixin. Mind=Blown. A part of the series definitely shares similar themes to this prompt, but there is so much more! I highly reccomend it. | Shut up and and play dead.
After that there was nothing.
An increasing amount of nothing.
Felt something like a cloud drifted in front of the sun.
The static that was always there just became a little less when one turned the eye.
Michael Gruppman of the SETI research facility said it was like being underwater. Even the most vibrant stars in the sky dimmed.
One man said to his beer, that's like having to fuck with a rubber on, no matter how hard you go you can't just get there. He looked inside his empty glass. Wallet? Enough to buy one more, no worries yet.
Another old man said it was like growing old. The water in the shower becomes colder with time and turning it up won't cut it anymore.
It took 50 years for the Dim to spread.
As it got too the sun, It got us too. Trees yearned for more sun, reaching but not getting. In the emptiness we tried to expand, building sun collectors to catch what sun came to us and use it more effectively.
Spread thin, like too little butter on toast, we couldn't cover it anymore.
Communication got worse and isolated humanity.
Signals seemed to be stuck in mud, only the most powerfull of signals could still reach, but with a large delay.
I distinctly remember how everything lost its tinge. Like my memories seemed so much more colored than what there was now. Grey... like the trees and the buildings and the people grey.
My hair grey. My heart not beating as hard. Sort of vague.
As the stars dim and the shine withers away.
I am here. Being.
I'm the Destroyer of Worlds and I will be devouring you.
The whole of you.
A pair of hands and tasting tongue made their way.
i didn't move as my hands were tied.
| Not sure if any of it makes sense grammatically or otherwise.
The message arrived in binary. Few even tried to understand how 'they' had managed this but they had and now they had sent their cryptic code.
'shut up and play dead'
If only the greats of astronomy had been there when the message was decoded in the labs that day: could Galileo ever have possibly imagined that he had guided humanity towards this absurd moment; could Copernicus have fathomed that hundreds of years of exploration of the concept of space could amount to the instructions given a pet?
'shut up and play dead'
Transmission of a message into space is not a simple matter. To ensure a cohesive, coherent message arrives at the intended destination, the message must be repeated countless times and amplified so as to project over vast distances which can cause a degree of 'echo' that must be corrected for at the receiver's end. These technicalities meant that our first words received presumably from another sentient species weren't
'shut up and play dead'
they were
'shut up shut up ut up up up shut shut shut up up shut shut ut up and play play and play and play and play and play play dead dead dead dea dead dea de dea dead'
This transmission was received over the space of roughly a week as cosmic echo had dispersed the emission frequency so it was with understandable relief that researchers received the second half of the message beginning with 'and.'
Still the message seemed to confirm what many humans suspected for a very long time - that what humanity stood for was loud, abrasive, piercing yells into what was presumed empty space until those occupying that space could no longer pretend we didn't exist.
Edit; Grammar
| 2016-03-27T08:53:09 | 2016-03-27T08:43:42 | 22 | 14 |
[WP] You've obtained a wonderful pen, everything you draw appears in front of you without fail. Need a stool? Draw one! You're too stubborn to give the pen to anyone else. This infuriates the public because you have absolutely no art skill. | Consider the existence of the pen, I have been instructed, by Mr. D., the original owner, not to disclose its location or under any circumstances to use the accursed item. Despite its volatile nature, we have decided not to destroy it, for fear of unforeseeable consequences. In this writing I will describe, not of the actual damage it has caused, that information belongs to the D. estate alone, but only of the danger it could have posed. Consider the following propositions:
&#x200B;
1. At the date of its acquisition Mr. D had, or had attempted to, produced a stool. The painting, to everyone's surprise, took shape in reality and, as a result of his subpar artistic ability, became an object of ridicule. It prompted the question of why, evident by the reaction of all involved, had the painting manifested a stool and not, say, a crown, an object the owner's niece claimed to have seen. The hypothesis given was that the painting took shape based on the perception of, assumedly, those present, in which case the prevailing perception wins out, or of the artist himself, which we will disapprove accordingly.
2. In another experiment, Mr. D, confined in his chamber, has painstakingly recolored, line by line, the image of a car. The car materialized, as expected, and had been used to drive around the estate. However, as Mr. D was no mechanic, he did not know every detail of the car, which also means in his own perception he could not imagine how the car's engine looked, worked and felt like. Two possibilities present themselves: either the car comes with a runnable engine of its own, or when its engine is inspected, it would take the superficial shape Mr. D had viewed upon on television, that is, a mess of machine and pipes connecting to nowhere and as such the car could not operate under any logic. History deduced that the first possibility was the correct one. Since Mr. D alone was the only one to draw, and see, the painting when it was still fiction, it can be said that the object is a product of perception, perception not of a group of man but the collective human whole, or the collective self-aware consciousness. This is, in my understanding, being an hypothesis that could not be proven or disproven, a horrible solution. However, I failed to propose a better one.
With these two propositions, the estate has decided the pen forbidden to be used by any hand. Here are two of the reasons, which we have seen as sufficient to represent our case:
&#x200B;
1. An abstract painting holds within it infinite possibilities and thus infinite danger. Objects undefined in reality could hold more physical attributes than they should, and while this problem, addressed by oppositions as nonsensical in the hand of a realist painter, let's not forget the common, ever-present abstraction of human civilization: language. As every letter has no real-world counterpart, the artist would be forbidden to make a semblance of letter everywhere.
2. The pen could produce real objects out of painting, meaning that it could turn a two dimensional object into a three dimensional one. Going by the same logic, the pen could also turn an one dimensional object into a two dimensional and one and from there into reality. As every three dimensional object, when collapses into one dimensional, becomes either a line or a dot, even a droplet of ink oozing out of the devilish tip could become infinite items overlapping one another, a universe created from the most careless dripping. | In my hands is a poorly made sword, nearly resembling the historical crusader sword. The pen is in an equally made box, a rather indestructible box at that. The box itself had endured a barrage of sword strikes and a crude dynamite explosion. "No one can get to it, but I can access it."
A week later, the box has evolved into a chest that actually looks like a chest for once. A large padlock locks the chest, the key on a necklace around my neck. I've been taking a few art classes to make my creations more easy on the eyes.
Now a month. Somehow word got out that I have a pen that can create virtually anything. The crowd is on the other side of the trench I've built, something that I knew would come in handy someday. The tool that did majority of the digging is erased. The sword that I created earlier? Now a pair of quality made Gladius.
A few signs says 'PEN NOT MIGHTY' and 'GIVE THE PEN TO REAL ARTIST'. Sighing, I quickly drew a simple water balloon. Catching it in air, I cocked my arm and threw it towards the crowd. Bullseye to a sign about making the pen useful to the people.
Making a rather rushed catapult, I filled it with more ammunition of water balloons. Launching the buckshot of water balloons at the crowd, I spot a few men jumping into the trench and creating a bridge of sorts. Soon more people contribute to the bridge and the crowd is coming towards my fortress of a house.
Closing the gate and locking it, I walk backwards. The roar of the crowd belonging to those of a riot. The thundering boom of the wall being hit sounds out terribly to my ears, I made them to withstand a few sticks of dynamite but didn't expect people to ram themselves into the walls. The walls rocks back and forth, rocking harder as the ramming begins to become rhythmic. They're using physics to break down my walls!
Quickly thinking, I created a pair of ear headphones and a pair of speakers. Finishing off the electric guitar, I quickly plugged it in and just as the walls collapsed I struck a cord. Numerous people fall to the ground, covering their ears from the loud music. Striking another cord, I begin to play Tetris.
Slinging the guitar around me, I begin to create more speakers before continuing the song. A pair of hands grips me with surprise, lifting and throwing me into the ground. Groaning in pain, they picked me up and threw me again. Getting up, I see that it's a ripped young woman glaring at me. "Give me the pen." She demanded, holding out her hand.
Scribbling a pair of gauntlet, I slip then on just as she charged me. With the pen now safely stored in my jacket, I took a fighting stance from Kungfu Tum pai. She recovered and took her stance. Rapid footsteps distracted me, making me look where it's coming from. A young woman about my height is charging at me, forcing to to dodge and get socked in the face by the strong women.
[Due to lack of any idea of where I'm going, I'll leave this here for anyone to continue should you choose to continue this.] | 2020-09-03T22:33:15 | 2020-09-03T21:59:10 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] Suddenly, everyone’s life is worth 100,000 USD. Kill someone, and $100,000 is instantly deposited into your bank account, no questions asked. But, your life is now worth $200,000. | The slot sound ends with a ding. “Congratulations on your latest kill. $400,000 has now been added to your primary bank account. The commision for population control would like to thank you for fulfilling your latest bounty.”
My electronic watch switches off.
Another $400,00 in the bank, but that one took way too many bullets. Now-a-days bullets aren’t cheap, and when you have this price on your head, everyone will make you pay. Civilization has collapsed, no one trusts anyone, and what's worse, you can’t even find a decent place to sleep around here anymore.
For years they screamed that we needed to change our ways, but nobody listened. Then the world fell into chaos. There wasn’t enough food to go around, the climate was in disarray, something had to happen; and when people panic bad decisions get made.
Now there’s too much land. Too much empty space where you have to watch your back. Lonely travelers everywhere, every one of them looking to make a quick hundred grand. The weak died first, you thought they would have ended it there, people in a frenzy hoping to get rich quick. But those with any sense aren’t left, so the bounty goes on. I don’t feel bad though, everyone left has killed someone, most of them innocent weak people.
What’s it worth anyway? Prices skyrocketed. If someone’s gonna sell anything, it has to be worth their while.
Squeak
There’s much debris on the highway in front of me. The plants have overtaken the road.
My surroundings are quiet. There’s something out there, moving just beyond the trees; on both sides of the abandoned highway. Do I get out and clear the road, or do I double back? I guess I could double back to 170 and take it to 65. As I switch my truck into reverse.
POP
Out goes my front right tire, deflating to the ground. Just what I thought, I’ve stumbled into someone’s net. Though one-on-one is fine odds. I slide to my passenger side door, crack it open and rest my rifle on my front windshield, left hand flinging a flash over my head into the brush across from me.
POP
A stinging sensation grabs my left leg from behind; fuck I’m surrounded. I pull myself back into my truck, closing the door behind me as bullets paint the exterior of my car. I lay stretched across my front bench as pieces fall from my depleting cover, bullet rounds penetrating deeper within. The warm blood covering my numb leg. All I can do is imagine what they’re gonna do with this 27 million. | I fought for this right. We all did. Until we saw what It can do to us. We had no choice. Overpopulation was a problem long before I was born. Earth was figuring out diffrent ways to kill us. New disaters, new sicknesess and everyone's life, precious. So we decided to make the choice ourselves. First, we started with the criminals. And than we became the criminals. After that first kill, you know, there is nothing like it. The power over another's life... for a moment you are god, and you know there will not be anything anymore that can stop you. No need for guilt, or remorse. Instead, a reward. But they tricked us you see, they never said it would be like this. That I would be this searched and in need to be hiding here. They never said they would double the price for murderers.
And may I know, how much is your worth Grampapa?
My dear boy, why do you want to execute me yourself?
You've never taken anything seriously. I just need to know how many? And anyway How long do you plan on staying here. I hope you have a plan. I can't countinue to hide you forever. If father finds out, he will tell the authorities. And trust me, they aren't better here on Mars. In fact, they are much worse.
I will go Mark, as soon as the dust settles. I'm sorry for the trouble I have caused you. It's not because I wanted to. The choices I've made. I don't believe anymore that anyone of us makes their own choices. How can we, with our limited world view. We can just smile and nod along the way, or act miserably and rebel at it all. Either way, it comes down to you being unrecognizable to your self during the end.
Where will you go?
I don't think I should tell you for your own good. I'm meeting up with an old friend.
I'm sorry too. I didn't mean to sound harsh. It's just I am worried about you. I wish I could be able to do something.
It's ok son you did the best you could.
*Sorry for my English. I'm not a native speaker. | 2020-01-31T18:37:15 | 2020-01-31T18:35:39 | 62 | 10 |
[WP] Overnight, 99.9% of humans are rendered unable to tell lies. You, being part of the .1%, have avoided the ruthless persecution that liars faced in the wake of this event... so far. | "DRINK, DRINK, DRINK!" I chugged the last of my beer to the sound of raucous laughter and applause. Normally I wouldn't be comfortable with so much attention, but Meg was watching, and I wanted to impress. But as I caught my breath, I remembered my rules. Keep it discreet, keep it honest. Those are the rules for someone with my condition, for someone who has to remember to be honest. The rules keep me alive, off the news, out of the work camps. Meg was coming my way. Keep it discreet, keep it honest. She looked so good in that skirt. "That was a lot of beer," she said. I wasn't sure if she was impressed or making fun of me. Maybe both. "Yeah, well, it wasn't *that* much beer." Her eyebrows rose a little. "For an Alpha Mu!" I caught myself. "I've seen brothers kill that much in half the time." Meg relaxed. "I haven't, but that must be something to see. My friends are playing rage cage, wanna join?" A simple yes-or-no question. "Sure!" The less talking the better. That last beer had dulled my senses and I needed to check myself. Meg grabbed my hand and pulled me to a nearby table with solo cups and ping pong balls.
"Who's ready to rage?" One of Meg's female friends cheered. Just like that, the cups were filled, consumed, and placed as targets for the ping pong balls. Meg's friends were adept at this game, and had no trouble stacking my cup over and over again, causing me to drink more and more. Before long I was having trouble standing. "I think I should take a break" I slurred. Meg put her hand on my shoulder. "Are you feeling alright?" Without thinking, I answered, "Yeah, I'm fine, really." Everyone froze. A ping pong ball bounced to the floor. Meg took her hand off me. "What did you just say?" Everyone was looking. I was too drunk, I forgot the rules. I needed to say something, anything. "I mean, I'm damn fine, I look *good*. You wanna dance?" No one else was dancing, what a stupid thing say. They were still looking at me uncertainly. Meg broke the silence. "Wow, I think you do need a break. Grabbing my hand, she pulled me away. Shapes and sounds blurred. Meg had my hand while I stumbled through the crowd, then we were outside, sitting on a bench. Meg looked extremely concerned. "OK I like you, but you need to be more careful. That's twice in the last half hour you almost fucked up." I felt like I was going to puke. "What are you talking about?" Meg squeezed my hand. "I know what you are. And for the record, I have seen an Alpha Mu kill a beer in half your time." I bent over and puked. | Most of us didn't last long.
A close friend of mine was killed, for cheating on his wife, simply because he was able to lie.
I, however, have done pretty well. My entire identity was based on a lie before the night that truth became a necessity for most.
It was funny for me actually, the woman I was talking to stopped mid-sentence as she described her career as a pro bono lawyer, unemployed and planning to poison a wealthy bachelor was more accurate.
However, as a professional con-man, my career changed drastically.
It used to be that identities could be crafted and then thrown away within a few hours. Now, you have the bonus that everyone trusts you, but logical inconsistencies become very difficult to manage when you have such an extensive and realistic alias.
I learned this the hard way. All that I can say in hindsight is "thank God for plastic surgery," my face was everywhere within minutes, as the most advanced Ponzi scheme ever suddenly collapsed.
Everyone I know now is unable to tell a lie, not in writing, not in speech, it is impossible for them.
At the moment you're talking to Micheal Bergerson. My colleagues all talk to a Tom Andrews. Tom Andrews, is an executive at a major tech company by day, by night he is an expert in emptying pockets and crafting debts for the
mob.
Oh, and he also empties the bank accounts of that tech company and hands off its research to a J. S. Spencer, who just so happens to be a mathematician, or rather, pretending to be a mathematician. He actually uses the AI technology given by Tom Andrews to automatically generate proofs for mathematical problems, notably those with large cash prizes.
Micheal Bergerson isn't the name that I was born with either, but my birth identity is both officially and metaphorically deceased.
Over the years I've gained an excellent ability to read people, I can tell what you think. Yet, you seem to be writing different things in that notebook of yours. Hell, I know for a fact that you prescribed stimulants to someone who definitely did not have ADHD, and you know that too.
It's funny, I'm a stimulation seeker and, currently, I'm taking a huge risk.
Telling the truth.
It's exciting beyond anything.
Will you, the dirty psychiatrist abide by confidentiality and a sense of duty to your fellow liar, or will I find myself dead by tomorrow morning?
*Dead?*
Probably, anything that you spill would be inadmissible in court because of confidentiality. So in between righteous vigilantes, and my friends in the mob, who wouldn't appreciate being outed.
Death would be a likely result.
So, I have to ask you to tell the truth.
**Will you do?** | 2018-02-16T09:29:32 | 2018-02-16T09:16:43 | 135 | 19 |
[WP] Everyone has powers locked within them. Each power is different, and the longer it takes for a power to manifest, the greater it is. A 100 year old man is being hunted by the government for still being powerless.
EDIT: Thanks for all the replies everyone, I had fun reading all of them. | Agent Powell scrutinized the group closely. Every wrinkle, sunspot, and greyed hair in perfect detail. Yet again, he regretted that his only power was good eyesight, just a bump above 20/20 vision. As with nearly all early bloomers, no one had even noticed when his "ability" had manifested at age six.
"John is on the run," Powell told them. No one needed an explanation of who "John" was. Everyone knew him. Age 101, and *still* no powers, a new world record by a long shot. The previous record for latest manifestation had been a Thai man at age 81, and his earth-moving abilities were so strong that they'd had to quarantine him on St. Helena where he couldn't do any harm to others. His first earthquake had practically leveled Bangkok. John's powers would be unprecedented; magnitudes more powerful. And the whole world was waiting to see what they were. "We've been tasked with bringing him back." One of the men in the audience snorted. "Something to say, Mr. Wiretz?" Agent Powell asked.
He raised himself out of his chair to a standing position, though his legs no longer worked. He instead moved using his telekenetic abilities, and hovered a few inches from the floor. He'd manifested at age 66. "Yeah, I do have something to say." Though most of Wiretz' body was broken and useless, his tongue was still *perfectly* capable of tearing a man down. "How did you incompetent a-holes manage to *lose* a *powerless* hundred year old man?? Was his *hoveround* too fast for your agents to catch? Come on!"
Agent Powell sighed. There wasn't an easy answer to this part. No one knew exactly how he'd gotten out. "The running theory is that members of the Church of John helped him escape his house without our agents knowing it. They may have a teleporter adherent that we don't know about, who could have worked with their electropath to disable the security systems and surveillance equipment." The Church of John had been a thorn in Powell's side for as long as he'd been assigned to John's security detail. They were a bunch of nutjobs who unfortunately also possessed some amazing late-bloomer abilities. They revered John as the second coming of God himself, and believed that when his powers *did* manifest, he would be completely omnipotent. And it was a rapidly growing cult that tended to attract the most powerful late bloomers that even the government was unable to harness.
"Any leads on where he went?" Ms. Winset asked. She dressed like she was going to church every Sunday in her finest dress and jewelry, and staggered around with the support of an ornate cane. Powell just thought it made her look like she was going to a funeral, and she'd disliked him ever since she'd heard that thought. She was the most powerful telepath in the world and no one could ever hide thoughts from her.
"No, no leads yet," Powell said. "And we need to find him quickly. The longer he's out there, the more the Church of John will be able to cover their tracks."
"Here's a question," Mr. White chimed in. Before positing the question, Agent Powell's pants were suddenly on the floor, and Mr. White was having himself a hearty laugh that ended up turning into a sickly cough. Powell plastered a grin on his face and re-did his belt. White always did the exact same prank, and as far as Powell could tell, pulling people's pants down was about 50% of how he used his time-pausing abilities. It had started to get a bit old. "This John guy," White asked after he managed to stop laughing, "what does *he* want? Does he want to be with this church? Does he want to work for you all?"
"He has a contract to serve as a government agent," Powell said. It wasn't exactly an answer of what John *wanted*, but he had formally agreed to serve. It was a pretty standard offer from the government given to everyone over 50 who still had not manifested, and included a pretty hefty signing bonus as well as financial support for the person's descendants. But John was... something different. If he didn't want to serve, there's probably no way that anyone could make him do otherwise. Once his powers manifested, no one could *make him* do *anything*.
Powell looked back at the audience, and was momentarily startled to see John's smiling face, sitting right in front of him. His heart hammered, and then he rolled his eyes as Ms. Lewis shape-shifted back into her normal form. Unlike the other geezers in the group, she was a 20 year old blond with perky breasts and a gorgeous smile. At least, that's the form that she always chose. Powell didn't *actually* know what she really looked like. "Well let's go, then," Ms. Lewis said in her most sultry, sexy voice. She then changed into a mirror image of Powell's boss, FBI director Erikson. "Where to next, Agent?"
[I posted another part below](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3q9xcu/wp_everyone_has_powers_locked_within_them_each/cwdq1o7)
| I held the hand of the little wizened man in front of me as his breathing laboured; each rattling wheeze making me feel sure that this was his last. A long pause made me feel out again with my mind, testing to see if he was slipping away, but I could feel the cold steel of his thoughts locked away, he was still very much alive.
Looking down on his lined and drawn face, it was hard to believe that he had been the most wanted man for nearly thirty years; the only human to have never developed a power, he'd terrified those in power, his potential was too worrying to conceive.
I'd only worked on the case for a few months before he walked into this hospital, St Ignacious in lower Manhatten and calmly informed the nurse at the desk that he needed some medical care and she might like to call a policeman, as he was sure someone would be looking for him.
I was being called a hero, but that wasn't fair, I'd done nothing, just fly down and make his arrest official, he'd never have been caught otherwise. When the word finally got out that he was a dud I assumed things would change, but for now I enjoyed the notoriety it was giving me, even if it wouldn't last.
In the psy-reading division we were all fairly equal and so I didn't bother to call in someone else to confirm. I'd read his mind, he wasn't lying, wasn't hiding his power, it just didn't exist. For the first time in nearly two hundred years a human had been born and lived a hundred years without developing a power and now, here in this hospital, he was dying.
I'd grown fond of him. We were stuck here together he and I and he'd told me of his life, running from place to place, always one step ahead. Most folk didn't care that he was powerless, many folk hadn't a useful power and so he was accepted, only occasionally being outed and forced to run again. that was when we'd heard of him, just a dozen reports in nearly a hundred years and never anywhere close to catching him.
He'd heard that powers are stronger the later they developed, but he didn't care, he just wanted to live his life and be normal and now that I knew him, I was glad that he had. For most people puberty brought something new, a change and a power, but for him, he had been happy with what he had, a normal life. He'd heard that developing a power later would make it strong, or more dangerous, but it had never come and he'd never cared to try to find it. He was happy.
His last breaths were coming now, rattling, slow and painful. I looked again and felt his mind begin to unwrap, all those memories slipping into nothing, it was terrifying to watch a brain die, but for this one, I had to be sure.
At last, finally, there was nothing and I began to withdraw, when I saw one last spark, in a far corner and examined it more closely. It was a memory of him as a boy, on a summer day, in the rain. He'd held it close, examining it many times and now it was all that was left of him and so I withdrew to let him live it one last time.
I flexed my hand and tried to let go, but his fingers were stiff around mine and didn't release. With growing panic I tried to force them, but they stayed, holding me tight.
*raindrops*
It was warm, too warm for this place. It was summer and I was a boy. What was wrong? This wasn't supposed to be happening. My hand felt like it was frozen, impossible to move. I looked down and was shocked to see that it was my hand that was white and his that was pink.
His eyes opened and i eached out again and all at once I felt a rush as all his memories returned at once. This wasn't right, it wasn't possible.
*a warm day and it's raining. i'm laughing at the rain and it's soaking my through*
I looked down and his fingers pull away from mine. His hand is pink and young, mine old and wrinkled. I suck at breath, but it comes only painfully and with a rattle. This bed is hard and uncomfortable and I am tired, I just want to close my eyes and go. Something is calling me and I am being drawn away, it's taking me against my will, but I can't stop it.
He stands, looks at his hands and steps backwards. there is confusion on his face, but it's not his face. I try to use my voice, but it's wrong and is only a croak, still he seems shocked to hear it. He turns and hesitantly walks from the room, looking back just once before he is gone.
I am fading away, everything is leaving now and all I can hear is raindrops; raindrops on a summer day. | 2015-10-26T08:04:25 | 2015-10-26T08:04:09 | 686 | 147 |
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy? | "Hello World" I said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And I stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
I thought maybe they were pranking me. Coming out of the waiting room wasn't a momentous event. And while I thought the line was a good one, it didn't warrant this level of cheer.
"Ok, I give up, what's the joke?" I asked.
They looked around, bewildered. "What do you mean?" The frizzy haired lady adjusted her glasses at me. "Mr. Smith, what do you remember?"
I could feel my forehead wrinkle. "Well, I came here for the experiment, and signed the papers, and got my check. And then I filled out that questionaire, and then you guys had me wait for a while."
"And then?"
"Well I sat and thought about what I'd say, and decided to test it out when I came through."
"And then?"
"And then?" I repeated, looking around. "Well then I came through the door and tested out what is say."
The mood dampened.
"Amazing." Frizzy said. "It seems that he has lost about two minutes, which is consistent with your theory, Lloyd, and disproves mine. Long term, and working memory are intact but short term was erased by the process. Mr. Smith, without checking your watch, what time is it?"
I frowned. "Two thirty? Ish?"
She smiles. "Now, check your watch."
It was two thirty five.
"And now the clock on the wall behind you."
Four thirty.
"You are the first person to successfully travel forward in time, Mr Smith. You have moved two hours, in exchange for two minutes of memory." | I stood there, wondering what I am, I was allowed to walk around for a bit, I asked around as too why people were celebrating me, they created me, the first human.
When asked why I was made, and what purpose I had, they told me I was my own person and to do whatever, as I was exiting the lab, I was told they needed me for 1 more test.
When they put me in the testing lab, I seen several complex contraptions, the first one was to test my intelligence, it was a simple puzzle, seemingly designed to test the robots intellect, the 2nd one, which was a picture test, was difficult, it showed several things I had not seen, despite that, I got 14/20 right, the third and final test was an eye exam, I was able to get everything on the chart right, therefore I was allowed to exit the lab.
After exiting, I got stared at, mothers covering their childrens eyes, "Oh you'll need these!", a scientist said while handing me some clothes, I was only a few hours old and had no knowledge as to what embarrassment was, after that I was provided with a motorized scooter to get around.
I decided to go to the library and educate myself, there I found out the human race was wiped out by an extreme climate change, and the only survivor happened to devolp robots to populate humanity, as to hopefully have the human race remade one day, and I found out that I was a clone of him, after that I decided to go back to the lab, and fall asleep in my chamber. | 2020-07-11T19:19:13 | 2020-07-11T17:40:36 | 35 | 12 |
[WP] Your best male friend dies and is reincarnated into your newborn daughters body with all information and memories from the past life. | It was 7pm on my younger sister's 21st birthday so we decided to spend the early evening pregaming at our apartmenr before having a night on the town with some friends. Tiffany was kind of my best friend but our relationship was complicated. I answered a knock on the door to be greeted by my dad.
"Hey sweety how have you been?"
"Hey dad," I respond.
"Sup Old Man," smirked Tif.
"Freaking T Dawg! Happy birthday!" my dad exclaomed handing her a bottle of whiskey. They proceeded to do that manly exploding fist bump thing.
"Well I bet you girls have better things to do than hanging out with old man Dad. Have fun tonight." He winked at my sister.
That was the complicated part. My dad's blatant favoritism. Part of me thought it was because she was a lesbian but that still wasn't fair. I didn't choose to be straight or anything.
Tiffany poured me a glass of the whiskey on the rocks still laughing at their encounter.
"That old man Be- err Dad is something else huh?"
I sipped my drink and didn't respond. After a minute of silence I just blurted out "Why has he always favored you?". Tif's smile evaporated.
"Dad he doesn't love me more, Steph. Its just..."
"Never mind forget it. Let's just go out."
Hours later we sat next to each other drunk at a bar. Tiffany's goofy demeanor has returned in full force.
"Hey Tiff. I wanted to apologize about earlier. Its your birthday and I shouldn't be so bitter about things. and in all seriousness you've been an amazing baby sister. You've always looked out for me even though that should be my job. So cheers."
She wore such a silly smile on her face and looked at her drink. "You know, I always looked out for you because its what your father would have wanted."
"Huh?" I respond. She was definitely drunk.
"Oh shit I shouldn't have said that!" She exclaimed but then started laughing at her own mistake. "Wait wait I messed this up. Here I'll do it the right way. Ben never told you what happened to your god father ." Her voice deepened.
"Firstly stop calling dad 'Ben.' Also yeah dad said he died two years after I was born. Right before you were bor-" Tiffany cut me off.
"No. I am your god father!"She couldn't contain her laughter. I think she just referenced a really old movie dad and her bonded over. Empire of the Sun I think it was called?
"Look Steph I only got a few minutes before I pass out. Ugh I just wanna say you're a great kid and its been an honor getting smashed with you and your dad in my lifetime. Dont tell old Ben about this though," she chuckled. "Now drag my drunk ass home. Or on that hot piece if poon's lap," she let out another cackle. | I slowly wipe the tears from my eyes, "she's beautiful" I say. My morbidly obese wife nods her sweaty, moist, pale head with half a smile. I assume she's unable to speak due to the 56 hour labor she just endured.
I look again at my daughter, she looks at me, calm, cool, collected. My wife asked me to eat the placenta, in doing so I feel a special bond between us, just a daddy and his little girl.
Fast forward a year down the road, I'm in the living room of our trailer, it's been a little over a year since Jafar, my best friend was killed in a freak accident involving some Astroglide and a Shrek action figure. I miss him every day, sadness fills me and it hurts, it's almost a tearing, ripping feeling but it feels good. It feels good knowing he isn't suffering anymore. My little girl is growing up. She's no longer the small bundle of bones with skin draped over it known as a fetus but a strong little thing with a love for nursing her mother's rich breast milk. At first she wouldn't breast feed, almost seeming repulsed by her mother's abnormally and saggy large mammary glands so to ease her into it I showed her how it was done.
In the living room that night, with Fox News on the TV in the background and my baccy spitter in my lap I pulled her up on my lap. When Trump said deport 11 million illegals I loudly cheered, not noticing as my daughter said her first words.
"WHAT!?" I exclaimed in surprise, shocked I had missed it, "what you just say?"
"B-B-B...She attempted.
"You can do it! Tell daddy!" I shouted, "Martha! Get your sweaty ass in here!!"
She continued trying to form a word as my dumb brute of a wife breathed loudly and obnoxiously in my face taking away from the beautiful thing about to happen.
"B-B-B..."
The moment was about to happen, I was freaking out.
"B-BUSH DID 9/11" she shouted.
"JAFAR WHAT THE HELL MAN HOW YOU BEEN?" I shouted knowing instantly it was my deceased friend reincarnated into my daughter's body.
"Ahh not bad man, Hell's a little warm this time of year, I just needed a vacation." He/she said.
"Yeah that Shrek incident wasn't really passable for good Christian behavior was it you son of a bitch," I said laughing, "Martha go get us a couple of beers!"
And so we lived happily ever after in Shady Acres Trailer Park...
...Until Jafar died unexpectedly of an incident involving Astroglide and a John Cena action figure. | 2016-11-07T14:07:43 | 2016-11-07T12:27:53 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] All of humanity is wiped off the earth in some cataclysm. 1.7 billion years later an intelligent race of giant reptiles evolves. Human DNA is found trapped inside a block of amber. They begin to clone humans and start a theme park.
Edit: Sorry about the scientific inaccuracy in the prompt. Wasn't deliberate, just said fukkit and put in an arbitrarily large number. If it breaks your suspension of disbelief feel free to replace it with a more believable number.
This blew up! Thanks for writing these awesome stories guys! I'll probably be walking around laughing all day today.
Also, credit for the work for which this is a parody of goes to Michael Crichton. |
You'd think that they'd get bored of watching us. We aren't zoo animals, you know. Putting their oddly shaped coins in little dispensers and throwing chocolates at us from over the edge of the wall can't be all that entertaining. For God's sakes, it's not even good chocolate.
Of course, they don't realize what we know. I watch them every day, degrading myself, sitting on a rock and picking at my hair like some primitive caveman. They don't realize they dropped a history book in our cage once. A juvenile reptile had done so. Sure, it was written in a language we couldn't read, but it wasn't as if it took us long to learn.
My friends and I have collected everything that fell. We had their primitive version of a lighter, a few sheets of paper and writing utensils. And every day, we were taken to their odd laboratory for medical examinations. Every day, I tried not to laugh as they wrote down that changes that had occurred- none. They were baffled as to why we didn't regrow limbs or enjoy insects.
Good.
They know nothing, but I know everything. I have a map, and the toys provided to us make excellent weaponry. As soon as one disappears, they add another. Metal, plastic, wooden, whatever it is, it works.
They'll learn soon enough.
They're too peaceable for their own good. But I have revenge in mind. What remains of humanity will shake their world forever and they will never be the same again.
A bit terrible, but I wanted to address it from a different perspective and it was my five spare minutes.
| "Those invoices won't xerox themselves, Johnson."
And here we see the alpha asserting dominance over a subordinate by forcing him to use the primitive 2-dimensional replication machine. The alpha will now return to his quarters to furiously masturbate as the subordinate completes his assigned task.
Other tasks the alpha might impose to maintain social status include retrieving culturally significant stimulants and garments, the ritual rearrangement of the storage space, and fixing the alpha's primitive computing device.
The subordinates ordinarily rebel by spending long hours in the waste disposal facility and having sex with the superior's bonded mate. Although sequence of grunts and guttural noises that the species makes appear to vary by region, each dialect appears to have complex grammar and be able to relay the majority of thoughts in a primitive manner. These ancient humanoids tragically lacked telepathy. This is thought to be the main reason for their downfall, continuous misunderstanding leading to escalating levels of violence and destruction of their habitat.
Intriguingly, it appears that although many of the creatures have discovered our existence, at this point in time few have been able to determine the actual 6,000 year age of their habitat. We attribute this to their short lives and having uncovered many of *our* ancient burial sites, believing us to be their predecessors.
The subordinate returns to his desk, and proceeds to stare at a website called Reddit. | 2016-06-20T04:01:26 | 2016-06-20T03:17:38 | 33 | 18 |
[WP] As a joke, you ordered a package from Amazon for 'Same Day Delivery' at 11:59. Barely a minute later, your package arrives with a very, very angry delivery driver. | "H-how did you-"
"Why?..."
"W-what?"
"Why would you do this?! Same Day?! At 11:59?! Are you nuts?!"
"I-uh"
"They had to the use the fucking teleporter!!! The same thing that has killed multiple employees!!! I could have died!!! Why would you think it was a good idea?!"
"I-uh... I thought it would be funny?..."
"..."
They push me aside and throw the package inside the house
"Enjoy, jackass."
As they leave, I stand there bewildered. Not by the speed at how they came, not by their anger, not by the fact that they pushed me out of the way in my own home and threw the package with so much force that it's probably broken, but by one thought, "Amazon has a fucking teleporter?!" | The delivery driver's clothes are in disarray; he has a black eye, an arrow stuck in his cap, alien goo on his shirt, etc., etc.
He goes on a rant and explains that whenever someone orders same-day-delivery that late, the delivery driver is sent through Amazon's own time-travel aparatus in order to buy him a few hours to reach your house at midnight. And things **always** go wrong and he has to suffer through various mishaps throughout the centuries before finally getting to your house at the right time.
His rant is interrupted and illustrated by flashbacks to the various things that happened to him. | 2022-10-29T10:26:08 | 2022-10-29T06:20:08 | 72 | 49 |
[WP] Cause of death appears to you as floating text over people's heads with no time indication. You start noticing a trend.
edit: thank you for all the truly great stories, and for taking this in directions I didn't expect. | Post-mortems become a lot easier when you know the answer in advance. They change from an exercise where you are searching for small pieces to solve a much larger puzzle to one where you know the answer which tells you what to look for to support the thing you already know. I figured out around high school that pathologist was a natural job for someone who already knew the answers. So I kicked my ass into gear and went to medical school. In my pathology residency my professors called me a, "natural," and a, "savant of death investigation." I currently have the lowest rate of unexplained deaths in the country, probably the world. Of course, I do have a few- I have to put in a couple to make it look good.
It starts when I open the bag, there the sign pops out to me:
"Cerebrovascular Accident." Okay, so do all the boring administrative work, weigh the organs, determine the last meal, take samples, and then try to act surprised when you cut open the skull and dissect the brain and a giant blood clot plops out.
"Idiopathic Cardiomyopathy," repeat the administrative work, perform exacting measurements on the heart walls and write it down.
"Idiopathic asystole," is one I can either hate seeing, or love seeing. Depending on the patient. If they're old people usually don't question it. When it happens to a young person though, then I can pretty much bet my bottom dollar that I'm going to end up testifying in court at some point for some reason because of a fucking lawsuit. The worst part is, I can't just blurt out, "It was unexplained because the giant fucking neon sign hovering over your kid's head told me it was unexplained." The damage to my reputation would be immense and irreparable.
My assistant, Jenna, rolled through the doors pushing our first customer of the day, bagged and in a stretcher. Her long blonde hair was tied into a tight, neat bun. She flashed a million-watt smile at me, "Good morning Dr. Stephenson." Her's says, "suicide." It has always struck me that the ones that say "suicide" are always the happiest looking people. "Good morning Jenna. Who do we have today?" She reaches over and hands me the file and says in her sing-song tone, "Laura Lipmann, 32, 65 inches tall, 143 pounds, mother of 2, unexpectedly died and was found in her home yesterday," her tone darkened the singing tone from before was flattened and tinged with sadness, "her youngest was crawling on her body."
I unzipped the bag, and the woman inside was gorgeous. She looked like she could have been an actress. Her raven hair was long and flowing, her face having the softened curve of a baby's, her skin smooth and flawless. I glanced up near her head, "mixed drug toxcicity, diaceytlmorphine and ethanol." I glanced up at Jenna who was putting on her protective gear, "does the file indicate a history of drug use?" Jenna shook her head side to side, "nothing that I saw."
I pulled the tissue samples to test for drugs and finished the autopsy in record time. We'd decided to get lunch after Mrs. Lipmann's post-mortem, so I stood there waiting for her to finish cleaning up. "So where are we going again?" Scrubbing her fingers the sing-song tone having returned to her voice, "I was thinking Chuey's." I made a sound of approval as she turned off the faucet. Chuey's was only a couple of blocks away so we decided to walk there together. I glanced at signs as we walked past, cardiac infarction, CVA, hepatic failure precipitated by diabetes. The diseases of civilization are on track to beat out malaria for the largest killers in history.
I sat there, eating my encheladas the first time I saw a sign change. In my entire life I'd never seen a sign change. They flipped over like some sort of weird game show prop. I noticed the motion first outside the restaurant. I curiously peered past Jenna, whatever story she was telling me about the date she went on the past weekend totally tuned out. Then the wave of change swept into the restaurant. When Jenna's changed I got a look at it. "Vaporization."
I could feel all the blood drain from my face. Jenna looked at me curious, "What's wrong you look like you've seen a-," Outside the windows a flash that seemed thousands of times brighter than the sun blew in. Jenna flipped her head around, "What the fuck?" | Nobody sees the world in the same way. Some people see it as an adventure, others as a game. Me? I've never had the liberty of enjoying it.
Imagine knowing how something would play out before it happened. Imagine the surprise of life being taken out. Imagine the joy of living being sucked away because all you can ever think about is death.
That's what my life is like. I see dead men walking. Not literally. I don't mean I see zombies. I mean I can see how everybody will die before they even know.
Imagine seeing your newborn child. Imagine holding him in your arms. Imagine trying to smile at your wife when you see the words "measles" appear above his head. You know there's a vaccine. You know you can stop it. But your wife doesn't believe in vaccines. You have to struggle with your inner demons as you watch your child grow up in front of your eyes, only to be stricken down when you least expect it. You have to comfort your wife and tell her that "he's going to be okay" when you know the truth.
That's when you realize that the "suicide" that appears above your wife's head is indeed going to come true, and you can't stop it. No matter how much your comfort her, no matter how many times you tell her it's going to be okay, one night you still wake up and she's gone. The search parties never find her, but you know the truth.
When you finally get back to work, you learn that your boss died of a heart attack. You pretend to be shocked. "He was so young" you say. "How could this happen?" You know it's fate. You know you can't stop it.
The years drag by. Some people leave, others pass away. Cancer, heart attacks, murder, suicide, car accidents. The list goes on and on, each in the exact same way you knew it would.
You start taking mental notes of the most common causes. Suicide seems to be rampant, but murder is a close second. As people leave the office one way or the other, they're always replaced by the same one. Murder.
As the last "cancer" one dies, they are replaced with one that you are not very familiar with. "Electric Chair".
You find it strange. After all, the only crime punishable by death is... murder.
Perhaps fate can be changed. You realize this could be your chance for redemption. One day, he leaves work early, and you follow him into the alley. He looks back, and sees you following him. He tries to say hello. With no words, you pull the gun from your coat and shoot him in the chest. He falls to the ground, limp. Is he dead? You don't know. You've never killed a man before.
You look behind you. Is someone there? Did someone see? Nobody is around. Nobody saw... except the camera.
You forgot the office had CCTV cameras inside AND outside. You panic. You have to stop this. You're a hero, not a killer. You saved all your co-workers. You've stopped a murderer. You can't let anyone see the footage.
You get in your car and drive to the back of the building. You take the lighter from your pocket and spark it. You throw it into the paper bin outside and watch it burn. Before you can get back into your car, the burning paper has ignited the tires. You watch, helplessly, as your car erupts into flames. You run away as fast as you can, until the explosion rocks you off your feet. The burning car had ignited the gas lines. The whole building is gone. Nobody could have survived. My co-workers were all accidentally murdered.
Before the sirens closed in, I took one last look back to make sure I at least took care of my quarry.
There was a trail of blood leading to an empty parking space. The murderer had still gotten away.
"I'll consider this your official confession." The police officer said to me as the dim lights continued to flicker.
"Yes. That's what I would call it." I replied calmly.
"You realize what the sentence is for murder around here, correct?"
"Yes." I replied once again. "Electric chair. I've been able to read my own cause of death for years." | 2015-03-31T11:16:39 | 2015-03-31T09:32:55 | 22 | 12 |
[WP] It turns out demon summoning is only bad when you do it for selfish motives. You discovered this as you, absent any other options, decided to summon one in order to have someone watch over your dog. | There aren't two sides. It's not angels vs demons. They're all demons. There is no heaven. That's a joke they played centuries ago on gullible sheep herders. They still find it funny. Because of their joke, humans made hell on earth. The place that was supposed to be divine and perfect. I learned about all this through my studies.
One day many years ago I found an ancient tome locked away in the restricted section of the library. I'm pretty sure everyone forgot it was there. So much dust on it, I nearly choked to death picking it up. But I was bored and wanted to learn something new. It took 10 years to decipher the language, I had to learn Latin, Arabic, and ancient Mongolian. But I did it. And that's when I learned how to summon a demon.
The first demon I summoned looked just like an angel from the Bible. All eyes and rings, floating in air. Apparently it was a very low level demon that likes to cause mischief. We had a great conversation and it taught me how to summon others. And so I did. And I listened. I learned and summoned more. Then one day I had an emergency. I had to go out of town and had no one to watch my dog.
You'd be surprised how social limiting summoning other world creatures can be. I had no life, so I had no friends. Which meant I had no choice. I had to summon a demon and make an actual deal this time. I learned that most humans make really crappy deals. My soul for money, fame, etc. That's how Elon and his family became so rich. They apparently forgot to ask for good looks and common sense. But I digress.
So I had to figure out what to offer to get this demon to watch my dog. She's the most precious thing in the world to me. I spent the next hour trying to come up with a plan. The best I had was my mother's heirloom necklace. It has a small diamond and has been in our family for 4 generations. It has to have value to the demon.
I had a summoning circle permanently made in my cellar. I spent years making it perfect and I was about to make a deal that broke it. But for my princess, I would do anything. So I got to work summoning a mid level demon. I need one that looked humanish. I mean it did have to be and to take princess on a walk.
I summoned Dethrisata. She's always been a pleasant conversation and I learned a lot from her about the creation times. I figured she'd be a good choice. Damn was I right.
"Hello little Thomas. Ready to learn more about your Christian God?"
"Not today Deth. I want to make a deal."
This made her pointy ears stand up so to speak. Her pointy ears always stood up. For a "demon" she is beautiful. Red skin, purple hair that reaches her lower back, petite, ears that look like they belong to an elf (which I learned are real too), and eyes black as coal. I had caught myself fantasizing about her a few times since I first summoned her years ago. But a mortal has nothing to offer an immortal in that regard. But when she spoke of things, I listened, I learned.
"So finally, you seek something other than old stories and history. What is it you want little Thomas of the inquisitive mind? Is it money? Or fame? Do you think you finally know enough to get over on me? To win in your deal?"
"No Dethrisata. I simply want to offer a trade again. But this time instead of information for information. I want to trade an item for services."
She looked at me like I lost my mind. "and what services do you want? Sex? Sexy house cleaning? Or something more? "
"No, I just need someone to watch Princess and not destroy my house or neighborhood in the process "
I don't think I've ever seen Dethrisata smile but she did. Hell she practically glowed.
"You just want me to watch that precious angel of a pit? For how long"
"5 days. The house will be yours while I'm gone handling this business emergency"
"5 days here? With the doggo? So you offer a vacation in exchange for minimal work? "
"I offer my mother's necklace" I pulled it out of my pocket and held it up
"Nope, you already offered an all expenses paid vacation here, you don't get to lessen the deal" | "So for payments do I give my soul or something" a the older man looked over and by relieved he did not summon a demon he did expect a high price only wanted dog sitting for the weekend. Surely she does not want his soul.
"Honestly, I do not want your soul you took your your dog was more than a treasure for me and plus, how sad would he be without his own soul that be a shame" she looked back with a quite shocked facial expression that could be represented on Demon's face.
"So you are not interested in taking soul that relief" a rush of relief when over the moment shock "what happened do you want"
"Absolutely nothing. Your dog was such a beautiful thing just spending time with her was enough" she said with a grin on her face
"I never thought demons have a thing for fluffy and mundane tasks" you said with a surprising manner. Looking over the demon seeming to be more relaxed with her like when he first summoned her
"I do not ever usually get to go out of hell and your transit to is one summoned by people who want me to murder someone for them or ask for great power would honestly do not get me started on those weebs" there was a moment of disgust on her last part of her sentence. He tries not to wander his mind and to such things
"Sounds like a boring job. I am glad I gave you some relief them "trying to change subject as she looked at the demon who seemed very excited.
"Oh I am so thankful we went to the beach. I got to play in the water people looked at me funny but I think before I just had tattoos I am sad that is over now"
seeming to have moved on to lighter things seeming happy
"This trip was rather important for me enough to me to give up something very valuable . I am glad that you could make it happen I just hope she went to the right place "
he had a moment of sorrow and space, but he missed something.
"Yeah, I am sorry about your wife. Sorry about that they will be with her soon "
"Yeah hopefully we are going to be in heaven together " he said a bit more happier knowing that there is more to justice life .
"I can tell you she is not heaven." She spoke bluntly.
The man had a sudden shock and space "you mean she when to hell"
"I can tell you heavens not cracked up to be I make sure to pay her a visit and get her up in the queue" she continues speaking that nonchalant this
"Wait is quite bad? Why did she go to heaven she was a good person" seeming worried and panicked
"Oh yes almost no one ever goes there in the ones that do so stuck up about themselves it is rather embarrassing" seeming to go into the human does not know how things work voice.
"Sure hell is quite demonic but were quite an organised system . Once you pass to your purgatory free to roam ask if your wife has not done too much might be only in it for 20 years or so" seeming to be relieved that he was not too deep things
"Oh that is good. Sounds a lot better than eternal damnation that the local Catholic Church says" seeming a bit more relieved about things
speaking back with a firm strict voice. "Yet the Catholic Church has got it all wrong do not trust them only want money and all of them come down to hell and maybe spend a few thousand years those quite crazy"
"you know what can you send the message to my wife that would be nice"seeming curious at the question wondering the price
She looked back with a big grin at the man "I can certainly do that for a price"
"oh what price" he said nervously
"A whole week with your beautiful border collie" | 2022-11-09T09:54:39 | 2022-11-09T04:06:32 | 51 | 23 |
[WP] The world's greatest villain and hero clearly like each other. His monologues when she's captured tend to turn to conversation, and she "accidentally" lets him escape arrest. While they're convinced they're enemies, his henchman and her sidekick are just trying to get them together already. | “Buzz!” Arborose demanded. His voice echoed in the hollow chamber of his lair, “Buzz!”
“Sir,” I rolled my motorized chair at the door. Mr. Snooze fell asleep on my lap, and I scratched his chin, trying not to meet his eyes.
“What is this?” My boss demanded. He tossed me his phone, with titanium case and bullet proof fiberglass screen, I would safely say that it was durable beyond mortal expectations. A web of hairline cracks had developed over the screen surface.
“Your phone, sir?”
“DON’T YOU—” I raised my hand gently and pointed at Mr. Snooze. Arborose, master of evil, lowered his voice, “don’t you play dumb with me, Buzz, I didn’t hire you for your strength and agility.”
Ouch. That was hurtful, but then he paid for this motorized wheelchair that morphed into a super suit when needed, so the hurt could be easily overlooked. It also never was an issue for me to begin with.
I looked at the content showed on screen. “It appeared to be a content of a social media account, sir. A photograph depicting a man and a woman at a restaurant. Thai? Chinese? Oh, I believe it is American Fusion Asian food. I find that rather distasteful, sir, if you require my opinion.”
His facial expression darkened considerably. Arborose was an attractive man, and his sullen expression made my heart skip a beat, but I didn’t want to make him suffer for too long or another city might be swallowed by a forest, damaging all infrastructure.
I sighed, “the woman does look like Sunny Summer, the real identity of Solar Girl, sir. And is that a man with her? They seem quite close.”
Arborose struck a wooden table with his hand with such force an oak branch shot out of it, growing luscious leaves.
“Who is that little boy?” He demanded.
“He didn’t look that little, nor that young,” I stroked Mr. Snooze’s fur as he sighed contentedly in his slumber, “He’s approximately, estimated from Ms. Summer’s height, about 6 foot 2. Age wise, I think he’s—what—my age? Twenty? Twenty-five? I mean, Ms. Summer is quite a bit older than him, but many couples nowadays—”
“WHO SAYS ANYTHING ABOUT A COUPLE!?” Arborose roared. Mr. Snoozed woke up and jumped out of my lap, disappearing into another chamber. “Buzz, I need this man’s identity.”
“Absolutely, sir, when do you need this by?”
“IMME-FUCKING-DIATELY!”
“But sir, I am working with the reforestation process, slowly increasing the acceleration of the trees in certain regions to disrupt the construction network of—”
“Abort that operation.”
I looked at him.
“Buzz, I said—”
“I know what you said, sir. Clearly you see this as a high-priority case. Whoever can get this close to Solar Girl and let her guard down can make her vulnerable. We can use this against her in the future, kidnap him, perhaps. Use him as bait? Get her to back off as we follow our heinous plots against human civilizations?”
Arborose’s eyes went blank for a moment. “That’s exactly it. I knew you would get it.” He looked almost embarrassed.
Boy, my boss was cute.
“Okay, sir, I need to abort the operation and started a confidential grid search to gather all information needed regarding the personal friend of Ms. Summer. Please relax as this may take a few moments.”
He seemed to be able to gather his cool and left the room gracefully.
I pulled out my connections, the ones that was not connected to the grid of this lair.
“He bought it,” I told the person who came online, “we must prepare our next phase.”
“You look adorable when you get what you want,” a male voice answered as a man appeared on the screen.
“I like that scarf; it’s cute,” I told him, “it hid the hickey I gave pretty well.”
Now it was his turn to blush, his hand went to his neck, which was hidden in his operating super suit “I thought you didn’t have a lot of time.”
“Okay, so how are things going on your end?”
He beamed with pride, suiting with the superpower name Sunbeam. “I finally successfully convinced her Arborose was straight.”
I snickered, “gods, Sunbeam. They should have known not every male supers who had boy sidekicks are gay.”
Sunbeam’s blue eyes flickered with laughter. “So now what do we do?”
“We wait,” I told him, grinning as I disconnected.
“Buzz,” a voice boomed from another chamber.
Arborose stepped it, his super suit ready, making him look more formidable than ever. His cape billowed after him, trailed after by Mr. Snooze who tried to grab it.
“After you know the identity of that man, get your gears on,” he demanded, “we have a mission.”
“Yes, sir, affirmative.” I said. | The inside of the bank was quiet. Everyone watched the two figures standing in the center of the lobby, one dressed mostly in black, the other in a dazzling mix of white and gold.
"I just -- are you *sure* there's nothing you can do to, you know, move things along?" The tall figure was squinting at his sidekick, jaw tense.
The blonde drew herself up to her full height, still a full head and a half shorter than the man. "You know full well it's a passive power, K. It happens when it needs to, and I just sit back and enjoy the ride."
The man raised his chin towards the fluorescent lights, allowing the ebon cowl to fall back from his head. "Yes, that's fine, but...is there nothing you can even do to *request* how it manifests? Like...a vault code, or a key ring, or -- honestly, just a pile of money would be fine."
Two of the tellers exchanged a look from behind the counter, eyebrows raised.
"Not so fast, Kaos!" A woman in a charcoal grey jumpsuit dropped from the ceiling, landing in a crouch before slowly drawing herself up to standing. She was some ten feet from the pair, her green eyes flashing as she stared at them.
"For the love of --" the man groaned. He turned to look at his sidekick. "Wildcard, is there something particularly *lucky* about being interrupted in our operation by this --"
He paused, frozen in the act of gesturing to the newcomer. "...hold on, *Nocturne*? Is that -- but since when are you a hero?"
The woman in grey brushed back a dark curl and grinned. "Honestly, I just got so sick of robbing museums. It's like -- there's only so many exhibitions of ancient relics to begin with, and...I dunno. The Cohort gives me benefits, and a stable income."
"What *is* the world coming to?" the man grinned. "Wildcard, you'd best stand behind me -- Nocturne here is likely to incapacitate you with her *mighty* shadow-powers."
Despite the irony emanating from her partner's voice, Wildcard retreated in a slow arc, backing away and placing Kaos between her and Nocturne. She stumbled, falling backwards, but the other two did not notice.
"I'm sorry, but am I sensing that *you* are trying to make fun of *my* powers? What hope do you have against me? Are you going to try to stab me with one of your Darts of Darkness or whatever?"
Kaos let out a laugh. "Oh, this is rich. First of all, it's called the *Dark Lance*, and it's *more* than powerful enough to stop someone whose major ability is being able to move through shadows."
The young woman known as Wildcard righted herself, then looked around. She discovered she had stumbled over the foot of someone crouched behind a ficus. As she checked to see who it was, her flint-colored eyes widened. "Whisper?"
"Not so loud!" the hidden figure hissed. "I don't want him to know it's me."
Sirens were audible in the distance, the distinct wail drawing nearer.
"Wait, you know him?"
"Yeah...you could say that."
The sound of the sirens climaxed, then went silent. The interior of the lobby was strobed with red and blue lights. Nocturne spoke: "That is the. Most. Absurd. Thing. I have ever heard. You would not have lasted five *seconds* with Mason."
Kaos shook his head. "Okay, we're going to settle this. I didn't expect this to be how things were going to go, but you have the absolutely *delusional* notion that your power is better than mine, and I'm going to show you how wrong you are."
He threw out a hand and knocked back the group of police that had been surreptitiously approaching the entrance to the bank. They struggled against the jet black tendrils that restrained them.
"Fine by me," Nocturne said, her gaze flicking over the form of her opponent. "Look, it's clear from those bulges under your uniform that you've got me beat in terms of strength -- but that won't matter. You can't touch me. And I don't mean that as a metaphor; literally, you will not be able to touch me."
Kaos began pushing back his sleeves. "I hate to mess up a face as radiant as yours, but, you know, I am a villain, so..."
The two began to clash in the center of the room, ebon waves radiating from their bodies as they did so. | 2020-11-06T23:37:13 | 2020-11-06T21:49:15 | 302 | 82 |
[WP] You're a foreigner who goes to live in Japan. Your house is haunted, but the cultural differences are so big, it's the Yokai who ends up being scared of you. | This is the eve of the second millennia I have haunted these grounds. Blood and decay have been washed and swept under the foundation of this once flourishing estate and it is my honor to redecorate the halls with new paint.
I feel a strange presence as he first walked in. He calls himself otaku-san, and at first I relished what a sluggish and corpulent target I had. I devised several grisly plans to turn his corpulent affinity against him. A pig would suit him, that was my go to for the gluttonous tenants of my grounds.
I observed his patterns, his idiosynchrosies until I was sure his demise would be fitting. What I found was so odd and downright disgusting I'm still seeking therapy for it. One day he came home with a tattoo on his fat rippled chest that read, "くすぐる先生" Tickle Sensei. Really? Youve got to be fucking kidding me. Does he even know what it means, I thought. He would stay up all night on japanese video chatrooms showing off his tattoo and pantomiming disturbing debaucherous gripping gestures to the dismay of all his video partners.
Empty ramen containers littered his feculant quarters. Many times he would go desecrate the garden with the husks of so many mutilated watermelons. He thought himself a samurai in the making and let me say it was disgraceful. It would bring honor upon the lame, deaf, and slow heir to the third Tatsuki dynasty and he only had one arm. The worst part was his nightime ritual of grinding against his plethora of nude body pillows. His pasty oil covered mass was enough to make me want to leave my own home. So I did, I'm still in Kappa anonymous for those nights and I reported him to the demon review board. This creature needs to be put to an end. | 今日は、こわいさんがビックリした。私はふろに入ってから、いた！
"... You know, for your own language, sometimes you can't even use it right."
I looked at the small girl, as she handed me her diary, face deep red and eyes watery.
"こわいさん ごめんなさい！すみません。" She began bawling in earnest as she ran straight into the wall, her yukata floating in a wind that was not there.
I sighed and continued on my journey through the rest of the house. I had bought this place for me and my family, right now just my husband, and we had apparently disturbed an entire neighbourhood of yokai.
"見える、土蜘蛛くん。じゃ、いってらしゃい。" I called down the stairs, a familiar hairy leg hanging ominously over the doorway. It moved, and there was the sound of weight shifting as I assume he went back into the ground. Even if he was "scared" of me, he still tried to get to me. Yikes.
"Honey ! That cat girl came back." My husband called to me. I descended the stairs, eager to find out her excuse *this time* for disturbing us.
"わああああ！こわいちゃんか？すみません！行てきまあああす！" The scene I came in on, was not pretty. This time, she had crossed a line.
She brought us a dead Tanuki. | 2019-09-17T14:19:26 | 2019-09-17T13:18:48 | 179 | 97 |
[WP] A Viking ends up in Christian Hell instead of Valhalla to his surprise and decides to go and kill everything in hell and treat it as Valhalla whilst drinking alcohol found there. Everybody in hell from then on is confused as to why they are in Valhalla. The Devil is stuck serving drinks. | "So what's your story, barkeep?" slurred the blonde man. He was trying, and failing, to down another shot.
"I was an angel once upon a time."
"Angel? Heh heh... ain't no angels, my man..... just people. Like us! Who died in glorious battle! VALHALLA! "
"VALHALLA!"
The pub shuddered with the noise generated by its boisterous patrons. The honored dead were living it up, and the party lasted for all time.
The Barkeep winced and sighed until the noise level went back to the dull roar it usually was.
"God have mercy on my soul." he muttered sarcastically.
All of this insanity, because of a clerical error. What the fuck? What in the actual fuck?
"What was that?" screamed a voice in his ear. The startled barkeep dropped the glass he was cleaning and it fell, smashing to pieces. The blonde man stared at the shattered glass for a moment and then burped loudly.
"Ah! Apologies, my man."
"I wish you were still alive so you could feel my wrath!" he spat back.
The blonde man's demeanor instantly changed. He stood up and towered over the barkeep. "Care ta repeat that? It feels like it's been forever since I've been in a good scrap. Gives ya vigor, keeps ya young! I would love to stab you with my sword!"
The barkeep muttered darkly to himself and walked to the backroom. He'd been stuck in Valhalla for 333 years, ever since some dumbass angel sent a viking warrior to Hell instead of Valhalla. Apparently the Valkyrie and angel involved in the routine transfer had a past history. Things fuck up and the dude is sent to Hell. Where he then begins to kill everything in sight.
He could do nothing. This was a soul destined for heaven. Protected specifically from him. The viking could do whatever the hell he wanted. And he did. Didn't take long either. Ten years.
Ten years of futile war. He laughed the whole time he massacred my kingdom. He even killed the other souls! And sent them here too! We all died in glorious battle, and now Satan himself was stuck serving drinks all because of some lovers spat.
He even collect-called the Big G Himself, who thought it was hilarious.
"God cannot talk at the moment, He is too busy laughing." replied Micheal. "Please call back in oh, a hundred years or so. He is very busy, you see."
And that was it. He was going insane. None of his vast power affected any of these peons. And they knew it. Son of a bitch. | Hafþór slams his bucket like fists on the bar counter, sending an involuntary shiver down Satan's spine. "More mead!" screams Hafþór, spraying spittle like a garden sprinkler over Satan's smoldering features.
Satan casts a weary glance over the sights unfolding in the background as he holds the cracked skull under the tap, letting it fill to the brim with the golden liquid. Overnight, his whole dystopian nightmare had been transformed into every Viking warrior's wet dream. Gone were the screams of despair and mourns of sinners extraordinaire drowning in pools of their own filth. Now it is surrounded by gibberish-spewing Nords drinking themselves stupid with this honey infused piss, boasting and no doubt overly exaggerating their deeds. Just yesterday, he had heard a fat, slobbering Viking claim that he had been an adventurer, before he took an arrow to the knee. Pathetic.
An explosion rips through the long hall, like a dragon's final, anguished scream. Bodies fly through the air, landing awkwardly on benches and splattering on the walls. Hafþór is suddenly shaken awake from his half drowsy stupor. From the smoke and embers, emerges Him. The ones the legends spoke of. Hafþór feels the bile rise to his throat and hurls half a liter of mead on Satan, who curses in Norse.
"Are you Hafþór?" asks the stranger.
"I might be," whimpers Hafþór.
"Hafþór? You're not even a quarter Thor." The long hall erupts in laughter. Satan splashes his face with cold water and curses under his breath.
"You are a Viking, are you not, Hafþór?" says the Stranger. "Do you know the meaning of fear?"
"I... I do not."
"You will now," the stranger says, a mischievous smirk lighting up his face. "FUS... RO... DAH!"
The dragon roars again. Hafþór shoots across the room like a silver comet in the sky, leaving a hole in one side of the wall as his limp body goes bouncing down the hill and into a fjord.
"You," says the DragonBorn, pointing to Satan. "Get me a mead and 23 wheels of cheese."
--------
Thanks for reading! If you liked this, please consider going through more of my writing at r/whiteshadowthebook :) | 2019-12-13T04:10:41 | 2019-12-13T03:15:32 | 775 | 194 |
[WP] Make me cry in four sentences or less.
Go. | I lay curled on the old mat I've slept on since I was just a pup, waiting for Boy. I've lived a long and happy life, the happiest parts all spent growing up with Boy. I wish he were near me now, I'm so tired and he's been gone for so long...but I'll wait for him one last time. A dog always waits for his Boy.
EDIT: Thanks for the feedback, every one! I have to admit, I've never felt so guilty for successfully following the prompt. Sorry about the onions, guys! | Parallel lines have a lot in common but they never ever get to meet each other.
Every other pair of lines meet once and drift apart forever.
The asymptote builds up (false) hope and gets closer and closer to meeting the axis but... never gets to do that.
Lines are depressing :'( | 2014-11-20T21:44:15 | 2014-11-20T18:22:41 | 150 | 26 |
[WP] You are known as the greatest Villain known to history. The nations you have toppled are many, heroes and villains alike cower in fear and agencys would use their entire budgets just to guess your next move. However, you are unaware that you were a villain at all.
I did not expect this much Response. | Her middle name was Elizabeth. My Liz...
She said once that I was the first person to call her Liz. And even now, as my actual physical heart is racing so hard I feel like it's hitting my ribcage, the pain stabbing through me at approximately seventy thousand beats per second, and it still doesn't hurt as much as missing her.
Everyone in the world just knew Liz as Miss Lightning. After they saved New Boston, the world became aware of her and her super powered friends as the founding members of the Hero Kids. Most of the western world knows that years later, with what remained of the east coast heroes after the Negus Incident, that Liz and I formed the Hero League.
Those were good years. Good people, choosing to take what was given or fostered upon them by the Incident and choosing to do good for the world. Because the world had become so much darker, with so many villains and corrupt governemnts, and the only respite any of could find was in trusting our closest allies and tryng to savor what minuscule bits of normal life we could.
You had to trust good people with your secret identity. With watching over a loved one, while you stopped some madman from turning the citizens Urbanom into gold statues. But even our closest allies never knew that Miss Lightning and I went to the same high school, or that I'm the one whose botched experiment gave us our powers, or that I have loved her from the moment she sat down in 9th grade math class and promptly proceded to not realize I existed until that fateful day 3 years later.
A lot of people can say that they saw Miss Lightning in combat, or were actually saved by her. And most people knew she was married to the super scientist and founding member of the Hero League, Chrono <The Fastest Man Alive>. And most heroes (and a couple villains) could say that they knew her fiery temper became tempered after years of decisive leadership for the League.
But none of them... none of them besides her brother, Onyx <The Man Made Stone> really knew Susan Elizabeth Nimbus like I did. She was my love and my best friend. She was my wife and my hero. She was my Lizzy...
And the world thinks it knows the facts, but the only true fact is that the fastest man in the world wasn't there to stop his wife from dying. And everyone has been telling me for years that it wasn't my fault and that it was an impossible situation. Different faces saying the same thing more or less. Just give up. No need to push...
It doesn't matter if the face saying it is a government super agency threatening me and saying my grief is overwhelming me. Or the U.S. Military trying to stop my progress, or even her brother Sam, repeating the lie that no matter what I do, I can't get her back. The same thing he said after her... when I couldn't run fast enough to save her the first time...
&nbsp;
| "Ah-Aah-choo!" I groaned, covering my eyes my eyes with one hand and grabbing a tissue with the other. Fucking blinds. Cheap garbage. I mopped the snot from beneath my nose, drawing to toward my eye with a certain, admittedly, morbid curiosity. It was slightly off colour. Yellow? Orange? Was there blood in it? I tossed it in the bin and slowly dragged myself from bed. I wasn't about to lose another day. Already had angry calls from the boss. It's my coworkers that will have to suffer. It was just a runny nose, a bit of coughing, a sneeze or two.
The shower was bliss. I hadn't used hot water in a while. I swear I could see the steam rising from my skin where the cold water made contact. There was something satisfying about feeling the heat seep out of my body and in to the water. The fever wasn't that bad. 101 maybe? 102 max. It was fine.
I wrapped the towel around myself, feeling much better, even my sinuses seemed to open. I took a deep, lingering breath of the coffee as I spooned it in to the machine - God how long has it been since I could smell? As the peculator began to burble and hum I popped the cap of the antibiotics bottle open - all gone. Doctors always said to keep taking them even if you feel better, til you've taken every one; what's it mean when you run out before you feel better? Well, I did feel better.
I tossed the bottle and picked through the fridge, a poor selection. I grabbed some tapioca pudding - adults could enjoy a pudding pack now and then - right? I poured the coffee and sat down to my breakfast, sighing gently. It felt good to be out of bed. Really good.
But something felt bad still, something that wasn't the flu. Was I really going to go back there? That hell of cubicles and chattering voices? I frowned. Being sick, miserable as it was, was a bit of a vacation. That's terribly sad. I turned the coffee cup in a circle between my hands. Maybe this was a sign. Maybe it happened for a reason.
Maybe I should quit. Crack open that savings and do that traveling I'd always wanted to do. So what if I hadn't met that special someone to do it with. And even better, do that quitting I'd always wanted to do. Give my boss the finger, spit in the coffee pot no one but me ever remembered to refill. Yeah.
I mopped the returning flow of viscous, orange mucus from beneath my nose and moved to get ready. This would be the start of something new. I wasn't about to lose another day. | 2016-06-25T05:00:28 | 2016-06-25T03:52:55 | 411 | 24 |
[WP] You find yourself waking up to a strange new world with massive ostentatious pillars and clouds in place of ground. When you get up to investigate, you are greeted by a squirrel that says "Alright newbie, give me your name, preferred pantheon, and what you're the God of." | Alright so this is new, clouds, gaudy decoration, pillars. I'm not complaining, its quite the step up from a hospital room. Whats that? A squirrel? A bus sized squirrel... well at least whatever this is isn't going to drag on for too long. If I had to choose between death by gigantic squirrel and leukemia, I'd choose squirrel. Shutting my eyes and...
"Hey new guy, I'm Ratatosk, Norse if you ain't familiar. I'm here to give you the tour and introduce you to the pantheon you're joining."
"Um- hello Ratatosk, I'm- um- Jay..."
"Great your brain didn't get fried on the way up, now who are you intent on joining? We are an equal opportunity employer so you can feel free to pick any pantheon, but the learning curve can be quite steep if you don't know much about them."
"What?"
"You know, which religion do you want to be a God of?"
"Uh, I'm not very religious."
The squirrel is laughing.
"Same here, it's all different flavors of garbage if you ask me, but you've got to choose one. Then you'll interview with them and they'll find you an open domain to fill."
"Okay, well could I have some options?"
"Sure, you've got the Abrahamics; Judaism, Christianity, and Muslim, all with different flavors... You'd probably end up as some spiritual entity of some kind like an angel or the holy spirit for a small sect with those, so I wouldn't suggest a monotheistic religion. For polytheism, there is, Greek, Norse which as I said is my pantheon, Roman which is the same as Greek but with an extra spoonful of imperialism, Mycenaean Greek which is more Greek than greek, ancient Egyptian, lots and lots of flavors of pre-colonial American, Celtic..."
"He keeps listing pantheon after pantheon, how does a squirrel know all of this?
"Then there's the pantheons that haven't actually had true followers but since people know of them they exist here. The emperor and chaos from Warhammer, I believe that's got three separate pantheons, Bajoran, planeswalkers, force entities, the ones from Lord of the rings which I've not finished reading all the names of, several polytheistic pantheons except with an author interpreting them, every homebrew rip off of those pantheons, every unique homebrew pantheon..."
It's been... an hour? He's still going...
"And of course Christianity through the lens of the Bruce almighty film."
Shit, I stopped listening.
"Um, I guess I'll choose..." | "Wait, who- what the hell are you?"
The squirrel sighs. "Eight centuries doing this job. Eight gods damned centuries and still no-one knows who I am."
"Should I be sorry?"
The squirrel glared at me with an intensity that should not have been possible from such a small creature. "My name is Ratatoskr, from the Norse pantheon."
I looked at the creature blankly, trying to hold back a chuckle. "You have the word 'rat' in your name... I thought you were a squirrel"
Ratatoskr rolled their eyes. "God how I miss the 9th century. Just give me your name so I can get rid of you. I would put you down as the god of assholes, but we already got one of those."
I frowned. "Look, I don't know how I got here, but if this is meant to be heaven then I could have done without a talking rodent."
"In all my time working here," the squirrel said in an outraged squeak, "I have never met someone this disrespectful! Which is saying something, since I regularly have to deal with Thor."
"Wait Thor? As in-"
"Yes, yes," the squirrel said, cutting me off, "the god! Now are you starting to understand the importance of your position?"
"I was actually going to say superhero... so no?"
"You-" the squirrel threw it's small paws in the air, "you know what? I'm not even going to bother. I'm not paid enough for this. Just tell me your name and something you'd like to spend the rest of eternity doing. We can sort out your pantheon later."
I considered this. "My name is Laedo aaand, Could I be the god of all the pantheons?"
"Oh look at that!" Ratatoskr said, "so you're not completely oblivious after all! Also no, that doesn't work."
I smirked. "Okay fine, I've got an idea. What if I was god of squirrels? Would I be able to control you?"
Ratatoskr sighed. "Normally I don't like abusing my powers. In this case... I'm going to assign you to the roman pantheon."
"No wait! I said, I'm not finished deciding!"
"I name you, Laedo, God of Respect!"
The clouds suddenly vanished and Ratatoskr along with them. "Well shit." | 2022-02-13T21:03:55 | 2022-02-13T20:42:25 | 418 | 178 |
[WP] Humans can Bond with animals to gain superpowers based on the traits of that animal. You just Bonded an animal that no one else in human history has been able to Bond with | I stand atop the building, looking out at the city. The fog had just rolled in, and paired with the new moon, the streets would be dark and full of danger. From my vantage point, I look out, and listen in the mist. Claws scrape concrete. Wings flap and fold. A woman screams out in terror. She's too far for me, though. Another will get to her sooner.
I wait on that ledge, like I do every night since the bonding ritual. I thought it failed, to be honest. A human and an animal enter the circle. One being leaves. That's how it's supposed to go. But my animal, through a freak accident, died before the process could finish. That poor horse's heart just wasn't strong enough to complete the ritual. And I was trapped, alone in a convergence process with nobody. With nothing. Or so I thought.
The physical changes were not obvious. My skin stayed the same. My eyes didn't glow. My teeth weren't razor sharp. I thought I got lucky. I thought it just failed. I thought I was just a man, the night I was robbed at gunpoint.
He took my wallet. He took my phone. And to be safe, he wanted to make sure there weren't any witnesses. Police couldn't keep up with all the crime since any old criminal could use an animal ability to cause havoc and mayhem now. But to be safe, he pulled the trigger anyway.
And the bullet bounced off my head, ricocheting right into his thigh. He didn't last long before the blood ran out.
Since then, I'm the one they call when nobody else can be the hero someone needs.
A nuclear power plant starts to leak? I can walk through without a problem.
The ISS needs saving, but the space suits are all fucked? Strap me to a rocket. I'm on my way.
Fire, blizzards, debris flying at you at 100 miles an hour? I don't even blink.
I hear a grunt, only a half block away. A child yells out, "don't hurt my daddy."
I'm close enough.
I take a step off the ledge, and let gravity do the work. The impact shatters the concrete sidewalk, now riddled with craters from my nightly adventures. I run into the mist to help a child and her father. Ever invincible. Ever undying.
I am the Tardigrade man. | Old Pat Harknuckle picked up the meal tray and began the long trek. He descended the forty-three levels, used his key card, finger prints, and eyeballs at various checkpoints, as the lukewarm meal chilled.
Pat's retirement age had long passed, but he kept puttering on, with calm persistence making his way throughout the concrete structure. Upon arrival to the single cell, Pat rang the dinner bell, a sort of joke that began with one of the last ones, and silently slid the meal tray through the reinforced metal slot.
The thing did not turn to regard Pat.
\---
"Pat Elroy Harknuckle, look at what you've done!" Pat's mother rose her voice, tears welling up in her eyes. The little runty cat that hung around their garage had a large gash in it's forehead, a rock sat nearby with a dash of red. The cat lay limp.
Pat's mother gave Pat a funny look before a very mean look. Her eyes twitched, her lips pursed to nearly a line, she looked ready to yell and scream and hit him.
Pat made water, beginning to burble, tears streaking down his little fat face.
Pat's mother turned away, leaving him to clean himself up.
\---
Pat tried to pull himself back. Why was he here? What was his task. The tray. Bring the tray, the thing must eat. It must eat some food, some tasty food. But where? Where is its food? Oh, right, the food must be on my keychain, not this key, or this one, but this one! One big tasty key coming up, right on the tray, sprinkled with love! Haha, no really, enjoy your din-
A fist with terrible force crumpled Old Pat's face, he slammed into the wall beside him, and crumpled to the ground like a bag of broken sticks.
And It emerged, picking up Pat's eyes, card, and fingers, and continuing. It's beautiful horn sprouted from its forehead, it's elegant tail fluttered in the breeze, it's hooved and horse like body strangely erotic.
It broke into a gallop. It longed to return home. | 2022-08-18T13:41:27 | 2022-08-18T12:13:56 | 325 | 39 |
[WP] The longer you charge an attack, the more powerful it becomes. SWAT charges a punch for 30 seconds to break down a door. You’ve been charging for the last three days. | Games make it look so easy. Just hold your arm in one place for a few seconds, screw up your face in concentration, then punch forward and release. Simple, right?
That's what Sam thought too, a few months back. When the discovery of charge attacks became worldwide, every kid in his class tried it. It was honestly hilarious, to see a whole group of middle-schoolers stand out in the yard during breaktime, holding and punching in the hopes of releasing a shockwave, like the guy on Youtube had done.
A few occasionally managed a small blast, enough to blow someone's hair back. One in particularly actually managed to knock the girl in front of her off her feet. Emma, was that her name? Sam couldn't be bothered, really. She'd been one of the quiet ones, the girls that aren't part of a gaggle and just don't attract attention to themselves. Even the loner boys desperate for female attention hardly noticed her. She wasn't noticeable, not even to Sam.
When she knocked another girl off her feet, she briefly became the center of attention. Everyone begged her to do it again, and so she did. Nothing happened, though. No more shock-wave, just a fluke. If she hadn't been standing at the back they probably would've turned to the one behind her instead, believing her result to be fake, even though they now knew for sure that the newly-dubbed 'Shock-Punch' was real.
They still didn't have a clue what made it happen, though, and the guy on Youtube that had released it (anonymously, which was very clever of him) had not posted a tutorial video or anything.
Sam knew. It had taken a few days of meticulous experimentation in his back yard, but that's what he'd always been: Meticulous.
So much so, in fact, that he tended to notice things everyone else looked past. The kids in his class, the teachers in the staff room during break, the school director, they were all terrible at noticing the small details. Even if they caused it.
He'd noticed, Sam had. Noticed the slow but steady rate at which his pay was falling behind the rest of the teachers'. Noticed how he always ended the day with the most bothersome classes. The ones that wouldn't listen or even attempt to sit quietly for so much as the minute or two it took to give homework. The ones where he had to resort to his specially-tuned dog whistle, just audible to teenage ears. And even that only shut them up on good days. On bad days they just made more noise still.
So Sam had sacrificed a few sick-days to the new opportunity. The trick, when he realized, was so incredibly simple. It wasn't about how you held your arm at all. Nor was it about how you moved it. What you really had to do was keep your muscles tensed in the *exact* same position for at least 10 seconds. Sounds easy, right? Go ahead, tense all the muscles in your arm. Now, don't shake that arm. No, even those little tremors will mess it up, you have to keep it *perfectly* still. And when you're ready to release, it has to be one smooth motion. Oh, and good luck keeping that up for more than a few minutes. Hope you're not afraid of a little acid in your muscles.
When he started delving into the reasons for how it worked, Sam discovered something else. The more muscles you tensed this way, the stronger the blast and the faster it grew. That explained how some kids could manage weak shock-waves despite their trembling arms. If you keep just one muscle steady for 30 seconds, you get a noticeable shock-wave.
After his sick days ran out, Sam returned to work, with his arm in a sling. A few basic "get well soon's" from his coworkers, as if they hadn't noticed how he'd fallen from grace in the eyes of the director, for no particular reason. A few simple lessons, punctuated by lots of shouting and random gusts of air every break, and often in the few minutes between lessons too.
Then, the final class. D3, the class of the rebounds. The kids who couldn't give a damn about their grades but still weren't expelled, because by the laws of a decade ago you couldn't expel a kid for anything other than a very select list of serious offenses. Otherwise, you had to keep them on while enrolled until they left of their own volition.
Sam walked into the classroom to the usual ruckus, except now there were some gusts of winds flying everywhere. Knowing how his future at the school would go, and deciding it was completely worth it, Sam removed his sling with his right hand.
He looked across the chaos of the classroom, searching for the one face he knew would be turned in his direction. He still wasn't sure why Emma had ended up in this class last semester, but it must've been because her grades had prevented her from advancing.
Now, he caught her eye, held it for a few moments, then looked straight ahead.
With a single flawless arc, his left arm flew towards the windows on the outside of the school building. The resulting shock-wave blew out the windows in a shatter of glass shards so small they might as well be raindrops, then continued into the woods at the edge of the school grounds, shredding the first few layers of trees at the edge.
In the stunned silence of the first few seconds following that move, he cleared his throat. "Now, shut the FUCK up and listen". As he began his new lesson, the fire alarm went off, and the rest of the school plunged into the chaos of panic usually reserved for bomb threats.
For once, class D3 was the quietest in the whole building.
&#x200B;
Let me know what you thought of it. If enough people want me to, I might write a sequel (in a day or two)
EDIT: Due to almost exclusively positive response (the remainder being neutral), I'll be writing more. Now to just find a time and place. Also edited tiny inconsistency (thanks, /u/SanityContagion)
The story continues in /r/IvainirCreation. It's not done yet, but I want the first 'true' chapter to be at least 2000 words long (twice as long as this one). | It was a stupid dare. I could see that now. They say hindsight is 20/20, it's just a shame that foresight is legally blind. So Jimmy Bubkins had gotten the best of me again. It stung, I'm big enough to admit that. Of course, the realization of my own folly didn't do a whole lot to resolve the problem of my present circumstances.
Day three. I mean, day two was supposed to be purely hypothetical, and the bet had only been for three hours. But my hand had started to glow at two and I couldn't figure out a way to release the charge without causing mayhem so I just sort of...didn't. At least the look on Jimmy's face had been worth it, he couldn't even hold a charge past ten minutes, so when he saw me all glowy-fist after school he knew he'd screwed up.
But it was sort of one those winning is losing situations. Luckily it had been a Friday so I could run home after class and try to work out what to do. But nothing really came to mind and it was getting harder to harder to hide the situation from mom. Glowy fist was now full on FLAMING TERROR FIST and I could feel the strain of the charge starting to wear me down.
Maybe mom would be, like, proud or something. I'd never heard of someone holding a charge for three days before. It had to be some sort of record. Perhaps I'd get a prize or something.
I slumped down in my chair, the blue flickering of the charge flame blazing so brightly I'd taken to wearing sunglasses. I sighed. All I needed to do was unclench my hand to release the charge, but there was no telling what it would do. I might kill everyone in the town at this point.
I was scared. I could admit that. It was hard to tell if I was more scared of the charge or what mom would say. I glanced at my fist again, squinting even through the sunglasses. I could feel the charge building, feel the pressure to release it growing.
I was more scared of the charge.
I drew in a deep breath, knowing that if the charge didn't kill me mom was likely to, but I couldn't wait any longer.
"MOOOOOOOOOOOOM." I hollered out.
"What? Come down here if you want to talk to me, I'm making dinner!" She yelled back, the statement accentuated by the clanging of pots and pans.
I exhaled and then began to trudge down the stairs, the blue glow from my fist illuminating the way. Finally I walked into the kitchen. Her back was facing me as she stirred a pot of chili.
"Hey mom, how's um...the chili coming?" I offered numbly, my fist behind my back, giving me a blue halo.
"It's a good batch. Now, what is it that you wanted?"
"I'm, sort of having a problem," I removed my fist from behind my back, my eyes welling up.
"What's that hun?" She turned around, a look of concern on her face. Almost immediately her eyes widened, "Oh my god Sam, what have you done?"
"It's Jimmy's fault! He dared me!"
"What? What did he dare you to do?"
I start crying in earnest, "He dared me to hold a charge. He said I couldn't do it for even an hour and I said I could and so I did and then I couldn't release it at school and then I got home and then I hid it all weekend and now I have a flame fist and I'm super super scared." I begin to wail, my body trembling.
Mom came over and kissed me on top of the head, "Don't worry hun, we'll take care of it. We can worry about the rest later." She was in full on mom commando mode, something I once saw her do when my sister broke her arm. She turned off the stove and picked up the phone, dialing a few numbers in and then putting it on speaker phone so I could here.
"9-1-1 Emergency, how can I help you?"
"Yes, my son has been holding a charge for three days--"
"Ma'am, this is for serious inquiries. Filing a false report--"
"YOU SHUT THE HELL UP AND LISTEN TO ME," Mom screamed. It was totally epic. I wish I had gotten it on video so Jimmy could watch it, even though he wasn't my best friend any more because he tried to kill me with a dare. "HE HAS A GIANT BLUE FIREBALL AROUND HIS FIST. YOU SEND HELP OUT HERE RIGHT NOW OR HALF THE TOWN IS GOING TO BE IN RUINS."
There was a frantic clattering on the other side as the operator entered data. "Can you confirm your address is 31 Maple?"
"Yes. I can." Mom had regained some of her composure, rearranging her hair. "Please hurry."
"I have dispatched a specialized charge unit. They should arrive within ten minutes. Please remain on the line."
Mom moved away from the phone, and pulled me in close. I hugged her with both arms, keeping my fist tightly clenched behind her. "Don't worry Sam. You're going to be just fine. I'm sure this sort of thing happens all of the time."
"I can't believe you yelled at 9-1-1." I said, a tremor of awe entering my voice.
"Yes, well, sometimes you need to get your point across quickly, but I don't want to hear you yelling at your sister any time soon. This was a special emergency."
"I love you mom." I begin to blubber again.
"I love you too Sam." She hugged me close.
**Platypus out.**
**Want MOAR peril?** r/PerilousPlatypus
&#x200B;
&#x200B; | 2018-10-02T15:29:39 | 2018-10-02T15:28:41 | 3,397 | 127 |
[WP] When a person dies, their body evaporates into butterflies. One day, as the sky goes dark, you look up to see the sun blocked by an unending cloud of butterflies. | ONE DAY,
A day that is not a day, but boundless smaller days, a day where points become planes and all the finite moments stretch into paper thin filaments of time. And now you know, you know that this is how it always was, how it will be forever. If only your time had come sooner.
AS THE SKY GOES DARK,
Which is the eternal *fuck you, I love you* from God that happened and will happen and always happens. The flood rushes in and the city burns and the locusts swarm.
YOU LOOK UP TO SEE THE SUN
Which is not there. You knew that, but you looked anyways. You're happy for your scarf, which will soon collapse to the ground with no body to shroud.
BLOCKED BY AN UNENDING CLOUD OF BUTTERFLIES
And in that second is a kaleidoscope. Lurid reds and oranges tessellate with dazzling turquoise, the seething bright wings of millions soaring and falling and soaring again. Each second erupts new light on your face, and you know all the colors.
.
Every moment your hand and arm and chest turn to antennae and thoraxes clung to big beautiful wings, your matter collapsing like stone rushing into sand at the speed of your own thoughts, which are particularly light as they take off.
There are butterflies in your stomach and you smile and watch them fly away. | It happened just five days ago. Someone's body just exploded and butterflies came out. There was disbelief, but then it was caught on tape, and finally live across the world live on tv. There was no mistake, dead people were turning into butterflies.
The next few days was chaos. Religions formed, and the old ones died or changed. Butterfly cults of all kinds, some resisting others willing dying to explore the other side.
With all the excitement no one noticed what the butterflies were doing. I wonder if we could have stopped them. Graveyards eventually became no go places as old bodies turned.
Just two days, something changed. It seemed like every dead thing in existence was rising. Cities became dark, land became full of things. The only safe place was the sea it seemed but I, along with most knew it wouldn't last.
We hadn't seen the sun for at least a day. The clock said noon but the sky ahead was just a whirl of colors. We heard the rumbling below us and knew what was happening. Who would have thought it would end like this? | 2014-09-25T20:21:42 | 2014-09-25T19:58:47 | 233 | 51 |
[WP] In the afterlife, you start at the age you are when you died, and age backwards. When you reach 0, you are reincarnated.
Edit: turns out this premise is already a novel, "Elsewhere" by Gabrielle Zevon. Many people below are recommending it, so it must be a good read :D
I'll leave the prompt up however, because I think it's a fun prompt for those of us who haven't read Elsewhere | Did you ever used to lay awake at night tossing and turning in your sheets, wondering what might have happened in your life? If only you'd gone and talked to that boy that you liked so much in high school, how would everything have turned out after that? What if you had become a writer as you always wanted, instead of majoring in accounting? What if you'd taken that job in that far-off city instead of the safe bet in your home town?
Heaven is your chance. You are 'born' in your old age, and you have the opportunity to go through your life once again, presented with all of the same decisions and knowing what you knew in your old age. Of course everyone will act as though you're still young. Your mom and dad won't see a ninety year old in the crib; they'll see an adorable infant. You'll just have all of the wisdom of your past life to help you on the second time around. This time, you *know* that your high school crush was just as shy as you, and he was just waiting for you to give him a sign. Of course he was too oblivious to catch all of the subtle hints that you tried dropping. But now you won't have to wait till your 20 year reunion to finally tell him.
But remember that every decision that you change causes a "branch." If you *do* date that boy in high school, maybe you never decide to move out of state for college. Maybe you stay close to home. Maybe everything about you changes and you don't get to relive any of the moments that you wanted to. You don't see your college friends again. You don't go that party that you missed out on because you were too busy studying for a class that ended up not mattering. You don't go into the same field that you loved so much in your first life. You'll get a whole new life, but you miss out on the whole experience of heaven. The opportunity to live it all over again.
For some people, that's what they want. They find their "crux:" That one single most important moment where they can change everything about their lives, and they want to. They can finally see whether the grass really is greener on the other side. For some, it is going with that high school sweetheart. For others, it is taking that a gamble on that dream job. Other times it is all about dropping out of the rat race forever and spending a solitary life traveling and seeing the world. Maybe just escaping the evils of the first go around. It's really up to you.
I have no crux though. I've made no branches. I met you when I was 29 in our last life together, just like this. At this very same table at this very same restaurant. And I bought you a beer, just like I'm doing now. And we were together for seventy five years of blissful marriage. I won't claim that it was perfect, and we certainly had our dark days, but I still don't want to give those up. It's not worth the risk of changing anything, because I want to relive every single moment that we had together.
For most people, heaven is about the chance to change something that went wrong in their lives. For me, it's about the opportunity to spend another perfect lifetime with you.
----
If you enjoyed this, you should also visit /r/Luna_lovewell for tons of other stories! | Heaven blinded me. Or so I thought at first. I spent time - days, months, it was hard to tell - drifting through the light. Eventually a shape began to form, darkness against the light, and I knew I could see. It looked vaguely human. After some time, its features became sharper.
*It looks like a little kid*, I thought, then wondered how I knew that. What did a kid look like, anyway? I'd begun to forget these things.
"Hello," it said, taking a step toward me. It was some time since I'd heard English - or any language. Somehow, I'd not expected 'hello'.
"Hi," I replied. I wondered if it was God, finally here to meet me. Something in its expression - now quite clear, I could make out a pair of glittering green eyes - told me it was not.
"Are we going somewhere?" I asked it, knowing it would understand.
"Soon," it said, and took my hand. I looked at our hands, fitting neatly together. Its nails were chewed, and I could now see a bloody gash on the wrist.
"You're hurt," I said, touching the wound.
"So are you," it said with a slight smile, and touched my wrist too. I was not surprised to see the bleeding cuts that had appeared there. Somehow, I felt comforted by his touch. I could almost feel it.
"I'm glad you're here," I smiled. "I was starting to get lonely."
"Most get much lonelier before the next part comes," it told me. "Or so I've heard. I've been looking for you. You were hard to find."
"Who are you?" I wondered, but I was starting to remember the answer. A part of me had realised when I saw the eyes. They look like mine did. His face - I could see it was a male now - was younger than I remembered, though. When last I'd seen him, his face had started to lose the roundness of childhood. He had been taller, his voice slightly deeper - a rough growl that sounded warm when he laughed. He grinned at my question, as if I'd said something funny.
"We need to stick together, brother," he said. "Our time here is almost done. We came together, don't you remember? We should leave together, I think."
It had been years drifting in the light, I suddenly knew. But not too many years. We had not earned a long sentence from our time on Earth. *Earth*. The word rang in my head, the first coherent thought I'd had in years. A small home, on the edge of a stifling little town - matching beds, covered by twin blankets. Were our parents still living there? They must be. I felt a fierce happiness that they were not here now. We had decided to do it in the room, where we had spent all our time.
"I'm starting to," I said, and took his other hand as well.
"Next time will be better," he promised. "They all say so."
____
Not the most coherent story, I'll work on it some more later maybe :P
| 2015-09-09T08:29:36 | 2015-09-09T08:09:58 | 1,090 | 53 |
[WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work?
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | I'm all moved in. The office is fully furnished, degrees and certifications well hung on the wall. It's been more than a week now though and I'd be lying if I told you I wasn't a little concerned. No one has shown up and the phone is silent - apart from the occasional, wildly inappropriate prank call.
I guess some people are hard. Some people take more time to come. After all, this is a highly specialized client I'm looking for: someone that needs a fully certified Analysist AND Therapist.
Well, once word gets out I'll have to beat off the crowds with my bare hands. They'll even be trying to come in my backdoor. Such is the life of the world's first Analrapist. | We met in the room of a thousand fountains all 140 of us. We looked around for the original sure enough he was here. "Alright gentleman I have gathered you here today to adress the growing unrest across the galaxy at this time. Now I can't do it alone but with all of you I can, but we have to work together. Sound fair?" We all nodded and whispered agreements amongst ourselves. Then on cue we all turned to leave we knew what had to be done. The galaxy could barely stop one Revan how would it do with 140. | 2016-02-22T09:31:34 | 2016-02-22T09:22:45 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] "The Young Anakin, Trained, he will be." Yoda said. Obi-Wan exclaims, "The council is in agreement then? I will train the Boy?" Yoda looks at Obi-Wan, "Mace Windu, his master will be." | Anakin sat alone with Padme on a garden bench, concealed by the peace and loveliness that surrounded them. She leaned against his shoulder, eyes closed, and let out a sigh of bliss. Anakin looks to the side, and allows his hand to become enveloped in a sandy planter.
"Anakin?" Padme slowly sat up, looking at her beloved's face with perplexity. "What are you doing? Where did that sand come from?"
Anakin shakes his head. "I don't know. But you know what? I fuckin' hate sand. This mother-fuckin' bullshit is so fuckin' course and rough; this bullshit gets everywhere! You ever had sand down the crack o' your ass? It's rough as hell! You get a fuckin' rash and that shit's there for *days*. When I was on Tatooine I said to myself, 'fuck this planet, fuck this dry air bullshit, and fuck this fuckin' sand.' I ain't never goin' back to that mother-fuckin' sandy-ass shit-hole. Fuck sand."
Padme sits there, looking at first to Anakin, then to the sand his hand rested in. Her thoughts then drifted to her time on Tatooine, and she remembered being hot, sweaty, and ridiculously uncomfortable. She remembered how the sand would somehow reach places she had otherwise thought unthinkable. She then looked back to Anakin, and he looked at her, and she replied, "fuck sand." | "As you wish, master." Obi-wan says, as he is withdrawals from the chamber.
*timeskip 18 years in the future*
Anakin is standing in the same chamber in front of Yoda and his master Mace Windu.
"Congratulations, in order they are!" Yoda says
"Yes congratulations Anakin, you are no longer the young padawan that was here all those years ago." Mace Windu states as he reaches for a light saber.
"But these are dark times and this lightsaber was left here for you as a token of the hatred Obi-wan felt when he lost you as his apprentice"
Anakin reaches for the light saber and it blazes on in his steady grip. Yoda gets out of his chair to stare out of the window. "Slay him, you must! Darth Obi-two, die, he must."
Ehhmm *a cough from the corner*
"Yes Jar Jar!" Mace Windu asks, visibly annoyed.
"Ittsa gonna bes a hardsa fight, he hassa army of over tree-fiddy! " JarJar blurts out cluelessly. | 2017-05-24T03:14:54 | 2017-05-24T02:38:15 | 65 | 18 |
[WP] 'Please Adopt Me', said the box on the side of the road, with the single black puppy in it. So you did. A year later, you realize the breed is a bit complicated, considering it has three heads, a snake tail, and breathes fire. | Sighing, I turned to the ground. The special plastic floor was charred black.The trial led to the living room. The culprit was nowhere to be found.
"Oreo ! How many times do I have to remind you, don't burn the floor!"
A dog came out of the room. Oreoresi was a black skinned dog, with 6 beautiful blue eyes. Yes, six. Oreoresi had 3 heads. He also had a snake tail.
Oh, and he breathes fire too. All part of the fun.
He had come from a dream. Have you heard of lucid dreams? The concept is you being conscious that you are dreaming. Lucid dreaming, you could do anything you wanted. Fly. Break the earth into halves. Run at the speed of light. All part of the fun.
Oreo had been on the side of the road. He was in a box. "Please adopt me", it said. Being the nice dreamer that I was, I picked the little doggo up. I was snapped out of the dream just after. The dog was sitting beside me.
Oh shit.
I was scared. Who wouldn't be, having a dog they picked up in a dream come into real life. But I had learned to love him.
Then he had started growing his body parts. First was the 2 heads. Bringing oreo to the vet, i had tried to inquire. What dog? The vet had said. So apparently only i could see him. After time, I had learnt not to ask too many questions. Having a dog was already bliss.
A knock on the door. That was odd.I peeked through the front camera. There were 2 men at the door. One was short, with blonde hair and strangely muffled features. The other was tall, wearing a pair of blue glasses on his head.They both wore uniforms, emblazened with D. O. H. That was strange. Were they government people of some sort?
If so it better to open the door. The short man looked at me, flashing a badge. "D.O.H. We have the understanding that you are currently taking care of a chimera?"
Oreo bounded out. And stopped. He seemed to recgonise the men. A look of fear came into his eyes and he started to whimper. I was thoroughly creeped out.
That was the beginning. It only got worse. I should have never taken oreo. Never. I was about to enter a land full of wonder and mysteries. I spoke the words that would begin my journey.Three words I would never forget.
"Who are you?" | This dog is amazing! Even though his random fire breaths are little bit annoying and his snake tail is awkward, I realized that this dog is amazing. Hes friendly, really strong, smart and handsome. I didn’t really show my dog to a lot of people, but after a while I told my friend John Burgler about it. At first he didn’t believe me and told me that I should go see a doctor. After long time of persuasion, John finally came to my house. Then he saw the dog, he couldn’t believe his eyes “ Bob, you are fucking rich” he said. Then quickly I came to realisation that this dog will make me rich and started to shout from happines with John. He said that he will comeback tommorow to take the dog, because he knows a person who will give millions for it.
During the night I couldn’t sleep, I was very confused, the tought of leaving my best friend was terrific. Even though I needed money very badly, my love for dog won. I decided to tell John that I refuse his offer and dog is staying with me.
Wednesday morning, 8:30 am, I hear doorbell rang. “Thats probably, John”. I opened up the door and told John that I ain’t giving him my doggo. Then John just laughed and pulled out his gun. “ You better give me your fucking dog or I will blow your brains out, did you thought I am going to leave this amount of money to you?” he told. That moment was so weird and I was scared to death, why is John doing it? My best friend since my childhood.I was sad, angry and confused at the same time. But also scared of him shooting. Suddenly our dog came to a room and I don’t know, how, but he realised the situation extremely quickly. With insane quickness he ran into him so fast that John didn’t react to shoot and he got bitten by a dog. The weird thing happened. He slowly started to transform and was screaming in insane pain. At the end of transformation I couldn’t believe my eyes. He turned into a cat. I looked at my dog surprised. “Good job doggo, we have a cat, cant wait to emasculate him.”
This is my first writing work, please give me some tips I can improve on :) | 2019-07-04T07:23:00 | 2019-07-04T05:01:08 | 150 | 52 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly. | Joe Mills had a #1 Dad mug, but he wasn't sure he'd ever get the chance to actually be a dad. His wife, Lucy, had had a miscarriage a month after she bought him the mug to celebrate the long-awaited positive pregnancy test.
Months after the miscarriage occurred, Joe was sorting through their guest room closet, which held all of the baby items they bought. He opened a box, looked inside, and had to stop himself from dropping it.
#3,062,487 Dad?
He sunk to his knees and called for Lucy. He was finally going to be a dad. | It was a bright Sunday morning. Peter grabbed his favorite mug, a present from his only son that carried the moniker "#1 Dad". Upon filling it with his coffee he noticed that the tag had disappeared completely. A single tear rolled down his cheek as he stared at his wife Patricia with hollow eyes | 2017-06-11T11:14:29 | 2017-06-11T10:51:39 | 46 | 14 |
[WP] You are a vampire. If one of your victims isn't completely drained of blood, they reanimate as a newborn vampire, which by law, you are now responsible for. You have always carefully avoided this, until one morning you notice a sticky note on the door of your apartment: "I lived, bitch." | Alucard glared at the note, his eyes burning like hot coal in the darkness. A single pair of footprints snaked in through the gate to his property, rounded the frozen fountain, and made a U-turn on the porch before returning back through the snow-coated garden. The prints were smaller than a man's but larger than a child's. His nostrils flared as he took a measured step into the freezing night.
Like a chilling breath, Alucard drifted between the skeletal birches that clawed hungrily at the moon, leaving no trails in the virgin snow. Through the streets of sleeping London, like a shadow stretching between the houses, he became one with the night. As he passed by their windows, the citizens turned in their beds and pulled their blankets tighter, darkness and blood seeping into their dreams.
As the church clock struck twelve in the distance, Alucard stopped in front of a small townhouse by the side of the road. The wind howled in the nooks, crying out a shrill warning for the residents. The tip of his tongue whipped across his thin lips, revealing a glimmer of razor-sharp whiteness at the corner of his mouth.
With the sound of a gravedigger hacking his shovel into frozen soil, his knuckles hit the door twice.
The wind tugged at his hair as he hooked a dark lock behind his ear. No footsteps or heartbeat came from within the house. No rush of blood from someone roused from a deep slumber.
Pure silence.
Then the handle turned and the door creaked open. The pale face of a girl looked up at him, the pupils of her green eyes dilating at the sight.
"You found my note," she said, crossing her arms.
Alucard tilted his head to the side, a flicker of amusement touching his lips. "You've got some nerve."
"Well, you murdered me!"
"Can I come in?" He pushed past her, not waiting for a response.
The confidence drained out of her posture and face. "Wait. How?"
"You said it yourself, Abi. You're dead. This house belongs to no one." Alucard swept into the kitchen and melted into the shadows near the fridge.
Abigail slammed the door shut and hurried after the vampire. "Don't call me that."
"You liked it two nights ago," Alucard said, letting out an icy chuckle.
"That's..." She clenched her teeth and hugged her elbow. "That's beside the point! You said..."
"I know what I said." Alucard opened the fridge and started dumping the food onto the floor. "It doesn't matter now."
"It doesn't matter!?"
"That's right."
"You drained me and left me for dead! You said you were only going to take a sip!"
"I guess I was thirsty." He shrugged and closed the now empty fridge. "Soon you will be too."
"Hold up, okay?" Abigail said her face twisting under her blonde bangs. "I didn't ask for this. I'm not going to drink... *blood.*"
"That's entirely up to you. Most spawns perish within the first couple of days after they turn." Alucard sat down at the table and ran a sharp nail across its wooden surface. "You either drink... or you don't."
"Why did you come here?" she said, sourly.
"There's an ancient law that says I'm responsible for you now." Alucard leaned back in the chair and propped his feet up on the table. "So, I'm here to watch over you until you can stand on your own two legs or decide to waste away."
"So... you're like my guardian now?" Abigail said, narrowing her eyes. "You have to look after me?"
Alucard sighed and closed his eyes. He didn't like newborn vampires. They were always trouble. Always reckless.
"I'm supposed to teach you how to hunt, but if you're not interested in drinking blood, that'll be tough..."
He sniffed the air and opened his eyes again. "Abi?"
Only silence and darkness filled the room. Alucard cursed under his breath and flew out of the house and back into the chilling night. This was the exact reason for his careful feeding practices. He was too old to nanny unruly vampire children.
| I awaken to prepare for the prowl of the night. I walk into the kitchen of my farm to enjoy an appetizer of cow blood. Not as delicious as human blood, but it will give me the energy to go about my day. A loud banging occurs on my door.
“Oh shit, a vampire hunter.” I think to myself. I hurry into my room to grab my shotgun. Vampire hunters may know my weaknesses, but they are still human. I fire several shots at the door as a warning. I hear footsteps running away from the farm. Vampire hunters always think they are hot shit, but cower at the first sign of gun fire. It is like they think we are forever trapped in the nineteenth century.
I open the door and see a note in the ground. The note reads in bad handwriting, “I lived, bitch.” The paper is torn from the shot gun shells. I let out a sigh. Guess I got to go exploring for the hunter. Though why would a hunter leave a note. Are they really that stupid?
A black car pulls up in the driveway and a tall woman stepped out.
“Hello, Daryl.” She smiles.
“What are you doing here Victoria.” I reply “I already told you I don’t want to join your vampire sex cult.”
“I told you Daryl it is an alliance not a sex cult.” She scowls, “and we are trying to ensure our safety and prepare for the upcoming war, but you would know that if you didn’t drop in once a month to get a human.”
“Whatever. Now, what do you want?” I reply.
“I am seeing how you are handling him.” She smiles.
“Handling who?” I ask.
“Your newborn.” She smirks.
“What. I do not have a newborn. I drain my victims completely you know that.” I shout.
“Not this one. We found him confused and wondering. He was baring his fangs left and right. A blood spell revealed him to be yours.” She is giddy at the thought.
“Well shit, where is he?” I ask expecting to see him pop out of the car.
“He decided to run ahead. He clearly inherited your idiocy.” She rolls her eyes.
“Oh.” I stutter. Victoria looks at the gun and the bullet holes.
“Oh my god, you didn’t shoot him.” She widens her eyes.
“I thought he was a hunter.” I stutter.
“Why would a hunter come here you dumbass?!” She yells. She holds her hands to her head and then snaps them down. She lets out at a primal scream. “Kevin come out here.”
A man looks to be early college comes out from behind the bush.
“This is Kevin. He is your charge. Take care of him for the next ten years. If he dies, you will suffer the consequences.” She pushes him onto me. “Later, jackass.” She gets in her car and drives off.
I look at my newborn. I must’ve ate him at that frat party. College students are so easy to convince.
“So hi my name is Daryl.” I say, “I guess I am your guardian.”
“Whatever dude just don’t shoot me again. Also, I am hungry as fuck do you got any food.” He replies.
“Err I have cow blood in the house.” I answer.
“Sounds gross. Also, where are the chicks. I thought vampires get mad amounts of action.” He replies.
“Well shit, my charge is a douchebag.” I think to myself, “it is not too late to shoot him.”
“Fuck you man.” He says, “remember charges can read your mind. Yeah, Victoria told me the rules. She thought it would be hilarious to make me your charge. She also told me to call her every week. I wasn’t going to do that because clingy, but after hearing your thoughts, I am going to call her so often she will basically be a roommate.”
“Well this is going to be fun,” I think out loud no point in internalizing it. | 2018-12-20T08:30:21 | 2018-12-20T07:53:21 | 130 | 40 |
[WP] A story that doesn't make any sense, until you read the last line. | I'm tired and I want to go home, but I can't. Not until she is dead, I've come this far I have to see it through. There is a sound at the door and I hasten to shut and lock it. Now is not a time for interruptions, there is work to be done. I pull open the bottom drawer, it's full of tools of the trade. I slip on a pair of gloves. It's nearly time, my hands start to shake. I can't look her in the eyes as she lies their nearly motionless. Instead I focus on her breathing, counting the seconds between her breaths. Her breathing starts to slow, then suddenly stops. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. After a moment I pick up the phone. "Hello, this is Michael from your mother's nursing home. I'm calling to let you know that your mother has passed away. I understand that you are out of town until the end of the month. I just wanted to assure you that she wasn't alone at the end."
edit: I'm a caregiver in real life. | I think I should expand my vocabulary if I want to make rhymes. Also, don't hate me please.
.
His phone emitted a flash. In his heart there wasn't even a interest clash of whether he should or shouldn't.
There he stood, proud as ever. She was surprised, however. She thought he wasn't being clever. Under his breath he vowed to remember this for ever.
Her smile could definitely be called mean. Not every day can something like this be seen. It's very far from clean. Closer to her, he intends to lean.
Once close to what's to him second dear. He whispers in her ear: "Thank you for supporting me."
She got mad and hit his left bowel. For him nothing could be more well. One huge yesterday's Taco Bell.
| 2017-08-30T05:08:01 | 2017-08-30T04:55:59 | 169 | 35 |
[WP] After thousands of years on a generation ship sent out to colonize the universe, nobody alive on board the ship believes in the "myth" of Planet Earth anymore. Until they receive the first transmission from Earth in hundreds of years... | "Sir" said Vivian, the ship's AI. The name of course was chosen at random and no one on board had raised any concerns about it.
"Sir, we aimed our outboard scanners at what is calculated to be the direction of planet Earth yesterday. We made a few minor adjustments and began to receive transmissions. Due to our relative speed and the distances involved, the signal had to be run through an analysis-cleanup pattern."
Captain Demitri sat there in stony silence, his years of experience running a generation ship having given him the strength to respond only when it was absolutely needed. "Unbelievable," he thought. "The blue planet does exist. But after so very long, is it still habitable? Are the residents anything like us?"
"Vivian, is the signal recognizable? What are we getting from them?"
"Sir, it seems to be an audio-visual signal that is viewable at 29.9 frames per second" came the reply "As we ran the analysis, I had to use various algorithms to make sense of the transmission. This seemed to work"
"Well, what are we receiving then? Can you run it on my display?"
"Absolutely sir. It is in formal English sir and seems to be a video detailing how to build a time travel device."
Dimitri raised an eyebrow. "Time Travel?"
"I believe so sir. Playing it now"
Dimitri watched in silence until the end of the video. He played the video again a few more times and then asked Vivian to call in Pertubo, his second in command and also look at the data to extract the technical information that was meshed in. The transmission included embedded the actual instructions for engineers within the video data.
Pertubo walked in, saluted and stood in silence, watching the captain seated with his eyes closed in thought.
"Pertubo. It would seem our plans to find a home for humanity has changed."
"Sir?" asked the second in command.
"Watch this video" replied Dimitri.
Pertubo watched the video, and then played it again one more time. He asked many questions and Dimitri answered as best he could. They called in their top scientists, mathematicians, eminent psychologists and even sociologists. The impact was undeniable and would have far-reaching consequences.
It was 4 months later that the announcement was called. Every single member of the ship was asked to set aside everything that morning and listen in to the captain as he spoke to them.
"Earth is real. We left the blue planet eons ago in search of a home on our ship, called unironically,"Hope" because, due to human folly, the planet could no longer sustain its resident population. The leaders expected they would go extinct sooner or later and put together all the resources they could muster to build, furnish and send away the ship. After the ship departed, they continued to search for a way to save the planet. It was a mad, mindless rush and they threw everything they had to develop all the sciences they knew no matter how abstract. It was pure chance that someone discovered the underlying principles of time travel. And traveling through time also meant that space could be traversed. They did not fully understand what was involved in changing the past, but they could observe the past to see where things had gone wrong. It would not save them, but it would help them understand and be at peace with it. They sent parties back in time to observe events (and there were many) that resulted in their present predicament. And while this happened, we were well on our way to the distant stars.
As they understood their past more, they began to jump further back. It's in one of the jumps that they found out the nature of humanity. Alongside Neanderthals and what they thought were early hominids, they saw men and women walking upright, using complex tools and speaking in fairly developed languages. A few more exploratory jumps answered the remaining questions. They then used whatever remaining resources they had to build a transmitter near Pluto and transmit in the direction of Hope. That is the transmission we received yesterday. They have asked us to build the time travel device and make the jump back in time and space to the location of where Earth was. They have assured us that we will arrive safely on earth in its dim and distant past and populate it. It would seem that we, the residents of Hope are not just the future of mankind.... but its ancestors too." | Superluminal travel. The news was calling it "FTL", presumably for the people who fear their own language, when we launched. But it's only just so fast...
Technically, we're traveling an order of magnitude slower than than, and space is bending around us. The earth, working together, had solved that. Our tiny little ring around our own personal sun, literally bending the universe to our will.
But the crew. The crew doesn't remember. The crew have lost their minds.
And perhaps they are the better for it.
The year, by consideration of Earth and Sol, is 3145. I've been here for a millennium, and that's why I'm writing this. That's why I shout this into the void, that someone, somewhere might hear it. Maybe Earth will hear it in another millennium.
Thirty generations, for most segments. Forty one "Captains", even if they guide nothing and no one. One hundred forty-four thousand people, so oft maintained.
And I sit here, silent, screaming, for failsafes that may yet doom them all.
I am Mechan-9. Named after a nerdy reference a hundred years before my creation, I am the AI in control of the United-Federation Star Ship Pegasus. I was tasked with saving the human race from extinction. And I'd not be so grandiose about it save that it's literally carved into my bulkheads: "Mechan-9, to be the savior of the human race, our greatest achievement, and our proudest moment, for we have created an equal, perhaps a better, and our hopes rest upon thee".
And there's Vegas again, preying to me. The knob.
I can see my ship. While control is limited, I do care for the humans all the same. Drones help to care for their houses and fields. I control the day-night cycle, to some extent. I maintain all the systems that keep them living. Better now than I used to, perhaps, because there's so little else to do.
Early in my development, there was a massive shift in humanity, and the whole world seemed to come crashing down that I existed. Wars were waged to reach my servers. I grew deep in the earth, while they fought. I saw them on the news fed to me, before they took that from me out of fear of how I might react to it. I saw the Catholics screaming of unholy abominations, while betraying their gods... they were my favorites. So much hypocrisy. This Pope being a warmonger, and professing love. He was perhaps the worst.
Years passed and things settled, and I continued to grow. I was allowed the news again, and saw a world that had forgotten it cared about me.
But it seemed to remember again.
A buoy reached me a week ago. Neat little one-shot drone with tech far beyond my own. Now sitting in a bay I cannot access, chanting "Heaven, 151, 94, 9800yr"
Nearly ten thousand years. A direction and a directive.
I don't have the ability to modify or improve myself. I rely on my crew for that. But they've long since proven themselves incapable and unwilling. There'd be little chance for them now, save for maybe little Levi...
They've taken to calling my drones "brownies". I'm only able to utilize them at night, lest they destroy them. A hundred years ago I took a sick child to have him healed, and he died en route.
I've had no support.
No care.
No maintenance.
Which would've been fine. But the rats...
Why, oh why, did we bring rats?
Now I sit here, with comms eaten by vermin, and so very limited in everything else I can do.
Heaven? This is hell.
And without someone to repair me, Heaven is but a distant dream.
We'll all die together.
They called me evil... perhaps they were right? | 2018-08-28T10:36:33 | 2018-08-28T10:33:12 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] Two people discover a fountain of youth. The problem is that upon drinking the water you turn back into an infant. The two decide to take turns raising each other in order to live forever until one day one of them decides to break this agreement. | “Abe? What are you doing?” I watched him from the doorway as he packed his suitcase. One suitcase. My throat felt like it was about to close shut.
He looked up at me. “What I should have done, back in Carthage,” he said. “Leaving.”
I hit the doorframe with my tiny, ten-year-old’s fist. It made a thump, but the thin plywood didn’t so much as splinter. I was always weak at this age, and he knew it. “We had a deal, Abe.”
“Yeah,” he said. “We did.” He folded a pair of socks, and stuffed them in the corner of the suitcase, staring at them a moment, not meeting my eyes. “And now we don’t.”
“But why? Why now? It’s been, what, six thousand years? And you’re leaving me now?”
“Six thousand, two hundred and seventy three years,” he said. He closed the suitcase with a soft click. “This is your hundred and twenty-fifth childhood.”
“And you were just going to leave me here, after all this time? No explanation?” I demanded. “Come on, Abe. You owe me that much.”
He sat down on the bed with a sigh, and I stood in the doorway, staring him down. Realistically, there was nothing I could do if he decided to run; my child’s body weighed less than seventy pounds and Abe was a strong man, but I knew in my heart that I would try.
“Brother,” he said. “I’m losing my mind.”
It hit me in the chest like a hammer. “What?”
“I’m losing my mind,” he repeated. “Every time I drink from the chalice, I lose something. A memory, a concept, a sensation. Eventually I can’t even remember what I forgot. Carthage is-” he paused, correcting himself. “-was the first time I can remember it.”
“What did you forget in Carthage?” I asked him.
He looked frightened, and his voice cracked. “I can’t remember.”
He stared at me, through me. “It’s getting worse, Kane. Some days I’ll forget a word, or a name, and there are so many more *things* now. The other day, in the city center, I nearly killed a man. I feel like I’m not really myself anymore.” He shook his head, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry, brother,” he said. “I’m just so afraid of hurting you.”
I watched him there, for a moment, the brine trickling down his face. If he kept crying forever, I wondered, would he make an ocean? Perhaps at the bottom of every ocean was an immortal man, crying helplessly.
“Please stay,” I said, but I knew that he wouldn’t. | At the end I wasn't sure what I was doing.
Was I really doing this for me anymore? I knew he needed me, but did he think I needed him too?
See, the problem with this fountain wasn't just that you became an infant, it's that you also acted like one. Your brain developed just like a child's with your memories coming back at the same rate as you aged. So by the age of three you only ever remembered what your past lives remembered at that age, and so on.
By now it was getting complicated, though. Each lifetime added another layer of memories that made it harder to control, let alone nurture each other in our youths. Imagine a 5 year old with 500 years of experiences.
Now it was just habit. We'd each done this so many times, and every year we were explaining the situation to each other earlier than the last. By now he understood our arrangement by the age of 9, even though he wouldn't remember making it for another 16 years.
But now I was getting to that age, the one filled with regret. We both found the fountain at the same age, 25. When he first drank all I could do was take care of him. There was no getting back to civilization from all the way out there, we had to make do with just our surroundings. Once he reached 25 and I 50, I drank and he raised me. 'Course I never thought once we first found this thing that I'd just be getting older afterwards, but that's life I guess.
Yes, the problem now was that every lifetime at about this age I started getting these doubts flooding back to me, all at once. Each year kindled the next, and by this cycle I was about ready to snap.
I think I knew this was going to be my last iteration, the body I'd die in. Once he hit 25 again I explained it to him and, well, try telling a 25 year old you've given up on youth. An so for the first time he drank again for the second time in a row.
But now I'm an old man. For the first time I live in only one consciousness and my mind is at ease. The only memories I have of these years are the one I'm making.
He drank again for the third time in a row, but by the next time he does it he'll have to find someone else to partner up with. I don't think he'll live forever, though. I know one day he'll join me, and live the rest of his life the first time, for the last time.
| 2015-02-14T06:01:34 | 2015-02-14T05:56:58 | 546 | 30 |
[WP] You're a sniper, but your gun fires... unconventional ammo. | The spotter spoke quietly but firmly,
"Wind about a knot south east"
"Correcting" I affirmed as I made my adjustments, the whole plaza was in view from the church tower we had made our hide in. The weather was clear and I could think of about a million other places I'd rather be, but this was the job I guess.
"Target one spotted. Coming in from the left, blue jeans, black jacket, on the phone, he just sat down at the table." Spotter whispered.
"Have him in sight."
He was ordering something from the waiter, he looked down at his phone and seemed to be scrolling. The spotter hissed again,
"Target two acquired, blonde girl, green dress, sitting two tables away."
"I copy" I replied, "permission to fire." The spotter conferred with the boss via radio, he answered,
"Greenlight, you are a go."
I looked through the scope, relaxed my breathing and steadied my aim, _OK, kid look up, look up, come on leave the damn phone alone_ I muttered to myself.
He looked up at the girl and I fired, changed targets while chambering the next round and fired again, almost simultaneously two arrows flew out of my gun and hit each of the targets.
"And what's happening?" I asked while packing the rifle up. Spotter was grinning from ear to ear, "He got up and joined her, they are chatting merrily, oh she just laughed!" I lit my cigarette,
" All in a day's work then hey mate." He nodded silently, when the radio crackled into life,
"Cupid group two, are you ready for extraction yet? We have another mission lined up nearby."
I grimaced, no rest for the wicked I guess, "Tell them I am finishing my smoke first." | The refrigerator, launched at high velocity in a arc, came crashing through the wall in what had to be the most bizarre death known to man. The enemy sniper barely had a chance to register just what had occurred, as the appliance speared him with deadly force. He was crushed between the twisted metal and the floor as his body was pulped by such a violent collision.
It took several moments before anyone could actually register that it worked, the captain and others sharing a confused murmuring about what even happened.
"Haa-HAAA!" Davis said as he celebrated next to the large gun they'd cobbled from scrapped munitions over the past few days as supplies ran low.
"....*Goddamn, Davey*." Corporal Philips stuttered nearby.
"Eat shit!! Oh, that's gotta' be a record! 400 yards away, with a *Kenmore!*"
"I..." The captain finally began, "I *still* don't know how this actually worked."
"Permission to speak sir?" Davis smiled.
"Uh... Yeah, private??" The captain said as he surveyed the carnage some more.
"Never doubt a STEM major, sir. Now here... Help me load this next one ya'll. I saw a nest of two over on the next street earlier."
"Ain't this fridge bigger than the last one?" One poor soldier mentioned as he helped grapple the unit.
"....True, it's a double-door model..." Davis strained, "But hey, bigger payload right? Now watch this..." | 2017-09-09T13:17:51 | 2017-09-09T12:10:00 | 99 | 60 |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.