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] When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives... | I scanned the horizon once more, wondering when my summoned item would arrive. I also wondered if there was a chance it was a person, and that they would simply appear in the antechamber of my home, like they always do. I shuddered at the thought of another human being forced upon me under the guise of a "soulmate". I turned and sneered at the happy couple on the bench down the road that I was almost certain was one of those couples. They were so wrapped in each others arms they failed to notice me gaze. *Disgusting*.
The worst thing about The Summoning is that there was no way to predict how and when the unknown object was going to arrive. You just have to wait after you invoke the summoning, which itself you have no control of. The invocation itself is the transition from 17 to 18 years of age.
I recall with fondness the story of Herma, who found out that she could summon water, but only from a particular lake hundreds of miles away. Two months passed her by as the whole contents of the lake ripped through thousands of miles of villages and farmland before it crashed into her home, killing her and her entire family. Oh, there are generations of similar stories, some worse that Herma's. The reality, though, is that what people typically end up being able to summon is mostly harmless or people.
I saw a shadow moving in the distance. A large creature with wings was fast approaching. I knew instinctively that this was my summoned being. Waves of relief washed over me. I was happy knowing it was not going to be a person, and I returned to sneering at the couple down the road as I waited for the creature to arrive.
The creature landed on the roof of my home without a sound. It watched me from that vantage point as I glared at the couple. It took a moment for me to remove my eyes from the vile human spectacle and return my gaze to the sky only to realize that the creature was gone. I heard a low growl and turned to see a fully-grown dragon resting on my house.
I spoke aloud. "Finally, what I have summoned has arrived!" I turned to the couple, they took no notice of my gesture. Their mouths were locked onto each other. I frowned.
The dragon spoke next. *No, you fool.* Its voice reverberated in my mind. *You did not summon me as the humans do.* I felt the creature quell my confusion. *You summoned me as the dragons do.* It screeched and set me aflame.
Though it should've pained me, the flames felt warm on my body. The cobblestone beneath me melted and my shoes were reduced to cinders. I looked up at the dragon and felt myself rise with the fire. I heard my clothes tear and a shudder rippled through me. Soon, I gazed at eye level with the dragon and smiled. If she meant to kill me, she'd have to find another way.
I conveyed this information with my mind and simultaneously realized two things: that I was speaking to her with my mind and I was now aware that she was a female dragon. She cackled and the flames stopped, though my body did not fall. Looking down, I saw the scales of a dragon where my torso should be, and I stood as large as my home. The dragon turned her head so that one eye faced me. *You are the first dragon created in a thousand years.* Her eye sparkled with an internal flame. *Now, let us both remind the humans why we are the true rulers of this planet.*
I understood what she meant in an instant. I turned to the couple seated in terror on the bench, grimaced at their continued affection for one another even in this dire moment, and set them on fire. I burned them until the stone bench itself melted into the earth. I twisted to face the dragon and gave her a wicked smile. She cackled back. | The historian reclined, a peculiar look in his eyes. His students inched forward in their chairs, as curious as ever. It was unusual for someone to be so unwilling to discuss their soul object - unless they had something to hide. Whipers and rumors had run the gambit since the recluse had been hired the semester prior, when too-curious teens had taken to finding out everything there is to know about the man.
He rolled his eyes. "Freshman. Why is it always the Freshmen?"
It was not unusual for people to outright refuse to summon their soul object, considering it wasn't the brightest for a chemistry teacher to summon a nuclear warhead in class. And yes, Williams knew that Professor Krikom could summon Greek fire. Yes, they still don't know how to create it. Yes, it was cool. But Willams wasn't going to admit that to anyone.
But that was supposed to go on the syllabus, was it not? No-one in their right mind would refuse to disclose their soul object at all.
Professor Williams scubbed a hand across his face, tired and worn. He smiled bleakly at the dozens of students in the lecture hall. "I just love how this is the moment you all stay quiet. And not when we're discussing something important,"
He frowned once more. "If this will make you stop asking about it."
Williams reached out with a pale arm, thin hands waving in the air for dramatic effect.
A skull clattered to ths floor. Then a pelvic bone. Followed by a thighbone and a few other pale fragments. Gray sand clung to the unfinished skeleton, salty must filling the hall. A young student rushed from the room, gagging. Others began to weep.
The room was silent.
He was a Necronomicus.
"Consider yourselves lucky my soul object isn't freshly dead."
And just like that, the room erupted. Slurs spewed from frothing lips, and bigotry-laced expressions of disgust sneered at him. Professor Williams schooled his features into that of apathy.
"Corpse fucker!"
"Necrophile!"
"You should be ashamed of yourself!"
"Just wait until my parents hear obout this!"
And just like that, the bones disappeared. The professor dialed quickly a number on his phone and slipped quietly from the room.
The more rowdy of the students attempted to follow; but Williams summoned the bones in a neat little line - blocking them. None of them wanted to come close the accursed soul object, recoiling in as if they'd been burned.
"I should have known I was teaching a class of little bigots," the man cursed under his breath. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, teaching out West."
The history professor clapped his hands together, a large grin plastered on his face. "What a teachable moment! Can anyone possibly tell me what happened on November 30th, 1903?"
"We burned you damned creeps alive!"
"That's right! Can anyone tell me what happened in the mid-nineties when it came to people like me?"
"...The Necronomicus Rights Movement."
"Lovely! Just lovely. Now could anyone guess why I am asking you these things?"
"Who fucking cares!"
And just like that, the mob erupted once more - but just like that, several professors jumped in to chorale the students as they clawed and screamed. Sirens erupted in the distance, drowning out their cruel words.
Williams slipped away, the bones vanishing once more. All he could do was buy himself some time. | 2019-09-18T09:27:31 | 2019-09-18T09:06:02 | 123 | 49 |
[WP] Write the letter that you always wanted to, but never did.
Most of the writing prompts I see on here are for fictional stories, but this is only one small corner of the larger art of writing. In this prompt, I'd like you to consider writing something a little more personal, and in a form that you might not have otherwise considered... Letters.
Perhaps you'd like to write a letter confessing your love to a long forgotten crush? A letter to your boss telling them exactly what you think of them? A letter to your school bully? Maybe a letter to your childhood hero telling them how much you were inspired by their career?
Be creative, be inventive, but most of all - be expressive. :D | I am writing this with tears in my eyes and 15 years of wishing i did this sooner.
Dear Dude who molested me when I was a child,
You ruined my life. It has been a long time since you molested me and those 3 other kids, and I hope you are rotting in that cell.
Ever since what you have done, I have battled severe depression and extreme psychosis. Do you know what its like being a 10 year old boy huddled in a corner thinking the shadows are going to get him while the voices in his head scream at him in unintelligible words? Do you know what it's like for a 12 year old to contemplate suicide just to get the voices to stop. You probably think I deserve it because my testimony put you in prison for 50 years.
Thanks to you, I have had 24 days in my life where i have held pills to my lips, or a knife to my throat, or held a gun in my hands, all because it would "be easier" than living.
Thanks to you, my career in the Navy was cut short because i was to unstable and had to spend a week in a mental hospital.
Thanks to you, I have spent the last 5 years of my life wasting away because I didnt think there was anything left for me.
But you probably don't care.
Thankfully, though, I have found a girl who loves me. I have found a therapist who tells me it isn't my fault. I have a life I have now built that I love and wouldnt trade for the world. Now i have 2 cats and a dog. Now i have an apartment that I can call home. Now....I have a life, one I don't want to end because it would "be easy".
~One of the boys you raped so long ago. | Dear Violet
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry I didn't tell you how I felt about you. I was always nervous when it came to girls, you of all people should remember that.
I'm sorry I didn't hang out with you more. I always thought I would have time later, but I never made time for it.
I'm sorry I didn't dance with you at prom. I know I promised you that I would, but you looked like you were having fun with your new boyfriend and I didn't want to ruin it.
I'm sorry wasn't there when you needed help moving out. It all happened so fast with you and Mike breaking up and getting back together again so much, I didn't think it would stick that time.
I'm sorry that I didn't get to say goodbye when you left. I didn't think you'd leave without telling me.
For as long as I have know you, you've always been the friend that awkward, nerdy kid needed. I probably wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. I mean it. I wasn't in a good place before I met you.It may not have been under the best circumstances that we became friends, but I wouldn't have had it any other way.
I don't know if you'll feel the same way, or if this is the right time to say it and I have no idea how else to say this so I'll just say it.
Violet Brindley
I love you.
Yours Truly
Tim
| 2015-12-05T15:55:07 | 2015-12-05T15:49:55 | 61 | 11 |
[WP] With total war as a foreign concept to the rest of our galaxy. Everyone saw humans as the negotiators and the peace makers, soft and weak, today is the day the galaxy finds out why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | Earth's representative took the podium at a convention of all galactic leaders. Everyone expected unconditional surrender and from the looks of the old man in a white coat with a defeated expression that is what they were about to get.
"I want everyone to know that I am deeply saddened by what I am about to say.
When we joined the galactic community 200 years ago we were given an ultimatum by the rest of you. "Learn to communicate or perish.", And perish we almost did. See we understood your words just fine but as you had planned we didn't understand your meaning. We had become so wrapped up in the specifics of our words that we had forgotten our more basic forms of communication. The way you communicated was almost like a intricate dance that we couldn't understand. We could translate the words but that was only half the message.
We learned to 'communicate' very quickly as our survival depended on it, but what what you didn't realize what that the skills of negotiation were already ingrained in us because again our survival depended on it for centuries before you came along. Once we had your skills of communication we not only joined you in the galactic community but we quickly rose in your ranks. We left our warring history behind and became brokers of peace and negotiation for your many factions.
At first you welcomed us, but I'm not telling you anything you don't already know.
Now we know all your secrets. You trusted us and we have never breached that trust. But now there grows a fear that we won't continue to be so selfless. That we are still the liars and violent monsters we were when your found us and that allowing us to continue in your community will lead to disaster.
So you have attacked us on multiple fronts and killed many of our people. Driving us off all the planets we now inhabit and deporting us back to Earth. We don't have the engines of war that you have. We don't even have the primitive guns and explosives that we used to.
Our defeat is guaranteed."
The entire convention began to murmur as the time for surrender seemed imminent.
"I'm not finished!"
The anger and commanding tone silenced the entire crowd. No one in attendance expected this of the frail looking old human on the stage.
"We never betrayed your trust. You have now betrayed ours.
As I said we know all of your secrets. We know all the weaknesses or your main civilisation hubs. We know the security of all of your facilities. We know the genetic making and evolutionary histories of every species here.
We also know that you don't plan to stop once our surrender is complete. You plan to eradicate us just as you did when you gave us your ultimatum 200 years ago if we failed to learn to communicate.
Let me be very clear in this communication now.
We have a secret that you do not know. A millennia before you found us we had enforced on ourselves rules of war because if we hadn't we would be long dead by the time you arrived. Rules that, now faced with our Extinction, we see no reason to uphold.
At this very moment a host of viruses that we have designed for each of your species is being released on your inhabited planets and in this very room. They are quite incurable."
The room fell silent as everyone checked to see if it was true, but the human was not bluffing.
"Mutually assured destruction. That is a term you are not familiar with but I am sure you understand. Bring your full might upon us if you wish. No one will be left alive when the dust settles."
Edit: I referenced a short story by Frank Herbert in this. It's called 'try to remember' and it's in a collection called EYE. https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eye_(short_story_collection) great reads if you have the chance | "Rules for war?" The answer was slow and methodical as the general stood on the bridge. His scaled skin shuddering in disgust. "War has no rules. Perhaps it is time we show these humans just what a superior race looks like. Yes, We shall enslave them."
​
Invasion Day 1 Hour 1
The humans fell in droves, many fell to the initial bombardment. Our translators say we are in an area called Manhattan. Humans are a fairly frail species similar to our own. Granted we took losses but, what was a dozen of my men to the 100 humans that they slaughtered and, the thousands that fled. I admire the weaponry primitive as it may be it's effective simple ruthless kinetic projectiles but, these will easily be avoided.
​
Day 1 hour 2
It seems the humans have warriors of their own. Men mounted on great beasts wielding brutal clubs in blue uniforms proudly charging into the battle to safe others of their species. These men with them bring friends in dark uniforms wearing some form of armor that has made many of our kinetic weapons less effective. Our hand weapons fair a little better but, the humans in this second wave are stronger. Scattered voices speak of NYPD but, we know not what this is. Anytime this is mentioned the men on great beasts show up. The frailer individuals of the species are protected by these warriors and, rushed out of the battlefield. The humans have lost many warriors protecting these smaller individuals. We must leverage this to our advantage. Of our initial 300 troops I am allotting 700 more with which to fight along with aircraft.
​
Day 1 hour 6
These initial Warriors were nothing compared to a much more advanced class of warriors that has just arrived. Something the Primitive human tribes refer to as Marines. These brutes tower over their brethren wearing a cloth that makes them harder to find. Their voices boom over the sound of the primitive weapons they carry and, they ferociously charge, wielding daggers on the end of their kinetic weapons. Our aircraft were briefly effective until the Marines own aircraft showed up. We have suffered 98% loss throughout our fleet. In 20 more hours our own fleets will arrive bringing reinforcements. I must take to the battlefield personally to lead the 300 remaining members of my army.
​
Day 2 hour 5
The humans have won. Today I signed a document stating that me or my species shall never attack earth again. Our fleets arrived but as reinforcements touched down the ships were destroyed one by one. We have lost 10,000 brave warriors. I myself have only survived because one of the warriors forced me to yield after disarming and, injuring me. However, he did not kill me even though he had ample opportunity, instead he restrained my limbs. They broadcast over great projectors that I had been captured and, my own warriors threw down arms rather then face defeat. These humans they negotiate for survival because that is the only way in which their species will survive. They are among the most brutal and, savage races in the galaxy. For all reading this do not engage in war with them you might gain an early victory but, you will lose a war with them. I fear that by invading them we have given them access to the stars as they reverse our own technology. The one called Musk took great interest in our engines. All species run if we wish to survive. | 2018-12-14T21:32:21 | 2018-12-14T16:40:15 | 681 | 214 |
[WP] A child makes a wish that no-one will hurt anyone else ever again. The next morning the world’s press is reporting that astoundingly, people’s attackers seem to be mysteriously dying or hurt mid conflict. Apparently now any injury you try to inflict upon someone else will instead happen to you. | Today I retire. Not because I have put in decades of dedicated service after years of formal education and not because I've won some sort of lottery; No, nothing as sweet as that.
No one knows why, but about a year ago all of humanity found itself unable to inflict pain upon others. If anyone tried to harm another that pain would be instead be inflicted upon the attacker.
Murderers would drop dead as they lunged towards victims. Assailants would collapse in pain as they approached their target. Even children were not spared –bullies would find themselves bloodied and bruised in the school yard as they sauntered towards the young social outcasts.
For a while the world was elated. In a day war was ended. In mere weeks crime was no more. But there were unforeseen and troubling consequences that presented themselves almost immeidately.
Today I retire because I can no longer take the pain. At first I thought I could power through it. As my colleagues retired one by one, I persisted. Alice, my assistant, would inject a little Novocain and I'd get to work, hardly feeling a thing. She would flinch as she pricked my gums, but she never complained. How I'll miss Alice!
On some days I would have her numb my entire face so I could work on any tooth my patients needed. Of course, I’d try to schedule all of my right molars on one day and my left molars on another, but on some days this just wasn’t possible.
But day after day, hour after hour, the numbness, subsequent tingling, and jaw pain I’d eventually feel has become too much. Like many of my colleagues before me, I can no longer take it.
Today I retire; the last dentist in the tri-state area to do so.
Today the cavities have won.
| Rex was a hit-man. He wasn't a particularly good one, mind you, but a hit-man none the less. While those within the same profession relied on stealth, Rex used the tried and true *"run and gun"* tactic.
The big oaf of a man burst through doors and fired at anything and everything that dared move. Often times he'd end up firing so many rounds that all of the job's earnings would get spent replenishing his ammunition. Rex wasn't a smart man, but he did his job.
This night was like any other. His target was a mid-ranking mobster, Tony No-Nose. Now this Tony guy, he's got no nose, but that isn't important. What is important, however, is that Rex has entered and cleared three rooms of Tony's deli. Despite each room having armed occupants, the hit-man has managed to make it to the office unscathed. In fact, Rex hadn't fired a single time. As soon as he kicked in the doors, the mobsters started killing each other. It was the darnedest thing!
Rex boots open the office door, which nearly breaks free of its hinges. Tony is facing away, staring out the window at the ongoing star shower.
"'Ey No-Nose!" Rex announces himself, raising his weapon. Tony looks back at the gun-wielding assassin. "Make a wish."
Rex pulls the trigger. A loud clap of gunfire fills the room, blinding flashes hanging at the end of the barrel. This comes to a sudden halt as Rex collapses, dead.
Tony stares for a moment. He gives himself a quick once-over and returns his gaze to the shooting stars.
"Huh." | 2018-03-30T05:10:07 | 2018-03-30T03:38:39 | 237 | 28 |
[WP] Satan was at a loss for words. He checked his book several times, but none of your sins matched up with the punishments in the 9 circles of Hell. It was then that he decided that there should be a 10th circle dug out just for people who broke the mold like you did. | "Hmmm..."
The devil looked up from his iPad. His long fingers halting the incessant tapping on the screen, he had been typing for hours.
"This, is unusual. Normally we get very easy sins. Cheating on one's spouse, murder, being fat or rich. All of those are easy."
He stands. The devil seems, TALL. The room isn't any larger than most, still he fills it. He starts a slow movement of coming around the desk.
"You see, no one LIKED what you did. Up there."
He pauses for a moment, looking up.
"I've been told to, rewrite the rules, so to speak. An abridgment of what classifies a sinner. We seem to have not caught up to technology. "
That walk begins again. Each step terrible, halting. I feel, oppressed.
"Do you KNOW exactly what it is you've done, my little sinner? The crime you've committed in God's Earth?"
Heat, like being too close to a bonfire, it radiates off of him. My brow starts to drip.
"How many times did you read a story, look at the Like button and not click it? You never Upvoted anything, only downvoted. There was not a single piece of media that you consumed that you ever gave good feedback on."
His hand reaches out the palm glowing like embers. It was so CLOSE to my shoulder.
"Even that wouldn't normally be enough but you had to write a..."
The iPad comes up to his face.
"Script. You actually automated your sin. Well..."
His hand slowly withdraws, I involuntarily exhale the breath I didn't realize I was holding.
"Welcome to my army. You are being put in charge of HR. There are plenty of people quite angry with us."
He smiles a WIDE smile as he flicks his hand towards me. Suddenly I'm carrying a large CRT Macintosh in my hands. He points out his door.
"Chose your cubicle wisely, it will be yours for...ever." | "I lived my entire life for this moment. The things I did, the crimes I committed. The countless atrocities just for this one singular moment." I said with a smile.
I was currently in ragged clothes in chains as I stared at the face of what many on Earth feared.
That twisted face of evil gazed at me with, disgust.
I fought the urge to chuckle as I gazed into the eyes of the infernal one and saw him look away.
"Yes... I've seen." His voice of madness and lies said.
I let out a giggle
He frowned at me, "Tell me did you do it as some sick worship in my name?"
I let out a hearty laugh, "For you? No, never. I did it for me. For the thrill. I did it because I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the act more and more each time."
He seemed sickened as he heard me describe my life.
"Silence." He said as he grew weary of my story.
"Your.. different than many who have come here. Many have been sent to hell with a sickness in them but you... your not sick."
He stared at me with a revolted look. "Your a wrongness in existence."
He stood up from his throne and towered over my chained form. "Hell is a way to cleanse the soul for reincarnation to see if they can gain worthiness for Heaven in their second life. But you... you don't deserve redemption. You don't deserve release from Hell."
I smiled at him.
"I shall build a place special for beings like you."
I felt my body begin to be consumed by fire and I began to scream.
"A place for such wrongness." | 2020-10-28T00:59:03 | 2020-10-27T21:55:14 | 101 | 23 |
[WP] "And how many claws does Stewie have?" you ask your daughter as you consult the list your mother gave you. You need to figure out if your daughter's invisible friend is a monster, demon, or fairy and if you have to kill it to save her. | *Stewie has two wings and a gentle voice. He knows about all the plants and animals of the world and wishes only for peace among the Earth's creatures.*
...That's all the intel I'd gathered.
I'm very much opposed to the idea of some *thing* whispering in my daughter's ear, telling her things I'll never be privy to. But that's par for the course in this family. My mother had a centaur BFF in third grade and I had a literal angel and devil on my shoulder in middle school. That didn't make puberty any easier.
I gently questioned Jane at the dinner table one spring evening when she seemed in particularly high spirits.
"So what adventures did kindergarten hold for you today, hon?" I asked, poking my salad with a fork so my hands didn't shake.
"We talked about adding and subtracting, then played tag at recess!" Jane announced, smiling widely. "Then Stewie showed me a hidden stream in the forest behind the school. He told me about all the birds and insects that it helps. It was *magical*, mommy!"
I felt a pang of horror. "How deep in the forest did you go?"
"Past the big oak tree!"
I knelt down and gripped her shoulders firmly. "I *never* want you to go any further than that, dear. OK? No matter what Stewie tells you. He seems nice but you have to listen to mommy first. You could get lost."
"Stewie always helps me find my way back! Always!"
Jane stomped her feet, gave me an obnoxiously effective pouty face, and ran upstairs to her room.
***
Later that evening, I crept past the Big Oak Tree at the stroke of midnight. I snapped my fingers and a tiny blue flame appeared above my left palm, illuminating the path ahead.
The forest's foliage displays remarkable bioluminescence, but only to those who can conjure a certain kind of magic. Thankfully, I inherited that ability. That night, the forest glowed brighter than ever, but it was far too quiet. Not even a frog or cricket.
"Hello, Mage Lauren of the Eastern Clan."
A deep, booming voice rang through the trees. I whipped around, waving the blue flame in a spiral.
"Who goes there?"
"I am the fog that whispers in the night. The ruler of the forest, and soon the pathetic human constructs that surround it. I am the fly that feasts upon the lowliest detritus and the bird that soars above all. Perhaps you, and your daughter know me as...Stewie."
A tiny fairy appeared at the base of the oak tree, its glow faint against my growing blue flame.
"I've been waiting for this moment for a long time. I wondered when you might begin to suspect...when you might find yourself in the woods where poor mother Guinevere met her demise."
I clenched my fist, temporarily dousing the flame before bringing it back with full force. "Stewie" flew closer.
"Tell me. How helpful was that list she gave you before she perished at my hand?"
Mom's Tome of Magic contained an exhaustive list of the warning signs for encroaching goblins, devils, and orcs, among others. It didn't, however, address the possibility of a demon disguised as a fairy.
"How fitting that you should die where she once stood. I'll give you a proper burial right next to her grave. And then..."
The fairy-demon fluttered within inches of my face.
"I will be the voice in your daughter's ear as she grows. As she wields magic for the first time. She will never know the power her family once held. She will be mine."
In a sudden burst, flames spewed forth from both of my palms, then from my eyes, nose, and mouth. I floated above the glowing earth, my entire body engulfed in blue.
"Stay away from my daughter."
I shot a burst of flames at the demon and he dodged them, a tiny moving target. I closed my fist and doused the flame before it reached any trees or plants, then sent another burst into the air.
"This is your fate, Mage! You shall fail like your mother did, and her mother before her!"
I spun the flames in a spiral again and created a gigantic lasso. Stewie momentarily froze in place - the opening I needed. I twisted my arm and the lasso caught the demon in its grip.
"Farewell, Parathen of the Southern Catacombs, Attempted Prince of the Forest, alias 'Stewie,'" I said, grinning widely. "Today, your fate dies with you."
I whipped my arm back and the demon burst into thousands of tiny golden particles.
***
Jane sighed and flung her backpack against the door.
"What's wrong, dear?" I asked.
"I can't find Stewie anywhere. I was so excited for our next adventure." A tear trickled down her cheek.
I knelt down and wrapped her in a hug. "I know it's hard. I know you miss him, and I don't know when or if he'll be back. But darling...the forest is still there."
She looked up at me and cracked a smile.
"Yeah...yeah, I guess so," she said.
"And I will go there with you any day you want. Maybe I can even show you a thing or two you've never seen."
"Yay! Can we go today?!"
"Sure! Go put your things away. Let's go on an adventure."
As she raced up the stairs, Jane seemed to have forgotten all about Stewie. But in this family, it would be a mistake to assume freedom. I must remain vigilant and watchful for the next demon who deems it wise to cross me.
I am Mage Lauren of the Eastern Clan, and no daughter of mine shall perish in the darkness of the woods. | # Soulmage
**When life gave you demons, you made demonade.** After a Demon of Empathy had inflicted half of the students of the Silent Academy for Witches with visions of power and offers of deals, Witch Aimes took it upon herself to turn the entire experience into a teachable lesson. She was, after all, my tutor at the Silent Academy; I wouldn't be surprised if she responded to her daughter crying about a boy being mean to her with "and what did we learn from this?"
"What did 'Stewie' look like when he showed up in your dreams?" Witch Aimes asked.
Her daughter sniffled on stage, rubbing her nose. "Big. Tall. Lotsa muscles."
"Was he a human?" Witch Aimes asked. The elf in the audience cleared his throat, and Witch Aimes amended her statement. "Or, that is, was he a person?"
"He *looked* like a people," Tisei said, although a hint of doubt had entered her voice. "Except... except at the end."
"Go on," Witch Aimes prompted. Tisei kicked her dangling legs back and forth; the chair she was on was too tall for her to even touch the ground.
"He said I had... re-*sent*\-ment," Tisei enunciated, not meeting her mother's eyes.
"About what?" Witch Aimes asked, raising an eyebrow. *What could you possibly have cause to be resentful of,* her posture seemed to say. *I supply you with everything I could ever need.*
Witches used emotions like fires burned fuel. I'd gotten good at reading the subtext behind my witchcraft teacher's words.
"He said my momma doesn't love me," Tisei whispered. "That she cares about being right more than being a momma. He said... he said he could fix that. If I let him in."
The auditorium fell silent.
Then Witch Aimes shattered the silence with a contemptuous snort. "See?" She asked. "This is exactly the danger these demons pose. To a strong-willed mind, their words mean nothing—but to an impressionable child, a demon can easily corrupt them with falsehoods and foolish ideas. Keep an eye on your children, and if they start spouting any such nonsense, bring them to me."
Tisei looked down, expression unreadable, and I winced. The Demon of Empathy wouldn't have whispered those insidious words if there wasn't a sickly vein of truth feeding them.
But no matter how much of an arrogant little prick she was, she was also the only witch here who'd stood up to the Demon of Empathy themself and *won*. So we all had to listen to her, if only a little.
"And now for a demonstration." Heh. Demon-stration. "Demons of Empathy strike by creating an emotional connection between themself and the victim." Privately, I agreed that her daughter was a victim, although of who, the jury was still out on.
"But connections go both ways," she continued, and here her gaze grew fierce. The audience leaned in, and I couldn't blame them. Because even if Witch Aimes was a self-righteous jerk, she was *our* self-righteous jerk. The Demon of Empathy had hurt us all, and we wanted to know how to fight *back*. "That connection can, with the right knowledge, be reversed. Our top witches are still working on ways to strengthen it beyond its original form, but for now, we can at least manage to speak *back* to the demon, in the same way it's spoken to us."
Witch Aimes lowered her voice, and for a moment, it was as if the stage didn't exist. As if it was just her and her daughter, and for all the faults in their relationship, a mother and daughter they still were.
"The one who hurt you. You can say anything you want to them, or nothing at all. I give you this power, to do with what you will."
I felt something travel from Aimes' soul to her daughter's, and Tisei pressed herself closer to her mother's form, eyes squeezed shut.
Then she whispered, "You were wrong. My momma *does* love me. In her own, silly way."
The words rippled out through the world, and I knew that somewhere, someone who'd just been struck the first blow of a long war was listening.
Aimes smiled, and for a heartbeat, I thought I saw something relieved in her gaze. "I love you too, poppy."
Then she leaned back. "That concludes today's lesson on demonology," Witch Aimes, said, straightening up as if nothing had happened. "I'll see you again tomorrow—and don't forget to read chapters eight through twelve of *Defense against Demons.*"
The class filed out, sluicing around me as I sat in thought.
I'd been spoken to by the Demon of Empathy as well.
And I had a thing or two I wanted to say back.
"Witch Aimes?" I asked, raising my hand. "Could you show me how to cast that spell?"
A.N.
Let me know if you want a part 2.
Soulmage will be episodically updated. Want to know what happens next? Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/) to be notified whenever a new part comes out, and check out r/bubblewriters for more stories by me. | 2022-06-01T08:31:57 | 2022-06-01T07:14:30 | 289 | 101 |
[WP] Everyone wakes up with a number and a RPG-esque classification (e.g., Thief, Warrior, Cleric, etc.) tattooed on their dominant arm | *This is my first time responding to a prompt because this one just looks so fucking cool. So, without further ado, here goes:*
Day 1: The tattoos appeared. It was a normal day for everyone, except we woke up with a tattoo on our dominant arm. It was just our names; nothing more, nothing less. Of course, the internet went crazy. The tattoos shared the same font and were in roughly the same place (albeit different arms). However, there was also some spidery text underneath our names, but nobody could figure out what it meant. Some people suggested it was a government plot, others said it was the rapture. Truth be told, nobody knew what it was.
Day 2: A ship sinks off the Russian coast. The last fragments of the mayday message mention humanoid figures heading towards the ship, Russia accuses the American Navy SEALs. After all, who else could take down an aircraft carrier? There are also reports of green-skinned apes roaming safari reserves in central Africa, along with mention of giant birds flying around the mountain ranges of the world. No change in our tattoos.
Day 3: More ships sink all over the world no matter where they are or who owns them. Russia retracts their accusation after it is revealed they all met the same fate as the first ship. Many countries begin mobilising their militaries in response to this unknown threat. A video is uploaded to YouTube and gathers breaks a billion views in a few hours. It shows shaky footage of dozens of green apes wrestling with wildlife in Africa, even showing them taking down a herd of elephants. It is taken down only twelve hours after it was uploaded. The second line of our tattoos is revealed to show a number. Everyone shares the number 1. Nobody knows why.
Day 4: A helicopter is sent to the summit of Mt. Everest to investigate these “giant birds”. After mere hours of watching the white expanse, a scaly white beast flies at the helicopter and brings it down. The media reports it as volcanic activity that launched a plume of snow. The internet reports it as a dragon.
Day 5: A new video is released on YouTube. The green apes have captured a reporter and the video contains graphic imagery of a brutal murder. At the end, a deep and guttural voice proclaims “We are the Orcs!”, a chant that is taken up by the crowd of green creatures. At the same time, mutant fish-man hybrids approach the shores and claim the ocean for the races of Mer. The third and penultimate line of our tattoos is revealed. According to the D&D buffs of the world, it is our alignments.
Day 6: The President of the United States of America gives a speech about patriotism and sticking together. People riot. Giant winged lizards approach each major city, claiming them as their own and forcing the residents to pay tithes for their protection. All work ceases, except for the most vital of jobs. Planes are grounded by decree of the dragons, and any who take off are immediately immolated in a plume of flame. Some people wait for their tattoos to be revealed, others take their lives into their own hands.
Day 7: The wildlife of the world drastically changes. Trees come to life, animals mutate in strange ways and some gain speech. Giant stones come to life, and even the air around us seems to live. People run into the streets and wait for their gods to take them, others sit and wait in their own homes. Dogs turn into bloodthirsty wolves and wolves become even larger. Some animals become larger than humans and even rats can bring people to the brink of death. A video is uploaded to the internet by a person from America. It shows several people fighting these new creatures. After a short while, the tallest man’s tattoo changes. His number is now two. Mere minutes after the video is uploaded, the pieces fit together for the world. The world leaders step down as the dragons assume control, and the races of man all unite, using the internet to co-ordinate their plans. A small group made a website, they called it “The Ragged Flagon”, a reference to a popular RPG. Many similar websites are formed, and soon they all form different communities based around the last line of the tattoos.
Of course, if you’re reading this, you’d know that the last line of the tattoo refers to your class. There is everything from barbarian to paladin to wizard and druid. However, there are also the “NPC jobs”, like innkeeper, mechanic, chef and heck, we even have lawyers! As for me? I’m the only Loremaster in the world.
*What did you guys think? I might make a part two of this, or even turn it into a story if I'm not too busy. I cracked this one out in about half an hour, so I could probably do a lot better. Also, how do people make the line thingy to separate stuff on reddit?* | *Your turn, meat.*
I heard those dreaded words and felt a knot form in my stomach. The imposing Knight had singled me out. He had singled me out instead of any other student. I wasn’t a match for this guy and I knew it. He was a level ten Knight and I was just a level five Magus. I barely knew more than a handful of spells, but this guy didn’t need as much knowledge as I did to fight. He just had to swing his mighty broadsword and hit something made of flesh.
Looking back on it, this was probably the biggest change to my daily life after the tattoos appeared. I was just a student, and a young one at that. I was still in the grips of figuring out what made me and the pretty girls tick. When the tattoos came, it was cool at first. People staged mock fights and acted out their RPG fantasies in real life. Then the fights stopped being staged, and the new reality was that the people with higher levels were going to push around the lower levels.
Physical Education became ‘prey upon the weak’ time. The powerful students used the weaker ones as glorified target practice. No teacher supervised us, and no one truly knew why. Everyone just knew that meant there was no salvation for those who were resigned to getting beat up. Or worse.
The circle of students around us got bigger as everyone spread out to give us room. The Knight looked at me hungrily. I was a bone. I was a bone and he was some ravenous breed of hunting dog ready to pounce on me and dig his teeth in. Every possible scenario of loss played out in my head. Each scenario was bloodier than the last. I shuddered when it came to a scenario that ended in my head finding a nice place to roll around on the floor.
Without warning, the Knight leapt into action. He raised his blade and brought it down with the strength of ten men. I barely had enough time to cast Barrier, a spell that very promptly shattered. The ‘fight’ turned into him breaking Barrier after Barrier while I hid behind each ill fated defense. He did not even bother using a proper combat stance. Probably thought I wasn’t deserving of one.
That was where I saw my opportunity. Instead of erecting another Barrier, I rolled out of the way of the Knight’s attack. He seemed shocked that I was even attempting to put up a fight. Not that that meant he was going to stop his assault. He turned towards me and continued his offensive. I kept light on my feet, staying out of the way of his attacks. So long as I was outside of his range, I was going to stay alive.
I racked my brain, trying to remember the perfect spell for this situation. Most of the spells I knew weren’t applicable for fighting. In fact, I was only intimately familiar with defensive and healing spells. There was only one method of attack that I knew I could do. It was nothing like a Fireball or even a Magic Bolt, but it was better than nothing.
I gathered as much mana as I could in my hands. This was going to work. It had to work. The Knight raised his sword again, ready to bring it down on me. I leapt into action. Everything moved in slow motion from that point. He began to bring his sword down. I brought my hands up to his chest and began to unleash the attack. I shut my eyes. If this was going to be my final moment, I was going to keep them closed. My last sight was not going to be the sword that cut me down.
The spell rang out like a gunshot. The cold steel of the Knight’s sword never touched me. I slowly opened my eyes, hoping to see something good. My mind briefly flashed to a scenario where the Knight was still in front of me and only stopped because he felt tickled by my attack. Instead, he had been flung across the gym and was sprawled out on the floor. The Knight was unconscious. I had won.
Almost all of the students cheered. Almost. The ones that didn’t crowded around their newly defeated friend and were giving me death glares. I could tell exactly what was on their minds. Revenge. Retribution. Lots of words that implied they were going to beat the snot out of me. I felt a familiar knot form in my stomach. I won one battle and could not even find it in me to celebrate. I had unknowingly entered a war I was ill-equipped to fight.
Suddenly, the thought of my head rolling was almost appealing.
________________
This is my first time posting a story here, so any feedback would be very much appreciated! | 2015-07-14T01:01:26 | 2015-07-13T22:13:14 | 23 | 15 |
[WP] The hero shows up at the villains doorstep one night. Theyre shivering bleeding scared. They look like they were assaulted. Looking up at the villain, swaying slightly, close to passing out, they mumble “didn’t know where else to go” then collapse into the villains arms. | I sit alone in the darkened room of my living room, the faint light of the television illuminated me. I was unnerved by the feeling that I needed to do something. It had been weeks, almost two months since I had gone out and done something. Something bad, but Powerhouse never showed up for any of the times I decided to cause a little mayhem.
I knew something wasn't right in the back of my mind the third time she didn't show, but I didn't go off looking for her, even if I knew her secret identity. I look down at my blood covered hands, the moment when she came to my doorstep the other day, bloodied and broken, makes me regret not searching for her sooner.
I stood from my position and made my way to the bathroom to clean up. I'll never forget the look she had on her face when I found her on my doorstep. She was scared. A look that I had never seen on her face, even when she was close so to death many times before.
The scene still played out in my head. Her mumbling something I almost didn't catch, but I did end up catching her as she fell forward. She was light enough for me to carry her to my bedroom, so that wasn't the issue. I knew she was injured, badly, and I needed to help her.
I had taken care of her visible wounds while she was out, I didn't want her to assume I did anything to her. She awoke hours later and I gave her the strongest pain medication I had, which was just a cheap bottle of Excedrin so it wouldn't do much.
I begged her to tell me what happened, and she did. I wish I hadn't asked. Every graphic detail, every bone that snapped, every hit, every bit of her assault was told to me in confidence. My stomach tightened from what I was being told, someone who was so powerful, someone that was loved by thousands, someone who had saved the city countless times...
...was raped.
And not just from complete strangers either, those super powered ass wipes who were supposed to be her friends! If I didn't have a reason to hate them before, I at least had a reason to kill them now.
I took care of Pow- Jen, making sure she was healed to the best of my abilities, and with what little supply I had on hand. I let her stay in my house for a few days, stealing things from my work to help take care of her. The broken bones were a bit tricky, but I managed to get them set properly.
As I washed my hands from the blood of today, I looked at myself in the mirror. I may be a villain, I may be hated, I may want to see the world burn.
But I am no monster like them. | What's she doing here? Why is she at my place? Who attacked her? And who the hell could do THIS much damage to her. I've never seen Terra like this. Shes been able to withstand a tank cannons, micro-nukes, plasma guns, and me. Who did this? I drag her to my couch and close my door. If anyone saw this I wouldn't be able to explain it.
I grabbed an old t-shirt I was given by my stepdad. She can keep it I never wanna see it again. I has to open enough of her suit to see what she had underneath. I needed to check her wounds without seeming like a perv. Luckily she is wearing underwear.
One broken ribs, three cracked, 17 cuts all across her body, missing a tooth, black eye, fractured ankle, a broken wrist, and her left hand is completely shattered. What man, what monster, what nightmare could do this? The rivalry between me and Terra has gone on for years.
No we dont hate each other. We find this as sport so we put on a good show. But never, NEVER, have we had to depend on each other. Do I feel honored? Do I feel inconvenienced. No. I feel fear. For the first time, Magmus feels fear.
When she wakes up I want answers. I now know where she is weakest. Seems evil yes I know. But I wish to help her beat this monster. Together we can do it.
Its 5.AM. shes awake. She told me everything. She fought me because she wanted my approval. Why? She liked me. She thought she could help me, change me. Because not only did she like me, but she needed my help. Her older brother beats her. His name is Armageddon. He gave many people powers using a small stone he found in an archeological dig.
He made four elementalists. Me, Terra, Hydros, and Tezla, while he had all four of our powers. She needs help to beat him. We cant do it alone. Hydros is too busy being the best surfer in the UK, and Tezla is trapped in a power generator, powering the military. Gonna need to get Hydros who is stoned 24/7 and Tez.. let's say he hates me. Not to mention, there is a reason I helped the military get him | 2019-08-04T04:39:57 | 2019-08-04T02:18:55 | 42 | 23 |
[WP] "How is the E.A.R.T.H. project going?" "It is mostly a success with 68 of the 100 planet developing life, 12 of which are inhabited by intelligent races. Most of the planets are safe, but the planet S-3 is inhabited by a relatively advanced "peaceful" war-race." | E.A.R.T.H. truly was an ambitious project. An entire galaxy in a black hole; a black hole they had created. It was astounding what was capable of existing in so infinitesimally small a space. Truly, he barely understood it. He doubted that even those who had created it truly grasped what they had made, or how they had done it.
It was like a ZIP file; something of a massive size compressed to a fraction of what it once was, or is. The scientists could safely study all the planets and lifeforms in it, but none dared actually try enter the black hole. It was not certain death, no - it was *un*certain death, and the more they theorized what might occur if they tried to enter, the more they were convinced that it was simply not possible.
That did have its benefits , however - it was a window into the world they had created, yet with no entrance or exit. Whatever became of E.A.R.T.H., it would be confined to its own galaxy.
47-S-3 was certainly a curious development though. A peaceful war-race... how oxymoronic. It was certainly the first time they had encountered such a thing, not just in E.A.R.T.H. but the galaxy as a whole. It was always one or the other, yet neither was without its negatives.
The war-races do very well to conquer their own planet, but few manage to colonize other systems. They usually exterminate each other before that ever becomes a possibility. Nasty, short and brutish lives are the hallmark of war-races, and that is certainly a blessing for us. For we are peaceful.
Peaceful races such as ours fare much better, as mutual cooperation is a sure indicator of eventual interplanetary travel.
But of course... any war race that *does* make it out of their planet tend to quickly dominate all peaceful planets around them. The galaxy had learned this time and time again, and countless billions, if not trillions, of lives have been lost at the hand of the few space-faring warrior races. It was only with the cooperation of all peaceful civilizations together that the warrior races were finally defeated, although no doubt their own in-fighting did at least as much damage as we did.
The aftermath of that had led to the galactic treaty, in which any emerging species or planets that waged war were swiftly dealt with. We simply nipped them in the bud, so to speak.
With no notable war-races left, the treaty subsisted, and the galaxy had grown into a peaceful, harmonious place as a result. Species freely intermix, and science flourishes. Truly there has never been such long-lasting peace and prosperity in all our history.
A peaceful war-race... that would certainly be nipped in the bud, if it were not enclosed in our black hole. In the right circumstances, a species like that could unite to wage war on all other planets, and far more effectively than a war-race. Looking at what the species had already done to each other - if they were unleashed on the galaxy with sufficient technology, the results could be catastrophic.
However, with them safely contained in their own little pocket galaxy - they would watch 47-S-3 very closely indeed. E.A.R.T.H. was in for a rough time.
Fortunately for us, there was simply no way the species could exit the black hole.
Theoretically, of course.
*****
*****
[Part II](https://old.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/9dpfzx/wp_earth_ii/)| [Part III](https://old.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/9drc02/wp_earth_iii/) | [Part IV - New!](https://old.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/9dtcih/wp_earth_iv/?)
If you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3 | God nodded in approval at his son. "You are doing well, Ecari. Just beware with that advanced war-race. They might seem peaceful right now, but I'd had to deal with those sort of species in the past. You blink once, a hundred years go by in their world and, before you know it, they conquered the cosmos."
Ecari huffed at his father's words. Didn't he understand that he was eighteen now? An adult capable of taking his own decisions? Those haughty advices bothered Ecary like an itch he couldn't scratch. He wasn't a moron.
"Yes, dad," Ecari said and shook his head, "I know what I'm doing."
God raised an eyebrow and pointed at the sphere in his son's hands. "Are you sure? If I were you I'd check on your project."
Ecari's heart thumped. He turned to gaze at his sphere, plunging right into his universe. Perspiration trickled down his temples and out his palms, he fidgeted as if an earthquake was taking place in his right leg, and he swallowed time and time again.
The Humans as he'd called it, had discovered how to travel faster than light through wormholes without disintegrating. How? Ecari had made sure that was not an option for them. They should've became energy. The pressure should've killed them.
Ecari narrowed his eyes. What were those enormous spaceships made of? He didn't remember creating such a dense material. He didn't remember allowing the possibility of creating such a mighty engine either.
What was happening?
He took a deep breath, and shed a tear as the sides of his lips quirked downward and trembled. The humans had conquered and destroyed every single planet in his universe, slaughtered every other form of intelligent life.
He placed his sphere on a cloud beneath, and waited for his father to boast about how he'd told him he should've watched closer.
However, God placed a hand on his shoulder, knelt to level with him, and whispered into Ecari's ear.
"Happy April fools day," God said and snickered like a mischievous kid.
"What?" Ecari yelled, veins bulging out his neck. "Did you give them all those things?"
"Of course not," God said and laughed again, slapping his knee. "I distracted you on purpose. Those bastards always do the same. Somehow they discover bugs in our universes. They are our testers."
Ecari rose to his feet, his visage hidden in deep shadows, the clouds trembled beneath him, and a storm surged on the horizon, spitting booming thunder and burying Heaven in darkness. "Did you ruin my life time project just because of a simple joke? Choose your words carefully dad. I'm not that little innocent child anymore."
"Ecari, there's no need for one of your tantrums right now," God said, sighed and shook his head. The vestiges of his laughter long gone. "You need to learn to take a joke. Here."
Golden tendrils billowed out of God's beard and wrapped Ecari's sphere. There was a swishing sound, and Ecari's project burst with light, as if it had caught sudden fire.
"There. I reset it to where you were before I interrupted your work," God said and gazed at the storm retreating, then at his son. "You humorless bastard, who raised you?"
"A fool, of course," said Ecari, beaming with sudden joy. "Why don't you check your projects?"
"You didn't."
"Did you think I didn't know what day was today? Happy April fools day, dad."
-------------------------------------------
r/AHumongousFish for more! | 2018-09-06T06:47:29 | 2018-09-06T06:21:36 | 1,932 | 210 |
[WP] You can't help but stare at your husband. He's standing in the kitchen making dinner, like he always does. He smiles at you like he always does. Problem is, you killed your husband. Three years ago. | I’m not sure why it started. For a long time, I thought it was some kind of fucked-up coping mechanism my brain dreamed up after the accident. It’s amazing how the human mind handles trauma. Rationalization. Repression. Disassociation. This is something…different.
I’ve been to therapy. Or, through therapy. With a few therapists. It didn’t really work. Maybe that’s because I was never really honest with them, you know. About him.
Oh, I’ve been honest about some of it. I’ve told them how he died. We had taken a cross-country drive to visit my parents for the holidays. We’d bickered during the trip - my family has always been overbearing, especially my mother. John had never had the tolerance to put up with her like I did. My mother’s casual snide and, at times, critical comments had taken a toll on John over the course of our visit; he, in turn, was upset with me for not cutting off my “toxic” family years prior. We argued about that the whole way home.
It was snowing. I’ll always remember that - staring out at the slick black road ahead of us, watching the white flakes swirl in the air before the *whip-whip* of the windshield wipers swept them away. I’ll always remember the pit of anger in my stomach as I fixed my gaze on those little flakes, trying to pretend I didn’t hear John’s voice. I’ll always remember what he said that finally made me snap.
“You’re just like her,” he’d said. I can still hear those words, hanging in the air like those little snowflakes.
It shouldn’t have made me so angry. I’ll never know why it did. I knew he didn’t really mean it. But I shoved him.
In the months afterward, I’d tell myself that I didn’t shove him that hard. Really, I didn’t. I’d never gotten physical with him - or anybody, for that matter. It shouldn’t have happened. If I had known we were driving on a patch of black ice, I wouldn’t have done it.
I shouldn’t have done it to begin with.
If I hadn’t, the steering wheel wouldn’t have jerked in his hands. We wouldn’t have drifted into the other lane, into oncoming traffic. The paramedics wouldn’t have had to pry his lifeless body out of the car.
My husband would still be alive.
I’ve never moved on. It’s not for lack of trying. In the three years since his death, I’ve tried to become a better person. A healthier person - mentally, anyway. This was the only way I could think of to try to honor my husband’s memory. I’ve gone to anger management. I’ve gone no-contact with my narcissistic mother. Like I said, I’ve gone to therapy. It would have been easy to let the grief swallow me up, but I didn’t. That’s not what John would have wanted. It took me a long time, but I managed to let go of my anger. The guilt still remains.
And so does John.
That’s my secret.
It’s easy to tell when he’s waiting for me. I can smell the food cooking before I walk through the door. The door opens and I see him standing in the kitchen, ever familiar, a vision in his t-shirt, jeans, and old Chuck Taylors. He looks over his shoulder and smiles at me, and I can't help but stare.
At first, I thought he was haunting me, or maybe I was going crazy. Honestly, the jury’s still out on both counts. For whatever reason, he kept coming back. And he seems…happy.
It makes me happy too, in a bittersweet kind of way. Things can never go back to the way they were before the accident. I know that. But I don’t mind spending time with him - with him the way he is now. He never speaks. He doesn’t stay long. He just…checks on me from time to time. For a brief moment, it’s as though we never parted.
Eventually, we’ll both have to move on. Until then…it’s fun to pretend. | No authority, religious, political or otherwise, in the history of the world has condoned murder among its adherents. Perpetrators are sought, actions atoned for, and vengeance made communal. But sometimes murder is the only just and righteous outcome of an equation whose variables were fixed long before the birth of those involved.
My name is Paula Mae Washburn, but my maiden name was Harlin. I’ve kept my married name because, like my husband Jacob, some things die hard. As he liked to say, we were married young and long. I was just 17 when he proposed, and that was 47 years ago. I was pregnant before our first anniversary, and again two years later. Jacob got a good paying job at the wood treatment plant next to the mill and everything was on the up and up. We were just children ourselves back then, with childish notions about what life would be. But as so often happens, life doesn’t turn out how you’d have thought.
Jacob’s been dead and buried three years now. I stood with my kids and their own kids at his funeral and told stories of Jacob to our closest friends at the gathering in our backyard. We cried, we laughed, we hugged, and then they departed and once I was finally all alone I drew myself a warm bath and allowed myself a smile – a big full toothed smile – for the first time in days. He’d been sleeping with our neighbour, Wendy, for the better part of a decade. Wendy was the only one at the funeral crying harder than I was. I have no idea what he saw in that fat sow, but I was not going to be disrespected in my own home, embarrassed in my community.
I’d considered his murder for a long time. Not whether to do it – that was a foregone conclusion – but how to do it. All the different ways and weighed each’s pros and cons. I landed on death by poison by happenstance. I’d long been waitressing at Ethel’s Diner on the morning shift, and one day a neighbour of mine mentioned his well had tested with arsenic in it. Not enough to harm someone mind you, but its presence alone hit me like a message straight from God himself. At the library I found a book that said arsenic was used in pesticides, herbicides, insecticides, and – a second sign straight from the heavens – wood treatment, like at the plant where Jacob worked. Getting the arsenic was easy enough being surrounded by farm country. Jacob even had some for his rat baits in the barn.
It took longer than I thought. I had hoped for weeks, thinking maybe if he was gone in the spring I could finally go south the following winter. But as it happens, he lasted through the summer and through the fall, finally succumbing just before Christmas on one of the coldest days of the year. His coworkers reported that he had clutched his chest and had troubles breathing, and everyone assumed it was a heart attack. Without any outward reason to be suspicious, I neglected the autopsy.
So here we are, three years to the day that Jacob collapsed. This morning when I woke up for my shift at Ethel’s I heard a racket in the kitchen. As I walked down the hall, I smelled eggs on the stove and fresh coffee on the percolator. I near had a heart attack when I turned the corner to the kitchen and there stood Jacob, with his back to me at the stove, humming to himself like he always did.
Jacob, I said as I reached out to the wall. I was suddenly aware of the pounding of my heart in my ears, drowning out Jacob’s humming.
Jacob, what are you doing here? I called out again. My vision was going dark at the edges and my legs were giving out.
I fell backward and hit my head on something hard. I tasted blood in my mouth and felt my chest tightening like someone was sitting on me. All the while, Jacob was humming with his back to me.
What no one tells you about death is that after your heart stops and death is a certainty, for just a moment your brain keeps going, keeps receiving signals and keeps processing. In that moment, I recalled from my reading on arsenic that long term exposure can lead to delayed but profound psychological impairments including visual and auditory disturbances. | 2022-02-22T14:14:01 | 2022-02-22T13:41:54 | 68 | 39 |
[WP] You have the ability to enter the worlds of any book you please. The only catch is that you have to die in the book world in order to escape back to reality. You have just entered a popular children's book by accident and need to find a way to get out. | A told B and B told Me, “I’ll meet you at the top of the coconut tree”
“Whee,” said D to E, F, G,
“Oh dear god” Said poor old Me.
Chicka Chikca Boom Boom will there be enough room?
Here comes H up the coconut tree.
And I and J and “I can’t stand K.”
-All on their way up the coconut tree. Chicka Chicka Boom Boom!
“How can I be saved from this doom?”
Look who’s coming - it’s L,M,N,O,P,
“If I off myself will I go back to me?”
And Q, R, S, and T, U, V.
Still more - W, and X, Y, Z.
“If someone’s going to fall, please let it be me!”
The whole alphabet’s up the… oh! No! Chicka Chicka Boom Boom! Skit, scat, scoodle-doot. Flip flop flee.
All of the paramedics running to the coconut tree.
They tend to wounds, and move H a little too soon.
Spinal fracture, not looking good.
“Oh how I wish it were me,” H died where he stood.
Help us up! Cried A, B, and spotless Me.
Next from the pileup, skinned kneed D, stub-toed E and patched-up F.
Then comes G all out of breath.
“I don’t think I’m ever going to die.”
J and K are about to cry.
L is knotted like a tie. M is looped,
N is stooped. “I’m pooped.”
O is twisted, alley-oop.
“How will I ever leave?”
Flip flop flee.
Look who’s coming, it’s black eyed P.
And Q,, R, S, and loose-toothed T.
Then U, V, W, wiggle, jiggle free.
Last to come X,Y,Z.
“Thank god we’re all finally up on this damn tree!”
And the sun goes down on the coconut tree.
Chicka Chicka boom boom, look there’s a full moon.
A is out of bed and this is what he said,
“Dare, double dare, you can’t catch me.
I’ll beat you to the top of the coconut tree.”
Chicka Chikca boom boom, and little old me finally jumped out of that god-forsaken tree.
I woke up with a scare, the whole damned thing was a terrible, children’s story-brand nightmare. | *Mr. Pine's Purple House* of all the books to get trapped inside of, **Mr Pine's purple house**. I had to die, I needed to escape the book, but nothing I could think of worked. The paint was unleaded, so drinking it just made me too sick to continue, I tried cutting a branch off of Mr. Pine's trees and stabbing myself with it but apparently Mr. Pine has a damn good doctor and I'm still rearing to go. This is a children's book, and I can't seem to leave the town.
The borders are just these giant white walls, it's like I'm in a dome. I've done this countless times before, I just have to die by the end and I get to go back to reality, this makes regular vacations to Game of Thrones relatively convenient. Problem is I accidentally transported myself into this damn book while reading it to my child and now I'm stuck. I once even tried to kill Mr. Pine and land myself a death sentence but apparently they don't have courts and now they don't have a main character.
I've been living in his house for three weeks now, and it only just occurred to me: *his ladder*. I mounted the ladder to the top of Mr. Pines purple house, and dropped myself in between the gaps...and apparently my spine is made of titanium. So I climb out of the gap, walk out to the street ready to make my next move when right then and there I passed out. Starvation, I hadn't eaten in three weeks. And, something I never really noticed, time continues to pass while I was in the book.
I woke up to the pleasant surprise of my own funeral service, I'm really glad my will stated not to embalm me. The room was sad and somber, then I walked up out of my coffin to a room of suddenly shocked expressions.
A guest spoke up, "You....but...I...you were"
"dead yes"
another guest, "But...your heart it stopped!"
"it does that, I'll admit I've made a bad habit of dying, I'll try to cut down on it."
"What happened?"
"Mr. Pine's Purple House"
----------------------------------------------------------------
This one's pretty short, and it's my first one, I'd love to hear feedback as to how I can improve my writing, thanks for reading! | 2015-09-17T17:02:21 | 2015-09-17T16:36:37 | 52 | 12 |
[WP] Aliens have realized humans advance more quickly during times of conflict, and have tried to push humanity into wars to see what happens. However, that changes when they start WW2 and humans harness the power of the atom. | \--Initiating boot sequence--
\--Loading Instance: 'Earth, Year 11,945.597'---
The display flickered to life around him. Bodies lay strewn around the battlefields, scorched husks of blown-out tanks lay abandoned.
"Estimated agent loss?"
Over the battlefields, millions of tiny motes of light lifted from the bodies, coalescing into a string of digits.
\--49,875,308 dead agents--
Y'xyl frowned. Was this ethical? As the rate of progress enhanced, these beings were edging closer to the galactic standard for sentient rights. The implications of this had never been covered in the ethics review- It was never expected to be this successful. All previous study iterations had produced crude metal tools at best. Y'xyl, however, was a savant. The manipulation of conflict as a variable appeared to accelerate rates of progress within the species at.
Outside his headset a different voice reminded him of the real world before he got too lost in though.
"Hey Y'xy, how's the science project going?"
"Galstandard tech level 0.864"
"Dude, you're missing your leading zeroes. I can't get mine above a .01 either, lemme check your outpu- WHAT THE XEM, MAN? I'm sitting here worried about a failing grade, and you've outpaced the global record by 2 orders of magnitude?!?"
Y'xyl chuckled. Just wait until he sees the next step. Technology spike predictions indicate the next advancement was due any minute now. The aerial delivery mechanism was over the target.
\--Galstandard tech level 0.865--
What? Just a .001 increase? That's nothing! All indicators had pointed to a major spike.
The metal casing dropped towards the target.
.
..
...
..
.
\--Initiating boot sequence--
\--Unplanned reboot detected, re-instantiating last known instance--
\--Loading Instance: 'Earth, Year 11,945.598'--
White light flooded the display. Y'xyl's filters crystallised over his photosensors until he could see again. He zoomed in on the image until he was looking at base code. The atomic bits flickered and shattered, fragments impacting other atoms. A chain reaction.
\--Galstandard tech level 2.04--
They'd broken the atom. The fundamental atomic bits upon which Tz'lrni computation was founded. They'd broken the fundamental code of the simulation into *smaller* parts.
For a moment, Y'xyl frowned at the ethical implications, but that thought was quickly overtaken.
He was going to be rich. | Expectations were high among The Eternals, time was not significant to them, but they felt tired, what could make this new attempt special anyway?
An eternity ago there was no Eternals, but a unique Eternal. It decided to create replicas of itself to have more opportunities to make improvements and achieve its ultimate goal.
After replicating itself they started to run multiple simulations, all The Eternals came to the conclusion that they had to create creatures with free will, only they could make decisions and take actions completely unpredictable, they were desperate, but at least it was better than nothing.
But this new simulated universe would have something different, it will only generate one intelligent civilization. The Eternals have tested universes with multiple civilizations in the past, but they gave them no clue and all those simulations ended with the cold natural death of those universes. They have not realized that this would be the first time a simulated universe would have a single civilization, the humans.
Right after the beginning of this simulation (billions of human years), the Eternals realized the simplicity of this universe and its particular conditions. The Eternals discussed briefly (millions of human years) if there was any point in continuing with this attempt or stopping the simulation and starting over again. And the moment of revelation arrived!
The Eternals expressed what could be described as happiness. It was the first time since a long eternity that The Eternals felt a great progress. These insignificant creatures, humans, have found a way to destroy the basic building blocks of their fake universe, they can destroy the atoms, they are able to destroy their reality! Now The Eternals only have to extrapolate this model and execute more specialized simulations based on this one. While The Eternals enjoyed this moment (thousands of human years) humans colonized a very tiny part of their galaxy and succesfully annihilated themselves. The Eternals had to wait no more, they stopped this simulation and started to work with great joy.
The Eternals, the Eternal, was happy, now it is closer than ever to achieve its ultimate goal: the last thing an eternal being would try to achieve after an eternity existing, to destroy the only and true reality, to annihilate itself, to die.
&#x200B;
\- Sorry for my English.
&#x200B;
&#x200B; | 2018-11-27T15:55:08 | 2018-11-27T15:03:15 | 144 | 24 |
[WP] You are cursed and turned into a statue. Everyone knows you're alive but, seeing as no one could break your curse, of they have all pretty much given up on you. Except for one wizard, who comes back nearly every day to try and free you, as well as holding one-sided conversations. | "But enough about me," she said with a chuckle. "Tell me about your day?"
It wasn't funny the tenth time either.
"I'm just messing with you," she said with a grin, patting me on the shoulder. I didn't really "feel" it, but I knew it was happening. "Do you think I should ask him out? He's very smart. Maybe he can help me get you back to normal."
If I had a functional heart, it would have leapt at the thought. Meredith was a very bright young wizard, but she had been trying to save me for six years, and I had only grown more desperate in my stone prison.
"I decided to try a new thing today," she said. "Essence of Dragon Heart."
I wanted to scream. *No, no, don't waste it. Don't just throw it at me, it's not going to work.* But I couldn't tell her that she needed . She took out the vial, and poured some on me. Predictably, nothing happened. It was a good idea, since essence of dragon heart was known to have restorative properties, but the curse wouldn't allow for that. Not in itself. Perhaps if it was mixed with some sort of acid...
"I know what you're thinking, 'no, don't do it, Meredith! Essence of dragon heart is super important and you're going to fuck it up!', well *ha ha ha* you miserable old pile of rubble, I also brought Tears of Fury *and* a sprinkling of lemon."
She placed both atop the essence of dragon heart, and nothing happened for a long moment.
"Shit," she muttered, then leaned against me with a sigh. "I guess you were right, old fart."
If I could have trembled in anticipation I would have. It would work. I knew it would. It just needed the light of the moon. She would leave, nightfall would come, and the mixture would work.
She climbed up on top of the pedestal and leaned against my shoulder.
"You're a good listener, you know," she said, smiling. "I think I *will* ask him out."
She gave me a soft pat on the cheek and climbed back down.
"This time tomorrow? Okay," she said, and wandered off.
The hours dragged. Dark clouds became darker still, and then made good on their promise of rain. I begged them not to wash away the mixture. Just a few more hours, I thought, just a little longer. At least she'd put it on the large shield that laid at my feet, so it wouldn't run off to elsewhere unless the rain picked up drastically.
The rain thinned out, and the clouds began to part. The moon came out, full as an optimist's cup, and its shine made the mix of Essence of Dragon Heart, Tears of Fury, and a hint of lemon juice, begin to evaporate. A silver steam rose off from it, and began to surround me. Cracks appeared in the stone, and light began to emanate from me. Yes. *Yes.* Finally. Little by little, my prison began to break.
Meredith didn't know what she had unleashed upon the world, but I would be eternally thankful to her. I might even give her the honor of killing her last.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
r/Eager_Question_Writes for more of my stories. | **Heavy Hearted**
I may be stone, but I feel with every part of my being.
I feel the rays of the morning radiate a gentle warmth across my rigid body. I feel the icy blasts of the winter wind as they are channelled through the narrow cobble streets surrounding me. I feel joy at the sight of children playing, enraptured by their carefree worlds of imagination. I feel sorrow at the passing of another of the townsfolk, one I have seen laugh and love as they lived in brief bursts within my sight.
Most of all, I feel love, untarnished and unyielding, as my beloved once more approaches.
Theo smiles as he glances at my stone hewn form. As always, the sunlight is playing across my head and shoulders as he arrives. He carries his books and spell ingredients, continuing his unrelenting quest to cure my curse.
He soon arrives at the base of my form, going below the bounds of my fixed sight. But now I can feel the gentle trace of his hand across my body. As ever, he gradually paces around my pedestal, letting his fingertips brush against the contours of my form. This is my bliss, my heaven.
Finally, and with a sigh, he is once again at his start. With a last sigh, he reaches up and holds my outstretched hand in his own, squeezing for a precious few minutes.
The town has begun to awake around us, the sounds suddenly filtering back in as we reach the end of our greeting. Theo moves to set up his stand alongside me, from where he ekes out a meagre living, giving the blessing of his vast experience and talent to the townsfolk for food and a little coin.
But for the most part, he will spend this day, as with every other, trying to break the curse that holds me trapped in this skin of stone. He will attempt trials and tests during the day, comparing notes with visiting scholars and dusty tomes. At night, I can see the distant glow of his summonings and spells, as he further studies the mysteries of my condition.
I am beyond grateful, beyond appreciation for my love’s labours.
But he must stop.
He must stop now. He is getting too close.
I have already felt the first minor successes of his art; a minute shift in my form, a sudden sensation of the smallest capacity for movement. Of course, he is succeeding, my valiant Theo!
But he cannot. For our time together will end.
For if he breaks the curse, I will die.
The dire truth is that I cursed myself. I opened the scroll with full knowledge of its contents. I did it for my own selfish desire to live.
I had been infected by poison, a sudden and vile sort brewed in the Northern wastes. I could feel it rushing through my body as I raced for our packhorse. There I knew that we had it, the one thing that could abate the spread of the toxic substance. The cursed scroll.
And so I read it, and here I am. Loved but soon to die by my love’s labours.
&nbsp;
----
I hope you enjoyed the read! Find more random fictions at r/countsforfun | 2020-02-11T00:07:21 | 2020-02-10T23:28:56 | 1,413 | 261 |
[WP] Death is a highly complicated and bureaucratic process | Mark hoped to see the light as darkness fell over him.
But instead, he arrived in a hall. It wasn't bright, but it wasn't dark either. It all looked very *normal*. And in front of him was a line, a line that stretched and meandered throughout the hall that seemed to expand itself the further he tried to look.
"Well, come on then," a voice behind him said, and he felt something poke him in the back. "Get in line."
After shooting an angry look at the guard he joined the queue. With every step he took, the sound of millions of feet coming back down on the floor echoed. And he walked, and he walked, and onwards he went.
It wasn't long after that he lost track of time, stuck in the robotic rhythm of his feet moving forward and forward.. Until suddenly, commotion broke out in front of him. His trance interrupted, he extended his neck to see what the fuss was all about.
"What do you *mean*, the wait time is a bit longer than expended?" A small woman angrily raised her index finger and almost shoved it in another guard's face. "Look at it, **look at it!**" she shrieked. And as she gestured, his eyes fell on a little red sign. *You are half way. Expected waiting time: N/A. Thank you for your patience.*
"Patience?!" the woman continued. "I've, I've been here since, since I don't know how long." With a hint of panic in her eyes she threw up her arms and looked for support around her. "Does anyone of you know how long you've been here?"
"A few weeks," someone said.
"A day or two, I think?" said a different voice.
"Can't have been longer than a few days, right?" said a third.
But the woman shook her head. "No, that's not right. I died- yes, I died, and since then, I'm here. I died on the 15th of November. What about you?" she asked the man next to her.
"That's kind of strange. I've been here since the 9th of January, then, I think."
A sinking feeling appeared in Mark's stomach. The time difference should never be that big. *Unless, of course...* "What year?" he asked the two, fearing what he would hear.
"Well, 1992 of course," one said.
"2011," the other replied at the same time. And then they stared at each other in disbelief.
"Yep, that's what I thought," Mark said, as an eruption of sound broke from the crowd. "I died in 1914, in the war."
And then the monotonous voice of the guard boomed over the noise. "Will you please remain calm, and move along. You'll be helped shortly. Thank you."
And silenced the crowed moved along.
---
All what remained was the sound of shuffling of feet, over and over. And then, after what seemed an eternity, the line ended.
"Ah yes, Mr. Dublon. How may I help you?" a voice asked.
In front of him was a booth, and next to that booth were more booths, stretching all the way into the distance. A business-like silhouette sat behind the glass, and looked at him expectantly.
"Right--, ehm, I died."
"Aha," the silhouette replied, and wet the tip of its fingers on its tongue as it reached for a stack of papers. "Application for heaven, I'll assume? Or any special interest to go to Hell? It doesn't happy very often, but you see it every now and then."
"What, you can choose?" he laughed, but the silhouette remained silent, and waited for his reply. "Heaven, I guess then. Obviously."
"Very well, sir," the silhouette replied. "Please fill in these forms, and don't forget the boxes here and here," she pointed as she handed him a thick stack of forms. "When you're done give them back to me, please."
Mark filled in every file to the best extent he could, his wrist starting to hurt as he wrote, ticked boxes and wrote signatures at the bottom of every file. After what seemed at least a day he stood up from the table, flexed his back and went back to the cabinet. Slightly annoyed at this whole ordeal he handed over the files.
"Thank you, sir. Your application will soon be reviewed."
"What is "soon" in this case, exactly? You guys seem to have quite a different perception of time here," Mark asked, his patience thinning.
"Around 50 or so human years, sir."
"Oh sure, 50 years, why not?" Mark replied sarcastically.
The silhouette smiled at him, seemingly understanding. "As you can understand, we have quite the amount of people to process. And the automation process isn't as good as it used to be, so we're just a temporary short-fix."
"And how long has that been going on for, exactly?" Mark asked, wondering how a God of some sorts couldn't fix that problem in the blink of an eye.
"A few thousand years or so."
"But that's...that's ridiculous," Mark stuttered. "Wait, wait just a second? That fifty years, that wasn't a joke? You're seriously expecting me to wait here for another fifty years? That's insane!"
"Do you want to file a complaint, sir?" the silhouette asked immediately.
"No, I mean--, well, yes actually, because this is quite ridiculous, and I want this process sped up."
"Of course, sir, well, here you go," the silhouette said, giving him a different stack of papers. "Please fill in these forms and then join that queue, it will lead you the Complaint Center." The silhouette pointed at a different line that disappeared into the distance, millions of people droning forward again.
"This is, this is just insane. All of this is ridiculous!" Mark exclaimed. "You know what, this can't be for Heaven. Heaven is supposed to be good, no, *perfect*." He sighed deeply. "Damn it, you might as well send me to Hell at this point," he muttered under his breath.
The silhouette seemed to have heard him. "In that case, sir, you'll need to fill in these forms," it said with a smile, its extended hand holding a new stack of paper. | The room was stifling. You stand there confused. It seems to be some kind of government office, in a strip mall? You turn and look outside, in front if you is a wall of windows yellow with age and overlooking a parking lot, there is a yellow cast to the air and overcast sky. You try one of the doors it moves a little but doesn't open, you notice the "please use other door" sign pointing to the other door. You try the other door and see the same sign pointing back.
You turn and look across the room. The once grey carpet is stained with what looks like motor oil? Blood? The ceiling tiles are pitted and stained, the air conditioning vents rattling to little effect. At the back of the room is a long counter of broken formica the upper part faced in glass with small holes above the counter. Each station has a "please see next clerk" placard in front, all pointing down the line.
At the far end of the counter is an older lady seated behind the glass. High hair, overdone makeup, folds of skin hanging below her eyes and jaw, large thick glasses with a silver chain reaching down around her neck. There is a brown stain in the tiles above her. You can see three full ashtrays on her side of the counter. You head over to her walking around the stanchions set up in a maze pattern the red ropes hanging in tatters. You walk up to her, she looks up but says nothing.
"excuse me" you say, she continues to ignore you.
"excuse me, where am I?"
"take a number." she says in a gravely voice gesturing at the ticket machine on the counter in front of her. You look down at the machine and see the number 100 on the ticket.
"but there is no one else here?" You say taking the number.
"Take a number and wait until you are called." she says pointing at the row of chairs by the windows. You hadn't notice the chairs before, they are black, the leather cracked and the stuffing coming out is yellow and crusty. You take a seat. You feel like you should be doing more to address the situation but your head feel foggy and sitting down seems like the correct course of action right now. You have a number someone will help you soon.
Soon after you sit down people start coming in through the door, they seem as confused as you. They look around the room, try the doors, go to the counter, talk to the lady, and sit down in the chairs. The room slowly fills up, it seems a mix of people old and young, an old man sits at the end of your row quietly crying. A young mother scold her three kids who are unraveling the tattered ropes on the stanchions. A young woman sits next to you, she is wearing a sundress clutching her purse close to her chest, shaking a little. Your instinct is to comfort her, you lean over to says something and see her number. 23. Confused you look to the man who just sat next to you and see his ticket number. 16. You stammer something to him about how his number is lower than yours, looking down and thinking maybe you read yours wrong maybe it was 00. Nope. 100. You look to the girl again to ask her about her number when you hear number 1 called. A women who had just arrived pulls out her ticket looks at it and walks to the counter, which is now fully staffed. You stand up to go and ask the lady and a security guard you don't remember seeing when you arrived gestures for you to sit down. "Wait for your number to be called before approaching" he says.
You slump back down. No one is talking, you stammer something again to the woman next to you but get no response. They move through the numbers in fits and starts, windows open only to close again after seeing one person. You wait for what seems like an eternity, falling asleep at one point on the should of a man next to you, who does nothing. You awake when he gets up falling over slightly into his seat. You have worked out that everyone is exiting to one of two doors, one to the left and one to the right, neither of which you had noticed before. You see writing on the doors you can just make it out. "door 1, door 2".
You hear them call number 99, all the windows are full now, you wait eagerly moving to a chair in the front. The air in the room is heavy now the struggling ac having given up. A person leaves, left door, you sit up expectantly, the placard goes up "next window please" you heart falls you sink back into the seat. Another person leaves, right door, you sit up again only to see the placard go up "next window please." This repeats down the line, left door, right door, next window please. Outside, through the windows, the lot has emptied, an ugly red sunset marks the end of the day. The final person leaves, their head hung low a tiny sob and hesitant hand on the knob for door 2. You stand as the last window closes, outrage on your lips, and march forward to the counter. The only window open is the old lady from when you arrived. You march up to her ticket out in your hand stuttering about how you were never called. She takes the number from you and drops it into a wastebasket next to her and says nothing.
"Excuse me! I wasn't called" you say again. She looks up, taking the glasses from her face, they fall to hang crooked from the silver chain against a stained yellow blouse.
"Take a number, sit down and wait until you are called." she says pointing to the ticket machine.
Dumbfounded you take a number, 100, and turn around and look through windows yellow with age overlooking a parking lot, there is a yellow cast to the air and overcast sky. You run over to the doors, trying them and seeing the "please use other door" signs. tears of frustration run down your cheeks and you slump into a chair. Soon the room fills up and a number is called. 1. | 2017-09-27T06:16:34 | 2017-09-27T05:19:30 | 42 | 12 |
[WP] You seem to really be hitting off with a new friend. In the course of casual conversation, a sense of unease begins to creep in as you slowly realized that the two of you share all the same opinions. Every. Single. One. | "So what do you think about up and coming signing, Salah?" I asked.
&nbsp;
"Oh, I feel that he would be an instant hit with the supporters, given his electrifying pace and cool finishing," he replied.
&nbsp;
"Mmm same. Then how about the van dijk saga? He was pretty close to signing for us, it's a shame really," I said.
&nbsp;
"Well, I'm still optimistic about the transfer. Really hoping he hands in a transfer request, can't see him coming another way," he commented.
&nbsp;
Wait, is this person kidding me? I just met him, and yet he seems to resonate with me on every single thought. Verbatim. Maybe he's a psychic, maybe it's just coincidence... but is it even pure coincidence that he looks like me? The way he talks, the way he pronounces his words and enunciates his sentences, it's so familiar yet so foreign.
&nbsp;
He shot me a questioning look right as I started scrutinising him. I smiled back awkwardly, and he, grinned mischievously. My fist shot out at his face out with innate fear, fearing that he was dangerous to me, afraid that he would hurt me, terrified that he was going to take over my identity.
&nbsp;
His face shattered into a million pieces, and people clad in white uniforms came rushing toward me, restraining me and calming me down. I was lulled to sleep almost immediately; the only thought was of him grinning at me, of him mocking me while I sleep, of him being me. | Which I completely ignored-and tried to force myself to forget about-the effects of for years and years and years. How naive I turned out to be...
You know that saying, "opposites attract?" For me it was opposite-that is, the more views I found out we shared in common the more I got attracted to her. You could call that a feedback loop, if you like, but I honestly did feel attracted to her, in the beginning.
But then, all of a sudden, she turned into this gigantic snowball, which swiftly ate up everything in my life (most notably, my ability to think straight and feel correctly-which why her strategy worked so well.
I now think that it was all just lies. Rarely, she would make some assertion that I didn't know we agreed upon being true, but only rarely. Mostly it was her agreeing with me. So, she's an amoeba, is what I'm trying to say.
An amoeba that shape-shifted in order to get into my body in the first place, then kept shape-shifting while inside my body, made its way past my body's defenses and into my heart, then broke the whole damn entire thing.
When she asked me if a pair of jeans made her ass look good, despite the fact that we both knew I did, I should have told her to take them off. Because they were on fire.
(My apologies, I missed friend in the title.) | 2017-06-17T23:36:12 | 2017-06-17T22:10:45 | 57 | 16 |
[WP] Kidnapped by an alien scout party, you are taken back to their ship. Aware your answers will be used to assist in their invasion, you try to lie but fail. They are somehow forcing you to speak the truth, so you do the only thing you can: Tell the truth in as disturbing a manner as possible... | "So, tell me," the Commander said, "what are humans vulnerable to? How can we hurt and dishearten them?"
I took a deep breath, and swallowed. "That depends, really."
"How so?" I could hear the sneer, even if I couldn't see it.
"Well, we're vulnerable to radiation, for one. It can burn and disfigure us. But many of us choose to expose ourselves to solar radiation for fun. Many find it soothing."
I couldn't tell for sure, but the Commander looked confused. Good.
"Falling is another one. But so many people enjoy it that we've created numerous ways to do it without dying."
"Torture, then!" the alien cried, a cicada-like buzz rattling in the back of his throat. "Beatings, whippings, humiliation."
I snickered. "Oh, boy. Yeah, a lot of us really, *really* like that," -he definitely looked confused now, there was no mistaking it- "We've included it in our mating practices."
And now it was disgust. I'd the Commander had a nose, it would be wrinkled. "We're done here," he said angrily. "Take him away."
One of the other aliens grabbed the end next the table I was strapped on, and wheeled me towards the door. I couldn't believe it. It had worked. I had been completely factual, and not told them anything they could use. Laughter, the sound of pure joy and victory, began to bubble in my chest, finally breaking free and reaching a crescendo.
"You'll never win! One of us put a jar in his ass FOR FUN! There is nothing you can do to us that we won't co-opt or fetishize! We've already won and turned you into a Netflix original, and you don't even know it!"
As the door closed, I heard the Commander spit something in his native language. I didn't know the word, but I knew the tone.
"**Fuck**." | Tied to a metal bed they began asking me the questions
"What sort of weapons does your planet have, and what should we expect when we invade?"
I know I can't tell a lie, so I have to try and scare them
"We have nukes. Powerful enough to destroy entire planets, strong enough to completely vaporize bodies leaving no trace behind except what we call 'ghost shadows'"
They seemed to be writing the information down
"What should we expect from your soldiers?"
"They have high powered rifles, so powerful and with such long range that our snipers need to account for the curvature of the Earth when firing. Others use automatic weapons, the guns are typically loaded with a round capable of penetrating one target and embedding itself in another, and another round we use is designed to stay inside the target and rip them to shreds from the inside"
They seem almost unaffected by it, but I can't tell they're second guessing themselves
"What are your planes and helicopters like?"
"Both are loaded with large miniguns that are capable of leveling a small village, they can almost carry and shoot missiles designed to blow up the most heavily armored helicopters we have ever made. We can also carry around the nukes I mentioned earlier"
The one that seemed in charge grabbed another and walked off, and started talking in their own language. After a moment they both returned
"We've decided we'll postpone our invasion of your planet, consider yourself lucky"
"I haven't even told you guys about white phosphorus yet"
They shot me back to Earth, and to my surprise I was left unharmed, not even a mark where they put the things on my head. I guess I should try to tell someone even if they think I'm crazy?
The end | 2018-10-14T06:07:24 | 2018-10-13T21:25:18 | 54 | 31 |
[WP]Aliens come to Earth in hoping to wipe us out and take over the planet, but are honorable and gives us a fighting chance. They announce they will return in 100 years so as to give Earth a chance to prepare and defend itself. Neither side expected what the other would bring to war | Arch-Minister General Gxokloii of the Tni'il laughed at the pitiful demonstrations of earthly weapons. The earth diplomat stood by quietly, observing the chaos from the stellar embassy bay window. The general loomed over him, his translucent scales fluttered flushed in bold reds and yellows. "Are you telling me that in the time it took your planet 100 laps around your fat, lazy star that these are the most 'devastating' weapons you could develop? You barely have 10,000 battleships engaged in this fight." He chuckled, the translator buzzed and crackled, unable to translate the strange guttural sound.
"We thought more of you, you know." He continued. "We saw your nuclear weapons and nanotechnology and honestly thought this, *this* would be a battle that would be worthy of the Halls of the Tni'il gods, that your cleverness, in all of the galaxy, might have been a match to our own. My entire species, spread throughout this galaxy, has tuned into this spectacle expecting to observe a war, not this one-sided slaughter."
But still, the diplomat kept an increasingly unnatural cool. As ships crashed and smashed into fiery doom, the general wanted something more. "Surely the knowledge of your species imminent destruction and enslavement weighs on your mind even now. Allow me to demonstrate!" The general, with a mere point, singled out one of Jupiter's moons.
On command, a hole in time and space sliced down it's center and engulfed the moon's entire mass.
"That! That is power." Said the General. "And I could, just as quickly, turn this weapon onto your home. Upon your family and friends, crushed by the might of stars themselves!"
But still, the diplomat held his cool.
"Do all of your species feel nothing as you do?" The General asked. "This is the end."
"It's impressive, General, it really is a testament to your combined might." But he still did not take his eyes off the battle as it raged.
"Why then do you stall? Sign over the planet to me, give us your leaders and resources and, perhaps, I will exercise lenience, not as if you have any say in the situation. Your short lived species may yet make a fine zoological exhibit."
"How long do your kind normally live?" Asked the diplomat.
A moment lapsed as the translator calculated the units into familiar terms. "...by your earth's units of time, nearly 900 years."
"That's about what we calculated too, even our oldest man is barely a child to your race."
"And I see you fight like one, too."
The diplomat let the insult slide. "Last time you were here we figured out real quick there would be nothing we could do to match your level of technology in that window of time. That this would be a one sided slaughter."
A lieutenant quietly came to the general's side, trying to whisper into his superior's ear. The general growled at him. "Not NOW, fool! Can't you see they're about to surrender?" The aide backed away, shamed into silence.
"So, what is it then? Why hesitate even one more moment? Are you waiting to deploy a secret weapon?"
"Secret? Oh, heavens no. The 10,000 battleships you see now are the 10,000 battleships we have."
"Perhaps you just wish to see your species die slowly, is that it?"
"Not alone, at least."
Finally, the aide forcibly interjected, getting the general's full attention. But as they communed an earth vessel exploded next to the embassy, throwing debris in all directions. There, in the drifting wreckage, a small creature writhed in the void of space, freezing, asphyxiating. It took the general only a moment to understand what he was seeing wasn't the pink of flesh and red of human blood. The Tni'il child, garbed in Earth Defense attire, barely grown into his scales, died right before his eyes in terrible agony.
"We cloned just about 10,000 of them in all." Said the diplomat. "It's funny, really, the notion of honor in an act of war, honestly it's something we've never really excelled at." Finally the diplomat turned to face the general, his eyes twinkled in the starlight.
"Didn't you say this was being broadcast for your entire species to see?" | The human and Q'la ambassador sat across each other at the great stone table. Both waited in silence for the other to show their hand, to break first. Ambassador Smithson mustache twitched. Ambassador Quklukgukguk's single shining eyeball drooped a sticky liquid. Well... 'his' name was not Quklukgukguk, but Ambassador Smithson would be damned if he could pronounce the real title. It was all trilling K's and R's without any discernable nouns, warbling up and down pitch for nearly half a minute. It had almost busted his ear drums first time he had heard it at the start of the meeting. *Maybe they should have just sung to us, that would have won it for them real quick* the ambassador thought in dark humors. He almost smiled at that little joke.
Minutes past with only the ticking of the clock in the dark room. A century of build up for this exact moment, where both species presented their weapons to wage war with on the other. A century of frantic R&D, of what universal constant would work to completely destroy an entire civilization spread across the stars.
Finally, the Q'la reached slowly under its... his....no , its robes and brought out a small vial filled with red liquid. It glinted as it caught the light, many small creatures swimming in a frenzy inside.
The translator on Quklukgukguk's thick neck chirped.
*This is the Flubinian parasite. It nests in the hosts eyes, only to spring free and fly to another host to lay its eggs in the ear cavities. In between the birth cycles, the parasites eat into and control the host's brain and act out a normal life, and can remain undetected in society for years. Our scientists discerned your society had a 35 percent survival chance if we introduced this into your water supplies. Chance enough to live, but somehow I doubt it, primate.*
It spit the last word, the single eye looking pleased with itself as the porous body leaked over the bison hide chair. Smithson resisted the urge to smash his own over the alien's head. He had liked that chair.
Spreading his fingers, Smithson nodded slowly, acquiescing."That is both a most hideous and ingenious weapon you have there Ambassador. It is only fair if I present mine as well, of course. We humans ourselves know something about parasites ourselves." He said.
Reaching into his suit's breast pocket, he pulled out a large goggle and thick joystick, setting them in the table between the two of them. The Q'la looked confused.
*What is this? You cannot hope to defeat us with such a device, primate.* It stated, almost angry in its confusion.
Ambassador Smithson sat straighter in his chair and smoothed his jacket.
"This, *Worm*, is a 3D, nucleoid-powered gaming headset and controller, fitted for your species use. It has Intergalatic internet and unlimited games, Candy Crush and Farmvillle to name a few. The screen will never break, and it will never run out of power."
Smithson smiled as he leaned forward.
"It also has 82 pentaflops of Q'la porn installed, and as of 0600 this morning, we just delivered one of these devices to each of your species members under the age of 80."
Quklukgukguk's eye reflected pure horror. Smithson had to keep the laughter from bubbling out at the fat worm's expression.
"Best of luck waging war when your population refuses grow food, run your countries, and supply your power... or really anything that doesn't have to do with sitting their fat asses in a couch all day while your worlds crumble around them."
Smiling he held out his hand to the quivering, distressed mass. It flinched away from him.
"All in all, I think this went well." Smithson said with satisfaction.
"Shake on it?" | 2016-01-01T20:28:08 | 2016-01-01T16:31:24 | 57 | 30 |
[WP] Death gave you immortality with the plan that you'd realize how awful it is and beg him to let you die. 50,000 years later he's getting annoyed as you continue to have fun and live a wonderful life. | "Death, my existence has turned into suffering," I said. "My very bones ache, my skin is weathered. My body became nothing but a green leaf shriveling in autumn's time."
Death chuckled like a five year old, hiting his ball joint as he crouched slightly. "Immortality, a game only a few can play Darren," he said. "If you please, I can end your suffering with a single swing of my scythe."
I grabbed him by the clavicle, "Death, I have something to confess."
He cocked his skull, "are you afraid of the pain my scythe will provoke to your soul?"
I shook my head, "no, it's much worse."
He clinked his fingers against his mandible, as if thinking. "Are you afraid of Hell? You know it doesn't exist, right?"
"I'm not afraid of those mundane things Death, I'm not afraid at all," I said, locking my gaze in his hollowness. "I love you Death."
He hesitated, words dying on his trachea. "Y-you lo-love me?" he stammered.
I nodded, "as deeply as the void of your existence."
"Darren, I swear, together we can make eternity bareable," Death said with a grin and hugged me.
I burst into laughter, "did you believe me, you pervert? What is this called, humanphilia?"
Death hesitated once again, "what are you implying Darren? You weren't lying I smelled the scent of your soul, it was pure!"
"Death, it's been 50000 years. I know all your secrets, maybe you should learn what April fools day is," I said and patted his spine. "You are weird old friend but you blessed me. I will be in Bora Bora if you need anything."
"Motherf—"
-------------------------------------------
/r/therobertfall for more not so great stories | Our 49,997th anniversary is tomorrow and I can't wait! We were running out of stuff to do on our anniversaries up until a few thousand years ago, space travel has really opened a whole new world, or really worlds, of opportunities for us. Maybe a moonslit walk on the shoreline continents of Mk-314, or we could even go to Lv-430, they can't call it the planet of love for no reason! Man, I love her just as much as the day we first met, and I'll keep loving her as long as I live. You know what? We should leave the love planet for next year. I think a visit to the reason we're even able to have this wonderful life is on order. I sure hope death isn't still mad about it all, that guy can sure hold a grudge, because I hear the underworld is absolutely stunning this time of year. I mean I can't really blame him for being mad, I'm probably the source of his two greatest regrets, the time he granted me immortality and the time I convinced him to give half of it to the love of my life. Poor guy never stopped to think half of infinity is still infinity! Man when he realized it he wanted to kill me! Guess that was out of the question though. Well anyways I think a visit to the big doofus is in order. As much as he hates us with all the flames of the burning hells I still gotta love the guy. It was him that let me live to the end of time, and it's also because of him that I'll enjoy every second leading up to it. In the end I guess the one thing that will outlive the universe itself will be our love, and I wouldn't have it any other way. | 2017-11-29T12:47:04 | 2017-11-28T14:54:17 | 149 | 10 |
[WP] Diagnosed with schizophrenia. Since birth, 24/7 you’ve heard the voice and thoughts of a girl that you’ve been told is made up in your head. You’re 37 and hear the voice say “turn around, did I find you?” and you turn to see a real girl who’s heard every thought you’ve ever had and vice versa. | *Well that was a bust...*
**C'mon. I know you really liked her.**
*I mean I did but...I guess she didn't feel the same. Seems like that's been happening a lot lately.*
**You'll find someone. I know your heart. You're too good to be single forever.**
*Yeah, okay. No offense but I don't know how much that's worth coming from you.*
**Thanks, dickhead. It's not like I don't know every single thing about you that there is to know.**
*I mean, of course you do. You're just a-*
**Hey! There's that bakery you love! I think you deserve a cookie.**
*No way. What if she didn't like me 'cos I'm too fat?*
**Don't be stupid. Go get one! For me.**
*Fine. But I'm working out when I get home.*
He held the door open for the woman behind him. She thanked him and made her way inside.
**I'm excited for this cookie.**
*Me too. Which one should I get?*
"Oatmeal raisin, please."
**Oatmeal raisin, please.**
He chuckled a bit. *Jinx!*
**It doesn't count if she said it.**
*Well she can't hear you.*
**Which is why it doesn't count.**
He ordered his cookie and sat down, reflecting on his date. He heard her thoughts too but after all this time, it was easy to tune them out. Millions of thoughts a minute ran through his head. Hers and his. He sensed nervous ones racing through their minds.
*You okay there?*
**Finally.**
"Finally."
*Hm?*
**Turn around.**
"Turn around."
He turned around and came face to face with the woman who had ordered before him.
"Sorry?"
Tears welled in her eyes.
**I finally found you.**
"I finally found you."
His confusion turned into realization. His eyes widened, "Do you...do you mean?"
**March 4th, 1982. Blue. Mother's name Maria. First dog, Boston. Biggest fear, being alone.**
"March 4th, 1982. Blue. Mother's name Maria. First dog, Boston. Biggest fear, being alone."
*Oh...my god.*
**Last thing you masturb...**
"Last thing you masturb..."
"Hey!!!! I...I get it."
She laughed out loud and held her face in her hands, as if she still could not believe he was right before her.
*I can't believe you're real.*
They looked at each other until he gulped.
*Well please...sit down.* | "Turn around... Please."
I stumble forward, desperate to escape my insanity.
The pills were working. They were working. Their not working.
"Please! Stop!"
The desperation in her voice halts me. I know that feeling. I know what its like to be desperate. A clawing, yearning, all consuming desperation.
Desperate for anyone to listen to me.
"Please Nina... you're.not. real. Ok?"
I continue forward. Desperate. Like her voice. Like me, as always.
"Michael; i know what they've told you. I know what you've been through. I'm sorry i shut down our bond. I'm sorry! Ok?! "
I stop midstep. The flow of pedestrians to either side of me reminds me of a rock in a river. I close my eyes and point my face up. I take a couple steadying breaths; than i turn.
And all the breath leaves my lungs.
She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"Oh Michael... you.. you're..." she sprints the 20 or so feet between us and jumps into my arms. I cath her and hold her to me. Nothing has ever felt so right.
"You're really real?" I whisper into her hair. Breathing in her scent. Feeling like my heart is a 1000 times lighter, and heavier, all at once.
"Im really real. I've missed you so much."
I freeze at this. She's been real this whole time. She's real... and she abandoned me. Left me to suffer the hospitalizations; the eltro shock. My whole family has been afraid me. Even in my darkest of days her voice was my haven. But one day it just stoped. 2 years. Its been 2 fucking years.
I push her away. Wiping angrily at my face. "What do you want?" She recoils as if id struck her. "You."
I close my eyes again and hate myself for loving that one simple statement. "No."
"Mikey, wai.." she's saying as i turn around and continue walking. "Mikey they're here!"
I swing back around in time to notice several large men running towards us. I make eye contact with the front man. Than i see it. Everything she's seen, and i know everything she knows. I look at her and she nods.
We grab hands and we run. | 2019-09-14T13:20:46 | 2019-09-14T12:09:41 | 45 | 32 |
[WP] Officially, you're a weak, D rank villain. Unofficially, you're one of the strongest beings on the planet that is secretly employed to "train" fledgling heroes by giving them an easy first real fight. But one day an A rank villain crashes your heist and you must protect your "students". | Part 1 of 2
“ Well shit,” I mumbled. Here I am bound and gagged when the fiery pentagram appeared before us.
Silver-fisher and Dawnstar had radioed for a pickup when literally all hell broke loose. From a portal made of fire swarmed a million scream ghastly skulls. “Shit shit,” I panicked. These two barely passed, and I grade on a curve, and now this clown has to show up.
With one arrogant step, he emerged. Wreathed in fire and soot, taller than most human beings with skin like charcoal and hair like ash, flanked by two hellish dog like abomination and carrying his sword of blackened charred metal in one hand and a shofar in the other; Ul’gaas, The King Wreathed In Flames, Lord of The Red Wave, Proclaimer of His Word and Herald of Darkness That Threatens To Consume All had arrived. Or as I like to think of him, the loudmouth idiot that ruin their final exam.
“Hark, you all will bear witness to the power of the Darkness That Threatens To Consumes All,” he proclaimed. With a blow of his shofar, a wave of pressure and energy crashed into us. Dawnstar, bless her heart, jumped in front of me to shield me with her body. Silver-fisher jumped in front of several officers who were trying to get control of the scene. The entire area was bathed in a blinding light. Unbeknownst to most, he was literally proclaiming the words of his master. Many wouldn’t notice it unless they spoke Advaru.
When the light died down, an unconscious Dawnstar lay on top of me. I looked around the area. To my surprise a bustling city street looked like a nuclear bomb went off. It looked like every cityscape from every post-apocalyptic movie where things go from zero to hell in an instant. Cars flipped upside down and destroyed buildings on the verge of collapsing. There were several human shaped burn marks in the asphalt. The worst were the soul orbs simply hovering without ascending. Hundred of them. Maybe thousands. Some were white as fresh fallen snow, others were black as Ul’gaas’ skin. Most were varying shades between the two. I looked around for Silver-fisher.
He was…well at least he was alive. His uniform had been destroyed and I can see impact marks on his body where he took several blows. The officers weren't, however. Their shadows burned the very walls of their cruiser.
Ul’gaas looked around and smiled, “His words hath been delivered. Let the souls of those that has heard the words of the Darkness That Threatens To Consume All converge to me. Rejoice for you will fuel his return.” He raised his sword and began to absorb the soul orb. They swiftly moved to the sword. I watched as Dawnstar began convulsing and so did Silver-fisher. Silhouettes began pulling from them. Afterimages desperately clinging onto their physical forms.
Technically, they were still alive. So any attempts to take their souls was negated by this natural defenses. But they were severely weakened first, and their bodies were concentrating on healing. Silver-fisher more so. I was thankful that they still had physical bodies to protect their souls and give them a buoy in this soul maelstrom.
I hate breaking character. Even when I want to congratulate a little engine like these two, I remain in character. But I will not have promising heroes killed before they can do good.
“Hey, Noisemaker to the Asshole that can’t seem to take the hint,” I screamed, “I have a bone to pick you. Preferably, your ribs.” When the pair stop convulsing, I know I got his attention.
“Who dares deny the word of the….” He started.
“Of the Darkness That Threatens To Consume All. Blah. Blah. Blah,” I interrupted, “You have killed several hundred people with your little proclamation. Strike One. You made me break character. Strike Two. And you nearly kill two of my little engines that could. Strike Three. Now I have send you back to your hell with one of my size fourteen megametal boots lodge so far your ass it going to be on your mind for all of eternity.”
“Puny mortal, do you wish to receive the word again?” He started toward me. I carefully undo my bonds and gently set Dawnstar down. I will have to deal with this fool first before I get them some help. I stand up and smile, “Let me show you how I do things.”
Raising my hand toward the sun, I summon down my spear. Like a bolt of lightning, it struck the ground. Stabbed into the ground before me was an ornate spear. Made of golden metal that shines brighter than the morning sun. It cracked and sparked with an unique energy.
“A divine weapon?” Ul’gaas puzzled aloud.
“So you know what this is? Good. Because I am going to use it to make an Ul’gaas kebab,” I declared as I withdrew it and rushed at him with unseen speed. He barely managed to get his sword up to block. He attempted to blow his shofar again to use his power but I kicked him in the stomach to stop him.
“Yeah, once was enough,” I commented as he went flying. His shofar knocked out his hand. His two abominations rushed at me but two energy blasts interrupted their charge. I looked up to see Paragon and Glory descending.
“If I knew you two were going to show up, I would have stayed in character,” I spat, “Someone help my little engines. I have a herald to find.”
I watched as the shofar started to wiggle and move, before flying back to its possessor. Two massive black wings erupted from my back. I flap them once before I take off to follow the instrument. Glory and Paragon could handle these abominations without a problem and protect those two. I had to deal with hornboy. It didn’t take me long to find him. His shofar flew into a building not far as I thought I kicked him.
“Come out now and I promise to only maim you a little,” I called out into a destroyed cavity in a skyscraper. His respond was an energy blast. Not as strong as his Proclamation of The Word but it was fast. Putting me on the defensive. My right wing closed around me like a shield. However that momentary distraction was all he needed. He launched his offensive. He battered at my wing forcing me to the ground. He alternated strikes from his sword and shofar as the earth threatened to give way under me.
One of his abominations slammed into him. Or when I looked it was thrown by Paragon. I took the opportunity and stabbed Ul’gaas in the chest.
“How could I, the Proclaimer of His Word, be defeated?” he pondered aloud, “You are no mortal. No being of his world. Wielder of A Divine Spear with blackened wings, who are you?”
“I am a shadow casted when the light shines, that is all scum like you need to know.” He let out a scream as he erupted into a million tiny black embers. Paragon landed beside me, “Who what that?”
I let out a sigh and state, “That was Ul’gaas, The King Wreathed In Flames, Lord of Red Wave, Proclaimer of His Word, and Herald of the Darkness That Threatens To Consume All.” I used my fingers to make sure I got all his important titles.
“Great,” he said sarcastically, “You kill him?”
“Nope. He will be back. Demons with titles like his…those fools need special means to kill. Though he won’t be back for a while though,” I turn back to him before unsummoning my spear, “My engines?”
“Glory is tending to them. I am not going to lie. Silver-fisher is in bad shape,” Paragon stated looking away from me.
“Great. Fucking great,” I said, “I will deal this later.” The sound of incoming helicopters and other heroes brought me back from my job.
I turn to Paragon and hand him Dawnstar’s restraints, “Quick bind me.” Paragon rolled his eyes as he complied.
“You know you could just be a hero instead of a faux-villain,” he said, ensuring the restraints were tight on me.
“I could but I would have to actually do something heroic. I am a teacher dammit and a damn good one,” I declared as he slung me over his shoulder.
“Whatever, you dislike having council oversight and paperwork,” Paragon countered as he flew me back to where Glory was.
“What can I say, I am lazy,” I offered up.
Part1of2 | When you think of supervillains, you think of those that can break a man's back with ease, take hold of a city with a diabolical genius plan, slaughter people in the blink of an eye with their powers, and so on; I am that but at the same time I am not that. Many are given to believe that I'm just some ex-assassin who is practically only good at killing a few people and subsequently getting my ass handed to me...but I'm not. Well, not some low ranking villain I mean. My time in service to the government has left me with enhancements to include strength, speed, and a cybernetic arm that not many know I have. I was bred for it, made to do it, however now I get to train a bunch of babies who don't even know how to pay taxes.
Today's scenario: Bank Robbery. A simple deal that the government sets up to test these soon to be heroes and I'm the contractor who got assigned to it.
The bank has two front doors, one back exit, and a large as vault that is on a timer like most of them. I have some low time crooks who are going to get there time knocked to parole if they do this right. They all are rocking some Halloween store skull mask, but mine is clearly identifying: a Ballistic face mask with a skull designed on it, and much more durable tactical gear as opposed to their amazon bought airsoft shit. Two men would go in take down the guards using rounds that make the appearance of the person is shot and dying. I'm the only one with live rounds. I and the other man will get behind the cash counter and gain access to the vault. Eight AM, the time had to be just right for it to unlock.
We charged in, the automatic gunfire made people jump as the two idiotic goons fired their weapons at the guards who dropped quickly. They, themselves thinking they had actually been shot as did everyone else. My first two men swept the whole floor, getting everyone on the ground as I hopped up across the counter with my partner.
"On the floor!" I shouted. "Everyone on the floor!"
"Do what he says or we'll blow your fucking brains all over the walls!" my partner shouted. Everyone got on the floor as they were told, I could hear sobbing from several women and whimpering from some men as I stood on the teller desk.
"We're here for the banks money!" I declared. "Not yours! Do not try to be a damn hero or we will drop you. If you feel sick you may sit up, if you now have to piss, then you piss yourself! We will be out of your hair shortly!" I hopped down from the counter and pointed at the other man to take that post while I looked for the manager. "Oh Mr. Manager! Where are you?" A balding man looked up and I pointed at him. "You him?" He ducked down as if to hide himself but nodded, knowing he was seen. "Get up." He slowly did so as he was told. I checked my watch and it was thirty seconds until eight. I grabbed him by his suit and dragged him to the vault door where he stared at it. "You put in the code when I say, understand?" He stared at it and I smacked him gently to get his attention. "Understand?"
"Yes," he murmured. I watched the arms on my watch tick away the final seconds, *3, 2, 1. 8:00 AM*.
"Unlock it," I said. The manager began spinning the dial with his hands trembling and eyes blinking multiple times.
"C'mon!" on of the goons shouted causing the manager to jump. Now having messed up the process and having to reset the combination to start again.
"Hey, shut the hell up!" I ordered. "You just fucked it up." I turned my attention back to the manager who was trying to put the code in. I saw him stop. "Done?" He nodded and then opened the vault. It was then I heard a *poof* and a man grunt as if he was getting punched followed by gunfire.
"Supes!" one of the goons shouted. I grabbed the manager by his suit and with my cybernetic arm holding that jacket, he wasn't going anywhere. The door burst open as another super burst in and attacked another goon. I knew who these two were, the Twins. A woman who could teleport dubbed Blue Vapor and her brother, a small yet incredible strong kid whose strength was unrivaled known as the Kid. Vapor popped out and grabbed the last one on the teller desk and subsequently disappeared before he reappeared going through a window. She appeared wearing some flashy blue and silver outfit.
I emerged as the people were fleeing, and the two prepared themselves where as they should just start attacking.
"It's over Grim!" Kid shouted. "Never took you for a bank robber."
"Times are hard Kid," I stated, "ammo isn't as cheap as it used to be so I gotta get it somehow." Vapor disappeared and reappeared, behind me and it was predictable. She tried to grab me and disappear but I quickly threw her over my shoulder and she disappeared only to reappear in front of me where I kicked her out of the way only to find her brother running full speed like a bull at me, and all I had to do was move out of the way. Vapor then reappeared, this time getting a hold of me and throwing me like a ragdoll out the window and into the street.
The duo emerged from the bank as I was standing to my feet to the sound of responding police sirens. This would be the part where I get my ass kicked, however the sky went from bright and sunny, to dim becoming a grayish orange as if the sky had become war torn. Lightning danced from clouds and it distracted us and responding cops. Great, an actual Grade A villain. These kids couldn't handle this, I knew I barely could.
"What is this?" The Kid questioned in bewilderment.
"I don't know," Vapor answered. I pulled out my cellphone and dialed up my boss, the Director of the Agency.
"Boss, you seeing this?" I asked.
"Yes," she stated. "Unknown villain coming in via a portal. He's coming towards you. Protect the assets no matter what." I hung up the phone and tossed away my M4 and removed the 454 Casull Custom Revolver from its holster. I kept it just in case and had only used it once on a hero who was going to kill my ass. I turned my attention to the Twins who looked scared shitless.
"You two are going to help me," I stated.
"Why would we do that?" Vapor asked.
"Because I'm not really your enemy," I said. I knew was about to break protocol and reveal the truth, but I brandished my wallet and showed them my badge. "I've been pulling my punches for a while, now we're about to meet the real thing."
"What the hell?" the Kid said in bewilderment.
"Consider me your training officer, this wasn't part of the test," I stated. From the sky descended a woman in a tight gunmetal gray outfit surround by some sort of armor with raven black hair and intense fiery yellow eyes. A sword of some sort rested on her hip. She hit the ground with enough force I saw the asphalt crack underneath her and I readied myself.
"Earth, it has been so long," she stated. "You all look like little ants who have forgotten about us."
"And you are?" the Kid questioned.
"You may call me Mara!" she announced.
"Never heard of you," I stated.
"Lost daughter of Ares, you know the God of War," she said. "We're coming back to take back what is ours, all of us!" *Well that's not good. I maybe superhuman but fighting a god wasn't in my resume of abilities*. "I can spare you and your pathetic city of stone and iron, if you just kneel."
"Yeah, kneeling isn't in American's vocabulary," I stated. I quickly took aim and fired but she whipped out the sword with such speed and carved the bullet in half to where it split and the halves going two different directions. She charged forth and swung her sword which I quickly ducked under and dodged to see her cut a car mirror off and it leave a bright glow as if it had been cut by a plasma torch. This wasn't how I planned out my day. | 2021-06-23T11:09:52 | 2021-06-23T10:26:18 | 330 | 54 |
[WP] Satan ironically enjoys the multitude of letters from dyslexic children during the holidays.
Had to put it here after imagining a scene after reading a certain r/showerthoughts thread. | Satan looked over the latest letter, one of the hundreds he was working his way through.
*Deir Satan*
*For Cnrisnas mai I pelase heva a puppy, su that I heva smoetnhing to hug at nihgt*
*Bruec Jnoes*
It was a short one, and he re-read it several times. A cruel grin spread across his face, as he realised that this was a request he could have some fun with. A three headed hell-hound, that would rip him in half on Christmas morning sounded promising.
He lifted from his leather chair, and flung apart his arms, plucking fire and shadow and death from the air, and forming it into a small, squirming shape. He thought back to the pain of millions of children singing hymns that burnt him, the humiliation of being bested by messiahs and musicians alike.... thought back to being mocked as he struggled to piece together a demonic contract, being unable to understand the loopholes and hidden meanings that his peers used daily.
He waved the half-formed creature away, and began his work anew. It was damn time **somebody** actually answered these bloody letters.
| Satan, the great deceiver, the devil, Santa signed his name. Christmas has started as a bit of side project of his. A poke there an a push there and it turned out it wasn't hard at all to get them to create a new holiday. After that it was just a matter of waiting. That old fool hadn't even realized what was going on at first. Thought it was harmless. Maybe even that it had been his doing. That will happen when you convince yourself you're all powerful, he reflected. Still it truly was one of the best pieces of work he'd created. A holiday dedicated to materialism and the worship thereof and all in the name of Christ. Answering the fan mail was honestly the most fun he had all year. Yes Billy I'll get you a sleigh or rather your mother will. Whether she want to or not after I sign my name to it, Satan thought happily to himself. | 2014-11-23T12:34:03 | 2014-11-23T11:03:07 | 29 | 18 |
[WP] The use of human soldiers stopped with the rise combat droids. To make them effective the memory engrams of veterans were imprinted onto them. However one droid outperformed the others and went rogue. The military and the droid seek the veteran they used to imprint to understand what went wrong | Mr. Matthews was a slobbering mess of the trained killer he used to be. Sixty years ago, he was one of the top soldiers of the military, but now, he was just another old man withering away in a nursing home.
"He's doesn't appear to be all there, sir," a young man dressed in green fatigues spoke into his phone. "He won't answer a thing. I'm not sure if he even understands what I'm saying to him."
Across the table, Mr. Matthews's eyes were closed and some drool began to drip down the side of his lip like a stalactite.
"Did you ask the nurses about his condition?" a voice came from the phone. "It's not uncommon for veterans to shut down when they grow old, but-"
"Wait," the young soldier whispered, "he's waking up now."
Mr. Matthews's eyelids opened, revealing bright, piercing blue diamonds. He looked across the table, and the young soldier shivered.
"Who are you?" Mr. Matthews said.
"Hello, sir," the soldier said. "I'm from the military, same branch as you were. I've been tasked with-"
Mr. Matthews squinted his eyes and it went through the young soldier like an icicle. "Oh fuck off. I'm retired."
"Sir, it's about your engram. A robot we created based on your neural pathways has gone rogu-"
With a strength a man so old shouldn't possess, Matthews slammed the table. "I'm not gonna tell you again. I'm retired."
The young soldier frowned. He studied the man, searching for some way to connect. "Who's that?" he asked, pointing to an open locket around Matthews's neck. On the surface was an old picture of a young woman.
"You should know that," Matthews said. "You looked me up before coming here, didn't you? Or has the army gone that downhill since the robots? It's my wife. The ones you fuckers killed."
The young soldier did indeed know who it was. In Matthews's records, a melancholy story was hidden. The man, thought to be made of stone, had finally been softened during his last deployment overseas. There, he met a woman, and they took to each other like flies to a trap. She barely spoke his language, and he barely spoke hers, but it didn't matter. When two people are meant to be together, the communication happens in silence.
He married her after a month. She moved into the base and stayed with him. Everybody was amazed to see the change that occurred in Matthews. Things that would have once angered him no longer did, and he even let people borrow money from him. Nothing seemed to matter to him besides him and his wife. After a year, his deployment was over, and so he was sent back home. Before he left, though, after much tears and hurting, he promised his wife he'd come back for her as soon as he could. Because her husband was no longer living on the base, she couldn't either. She returned to her home in the war-torn land.
Matthews came back the next month on a civvy plane. He was too late. His wife had been killed during a raid on her town. He learned about it through a report handed to him by a soldier he had given spare change to once before. She had been killed by his own people.
Matthews was not stupid. He did not go berserk, or make a scene out of it. Although he wanted to, he knew nothing good would come of it. Instead, he went back home, not even stopping to visit her grave. It was easier that way, he told himself. Seeing it would only make things harder.
Sixty years later, in a half-lucid state, confined to a wheelchair and trapped in a nursing home, there was nothing more he wanted to do than to see his wife one last time.
"I'm sorry about your wife, sir," the young soldier said. "Protocol has changed drastically since then. Things like that don't happen anymore. Now, about that engram..."
The old man began to raise his hand with a certain finger pointing up, but midway through the motion he fell back asleep. The next time he'd awake, he wouldn't remember a thing about this interaction.
"I don't think we're going to learn anything from him," the young soldier said through his phone.
"God damn it," the voice on the other side said, "where could that robot be?"
Far away, on the other side of the planet, in a nation that spoke a different language, the waves crashed against the beach, the sky showed a golden-purple as the sun set, and a military robot, not understanding why it needed to do it so badly, gently touched a worn-out tombstone. | “What are you not telling me, Penn?”
He didn’t answer.
“Why does that machine not know its purpose? It told me it is waiting for its time but that it doesn’t know what that means. There is another layer to this.”
Penn stared out his window, slowly removing his cigar from his mouth, thick smoke rolling out from his lips. He spoke with malice.
“There is...another.”
“Another what?”
“Machine, Markson. Kraken was designed to stop it.”
Markson was silenced.
Penn grabbed his shot of scotch off the windowsill and looked at it. “I need Kraken to be a loose cannon.” His eyes wandered up to the blinds. “It needs to be unpredictable.”
Markson rounded Penn’s massive desk, shrouded by shadow. He spoke slowly. “What are you talking about?”
Penn raised the scotch to his lips and sipped it like it was tea. He lowered it and took a deep breath, his cigar smoke was filling the dark room.
“Twenty years ago the US government authorized the creation of a super-intelligent machine to be used in the field, in combat. We called it Ares. We had a field test against Al-Qaeda in 2005. We sent it into a hostile hot bed with ten Navy SEALs. Ares single handedly eliminated over fifty combatants. It could have been seventy. It killed them all so violently we had trouble counting the bodies.”
“What happened to it?”
Penn clenched his teeth, giving off a glare into the nearly shut blinds that Markson had never seen anyone ever make before. “It turned on our own men. It killed all of them in less than thirty seconds. They didn’t stand a chance. It ran into the bush and we never heard from it again. That is, until seven years ago. The pentagon got hacked by some very advanced ransomware, and I’m talking advanced. No one could unlock the systems. By the third hour, complete panic had ensued. No one really knew what to do, we were breaking out manuals from the sixties to try to get a glimpse of what we could do. There was a seven hour period where the entire US military was completely in the dark. No communications, no satellites, nothing. Our ground forces were stranded and our fleets had to rely on the stars for navigation. In the fourth hour, every screen in the pentagon went dark. That was when Ares spoke to us.”
“What did it say?”
Penn turned very slowly to Markson. “It didn’t say anything. It played the video of it slaughtering those American soldiers. Then it played it again. Again, and again, and again!” Penn threw his shot glass across the room, shattering it against the wall. “Ares played that video on every screen for seven hours on full volume and no one could stop it! We eventually had to cut all power to the pentagon and completely restart the system.”
“That means…” Markson’s eyes gaped open.
“Yes.” Penn repeated. “The military lost insurmountable amounts of extremely confidential and critical information. Our men were on the ground, blind for seven hours, our enemies were quick to notice, we lost a hundred men just from the lack of communication and overwatch alone. We had no other choice but to shut down the system. That day was single handedly the most destructive incident the US military has ever had, not pearl harbor, not the civil war, nothing. We lost decades of information on terrorists, leverage on hostile regimes and governments and things you really shouldn’t know about...which are the worst of all. You can’t imagine the terrible things we had to do to cover this disaster up.”
Markson’s mind scrambled. It was a lot to take in. “Has it shown its face since?”
“A month after that, Ares somehow hijacked an F-18 from a US aircraft carrier. Ran it straight into the home of its pilot, two hundred miles away. Another time it hacked into local communications for ground forces in Somalia. We lost a squad of marines when it simulated their commander's voice and told them the coordinates to what they thought was a rendezvous point. Instead it was an ambush. There have been twelve different events we have linked back to Ares in the last 7 years.”
Penn moved his gaze from where the shot glass impacted the wall to Markson’s. “It knows our every move.” | 2022-08-11T22:42:35 | 2022-08-11T22:23:53 | 1,825 | 80 |
[WP] Everyone gets a clock at birth with the countdown untill their deaths, one man's clock only says ERROR | !.ERROR.!
The word had always perplexed Theodore. What was it supposed to mean? Why was he the only one that seemed to not have a predetermined fate? Through the years he had learned to mostly ignore these questions, but they still haunted him when his head hit the pillow every night. It had been hard for Theodore to make relationships with people, because most people wanted to find someone with an expiration date close to there own. But what if he didn't have an expiration date? What if he was doomed to live forever for some unknown reason? Theodore was lucky in that he found a wife who had chosen to cover up her clock, and never look at it. She had no idea when she would go, but Theodore did. He peeked at it the night of their wedding, and was pleased to find that they would have a healthy 35 year marriage. But what would happen after that? Would he continue on in life without her, or would he die before her?
Tomorrow was her expiration date. She had no idea, and Theodore had tried his best to not let on that he knew, but it was killing him inside. She left for work, and seemed very happy when she kissed him goodbye for the day. Three hours later Theodore was staring at the clock. She had one minute left. She would die sitting in her office chair at work. Not the worst way to go, he thought. 10:34, it was time. She was gone. The phone rang a few minutes later, and Theodore answered in a shaky voice. They told him nothing he didn't already know. He ran to the bedroom and threw open the closet, to find his pistol. This was it, he thought, I can't live without her, if I don't have an expiration date then maybe that means that I get to choose when I go. He held the gun to his head, and pulled the trigger.
*click*
Nothing happened. He looked at the gun, and noticed that for some reason one of the bullets were missing. There were only five. He looked down. The bullet was lying on the ground. He must have dropped it on accident when he last loaded the gun. He heard a beep come from his clock...that had never happened before? He looked at it and saw that it was counting...but with a negative in front...he had outlived his expiration. | The tall thin man walked to the podium and opened an ornate book and began reading, "In a place called the United Kingdom a clever man created an amazing watch which could tell you the day and time of your death. He sold his amazing watches to the people and they were glad. Some became angry but died soon after."
"The social health service of the time realized the cost saving that could be found by knowing a person would be dying and required them for the whole population. The son of Charles III, William, was given an ornate watch at a special presentation to start the program of mandatory watches. A camera from the BBC was focused on the watch as the NHS functionary placed it upon William's wrist. "
"It read 28 seconds. A collective gas was heard as people tried to understand why. The functionary stood at the microphone to say that perhaps the gold on the ornate piece was interfering with its working. He was smugly explaining his confidence in this theory when a series of shots rang out. A man in the audience fired his pistol at William, his wife, and children. Two more men stood up and joined in shouting praises to their primitive god."
"William died instantly. The Duchess died on the way to the hospital. The children died in separate surgeries. Charles III was riven with grief and suffered a heart attack upon receiving the news."
"The funerary ceremonies to bury them lasted a week and the nation mourned for a year. The new King Harry requested to wear his brother's gold death watch. There was no ceremony to put it on but during public events TV cameras periodically caught that the watch flashed repeatedly 'Error, Error, Error'.
The thin man closed the book. "This was a reading from the First Book of Harry the Eternal Emperor, Destroyer of Islam, King of England, Scotland, Ireland, Northern Africa, Iraq, Persia, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Protector of India."
The crowd raised their hand and faces to the sky and chanted, "Praise Harry, may he reign for another thousand years. Long live the King." | 2014-09-30T10:22:14 | 2014-09-30T09:31:58 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] For decades, humans have been using a mineral mined off-planet that accelerates healing. Today you discover the truth: it’s not a mineral, but a parasitic alien spore. The more damage your body sustains, the more it replaces your damaged DNA with its own. | "But to what end?!" I gasped, horrified.
Even as I spoke, I could feel my very bones *grasping* as the deep broken pieces in my hands *grew* into place. I shuddered.
Doctor Sanhe casually tossed the large, glittering crystal back into a basket. "They're powerful and intelligent, but they're also crystals. Nothing we do in *either* of our lifetimes is going to be even a blip for them.
"This isn't even all that secret.” She continued. “I mean, even the Crystal Church talks about it, even if they wrap it all up with 'gnostic truths' and 'crystalline tintinnabulations'."
"It's just that I've done a lot of Crystal Therapy..." I muttered, "and if I had known I might turn into some kind of zombie, or..."
"First, It takes decades to reach even 50% conversion. And even then, they won't *do* anything. Crystals think long term, remember?"
"Then what do they want?" I asked incredulously, still absentmindedly cradling my recently shattered hand. "They must be replacing us for some purpose right?"
Dr Sanhe sighed, stood and began shooing me out of the office. "Well! If you're really, *really* want to know you can go talk to them yourself."
&#x200B;
I barely had time to marvel at the multilayered cystaline structure growing in the center of the hospital before Dr Sanhe was hustling back to her lab.
"Just touch the big crystal in the middle!" She shouted over her shoulder as the doors shut behind her.
When I touched it, I could feel the deep resonance of the world through the crystal. The crystal was quivering ever so slightly and for a single infinitesimal moment, the crystal and I harmonized, and I saw true eternity.
To what end? I saw the end the crystals planned. I saw a sea of dead rocks. The suns were dead and scattered, or endless sucking voids to *some* abyss. I saw a single planet, dead like all the others, but torn through with graceful, lace-line crystal structures. I saw faces in the flats of the crystal stretched and skewed as they grew. Millions of years passed as they crystals grew and twisted around one another, and around the planet. I saw *through* and **between** as the planet's very core turned to glass and stone and translucent mineral.
I saw a network of planet, dead for eons sparkle with life again. A glittering string of gem sitting on the darkest velvet. | The discovery of olititite had set society into a frantic tumult unseen since the Great Zero Point Fuel Rush of the '70s. Found in the deepest ice of Europa, grinding and processing olititite into a thin paste allowed it to pass through our cell membranes and act as a catalytic for intracellular reactions. If recovered within a couple of hours, even a severed arm would weave itself into the fabric of our tissue with nay a scar.
The United Nations Health Commission was appropriately cautious, yet the ointments passed all tests and were introduced to the public as the first off-planet health remedies; the public, in its guiltless eagerness for the promised panacea, took in the ointments like water after a drought.
For decades death rates plummeted and humanity flourished: developing nations gained an escape from their unrelenting plagues while developed nations retained and expanded their human capital with the advent of longer life spans. Water wars ceased as new olititite based serums made most water potable and people began to deeply appreciate life with mortality seeming like a distant vulnerability. Olititite proliferated and became part of the daily routine of billions upon billions.
First noted by the Ambassador to the U.N. Independent Territory of Kamchatka, birth rates declined a little over four decades after olititite became commonplace. We realized that it affected the upper echelons of society the most, a completely logical development as they had been the first to gain access to the substance before it could be mass-produced. Fiery philosophers pounced on the implications of a longer life span on our paternal drives, while bold biologists theorized the on the subtle shifts in our biological programming.
It wasn't until the merger of Ancestry and 23me, almost a century after olititite's conquest of households that we realized it had been meddling with our very structure. It had bonded and fused with the very building blocks of humanity and it had *changed* us over now three generations. Philosophers and biologists alike rescinded their claims as the causes of the phenomenon became known. Slow incremental alterations culminated with something different. With us, different. We didn't forsake childbearing, a biological schism separated and would forever keep us apart from our brothers and sisters of the past. | 2020-07-30T21:05:17 | 2020-07-30T18:13:21 | 97 | 65 |
[WP] You lost your sight - along with everyone else on Earth - in The Great Blinding. Two years later, without warning, your sight returns. As you look around, you realize that every available wall, floor and surface has been painted with the same message - Don't Tell Them You Can See. | Most people lost their sight waking up on the morning of the first day, as the event started in the middle of the night. The change only occurred as one slept, so others attempted to remain awake to retain their vision for longer. This effort proved to be pointless, as the effects took hold the moment they closed their eyes and started to doze. As the days stretched into weeks, Microsleep ended up taking of the vision of the most resilient.
Adjusting to the change was difficult, but there was ease in knowing that everyone was blind, and that we all shared the same struggle. Those that were blind *before* the change became valuable assets to their communities. They found themselves teaching thousands, in neighborhoods where there were no blind people before.
I spent my time at home, with my animals, listening to old reruns of my favorite TV shows. Years of mental health issues had rendered me unfit to work in the eyes of the state, so many aspects of my life continued as usual. I did miss reading and, although I managed to find a few books in braille, it wasn't that simple to learn. The small dots weren't that clear to me as someone who had recently gone blind. Walking the trails around my house was not an option anymore either.
That was then, though. Today, something changed that I didn't anticipate would happen. For the first time in over 785 days, I saw something.
There have been stories since The Great Blinding of people regaining their sight. In all cases so far, it has been attributed to an overactive imagination. I must admit that even I have been fooled into thinking I was seeing something. You catch what looks like a flash of light, but it quickly fades and you are reminded that you are still blind, and that it has been the case for over a year now.
Today was different. I saw the flash of light, but it quickly expanded to cover my entire field of view. I had to remind myself that I had a field of view again. I was amazed at how much I could see again, but startled at how *forward* everything felt. In my blindness, I experienced my world in 360 degrees. Now, I was seeing only what was in front of me, and I noted how unaware I was of this before. My ears were still trained to the world of the blind however, so I found myself more aware of my surroundings than I remembered being before The Great Blinding.
Words started to appear in my vision. At first unfamiliar, but then more clear as the image of what each letter meant reappeared in my minds eye. I had forgotten what letters looked like.
'Do not tell them that you can see' were the words scrawled on my wall. The writing was brown, and it had no stench. I looked around to see if there was evidence that someone entered my room while I slept, but I soon realized that the substance was dried and old. Someone wrote this on my wall a long time ago, and I had no idea why.
I crept out of my room and realized that the sun was starting to set. After so long without sight, I wasn't surprised that my sleep cycle was so off. For me, it felt like early morning.
The sky was illuminated with streamers of light, and everywhere people wandered through the streets, heading for work. The setting sun turned the sky a rich burgundy striped with its golden rays. There were no stars in this sky. In the distance, the trees danced, casting their long shadows on the surrounding fields. Looking closer, I realized they were actually dancing. Tall branches were swaying with their movements as they spun around one another and held each others' arms.
Nearby, the people continued with their lives, unaware of the beings in their midst. Translucent birds flew high in the sky and shattered against the stone clouds only to congeal and reform as a different bird. Their chirps mimicking those of any birds I knew of before The Great Blinding. Orbs of light illuminated and disappeared as they moved through the air, sometimes passing through people, unbeknownst to them.
There were no roads or vehicles in the street. The asphalt and gravel were replaced with fields of grass; despite this, my feet clattered on the ground as if it were still made of stone. I was so absorbed in my changed surroundings, it was hard to take in. In the distance I heard whispers and, as I narrowed my eyes, I caught sight of a person waving at me to come near. I approached with caution, not knowing who or what they might be.
"Get in here!" They pointed at my house. "Before they notice me." I retreated through the door, and faced the man who was invading my home. "Do you have any idea what you are looking at?" He spoke quietly, and stared out the window. The red glare of the night sky cast his face in a bloodied shadow. "You have entered the world of the dead.” He closed the blinds. “You are witnessing things you were never supposed to see.” | [Part Two](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/cvoaso/wp_you_lost_your_sight_along_with_everyone_else/ey5in0q/) down below!
***
As suddenly as they flicked off, the lights turned back on again.
Or at least, it felt that way. As if the lights of my mind had been shuttered off and then on again by the huge hand of a god.
I froze there. I did my best not to look surprised. I just kept staring ahead at the blurry grey wall of my apartment, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. Of the fact that I *was* seeing. No one had seen anything in over two years.
Not that I could ever see well. My vision was even worse than normal, a milky blur filtering out the world.
Maybe I was dying. Maybe this was one last vivid, terrific hallucination of the world as it used to be.
My eyes burned like I'd fallen asleep with my contacts in, a feeling I hadn't had to worry about since the day I woke up just as blind as the rest of the world. I reached up and rubbed hard at them until the fog cleared.
There was a handwritten note there above my television. A careful little army of letters, marching forward. I leapt off the couch and beelined toward it, until my nose was nearly touching the drywall. Close enough to be able to read for the first time since the Blinding.
The message said, in a stranger's handwriting, DON'T LET THEM KNOW YOU CAN SEE.
A dark hand coiled around my spine. I knew exactly who they meant. There was only one class of people who escaped unscathed during the Blinding. They were the very same who installed the radio in my wall, who kept all of human society going. Only us fully biological humans lost our ability to see.
My stare darted to the radio, still humming away in its slot on the wall. The radio had a single black dial, a speaker, and a shiny black circle I had never been able to see before. The government had subsidized these devices as a way to help us all adjust to the new change of waking up suddenly and horribly blind.
The radio spun out some light oldies tune. How long had it noticed? Had it yet noticed?
Would *they* notice?
I spun away from the wall and pawed around on the floor, pretending to look for something I dropped. I tried to keep my stare blank, unfocused, but in the corner of my eye, I watched that radio.
I watched that strange, shiny black circle I had never seen before.
I felt foolish and stupid, kneeling there on the floor, doing my best to pretend to be blind. I should be running cheering down the street. I should be going to the nearest hospital to figure out what the hell I did that no one else could do.
But then another set of letters caught my eye. There, in black marker on the inner leg of my coffee table.
Now I didn't have the room in my mind to think about danger or consequences.
I stood up on trembling legs, and I turned my head to look boldly all around my apartment.
Every wall carried words. Some of them looked like they had been scrubbed and painted over, random patches of mismatching grey paint here or there.
Over and over, every surface of my apartment screamed at me: DON'T LET THEM KNOW YOU CAN SEE.
A knock rattled my front door.
I snapped my head toward it, then quickly away again. I tried my best to remember what it felt like *not* to see. How I held my head. Whether I kept my eyes open or shut or half-lidded, almost dead-eyed.
Then I paused there, opening and closing my fists at my side.
I did my best to gather what information I knew.
I knew I was the first living, breathing human to see in over two years. I knew the shock on my face must have given me away by now.
"Ma'am," a robotic voice intoned at the door. "Please do me the courtesy of opening up."
And whoever was on the other side of my door, they sure as hell weren't human. Not fully. And something told me they weren't here to help.
***
/r/shoringupfragments
Mmm I'm not capable of writing short apparently! ~~Spinning up a part 2~~
Here's [part two](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/cvoaso/wp_you_lost_your_sight_along_with_everyone_else/ey5in0q/) :) Thanks for reading | 2022-10-08T20:12:12 | 2019-08-26T07:20:15 | 810 | 489 |
[WP] Your wife wakes you up. “It’s your turn to feed the baby.” You groan, get up, slaughter a lamb, and toss it into the darkened pit below.
Inspired by [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/agyghh/my_wife_rolled_over_and_sighed_its_your_turn_to/?st=JR15QW9S&sh=56b75b5f) | The thud of the lamb's weight echoes from the darkness. "Eat up for daddy, little guy." A moment later the wet macking and gnawing sounds begin. I seat myself and wait. Soon crunching is added to the ravenous layers. I fight falling back asleep. Finally, there is a small, but growling belch, and silence.
"Good boy," I say, getting to my feet.
From the shadows, I hear the tenacious gurgling voice for the first time. "*Daddy*."
I'm caught off guard. Between hearing his first word, being jolted out of my fatigue, and losing my balance, I can't make heads or tails of the instant that followed.
There was a smash, as though someone had rammed their body against the wall of the pit, and the violent quake it made beneath my feet. I was fell. And through the blinding pain, I heard the wet macking. | I look down mortified I watch the beast devour the lamb limb from limb. I try not to look as it eats but am unable to avert my gaze. Suddenly, silence as the carnivore finally finished its meal leaving nothing but the dust of the floor. "Are you done?" I yelled from above. With no response other than heavy breathing, I ask again this time louder. Again silence. I grab my torch laying beside me and drop it down the pit to get a better look at it. It shrieked and jumped back as it was caught off guard by the sudden burst of light. Finally as it was about to speak I narrowed my eyes and said "Shut up, Meg." | 2019-01-17T20:19:39 | 2019-01-17T19:15:35 | 36 | 11 |
[WP] You died at the gym as you were trying to take a selfie while bench pressing. Thus you find yourself in Swaghalla, the Halls of Brodin.
EDIT. "Swaghalla" was the best pun I could come up with for Valhalla. Use something else if you have ideas.
Note: Swolehalla seems to be the proper name, pardon my mistake
second EDIT. Sweet, first time front page
third EDIT. I've had many good laughs brighten my Monday, thanks guys :D | The unintelligible cries of the gym employees rang out as the room darkened around Brett. Then, everything was silent. Even his own gasps faded into nothingness. As if from afar, he felt the pressure lift from his neck -- but too late. His windpipe had been crushed.
Had he only asked for a spot, he would have lived to do another set. But yea, though he was in beast mode, he went too far. Whilst trying to bench (like 350 bro and he was just getting warmed up), he had decided to take a selfie for the ladies on instagram. Alas, like so many tragic heroes before him, Brett's fatal flaw was hubris. And yea, though he was no doubt in beast mode, he was yet unable to snap a selfie while doing reps, and the bar fell upon his throat, extinguishing his life.
Yet he died a hero, and like all heroes of the gym who died in battle, he ascended to Swaghalla, the Hall of Brodin. However, Brett had a secret -- a secret that made him unworthy of Swaghalla. Soon, that secret would become his undoing.
He was greeted at the gate by Brodin himself. The wizened old man was totally ripped, his one eye bulging and his beard all white flowing and shit.
"Sup, bro?" spake Brodin.
"What the hell is this place?"
"It's Swaghalla, bro! You come here when you die in a gym!"
"Oh," said Brett.
"You're gonna love it bro," Odin continued, "You gotta check out the feasts, every kind of pre-workout you can think of."
Odin leaned in conspiratorially and whispered:
"And the bitches--"
He was cut off mid-sentence by an inhuman scream.
"What the hell was that?!" Brett shrieked like a little girl.
"Oh shit bro it's Jörmadgains! Giant fuckin' snake that eats the world and shit! We gotta fight it, bro, you ready?"
"What? N--"
"Let's go!" Brodin half-dragged Brett along to the battlefields of Gymgard. With them came the hosts of Swaghalla, all of whom were, like, super jacked. Out on the Cardio Fields, they saw it: Jörmadgains. Imagine a giant snake, but like, totally *cut* somehow. That was what Jörmadgains looked like.
For weeks, months, and years fought the hosts of Swaghalla. How long exactly even they did not know. Despite their overwhelming swag, many of them fell to Jörmadgains. The snake writhed and bit at the host of Midgard, but somehow Brett survived unscathed for a time.
Then one day as the sun dawned over Gymgard, Jörmadgains pinned Brett down by his chest with its tail. Flailing madly, his legs hit something -- another part of the snake. Desperate, he wrapped his legs around it and squeezed.
"Holy shit bro you got its fuckin neck keep squeezing you got this!" Brodin shouted.
Brett drew his legs tighter still around the neck of Jörmadgains. But like I said, the snake was pretty jacked, even around the neck area, do snakes technically have necks even. And alas, Brett had another fatal flaw beside hubris, a secret he had told to no one:
Brett had skipped leg day. | At once, the pain of the weight on my throat stopped. I knew something was off because I could now lift it with the greatest of ease. I threw it and it landed twenty feet from me. Man, I thought, I must be getting really good. I turned and saw I was in a very odd place. It was what appeared to be a graveyard, but instead of tombstones, there were rows and rows of benches. An ominous fog rolling over them. The only other thing in view was a golden gate with a path leading up to the only place where sun shined in this place. Naturally I walked toward it and pushed it open, because the non-lifters were getting restless. I could hear them rising from their benches, moaning in pain. Clearly they had not lifted in centuries.
The gates were a challenge to open, but they eventually submitted to my will and I walked along the path to the light. I could hear loud cries of "bro" and "spot" and the sound of metal being lifted. It was music to my ears. As this place fell into view, I could see men with massive beards and mustaches lifting godly amounts of weights. They were all ripped and it made me feel like I needed to do some lifting to reassure myself that I could out-lift them.
"MY BRO! YOU HAVE FINALLY COME!" Said a manly voice that surprised me a little. I turned and saw a man in full viking attire, but his arms were not covered. He flexed in front of me and immediately I felt the sudden urge to bench press my entire body weight. His face had a long scar on it which led up to his one eye which was covered by an eyepatch.
"I AM BRODIN, the all-spotter. I am the keeper of the keys to the gates of Swolehalla! And you my bro, you have made it here because your quest to get massive biceps was righteous."
"What is this place?" I asked still overwhelmed by his biceps. He was still flexing.
"Swolehalla! The afterlife of all gym believers. Turns out benching your weight can save you my bro. Here we work out for an eternity to achieve the most excellent of biceps. Here, every day is leg day and the protein shake fountains flow in a never-ending torrent of synthesized goo. Women are waiting to ogle your massive muscles at any given moment, should you feel insecure. By day we work out till our bodies cave, and then after, we do some laundry to make clean clothes for the most righteous of partying at night. There is but one rule, if your bro spots you, you must spot your bro. Here you will train until your muscles are to your liking, then you will train to make them better."
I pondered this over for a moment, could I ever be happy with my muscles?
"But I will never be satisfied with my muscles." I replied.
"Good" he said patting me on the back. I winced as the wind was knocked out of me. "we have an eternity to work on it! Now come my bro! It is leg day! Let us go and blast those quads till you are sore!"
I was home. | 2015-11-02T06:45:10 | 2015-11-02T06:36:28 | 257 | 35 |
[WP] The Elder Gods have awoken from their slumber, but instead of causing havoc and destroying the world, they become more focused on winning bingo, talking about the good old days, and complaining about all those young kids on their phones. | "Mighty Cthulhu! Hear my cries and awaken!" The cultist yelled the final words of the ritual.
His words echoed over the dark sea for an unnaturally long time. Then, a massive green form emerged from the depths. As it rose its features came into detail, tentacles on its face and wings on its back being brought up by legs as thick as apartment buildings.
"Haha! I did it!" Yelled the cultist with joy.
The elder god lowered his head to meet the level of the cultist and opened two deep red eyes.
"What have you called me for?" There was a wickedness in the elder god's question that shook to the bone.
"I've called you to take revenge on this cruel and uncaring world! Las Angeles is 30 miles from here, I ask you to destroy it!" The cultist replied.
"Very well" The elder god replied. He pulled himself out of the water as the cultist watched overjoyed. He made two steps inland before sitting down on a nearby cliff. The cultist was confused.
"What... what are you doing oh great old one?"
"I'm sitting down, what does it look like I'm doing?"
"I... I don't understand, the city's that way"
"Yes, yes I can see that. My eyes can see clearly for a thousand leagues underwater, and my ears can clearly pick up a conversation in Japan, the big city over there hadn't escaped my notice."
"Oh, I... I'm sorry, oh Sleeper of R'lyeh"
"I mean really, I've spent the eons sleeping beneath the waves, you'd think I'd be able to take a moment after waking up get my bearings, but mr. go-go cultist needs things done right away is that right?"
"Oh Great Dreamer, I meant no offense, I live only to serve you." The priest said, taking a bow and closing his eyes.
The old one did not reply, staring off at the city. Several moments passed. The priest opened his eyes. He looked up at the old god staring off at Las Angeles.
"Uh... oh great one?"
"Quiet! I'm watching Wheel of Fortune... oh wait it's ending. Jeopardy moves too fast for me, although I do like that Alex Trebek. What was it you wanted? Oh nevermind, say you don't have any nice cottage cheese do you?" | “Athena, did you get signed for your players card?”
Zeus pulled more money out of the ATM. He rubbed his hands together. He tugged at his Hawaiian shirt.
“What’s the buy-in?” Venus asked. Her hand rested on her Generous hips.
“Yes, I signed up for the players card.” Athena replied. She rolled up the sleeves of her new sweater.
“If you need me I’ll be at the slots.” Hera said rubbing Zeus’ shoulder and giving him a kiss. “Try not to pick up any mortals.” Zeus patted her on the butt as she made her way to a bank of Wheel of Fortune slot machines.
Aries leaned Venus’ shoulder. “Bingo my love?”
“Yes but I think Cupid is FaceTiming me.” Venus look out the phone. Cupid’s face flashed on the screen.
“Hi mom, I’m in Australia.”
“How’s that going!” Venus said in a loud voice at the phone.
“Mom, you don’t have to yell! Are you at the Bellagio?”
“Yes! Auntie Hera just went to go play slots. We’re playing bingo and your father is going to invade a buffet.”
“Oh god, ok, listen, I’ll leave you to that, I need to go feed a koala.”
“Ok, bye dear!”
Venus watched the screen go black and she tried to swipe the screen. “Oh this thing bothers me, where’s Hermes? He needs to fix this damn thing. It just never works right.”
Ares chuckled. “Operator error.”
“You hush. I liked it before we had these and now these damn kids don’t even know how to write a note.”
Venus pointed over to a group of girls stand around in a circle looking at their phones. “Have you seen the muses? They’re on those phones all the time!”
Artemis joined the group. “The shooting range was great! You guys missed out!”
The rest of the group pulled out cash from the ATM and started to split up and find their respective games.
Aries rolled his eyes. “It’s bingo time, let’s go buy cards. Then it’s buffet time.”
| 2019-03-23T10:44:49 | 2019-03-23T10:34:21 | 40 | 27 |
[WP] One day, every person on Earth wakes up with a lottery ticket on their person. ~7 billion tickets and no one knows where or who they came from. You turn on the TV and see your lottery numbers on the screen and wonder what's about to happen. | At first Lars thought it was a sexy joke from his wife. She always liked to play little games with him to make him curious. He wondered what kind of lottery she was plotting. He rolled over to put an arm around her. She felt like home. He looked at the clock on her night stand, there was a ticket there as well. “What is this game?” he thought to himself.
“Honey”
“Mmmm” she pulled his hand up to her chest and snuggled her arm under his.
“I love you.”
“Love you too, Cheryl.” He kissed her puffy, sleep-face.
He got out of bed, took a shower, and continued his bathroom ritual. In the kitchen, his son and mother-in-law were both seated at the table, holding tickets. His wife looked up as he entered the room. “What’s all this then?” she asked holding up her ticket.
“Oh, come now, don’t try to blame this on me.” He jabbed.
“No, really, I’ve no idea where these came from.” She turned on the TV to see every station had news of the lottery tickets. There were multiple drawings throughout the day and the first one happened only minutes before. They all scanned the numbers on their tickets. Lars finished and looked over at his wife’s. Nada.
“I won!” exclaimed the son. “Dad, I won!”
“Let me see, Willard.” Lars looked down, back up at the screen, then down again. “Well, I’ll be. Guess we need to call that number on the screen.” Lars nodded his head towards the screen. He was always a fairly even-keeled individual, but the fact that he was so nonchalant about his teenage son winning a lottery irritated Cheryl. He took his phone off of the charger and handed it to Willard. “Go ahead, son.”
“Don’t you have to be an adult to win a lottery?” Asked Cheryl.
“Meh.” Replied Lars. Cheryl crinkled her nose at him.
Willard’s fingers shook as he tried to key the correct spots on the touch screen. It was ringing. “Congratulations! You’ve got a golden ticket!” chimed the recorded voice. “Please send your winning ticket along with a self addressed stamped envelope to the following address to claim your prize!”
Three days later, it came. A thick manilla envelope. Willard tore open the package only to discover a credit card with a novel-sized Terms of Use. On top of the terms of use was a summary sheet.
Congratulations!
Here is your unlimited, free purchase card. You can use it to make all your purchases,
big and small, and you’ll never have to repay a penny. Happy Spending!
Everyone was too elated to bother with the giant TOU sitting on the coffee table. The family had always been a little down trodden in the financial department. Willard could now buy anything his family ever needed and not have to worry about debt. “What should I buy first?” He quipped to himself.
“Dad!” Willard called. “Dad, log in to your bank account!”
“Why?” Lars asked. “You don’t need to concern yourself with..”
“Just do it! I want to try something.” Willard pleaded.
“Alright, hang on.” Lars opened his laptop and accessed his account. His eyes tried to avoid the part of the screen displaying how much water he was under with his home. Willard clicked the One-time payment option, entered the amount in its entirety, his card number, and pressed enter.
Request approved.
“Willard! I can’t believe it! I knew there was a reason I had you!” He joked.
“What?” Willard asked. “I’m hungry.”
“Oh Willard, what would you like, I’ll take you anywhere, son. I can’t believe this. This is incredible.”
“Um… I can’t think of anywhere to go.” Willard scrunched his brow in frustration. “I can’t think of anything that sounds good.”
“Well, maybe Grandma can think of a place we should go to celebrate. How’s that sound?” Lars guessed Willard was probably in shock from the windfall he’d just received.
“I have a Grandma?”
“Willard, are you ok?” Lars looked over at the Terms of Use again, his heart sinking as he realized the tried and true rule of “If it’s too good to be true…” He thumbed through, landing on a page with specifics regarding to what the purchase card company owns and is entitled. For every $5,000 processed, the company claims ownership of one (1) cardholder’s memory. Said memory becomes property of purchase card company and can be used for marketing, advertising, or any other use deemed appropriate by company.
Lars looked at his son, then at the purchase card. | Bing da-ding. Bing da-ding.
He reaches over instinctively and grips his phone, groggily turning off the alarm.
5:55 AM. Saturday.
He'd forgotten to disable his alarm on Friday night as he normally does. This happens about once a month. He knows he won't be able to get back to sleep; once he's up he's up. A dull groan is loosed as the covers are swept back and he rolls out of bed. Like a zombie he shuffles to the bathroom, still half asleep he squints to shield his eyes from the overhead light.
As he pulls down the elastic band of his shorts a bright piece of paper spills forward and begins floating toward the porcelain bowl. Instinctively his hand darts and snatches the object before it hits the water.
With one hand he brings the paper up to inspect it, the other returning to the task before him. "A receipt?" he ponders, his mind immediately scanning the memories of the previous night. An alcohol-induced amnesia cloud hangs over his mind and he wonders aloud "what did I buy this time...". He flips the paper over and his face contorts as he recognizes the unexpected formatting. "Lottery ticket?".
With a slight shake and after a brief dance the elastic band snaps back into place with a 'THWAP!'. He moves toward the sink and slaps the cold water handle with his soiled hand, submerging it for a beat before halting the flow once again, his eyes transfixed on the ticket held in front of him.
He makes his way into the kitchen and turns on the burner corresponding to the kettle before plopping himself down on the sofa parallel to the television. "Let's see if drunk me set me up for life.".
A tiny red light blinks to life. "The early morning air was pierced by missile fire as Hamas militants..." the international anchor began before being cut off - "and that's your morning traffic." a portly anchor in a loud news chopper finishes. The screen flashes a beautiful blonde woman who appears to be in her mid-thirties "And now back to this morning's top story"
He drops his head back onto the plush cushion and closes his eyes tightly, bringing a finger up to rub away the illegal squatters who had taken up temporary residence in his eyes. Truth be told he paid more attention to her body than her words. A dull pounding thumped in his skull and it was all he could do to tune out her shrill voice. This wasn't the first time he'd purchased a lottery ticket while inebriated, though it was the first time he stored it in his trousers.
"the strange lottery-style tickets which appeared in some homes, apparently overnight. At present we are unsure why some received the tickets while others did not. We know that approximately one hundred major metropolitan areas were affected. Channel 5 has identified 23 different number combinations that have appeared in the county area. Beyond that,"
A quiet whistle penetrates the anchor's speech.
"- excuse me, we're receiving a live update."
Small beads of water ping off of the metal interior as steam is pushed out of the spout more quickly. The whistle intensifies.
A hand flashes in the corner of the screen and suddenly the woman is holding an envelope.
"I'm being told moments ago our office received this cryptic letter apparently addressing the mysterious tickets." She folds the flap back and pulls a small paper from the envelope interior.
"And it reads: 'The winning numbers are: 13, 19, 24'"
The cocktail party effect takes hold as he hears the word 'winning'. He opens his eyes and lifts his head wearily, bringing his attention to the ticket still held in his hand. 13, 19, 24. Suddenly, he's alert. He sits up straight and brings the paper closer.
"34, 40"
34, 40. His breath catches in his throat momentarily and he chokes on his saliva, coughing to clear his throat. He's suddenly more aware of the air around his hands as his palms begin to perspire.
"49"
49.
eeeeeEEEEEEEE
The kettle wails with enthusiasm as he sits dumbfounded, his mouth open slightly. With a vacant stare he gazes at the numbers on the screen. The same numbers on his ticket.
Bing da-ding.
He glances down at his phone and the screen flashes a text message: "Joel: Dude, I think I just won the lottery!!!".
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE | 2014-08-05T16:14:04 | 2014-08-05T14:52:22 | 30 | 12 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | They destroyed our home-world just to prove a point. Demanded we serve at their whims, surrender to their armadas.
But how could we retreat with no home to fall back to?
How could we surrender with nothing to save?
Why should we serve those who took from us everything we ever cared for?
So we raided their outposts, claimed their stores.
All trade ground to a halt the first day of the war.
Now we burn their worlds, raze their cities to the ground and move on.
Their fleets outnumber ours. ‘The most powerful in the galaxy’ they were called. But they have many worlds to guard, and we have no reason to stand and fight anymore.
What have we to protect that we should stop?
When the fires of their worlds finally grow cold: *then* they will know the measure of our pain. And when their mighty armies lie dying in their bed: *then* will our children show them the mercy they refused us. (For we serve together, man with woman)
We offered them peace once, but they asked for war. “What’s one world to those who have so many?” They asked. “Everything” is the reply “to those who have none.” | Because we were soft skinned and void of claw and fang they named us weak. Because we preferred to speak before strike they named us cowards. We knew death, known it since we took our first upright steps, an old friend, a constant companion. Their immortal kings of star and sky had forgotten. So we taught them. We knew they would come, eventually. So when they did, we were ready. Millions upon millions of them. Their way was to pillage and steal, ours was not. They though first of money and resources, of tangible things. We do not. And that is why they never used it, the forbidden power. That which kills without hesitation, and without remorse. In their tongue, "that which erases". In ours, antimatter. Their millions came, and they were erased. Utterly and completely. Their energy cast out into the dark to serve as warning for those who would follow. | 2019-11-24T17:58:27 | 2019-11-24T17:36:40 | 28 | 19 |
[WP] After having made your first billion dollars, you are delivered a package containing a "Billionaire's Club" card, and a pamphlet outlining its uses and benefits... | "It is my great honor to welcome you, our newest member, to the Billionaire's Club," the letter began.
"What is the Billionaire's Club, you may ask? Well obviously you hadn't heard of it until today, as you weren't a billionaire. But you are now, and it's time to let you know how the world works. Being in the top .01% has its benefits as the following list will show:"
1. Legal Immunity to 5 misdemeanors and 1 felony per year. If exceeded, you may pay a fee to refresh this for the current year only.
2. One yearly assassination of any person not in the billionaire's club/millionaire's circle-jerk (Actually called the Millionaire's Club, but we take precedence because B comes before M).
3. Freedom of patent violation with the same restrictions as #2
4. Access to any of our numerous facilities across the nation. Private jets will transfer you back and forth between them free of charge. Consider them "hubs" you can get to quickly. There, you'll be able to mingle, enjoy numerous different foods, many of which are endangered and illegal to hunt (Personal Note: Try the Panda Steak, it's marvelous), and have advanced screenings of films and television.
5. With the other billionaires of America, you will decide which of our members are to be nominated for president. The winner is pre-determined, but we get richer off it anyways. (Personal Note: There are illegal political gambling pools full of non-billionaires. ***Always*** bet on the one who says the code words, "Rich blood makes a better lake than dirty water.")
6. You will be able to have your brain uploaded into a cyborg to persist in such pleasures and power after your physical death.
Those are just a few of the things you'll have access to as a member. You'll have some brothers-in-wealth arriving within a few minutes of you finishing this to escort you to your nearest hub. Congratulations on the beginning of your wealth and control over the world.
Attached is a form for your artificial charity registration. Cancer treatment is a loaded market, so I'd recommend some other area people can donate to to pay you.
Sincerely,
John D. Rockefeller-bot, Founder.
Bill Gates, President.
Henry Ford-bot, Treasurer.
James Marsen, future presidential elect of 2020 election. | He fiddled with the envelope, turning it back and forth many times before finding a pull tab. Slowly and gently, as if plucking a petal from a flower he pinched it.
An amused look came to his face as the tab began to undo itself. A very gentle dragging sound came from the underside, as if winding string was behind the mechanism. The envelope began to tear apart, a tight woven fabric caught by a thread. Slowly, a very faint ink became noticeable. He moved closer to the window to make it legible, the sunlight colored it a dark purple.
"Welcome to the Billionare's Club" read the first line, but it wasn't visible for very long. The ink quickly became washed out and began to flake off. Puzzled, he tried to tear at the remainder of the envelope. The paper underneath was scalding hot, causing him to drop it on contact.
He knelt down to pick up when he noticed the next line. The window's moulding cast a shade over it, making it hard to decipher. Not wanting to touch the paper, he cautiously lifts it by a corner.
"By now you should have noticed the last line disappeared." He slaps his forehead with a slight smile on his face. He figures this a practical joke. Annoyed he waits for the next line
"This is due to state of the art SunSpore ink and paper, both security features" Now confused, he began to shake the envelope, hoping to speed up the unraveling of the letter. Instead, the tearing stopped.
Unsettled, he rushes to the bathroom envelope in hand. He turns the sink's cold water on, full blast. As a corner of the letter touches the running water it immediately turns to steam. The paper becomes a dark purple as it absorbs the water like a sponge. A few seconds later, a bright white embossing covers the paper. It is thick enough to be seen even underneath the envelope:
"You attempted to circumvent our security measures. You have been warned."
| 2015-03-28T00:58:55 | 2015-03-28T00:02:57 | 29 | 10 |
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has | \#21904. That used to be my name, three days ago, and now I'm, well, #1.
No one in the city knows how it happened. The Top 30, the ruling cabal, have absolutely no idea. I still haven't figured it out, either.
All I remember is walking into a meeting where #1 was giving a speech- for the first time, since I'd finally turned 18 and had to follow the city's decrees. He didn't even say a word; he just randomly glared at me, told me to come up to the podium- and, overcome with dread, I did. Then he thrust his dagger toward me.
I closed my eyes and realized he'd held it backwards; the hilt was in my hands. Before I could react, he jerked it back sharply and blood shot out of his chest straight into my face. His power was telepathy, not immortality. I screamed. He was smiling.
He didn't even bother to speak. Nobody else in the room even gasped. I was #1, and they accepted it. They were smiling, too.
I wish I'd been able to figure out what was going on, but I've been around 18 years and I haven't even found out my power. There's no chance of me figuring it out anytime soon, either, since every day I face another challenge. Some are from the remaining Top 30, the ones who weren't at the meeting, and others are just nobodies who think they have a shot because of what happened to me.
Thing is, at all the public challenges, the same thing happens. They come in there grimacing, but when they get up, they use their power against themselves. They all die. Smiling. And the crowd smiles too.
It seems like they all just want me to win. | Prologue: *It wasn't the largest city, but it was definitely the most powerful and arguably dangerous in the world. Every single person here held a special ability, ranging from a power to clean everything within a 2m radius, to extreme powers such as flying or super strength. All these powers helped construct the most technologically advanced and richest city the world. One man had the power to give everybody a ranking in terms of how powerful their powers were. The minor powers caused little trouble, but conflicts to reach the top 10 cause widespread destruction. However there was one person who has held the top spot for many years. Me.*
I am considered the greatest of them all - yet no one but me knows why. I have no extraordinary powers like time control, even inferior powers like the cleaning everything within a 2m radius. I am a normal human being.
Since killing someone with a higher ranking gives the killer a higher ranking themselves, I have been the target of many assassination attempts. I have survived them all. Some say my power is health regeneration, but that's not true. Some say my power is extreme luck, but that's not true either. Maybe in 2000 years they will think my power is immortality, but that is only half true. It took me a while to find out what my power is. It's the ability to be ranked number one on this superpower list. I am essentially immortal, as dying would mean I am not the top ranked anymore. My power is hardly powerful at all, yet I am the most powerful of them all. | 2014-12-18T14:20:18 | 2014-12-18T11:55:01 | 171 | 39 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." | Sweat decorated my face, my hands twitched, my personal signs of panic. I gripped my phone on one hand and on the other my bed sheets. A deafening silence filled my bed room.
"What the fuck?" I murmured to myself. I rose up to a sitting position, used the now dirty bed sheet to clean my face. "Sarah?" I called out to my wife. Only silence answered my question. I ripped the sheets from my form and lunged out of bed.
"Sarah!" I screamed. I ran out the bedroom, down the hall, and entered the living room. "Sarah?!" I yelled out once more. My eyes glanced about the room, scoutted the kitchen, peer to the old leathery couch but found nothing.
I fox walked in darkness using the surface floor to fix my location. "Sarah" I called out gently.
I clenched my eyes shut and attempted to steady my breath.
In and out.
In and out.
In and out.
The back yard. She has to be there, no? I gathered whatever wits I had, which wasn't much to begin with and slowly walked to the other side of the room. Pale white blinds decorated the door in front of me. I swallowed empty dread that filled my mouth.
I gently pull open the door.
Sarah stood outside, standing on the soft green grass. Her back faced me. She stood still and was currently looking at the sky.
I walked forward. "Sarah, you're scaring me" i softly whispered.
No answered came from her.
"Sarah, what the fuck are you looking-"
Words left my mouth. My hands shook and my breathing quickened.
The moon floated above. Far bigger then it should have. Markings scarred it's surface like crude cross hatched shading. The lines grew and within the crevasses poured out blood. I was paralyzed. I couldn't look away. Not when the blood finished covering it. Not when the latitudes and longitudes pulled away from the center and revealed what was hidden inside. A humanoid beast. Its skin paled skin matched that of the moon. It's arms pulled away from its legs and oriented itself upwards. Its face simply consisted of 7 eyes. The remains of the moon orbit around the beast. Faster and faster they moved, until they were blur. The beast opened its eyes and the pieces began to glow. Spears, they began to distort and change and took the forms of glowing spears.
Millions of miles away from Earth. Threw the empty void of space. The shafts of light flew.
Each Longinus struck true and with the impact millions of people were turned to their basic components. Primordial soup poured into valleys, flowed into rivers, flooded homes. Their souls however stayed where they once stood, whirled and moved and solidified into perfect red spheres.
The spheres shot up towards the sky and stopped once the swarm overlooked the Earth.
That day humanity vanished and the beast that screamed from the center of its egg feasted.
***
I'm very sorry for any errors. English is not my first language and past brain trauma certainly doesn't help.
Also I typed this out on my phone. So yeah. I would greatly appreciate any criticism. | DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON.
My eyes were barely open, bleary with sleep, but the incessant buzzing of the phone against the glossy black wood of the bedside table was just passing the point of ignorable. It took me a moment to register that the words were strange, holding their place at the top of the screen in bold, official letters, while the green icons of text messages scrolled beneath.
Do not look at the moon? What the hell kind of late April Fool’s joke was this? I scoffed quietly, glancing down over the stream of messages. Moon shit, moon shit, and… moon shit. Whatever. Had to be some kind of gag, and frankly, I didn’t have the goddamn time for it. Work came early in the morning, and I had… what, two hours left before I had to wake up in order to beat traffic?
Fuck this. I powered the phone off to quiet the buzzing, and dropped my hands down to rest on my chest, phone still resting beneath. And with the screen out of my line of sight, that was when I noticed her.
My wife was a beautiful woman-- The sort of beautiful that comes after a good decade of married life. That kind of beautiful with a few lines around the eyes, and a few strands of stray silver in her dark hair. Not that I could see them from where she was, standing silhouetted by the streaming moonlight pouring in the window, her hands resting lightly on the glass.
“Anna?” came my groggy mumble of a voice.
No response. She just stood there, staring upwards in the bath of silvery light. Was the moon always this bright? Or had I just never really noticed it before?
“Anna, c’mere,” I said a little louder, reaching out a heavy hand towards her and dropping it back down onto the sheets.
Nothing.
Concern slowly began to stir somewhere in my gut as I stared at her familiar outline. I could see the dust in the air, floating lazily in the shafts of moonlight that her body eclipsed. Her nightgown wasn’t sheer, but as awareness began to settle in on my suddenly very awake mind, I realized the light was shining straight through. That was far, far too bright for moonlight.
And that was when she turned her head, the movement just a little too slow, too smooth. In the perfect, bald light I could see her face. So familiar, with those smile lines around her lips, even with the neutral blank of her expression. Her dark brows lifted over eyes familiar in shape, even if the harsh shadows made them look like strange, blackened pits. And then she finally looked at me. I knew she looked at me. It was unmistakable with the way her pupils reflected the moonlight, like some nocturnal hunting cat.
Her lips parted and she whispered, her soft voice clear.
“The moon-- it’s beautiful tonight. Come look.
| 2022-09-27T16:50:27 | 2018-04-06T20:42:31 | 33 | 10 |
[WP] write a one paragraph summary of yourself without using the letter "E" | I was kind and calm in my childhood. I drank milk and biscuits. With my family I had an amazing upbringing. Now, I support my own family. I laugh, cry, play and draw. My family activity that I savour most is living with compassion and humour. Nothing in this world has a worth similar to family. Kin is akin to Nirvana. This is my philosophy. Words always fall short of stating how much joy my family brings. If only our world could stay conscious of what is important- family, compassion and kinship. My story had a fantastic start and I will part from this world with a calm spirit. Living with passion and sharing my humanity allows this.
Thanks for this opportunity. | This guy is good at work. Things occur that won't pass by without difficulty. Masturbation and playstation can hold a lot of options in using up his days. Consumption of snacks and drinks pass lips at customary hours. A standard human that can impart communications with public, family and chums in comfort. All said, a strong paradigm of masculinity. | 2015-01-24T07:23:35 | 2015-01-24T05:34:28 | 33 | 12 |
[WP] Your grandparents always playfully bickered in their native language. To surprised them, you took lessons, but now you understand what they're really saying...
What comes next will shock you! | My grandparents had moved to the US from Italy after the war, but before they had any children. My mom said the strictest rule my grandparents had growing up was that it was English only for the kids. Someone had told them that it was the best way to make sure the kids learned to speak it quickly and without confusion. I always thought it was kind of sad that my mom couldn't speak the old language, and I thought it would be the perfect surprise if I could learn Italian in time for my grandparents 50th anniversary. Surprisingly, it wasn't as hard as I'd expected. I'd taken Spanish in high school and a lot of the words were similar. I was so excited that I actually wrote a speech, in Italian, to read at their anniversary party. The day of the party finally arrived and we all headed over to my grandparents house. I hadn't breathed a word of my surprise to anyone, and as I overheard my grandparents talking in the kitchen while putting the last minute touches on the food, I was SO glad I'd decided to keep my endeavor a secret. At first I thought I'd misheard, did my sweet innocent grandma really just compare the salad she was tossing to the way she'd licked grandpa's asshole the night before??? Did my grandpa really reply that he'd be hitting her with something bigger than the wooden spoon that night? As their conversation went on, I was both appalled, and the tiniest bit jealous, my sex life was, apparently, not half as interesting as that of my octogenarian grandparents. As I fled the kitchen in search of a stiff drink, I was glad I hadn't told anyone I was learning Italian - God forbid they ask me to translate grandma and grandpas conversations! | I opened the front door and blurted out, "hello my lovely grandma and grandpa, you there?" My grandma came and hugged me tightly. She smelled of clean laundry and sage. She looked at me with the same warm, loving look she always has and said, "welcome home deary, dinner is all ready. Come! Eat with us, your grandpa is at the table." I had been looking forward to this for years, and no not lasagna and casserole. I had been looking forward to finally hearing what my grandparents had actually been saying all these years. I hadn't told her I learned elvish just in case they would adjust their typical vocabulary when talking. I wanted to see them how they truly were, away from constraints of trying to behave and act caring towards me. I sat down at the table and said, "grandpa how are you! How was the surgery?" You see my grandpa had just had surgery and was still groggy. I didn't want to hug him because he was rather fragile still. He looked up and smiled, waving at me. My grandma sat down and said something in elvish and my jaw dropped and I got up from the table and I ran towards the door. I heard what she said, "so today is finally the day we end his pathetic fucking life. The fool still thinks we are his grandparents." | 2016-09-09T19:19:21 | 2016-09-09T17:11:36 | 28 | 15 |
[WP] You obtain a device that tells you exactly what choices to make in order to lead the "happiest" life possible. Some of these choices get hard to make. | > Now say that you won't just kill **them**. You'll also kill **their families**.
I stared at the words on the terminal in disbelief. My hands hovered over the keyboard. I wanted to reply, but... holy shit. How do you respond to an order like that??
"I can't do that!" I typed back. The keys clacked as I wrote it; the keyboard was very old. The computer and all the hardware was an old Tandy Color Computer back from 1981. You'd think I would have upgraded by now, but my Oracle preferred to stay in here. And who am I to question its orders? In nearly forty years, it really hadn't ever steered me wrong. So we stayed with this one. Everyone thought I was weird for keeping it in my office, but I just explained it away as nostalgia.
> You won't **actually** have to kill their families. You just have to threaten them.
*Oh, well that's so much better*, I thought. *Just threaten to murder innocent women and children. No big deal*.
"You know what," I wrote back, practically pounding on the ancient beige keyboard, "That's it. That's it, Oracle. I'm done with this whole thing. I quit." My hands shook as I wrote it, and my heart was hammering against my ribs. I'd wanted to do it for so long, but I just never could work up the courage to let go.
Oracle had guided me through life since I first got the computer in the 80s. Some kid at Radio Shack told me it would give me good life advice and sold it to me on a floppy disk for two dollars, and I've never been one to pass up a good deal. I figured that at worst, it was just some piece of junk that wouldn't really do anything. This was before viruses and malware were really a thing. So I popped in the disk, and it told me that I should start brushing my teeth twice a day instead of just once.
Every day, it was a new piece of advice. Just little things to begin with, like changing up my hairstyle or whatever, but it eventually gained my trust and started meddling more and more with my life. It gave me business advice, stock tips, real estate intelligence, and relationship advice that was always sound. Years later, I've got more money than I ever thought I could make, and I've got a beautiful family. A gorgeous wife, five wonderful children, a great job that I really enjoy... I've got everything. Fame and fortune, with none of the drug problems and mental breakdowns that usually seem to go along with those two. And yet the Oracle kept pushing. It told me that my life could always get better. That it knew exactly what to do. And so I listened. I followed along blindly, and it's led down a dark path to this.
Oracle has made me do terrible things. I've destroyed people's careers, I've humiliated people, said horrible, nasty things that I really didn't mean... but this? Threatening to *kill* someone's family?
> If you leave now, it will all be wasted.
The words flashed on Oracle's screen in dull green. There should be a name for that greenish color from before computer monitors could actually display real colors. I'd call it "80's green."
> Everything that you've built will crumble. You know that I am right. And you can make the **world** a better place if you just follow my orders. I've never let you down before.
I should have just left right then and there. I could have stood up from the chair and walked out of the room and never looked at Oracle again. Just spent the rest of my life lounging on a sunny beach in Florida or something. But I didn't. I hesitated.
That night, I got up on stage and took the mic in front of thousands of cheering fans. "And we're not just going to hunt down those terrorist bastards in ISIS," I shouted. "We're gonna go after their families, too!" My stomach churned just uttering the words: I was suggesting a *war crime* like it was a good thing! But of course, the crowds ate it up. Hell, they'd applaud for anything I did nowadays. I could probably shoot someone on 5th avenue and they'd cheer. Once the thunderous wave of clapping died down, I spoke into the mic again. "Thank you, Iowa! Let's make America great again!"
----
I hope you enjoyed it! If so, subscribe to /r/Luna_Lovewell for tons more! | When I was eight, everyone played with Magic 8-Balls. I begged my mother for one. I was overjoyed when I finally got one, months later. Everyone else got bored of the standard 20 replies pretty quickly but I didn’t. I found out I had a Magic ∞-Ball. My magic infinity ball would tell me exactly what to do in the situation I asked it.
The first time I discovered its magic properties was before I figured out you were supposed to ask closed-ended questions. After school, I asked the ball what I should study for the history test the next day and shook it. White text floated up to the window. It said ‘Egypt’. I frowned and shook it again. From using my friends’ balls, ‘Egypt’ had never come up. I asked again, and ‘Pyramids’ appeared from the black liquid.
I thought it was broken or something so I studied the Cold War instead. The next day, ‘Egyptian Pyramids’ headlined our test papers.
Announcing it to my friends was a bad idea. They had all grown out of it and thought I was stupid. “You’re probably imagining it,” they said. “You’re supposed to ask it questions that can be answered with ‘yes’ or ‘no’, idiiiiooot.”
I was hurt from the teasing but believed in my magic infinity ball. I tested it many times after that. I asked it if I should take an umbrella to school, if I should buy a certain Yu-Gi-Oh card pack, and other simple things. The ball was right each and every time. I never went home soaking wet from the rain, and I accumulated rare trading cards. I began to rise to the top of class, knowing what to study for tests and pop quizzes.
My friends apologised for calling me stupid and I soon became liked by everyone, mostly because I knew stuff like what they were interested in. If I became stuck, I asked my ball what I should do. I was so happy with my popularity, grades, and from hearing my parents brag to others.
One day, I asked it who I should pair up with for a project we had to do. The ball showed ‘Tom’. Tom was the quiet kid in our class. I tried to approach him before but he seemed a bit scared to talk to me. I decided to try again. This time, after an awkward start, we hit it off. We became best friends, and still are. After graduating from a top university, he owns his own million-dollar business.
As I grew older, the choices became harder to make. For example, in high school, I asked the ball who I should ask to prom. I really liked Clarice back then. She was hot, popular, and everything a boy could want. My heart would pound whenever she walked by. I was expecting ‘Clarice’ to appear but instead ‘Laura’ showed up.
My magic ball had never been wrong. With the teenage hormones racing, I was so infatuated with Clarice. Laura was pretty but she was no Clarice. I was very tempted to ask Clarice but chickened out. Laura was surprised when I asked her but agreed all the same. Prom night with Laura was actually one of the best nights of my high school life.
A few weeks after prom, the school found out Clarice’s prom date was dealing drugs. He was expelled and sent to juvie. At a high school reunion a few years later, we found out Clarice had actually framed her date.
I continued dating Laura. I also continued using the ball. Eventually, I made a living by buying and selling stocks using the magic infinity ball. The one time I told her about the ball, she just looked at me weirdly.
Laura and I married on a sunny day. Everything was perfect because I planned it that way.
We continued living perfectly, with two kids, a house, and pets. Until that day. The day that left Laura in a vegetative state. I couldn’t control the choices Laura made, and I regretted it.
She got hurt, she got unhappy, she got upset. I was the only one who was happy. Until that day.
That day, was yesterday. Laura got into a car crash. She was only alive because of some machine that kept her heart beating. I wept and shook my ball.
I asked it what I should do. It simply read 'Pull the plug.' | 2016-05-05T05:59:46 | 2016-05-05T05:34:37 | 4,927 | 1,046 |
[WP] Your twin is the Chosen One, born with powerful abilities. But you were born with none. Because they were born gifted, your twin took everything from you as they bathed in the spotlight. Your anger drove you to become better, working hard to rival your twin, yet they call YOU the villain.
**EDIT** : Apparently the first two sentences are incredibly similar to a plethora of stories and shows, so I apologize if it seems like I’m copying from something. | From the titbits I’ve been granted over the years or overheard being described to Harald, my birth must have been hilarious to watch and not be a part of.
When the mother of the “Chosen One” goes into labour and gives birth, no one has any idea what to do when after popping one child out, she carries on with labour and promptly births a girl child.
Me.
There’s a prophecy. Not that it means much; they’ve changed it from what was written because of me. Because small minded idiot village-folk can’t handle when things don’t go according to plan. It states Harald is to be the Chosen One that saves us all from a nebulous darkness; a creature of some kind. I was an extra – an addon. The thing nobody wanted, and have they ever made it clear for my entire life.
Now they think I’m the creature that Harald will save them from.
Harald is popular. He’s powerful – as we’ve aged together, he’s only grown in that power. I have nothing but my own two hands and feet. He takes in the adulation; he gives it back. I am snubbed. Rotten fruit finds its way into my basket when I shop; stones thrown through my window at night. People don’t assault me directly in front of him – it’s like they’re ashamed for him to know.
I know I am.
Harald’s a good person. I’m not. I’m full of hate, full of rage. But not against Harald. Because, you see, Harald’s another half to me. He’s my twin, and I love him. He’s so compassionate – for the townsfolk, for the world. He helps animals and keeps bird feeders. He has so many cats, you wouldn’t believe. A seven foot man, built like a brick outhouse and you’ll more often than not see him at night, brush in hand with the silliest, kindest grin on his face as he tends to the fur of all his cats, or baking a cake for the next nameday. Not training his swordsmanship, or showing off, or seeking a wife at the fountain as most of the young males of the town do.
So, I can’t tell him what I’ve got planned as my final vengeance, or even why I need it. They hate me, they shun me. They make me live on the edge of town where monsters prowl – but I’ve a gift my own with the monsters. They say you live near enough to monsters of the night and you become one, but it’s hogwash. They’re just animals and as much as Harald is good with his cats and the animals of the day, I am good with monsters.
Harald just thinks I’m shy – I don’t think he recognises how cruel the world can be, how narrow minded and pathetic these villagers are.
The mayor came to me this evening. Said I was a witch for the salamander on my porch as I knit a sweater for the scaleless firedrake that bolted, shivering into my house. Said he would have me hounded from town, finally, so I can no longer bring darkness upon them, and stain Harald’s glory and honour.
After my ravens chased him off, I took a walk in the Forest, found the firedrake’s missing scales. One thing to know of having to eke an existence outside of the normal walls of the town – one learns alchemy and basic wardcraft -fast-.
Firedrake scales make for an excellent makeshift bomb, and once they are burning they melt into a paste that cannot be put out by water, and burns for a sennight. I’ve enough to make a conflagration that will destroy the entire village. I also found the salamander’s lair and a few old skins from moulting – enough for a barrier around Harald’s house that’ll protect it and him from the blaze.
He’s usually up late at night and late in the morning is when he rises, because of his cats so I can do this while he’s asleep still.
Tomorrow I’ll finally become the monster they think I am. And I’ll finally be able to rest. | In a small town, near a large city, lived a group of towns people. They set up many decorations and placed many signs. The reason for celebrating was one of common. A new hero was going to be chose to be sent into the city to represent the town. However they had their festivities much more grand than last year. As their new champion was sure to bring them great honor, unlike that last couple of chosen heroes. As the town's folk set up the party, one person yelled that the best chose were coming. Soon a group of five entered the town square but it was clear on who would be chosen. Mateo. Mateo principe. He was strongest, the fastest, the smartest, the coolest. Well you get the idea. The other three just acted as his entourage. Then there was Thomas principe, the brother of Mateo. As everyone cheered Mateos name, many were also giving Thomas mean and cruel looks. They glared at him as he entered with his head down, while the other strutted their way to the middle of the town square. They all stopped and stood in a horizontal line next to each other. Mateo naturally the first and thomas naturally the last. From the crowd, a very old woman pushed her way to the front. She finally stood in front of the soon to be heroes. She looked at all five of them. And finally she spoke.
"Mateo, lady luck smiles upon you today!" She happily cried to the crowd. Everyone cheered happily for him except for Thomas. Finally the crowd became quiet once more and she spoke again, however her eyes widened and she stepped back in terror. I few towns men rushed to grab her before she almost fell. She finally uttered what she was going to say
"Thomas, lady luck, unfortunately for us smiles, upon you today" she growled. The crowd gasped and for the first time in his life Thomas truly wished he was invisible. The crowd so began to advance forward. Thomas finally opened his mouth to speak. "This can't be right! I'm not supposed to be a hero!" He cried as the crowd began to yell and scream for him to disappear. Mateo watched but did nothing. In fact he seemed to hate Thomas for stealing his spotlight. The crowd advanced until Thomas's mother ran into the crowd and stood in front of him. She begged and pleaded with the crowd to let him go. Hes wasnt the one responsible for lady lucks decision to chose him. Mateo saw this a a perfect opportunity to make it about him again.
"Yes please. Let him go! He is my brother after all!" His voice boomed. Some of the town fangirls started to squeal about how kind and noble he is. The crowd backed away and allowed Thomas and his mother to leave while they congratulated Mateo. Thomas lowered his head and raced home leaving behind his mother and brother to the crowd. After the chaos that happened a week ago, everything seemed to have died down and everyone still glared and whispered awful things about Thomas but he didn't care. He felt sick to his stomach knowing at one point his brother was gonna get him back for stealing the spotlight. He packed his things slowly meanwhile Mateo had finished back half an hour earlier. Thomas looked out the window. He grabbed his things and followed behind Mateo. The town followed them and stayed away from Thomas while his mother walked with him. His mother smiled as the reached to the edge of town along with the rest of the town. Mateo and Thomas stood next to each other. Suddenly it all became clear. He really was chosen. He really was picked for impossible tasks. He looked up at the sky and back at his mother. And then the bus arrived to take them. He hugged his mother one last time as he sighed and stepped onto the bus, leaving behind all he knew. | 2020-01-01T07:12:48 | 2020-01-01T07:11:02 | 22 | 10 |
[WP] You, a low rank adventurer who got stuck with the gardener class, have to put up with the higher ranked adventures trampling your garden and making fun of you. One day a famous adventurer trips on one of your plants and dies. Your level skyrockets. No other gardener has ever leveled up before. | Very few people get chosen as a gardener. It is looked down upon heavily. Yet, who provides the wood for the handles of knives for the chefs and rogues? The vegetables to sustain adventurers? Those who live in towns need not worry for food, the Ranchers and Gardeners provide them with sustenance.
You might wonder why we aren't called farmers. That's because farmers are people who are other classes who shift into plant growing. Though, farmers are looked on upon with joy and pride. Why? Why them? I keep people alive! Not those fools with no goddamn clue with what they're doing! They make so much less than us with 2 times the land. I have to deal with these pissants stomping all over my crops! My carrots, my corn! Hell, even my goddamn cabbages! The ranchers somehow don't have it better! People kill their livestock for free experience! Fuck those whoresons!
Ahem, my apologies. I lost my temper. So, I plant trees. Oak, spruce, mesquite, mahogany, birch, and a few others. I provide gunsmiths and blacksmiths with wood so they can forge better handles, grips, the sorts. I let these trees grow pretty big. Adventurers, some horny bastards, and the recently deceased Silus Quix. Yup, that Silus Quix, the dragon slayer, the savior of our fine city. Poor lad, he was stomping on some roses, which I don't grow for anyone but myself, he got a thorn through a bad part of his armor, jumped back in pain... Then, he uh, tripped over a mahogany tree's roots. Now, plate armor is heavy, so the tree shook pretty hard when he tripped.
A branch broke off, and you know how heavy mahogany is, so it landed on his unprotected neck. Crushed his windpipe, and he died pretty damn quickly. But the kicker is, I got credit for killing him. Level went up to 57. Now, if any gardeners out there wonder what happens when you level up. Let me tell you.
I went out the next day after taking Silus to the church to be buried, and the trees I planted yesterday were already half-grown. The crops I had planted weren't. Apparently, the gardener has separate experience pools for crops and trees.
That's it. Nothing else happened. Things just grow faster. They might grow stronger, but I haven't noticed anything different with the trees. Altogether, it really isn't worth it. Don't kill for experience. | "So, let me get this straight. This xx_zaku_marine_xx trepass into your property, and he suddenly die?" asked 69IKissMySister, the Guild Enforcer.
"Err.. Yes", I said.
"But how? There's nothing in here can kill a high level hardcore adventurer here" while ErikMa33, the second Guild Enforcer, examine the spell residues around the corpse. He sniff the air around the the corpse. "Yes. This is definitely a very high level magic. This is beyond your stats".
"Look, sir, I'm just low level gardener. Nothing in my inventory is over level 10. Except for one, level 12 Undead Staff. Even that is useless to me. My magic stat is still too low".
"Okay, repeat your story again" said ErikMa33, not looking up.
"Fine. I was planting Bezos Flower, a beginner flower. It supposed to give me free gold every 3 hours. Then I heard loud bang and the ground shaking. And there he was..dead"
69IKissMySister face-palm "How I gonna tell the Council?"
"First, change your name. What are you? 12?" said ErikMa33. "Told you since day one. Keep it professional" His partner look away in shame.
ErikMa33 walk towards me "Listen, I believe you. This town is for beginner. Every spells and equipments sold here are no more than level 15. Even Korath the Necromancer sells basic Raise Zombies & Skeletons spells"
He continued "This magic, is not available here. You have to unlock this at the Black Citadel"
"Tell you what, if anyone ask you, just tell them what you told us. We'll update this on message board. Stay safe, kid".
"Aye.." I replied nervously.
*3 hours later*
"That went well. But I need to get rid of this" as I took a small piece of paper and throw it into the fireplace.
Tomorrow, I will go to Black Citadel with my new found wealth.
The fire slowly burn the crumpled paper. 'Up, Up, Down, Down, Left, Right, Left, Right, B, A, Start' written on the paper. | 2021-09-09T21:21:23 | 2021-09-09T20:56:49 | 63 | 36 |
[WP] You're the town's superhero. Your greatest enemy is the town's supervillian. However, secretly, your both brothers. This isn't anything tragic, as your whole destructive rivalry is actually just a massive prank on your third brother, the mayor. | The Mayor drove to the town square, preparing for the end of the world. He turned onto Main Street as people fled down the wide sidewalks, eyes bulging, mouths wide. Police cars parked at crazy angles across the road, lights flashing, officers hunkered down, peeking over the hoods.
There, on the manicured lawn in front City Hall, crouched in a fighting pose, red cape undulating in the light breeze, was his brother Mark, known by his other moniker, The Answer. He stood opposite a taller, more slender man in bright green and black spandex, arms crossed across his chest, face stretched by a rakish grin, the Mayor’s other brother Matt, known by his moniker, Giga-Death.
“Are you guys kidding me?” The Mayor slammed the door of his Prius, feeling conspicuous in his day off attire: workout shorts, t-shirt, and baseball cap. “Today? You had to do this today?”
Giga-Death raised an eyebrow, “Revolution waits for no man, Mr. Mayor. Even on an auspicious day such as this.” He turned sideways, revealing a cube-shaped object, rising to Giga-Death’s chest, covered by a black sheet. “Behold! The end of the world as we—”
“‘Behold’? ‘Auspicious’?” The Answer straightened. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but why do you talk like that when you put on your wetsuit?”
“You wear a cape Mark!” Matt’s eyes flashed, pulling at his silky, black hair, just as he did when they were children. “Like I said, this is the object of your ruin! A town reduced to rubble at the push of a button!”
The Answer moved forward.
“Ah ah! Stop right there Mark!” Giga-Death held up a matte-black object in his hand. “You aren’t going to surprise me when I’m monologuing this time. I press this and they’re going to have to build New-New Haven over the ashes of New Haven!”
“Un-fucking-real.” The Mayor wiped his forehead and adjusted his cap. “What do you want Matt?” He flopped his arms at his sides.
Giga-Death narrowed his eyes, clenching his jaw into a snarl. “What do I *want*, Andrew? I *want* you *people* to take me seriously! I am Giga-Death, and I am your doom! Also, I want 50 million transferred to this Swiss—"
The Answer leapt at Giga-Death, tackling him around the waist. Andrew jolted forward a few steps, cringing as his brother smashed his fist into the wanna-be super villain’s face, just like he did when they were kids. Giga-Death rolled, forcing The Answer off him. As they stood, Giga-Death clamped his foot down on The Answer’s cape, yanking the hero's head back, and straight into Giga-Death’s fist. The hero fell.
“Fine!” Matt held up the remote. “I won’t miss my chance this time.”
“No!” Andrew raised his arms as Giga-Death pressed the button.
The sheet flew away to the sound of pops, blowing multi-colored confetti into the air. A song blared. The Mayor furrowed his brow when he recognized the corny jingle: “*Celebrate good times, come on!*” A large cake sat in a glass case on a plinth.
Giga-Death smiled and The Answer jumped up, throwing an arm around the villain.
“Ok, don’t over do it, man.” Matt shrugged off the arm.
“Happy Birthday, buddy!” Mark beamed, ignoring his brother.
Andrew gaped, heat rising to his cheeks. A mortified expression smeared on his face. “You assholes. The police came out and everything.” He motioned to the police cars, then noticed the officers. They were all looking at him, smiling. “Oh you gotta be kidding.”
Laughter erupted. The Mayor’s brothers strode up to him. “It’s not everyday your big bro turns 40.” Mark jabbed a red-gloved fist into Andrew’s shoulder.
“All of that was a show?” Andrew took off his ball cap.
“It was Matt’s idea.” Mark said, squinting, bringing a hand to his jaw. “You didn’t have to *actually* sock me, though, man.” He looked at the smirking villain.
“Happy Birthday, Andrew.” The not-so-much-at-this-moment super villain said, before he turned and walked away. The brothers watched as he got on his motorcycle and revved the engine. “I’ll let you all take care of the clean-up.” The Mayor's and his cape-clad brother’s phones suddenly chirped. An explosion roared over the party music. “Sounds like it’s coming from the bank!” Giga-Death yelled. “I wouldn’t know anything about that. Here’s to many more, Mr. Mayor.” He smiled and sped off. | “Jim is such an idiot sometimes! How can he *not* get what’s going on?” Jed laughed.
“You’d think he’d know us by now. Remember that time we tied him to the bed Gulliver-style? Three hours later, he finally managed to untie himself and get out.” John smiled, reminiscing.
Always eager to one-up his prankster pal, Jed replied, “Or the time we put cayenne pepper in his orange juice? He spit all over the table, and Mom was so mad!”
“That was so fun! So what do we want to do today? Want to do the bank thing again, where I threaten to burn it down with my fire breath? Then you stop me with ice streams? The steam always looks so cool!”
“Particularly on those crappy crowd-sourced iPhone videos. They always make me laugh so hard! It’s like you can’t even see either of us.” Jed paused. “But I want to try something new today. The old tricks are too boring. Let’s really mess with James somehow!”
“Honestly, he’ll fall for anything! We’re triplets, after all, and our parents gave us all stupid J-names. We were meant to be a troublesome trio! And yet James is boring as hell. Mayor James: I bring the yawns. That would be such an accurate campaign slogan!”
“Getting back to business...remember how James is scared of heights? Such a dork! He’d always pee himself, even when we were climbing trees as kids. Wonder if he still does it?” Jed pondered.
“What if I fly him up outside of the Capitol building? They have a big press conference today, so we might actually get decent pix for once. We need to up our press game after all. Currently, in the villain and hero polls, we’re down to second and third. Totally sucks!”
“Ooh! I like that! So what if you fly him up and then drop him? I’ll catch him close to the ground so that everyone can see his pee pants? That’s sure to get a lot of press!”
“But won’t that embarrass him? He loves that whole I’m the big mayor thing! Hate to hurt him that much.”
“Yeah, that’s fair. Ok, so how about I catch him 20 feet up and drop him on top of a building. We can even leave him new pants up there if his bladder gives out. Better?”
“Yeah. That feels the right mix of torture and shame.”
—-
James stood at the microphone, pleased at having more press present than usual.
“My fellow citizens, the time has come to control both the villains and vigilante superheroes. Our town has put up with these disruptions for far too long!” James said in his most serious voice.
*scattered* *clapping*
“These days, it’s almost as if they are working together to create chaos. That can’t continue. Take the example of Captain Mystery and Major Mischief. They virtually seem to be telegraphing their plans to each other.”
“That’s my cue, Jed,” John said, sweeping down from a nearby building. Telepathy was so useful sometimes!
Jed grinned, “Copy that.”
As John swooped down and headed up the agreed 15,000 feet, Jed readied himself.
The drop went off flawlessly. Cameras trained on them, Jed swooped down and caught James at 20 feet off the ground before dropping him at the top of a low building.
“You know you cut that a bit close, Jed.” A very calm James admonished. “Obviously, I know I was in no real danger, but still. It wouldn’t do to show my powers to the press with the agenda I’m pushing. My ratings would really suffer.”
Jed spluttered. “Wait! You know? *And* you have powers? Why didn’t you ever tell us?”
“And spoil your fun? Besides, I need guys like you to justify my agenda and hide my own crimes.” James laughed. “I’ve been listening to you on triplet telepathy for ages. It’s hysterical!”
“Oh my god, I’m so embarrassed.” Jed groaned.
“Don’t be. As I said, this is good for us all.”
“So what do we do now?”
“You walk down with me, and we rejoin the press conference with you by my side. Should help get your hero ratings back to number one.”
Walking back into the crowd with James, Jed grinned. He felt closer to his brother than he ever had. Besides, if James didn’t get re-elected, they could form a trio of heroes and villains. That had never been done and would make for great press!
---
Thanks for reading! Feedback is always very much appreciated | 2021-12-03T01:13:10 | 2021-03-05T07:33:55 | 1,428 | 37 |
[WP] Our blood is naturally clear, it thickens and darkens with each impure act. You have always dedicate yourself to good and helping others but today while knitting beanies for the homeless you accidentally prick your finger. Your blood is jet black and so thick it doesn't even drip. | It was these sort of women that he hated the most. The ones that would cling to their tainted children with screams and fits of rage. Didn't they understand? Didn't they realize that the world had to be clean?
It'd been many years since he'd realized the truth about the Blackness. One day, The Doctor has pricked himself during an operation and found a jet black tar, so thick that it never managed to escape from the shallow wound. He'd always been a good man, always helping the needy, operating on the dying, the homeless, those who nobody else would risk their careers on. He'd gone to church, worshiped God, refrained from alcohol and cursing, and still, his blood was filled with Blackness. It was then that he realized: the blood must tell the future. It not only darkened and thickened with each impurity, but it also knew the state of your future deeds. Somehow, the Blackness must be able to judge the soul and see what it was capable of.
With that realization came a new purpose. If one day he would be the Blackest of all devils, then he would dedicate the rest of his life until that moment to purify every stain that he could find. Every drop of Blackness would be cleansed from the world in order to balance his own future sin. It was with this knowledge and vision that The Doctor started his research. After a painstakingly long trial, he found that indeed, the blood could predict a person's purity in their later life. With this, he proposed a new program that could eradicate the Blackness before it ever grew into action. Every child would be pricked at thirteen, as before thirteen they were judged to be well under their parents control. Those whose blood was Black would be taken away from their parents and eliminated from society in order to prevent the evil they would inevitably bring into the world.
Whatever the evil he might one day do, The Doctor hoped that his life's work spent in the elimination of all the Tainted would help to balance the scales. Every day, without fail, he would prick him self again in order to remind himself of his purpose. Every day, without fail, the blood would stand within the cut, Blacker than the darkest night and thicker than the Jello that all his patients received. Every day, without fail, it reminded him that time was running short. One day, he would become evil. Before then, he had to cleanse as much evil from the world as he could. And so, so many of the evil ones were left.
Edit: Woah. So that's why people post things on reddit so much. Dang those upvotes feel nice inside haha. For those asking: I had what I thought was a fun idea so I wrote it out in a rather rough sort of way, no idea if it's actually like any of the animes/shows listed below that I haven't watched and I'm glad y'all enjoyed it too :). | It never seemed fair, the Stigma. Just by taking a quick look at the whites of someone's eyes, or stealing a glance at an exposed wrist, you could see the grand total of their sins running through their veins. Humans are laid bare by it, the evils committed behind closed doors and in quiet, dark places made all too clear in the blush of their cheeks. And once it took hold, the shadow on one's blood could never, ever be removed.
When the needle slipped and I pricked myself, I felt a wretched shudder of nausea, seeing the oily, tar-like substance welling at my fingertip. Checking your Stigma, much like a weigh-in after cheating on your diet, is the kind of reality check that fills you with dread. Facing judgement, even your own judgement, is unpleasant. Putting it off, telling yourself you'll take a color test tomorrow and putting on some concealing makeup for now, is a great relief that only breeds greater dread, until you can't bear to go through with the test.
I quickly concealed my finger, of course, and lapped up the black ooze that issued from my cut. But the questions swirling through my head demanded attention, demanded *answers*. I had lived my entire life with the Stigma in mind, always courteous and generous, never associating with the black-blooded, making sure I would never learn wickedness by mistake. A tear settled on my nose, and when it dropped to the floor that I now sat, collapsed, upon, I saw that the liquid was grey, stained by the sin that flowed through by body.
What had I done? What great crime of mine was worthy of such punishment? With this horrible a stain, my blood would get me thrown out of any fine establishment. Soon people would start to notice, and I'd be laid off from my job (due to the economy these days, of course), my landlady would evict me on the basis I had poor moral values, and someone with fairer blood would take my place. With blood this dark, no job that could sustain my lifestyle would take me, and I'd have to live in a blackblood ghetto.
Surely, I wasn't that terrible a person to deserve these blackened veins. Removing my contacts, I stared into the mirror at the tangle of repulsive, sickening darkness at the edges of my eyes. I hadn't committed any acts of evil, or lived with cruelty in my heart. I was sure of it! I didn't deserve this fate, to live with murderous, thieving dark-bloods!
It wasn't fair! | 2018-08-04T10:46:53 | 2018-08-04T09:56:46 | 3,279 | 390 |
[WP] Write a suicide note in a Dr. Suess like fashion. | The sun did not shine,
It was too wet to play,
So I sat in my bed
For day after day.
So I stared at the ceiling
I stared at the wall
And deep down inside me
There was nothing at all
No anger, no fury
No happy or glad
Just a big fat old nothing
That was nothing but sad
I called up a doctor
To say I felt blue
He said "There's not much
That medicine can do;
I'll give you these pills that
stop you sleeping right"
So I stared at the wall
For a day and a night.
My friends said "cheer up,
You have to be tough"
In the end I decided
That I'd had enough
I bought black plastic tape
To seal up my door
And a crapped out old heater
From a secondhand store
I heard it's quite painless,
Not flashy, I know
But carbon monoxide
Is the best way to go
| I am sad
Sad I am
Have i gone mad
I might just have
I would not could not anymore
my life is just one great big chore
I try to dream but cant escape
This life that i have learned to hate
Ive rustled and bustled
and truffled about
With bad thoughts and worse thoughts
I can't drown them out
So think me a coward
if thats what you must
And this cowards body
will be turned to dust
Goodbye to you all
I can't say that i'll miss you
but don't cry for me now,
Because I'm fresh out of tissue
Edit: Formatting | 2015-01-17T07:08:38 | 2015-01-17T04:21:47 | 1,010 | 15 |
[WP] Germany is actually predestined to lose every world war it participates in. The sixteenth world war is now being fought, and Germany has taken over all of Europe. Make them lose the war in the most ridiculous way possible. | "Come on in" I heard a tired voice call out. I stepped into the room, and saw our leader looking worn out and tired. "Is everything alright sir?" I ask. "I'm thinking of surrendering to Belgium." He said. "But they're the last country standing in our way of continental domination?!! Their tech is from the 22nd century, their lasers can barely penetrate the average drones first layer of armor! Why would we surrender???!!!" I exclaimed in shock. The fuhrer looked at me with a dead look in his eyes, and asked one question that would change my life: "Would world peace really be that ridiculous?" | The Germans look out over all they have conquered with smug grins on their face.
But then they see something in the distance. Two armies, one from the west and one from the north east, are riding out towards them.
The impossible had happened, American and Russia have teamed up.
The Germans raise little white flags. | 2017-08-18T05:12:07 | 2017-08-18T02:50:27 | 29 | 10 |
[WP] It's a known fact that you are incapable of telling a lie. This has landed you several opportunities, including your current job as Head of Security at one of the largest banks in the world. Except you got bored and decided to rob it all. This is the story of how you got away with it. | “Harry,” the bespectacled man gazed over steepled fingers at me with tired eyes. “You know why you’re here, right?”
Incandescent lights buzzed obnoxiously in the claustrophobic room.
“I would guess because of the missing money” I said, “although, I suppose there could be any number of reasons you would need to interview me in such an...” my eyes searched around the spartan interrogation chamber for an adequate adjective, “inviting place”.
“Yeah,” he sighed, “that’s right Harry. We need to interview everyone, you know how it is. Even you, even honest Harry.”
“That’s fine. No worries, Bill.”
He stood up and took a few paces of to the left. “Well,” he turned sharply toward me at the waist, pointing an index finger and a half teasing grin my way “*you* didn’t take it out of the vault, did ya Harry?”
“No, I didn’t.” I said.
What a preposterous thought, nobody realized how heavy gold actually was. I’d only wanted about 10 mil, no reason to destroy the bank with my frivolities, but that was still almost 250 pounds. I was more of a 12 pushups kind of a guy. No, I’d had ReBot \-\- the Boston dynamics robo\-dog I’d purchased a few weeks back for giggles \-\- carry it out of the vault.
“Yeah, I didn’t think so, I just had to ask!” He smiled warmly at me as he reseated himself. He picked up a cup of water and wet his lips. “It’s just so strange you know. The video surveillance and the alarm systems cut out at the same time, no records of anything, no calls to security. We’re pretty stumped, no clue how someone would take those two out at the same time and still get into the vault, do you know how that could be done?”
“Sounds impossible to me, Bill. I mean there are pretty heavy redundancies on the systems. There’s a physical switch that welds the vault door shut if current from both of those stops going through the door.”
I never turned off the cameras, just the alarm system. There was plenty of footage of me and ReBot traipsing through the office. It just happened to be found in the databanks in the year 1618, if anyone bothered to look, which I doubted they would. Our software had never been properly updated for that Y2K bug, and it was pretty easy to maintain most continuity as long as you jumped between mirror\-times, when the last two digits of the year are the same and so are the days of the week for any given month, which just happened to happen cyclically every 400 years.
“Yeah, that’s what the tech boys are saying, but we’ve got missing footage, and we’ve got no alarm. So...” He shrugged both hands in the air and widened his eyes in a classic gesture of helpless ignorance.
“I don’t know what to say, Bill.”
“We’ve got the detectives looking over the scene, but they haven’t turned up much so far.” He looked frustratedly down at the cup of water. “But they won’t be able to find much incriminating evidence if it’s an inside job like we think it is. That’s why we’re doing these interviews.”
I stared at him placidly, rubbing a thumb against a middle finger.
“Well, last question, Harry. Do you know where the gold or the money is?”
“No, sorry Bill.”
I’d delivered the gold to Mr. Maloney, an established gentleman involved in the collection of such items. He ran a ship\-shape operation, the gold was probably being melted down as we spoke in a disused car plant in Detroit. Or it might be buried in a junkyard in Florida. Or, shit, maybe it was under Mr. Maloney’s bed. I didn’t ask, he didn’t tell. As to the money, I had some numbers on a computer screen, but whether that fitted the definition of ‘money’ in the strictest sense came down to a rather detailed philosophical discussion. My definition was ‘cash,’ and since less than 10&#37; of the total wealth of the world was actually manifest in physical cash... I doubted if any of those numbers on my screen were actual ‘moneys,’ and even then, I wouldn’t have know where ‘the’ money was, just some of it.
My face was scrunched up a bit, looking off to the side, trying to iron out the finer points of fiat\-based currency and the definition of money.
“Yeah, that’s fine Harry. We just had to have everyone in, a formality.”
“Oh, right. Of course, Bill. Let me know if I can be any more help.” I got up and walked out. | “I’m Super Special Agent Dirk Diggler and this Super Important Agent Mick Mickerson, I assume you are expecting us.”
The agents stood in the doorway, peering down the hall past the lady who greeted them.
“Ah, yeah, sure. You’ll be wanting to speak to my manager, right?”
Diggler lifted his clipboard to reading level, “A Mr. Berguson?”
“Yes, but he prefers to be called by his first name – Ferguson.”
The agents were led down the hall, the rooms of the bank showing themselves through the various widows in the building – police tape dancing around like wild flowers. The agents eventually reached the office of Mr. Berguson who was quick to greet both men with hearty handshakes.
“Right, gentlemen, I prefer to be called Ferguson – not too big on formality. What can I call you two?”
“Unfortunately, as Bureau men, we are all about formality,” said Mickerson, discreetly wiping Ferguson’s sweat from his hand. “But, as you have been so welcoming, you can call us Special Agent Diggler and Special Agent Mickerson.”
The agents took their seats, just in front of the desk Ferguson Berguson had seated himself at. The room was extravagant and was well befitting the prestige of the bank.
“We’ve been through the police reports and we have some ... questions,” said Diggler, rifling through the pages attached to his clipboard. “In particular, our questions revolve around the issue with Steve, your head of security.”
“And what is the issue with Steve?”
“Well,” said Diggler, inching forward on his chair, “it appears you wrote off every accusation the local police threw his way.”
“And that’s because he told me didn’t do it,” said Ferguson, confidently reclining in his chair.
“Yeah, we read that in the report,” said Mickerson. “But how can you be so sure?”
“Because Steve also told me can never ever lie.”
“Did you just say ‘ever’?” asked Diggler, rubbing at his chin inquisitively.
“Never ever,” said Berguson.
“Jesus Christ,” said Mickerson, furiously taking notes.
“I still remember my first meeting with Steve to this day. The confidence radiated from the man. During the interview he stopped me to say, ‘”Mr. Berguson, ask me any question you want and I’ll have to tell you the truth because, and I know I have said this multiple times already, I can never lie.’”
“And what did you ask him?” asked Mickerson.
Mr. Berguson leaned forward. “And that’s how this whole story ties together, gentlemen. I asked him: ‘Would you ever rob this bank.”
“Incredible,” said Diggler.
“That’s probably the question I would ask him, too. What did he say?” asked Mickerson.
“I’d ask him something like ‘do aliens exist?'” said Diggler.
“That’s not how it works. He can only answer truthfully with the knowledge he possesses,” explained Berguson.
“Then maybe I would ask him ‘If aliens did exist, do they?’ Try and catch him out,” said Mickerson, winking first at Berguson then casting a smile at Diggler who was flashing back an impressed expression.
“Gentlemen, that’s not how this works.”
“Zombies. True or false.”
“He said he would never ever, ever steal from my bank!” shouted Berguson, trying his best to get the conversation back on track.
“A double ever?” said Diggler, looking towards Mickerson who was nodding his head as the two men re-entered the conversation.
“That’s irrefutable,” said Mickerson.
“In the Bureau we have a saying, ‘A double ever is irrefutable’.”
“It’s true, we do say that all the time,” said Mickerson.
“Well, Mr. Berguson. That’s all we need." The two agents stood from their chairs. "I think we just cracked this case,” said Mickerson.
“What do you mean you’ve cracked the case?”
“It’s simple," said Diggler, re-tucking in his shirt in to his pants as it had done that awkward thing where it falls out after standing from a sitting position. "All we have to do is ask Steve who robbed this joint.”
****
I write shitty, silly stories on /r/BillMurrayMovies. Feel free to come along, not laugh at any of them and leave some judgement | 2018-05-03T05:55:07 | 2018-05-03T05:32:31 | 3,085 | 156 |
[WP] Your roommate is 2nd most powerful superhero in the world and he will not shut up about it. He does not yet know that you are the 1st. | I only have one power. And by itself, it's the weakest power there is.
My first roommate was, in a lot of ways, the luckiest one I could have gotten. Her power was "The Vision". She could see Powers in people. She approached me on the Subway and said I had one, but it was fuzzy and she couldn't understand it, which was exciting because she usually could. She said if I spent more time with her, I could learn what it was. She was right. I'm sorry, L. I didn't know what it was before you showed me. I promised you'd be the last innocent roommate.
My second roommate had the power of Transmutation. Lead to gold, sure, once in a while he would pawn a crude chain to some inner city shop. Sugar to meth. Actually a lot of things into a lot of drugs. He was pretty deep into dealing when he found out he had the Power and lacked the imagination to branch out and do anything interesting with it, because fuck medicine I guess. Actually I need to make a note of that one once my mission is complete. His first batch of "enhanced" drugs caused several overdose deaths at the local hospital. Our time as roommates didn't work out for long.
My third roommate the power of mental manipulation. She wanted the pretty jewelry that I seemed to have a lot of and thought she could mind control me into her house to be her plaything. She was right. But she was also wrong.
Working out roommate situations became a lot easier after that. It became a lot easier to convince total strangers that someone they had never met understood them somehow, and should crash on their couch.
I had a roommate with gravity manipulation and flight. Used it to kidnap his kids after he divorced his wife and they chose their mom.
One could stop time. I found out he was behind a series of rapes where women were being ignored by police because the video cameras showed nothing. He actually had an inkling of what was going on and froze me in time for two days. But that wasn't enough.
Another could manipulate electrons and photons, and had the intellect to envision and control entire computer systems. Used it to drain the bank accounts of people who insulted him. Turns out photon manipulation means invisibility too.
At this point, J.U.S.T.I.C.E. started noticing patterns and were sending people out to try and find me. If they'd found me sooner, they might have had a chance. But by this point it was probably too late. I never felt they got close.
My next roommate could manipulate thermal energy. He killed his wife and the man she was cheating on him with by freezing them solid outside his cabin in a blizzard. It was ruled hypothermia. With a little coaxing, he invited me to spend a weekend with him there. It was easy to hide my IR signature after that.
Ability to liquidize into any body of water and immediately materialize anywhere else directly connected via water.
Phasing into an alternate dimension.
Teleporting to anywhere in line of sight.
Ability to visualize the ten most likely futures about an hour into the future. At hour 34, all ten involved her fainting. None of the ten involved finding where in her house I was or getting far enough away from me to matter.
And then there's my current roommate. Energy field manipulation. Makes him bullet-proof. He's a major cartel figure in a country that has a lot of violence. A lot of that violence is his. He likes showing people how powerful he is. He often breaks their bones before he kills them.
I've been his guest for the last 34 hours, 56 minutes. He says he knows why I am there. He says I cannot bend his mind. He's been holding me in a sphere of light, threatening me. He has broken some of my bones. He has been laughing about how he won and I lost, how it will take weeks for me to die. I have been gently taunting him. I know which taunts will and will not cause him to kill me. He says whatever my power is, it is not enough to beat him. He is not a very good roommate, and he is almost right. By itself, my power is the weakest power there is. And he may well be the second strongest Power on the planet right now.
My power is this- after I spend 35 hours, 0 minutes closer than 100 meters to someone, I gain a copy of their power and they fall unconscious. Then ten minutes after that, they die.
My current roommate is not a very good roomate, but I will only have to put up with him for 4 more minutes. I will find a new one soon enough.
| "I'm sorry to say this, but your product just isn't good enough, I'm out-"
I was very happily watching Shark Tank when a brilliant light shines in from the balcony. Thomas was home I guess.
"Hey Toby, could you turn your power off for god's sake?" I shout, "I'm watching something here."
"Yeah, yeah, Sorry," comes the muffled reply from the balcony as he takes off his body armor. "Oi, remember call me Nova while in costume."
I sighed, never really did understand why he was still protective of his civilian identity. I mean, he flies back to the apartment every day in his full battle glow. Kinda hard to miss. Whatever, his call.
"Hey turn it to the news." Toby said as he strode inside, pleased with himself.
I reluctantly obey and switch to the news. The anchorman was reporting breaking news about a bank robbery from Showstopper's crew that was stopped by Nova. I give Toby a fistbump as he passes by into our bathroom to change.
"Nice going, you took them all on alone?"
"Yeah man, you should've seen my battle glow, might've broken my old records."
Nova, Toby's powers revolve around a core set of increased durability, flight, and the ability to project energy from his hands. What makes him the second strongest hero in the world; however, is that his powers steadily, and quickly, *increase* over the course of a battle, rather than decrease. He has taken on large groups of villains solo before just by using his powers to drag out the fight until he can sweep them all up in a single attack. Very lucky set of powers. Not even any real weaknesses other than being able to take heavy damage in the beginning of a fight.
Retreating back into my own mind, I sit back against the couch and check in on the city. My two fragments use their mental link to report. The city is alarmed, criminal activities ongoing at the docks. Two hostages, seven powered villains. Sighing, I send a single fragment to solve the problem.
"Shit, I only just got my costume off too." My train of thought is interrupted by Toby's re-entrance. I look towards the tv, forgot to change it off the news. The reporters are already explaining the situation. Toby turns towards the bathroom to change back.
"Hey there are other heroes in the city, maybe give one of them a chance?" I suggest.
"No can do, they've got hostages. Besides, I'm hoping I can stop this before one of Machiavelli's fragments comes to take the glory." He chimes back.
I sigh again. Being a vigilante and unconnected from the government does have it's drawbacks. Even though we're on the same side, he has an arrest warrant and will try to stop me, or rather, my fragments of my will. Ironic that he's caused me more trouble than any villain I've gone up against.
I wish Toby good luck as he activates his glow, now just a soft wave of warm light, and takes off from our balcony. I sit back against the couch again and begin to focus on my fragment again.
My power allows me to create anything from my imagination within about 40 meters. Although the main attraction is that I can create incredibly powerful beings from pure creativity, and I can then direct them by implanting a fragment of my will. It may not sound like much, but each individual 'fragment' can easily shut down heroes as powerful as Toby, and I control 6 of them at the same time while they patrol the cities within the tri-state area.
I create a bottle of water, arrowhead, on the table in front of me and get back to work.
*I'll definitely continue this story if it garners any interest. Feedback encouraged.*
**edit:** wow that is a lot of feedback.
*Thank you everyone for the kind words and support! This is my first series I've done on Writing Prompts, so it means a lot.*
*Now, I worldbuild as a hobby, and one of the best ways to expand on your world is through writing. Coincidentally, I've been having a lot of fun writing this new world with it's characters, sooooo.*
If you liked my writing, come check out /r/TheQuestionableYarn
*I'll be responding to prompts to flesh out my two worldbuilding projects. Semi-regularly.* | 2016-03-23T22:08:45 | 2016-03-23T21:51:39 | 26 | 16 |
[WP] A cynical man finds a real hidden utopia. Spends the rest of his life trying to find something wrong with it. | I entered the town hall for the weekly meeting we held at our community and found, to my surprise, that everyone had already gathered.
"Um... hi?" I let out, unable to put up a composed façade.
"Hullo, Steve! Please have a seat." Stephen Fry said.
Of course he lives here. The town claims to be a utopia, after all.
Fry was sat under a great banner on which the town's slogan - *From each according to his ability, to each according to his need* - was printed in large letters.
I sat down and waited for Fry to start going through the points of discussion for the meeting. When I first got here I had assumed he was the leader of our little commune, but this turned out to be false. I was living in a utopia. *Of course* there wouldn't be any leaders. Fry was just *talkative*.
He turned to me.
"So, Steve, how's your little quest going?"
I felt myself turn red from all the attention I was getting. What was going on?
"What do you mean?" I blurted out.
"Well, you moved here to Nowhere about... five years ago and you were very, *very*, set in your old-fashioned ways. I remember you saying that you refused to believe that any way of life could be as "perfect" as ours seems to be, and you promptly set out to find something wrong with our home."
I nodded. I still hadn't found anything askew. Sure, sometimes obstacles arose but the township was able to handle anything nature, or anyone else for that matter, threw at it in the most sensible way imaginable.
"So have you found anything?" Fry asked, as he leaned forward and let his gaze seek out my eyes from above the rim of his glasses.
I shook my head.
"Of course you haven't" he smiled. "Though I cannot fail to notice that this insight has done nothing to hinder you in your search."
"No." I answered. "I intend to find a fault, however insignificant that fault might be.
Fry's smile faded.
"Steve. We - " he let his hand sweep across the room, including everyone in a broad gesture " - had a little chat amongst ourselves and we believe that we might have identified a fault for you."
"You have?"
I was shocked.
"Quite" he continued. "You see, Steve, you've been a good contributor and an honest worker, but you spend most of your time looking for something wrong in *everything* that we do. Sometimes that is a good trait. But there are times when we cannot be bothered with your pessimism. There are many such times. And, to be honest, we don't know how to handle it. It's not like we can throw you out for being a cynic."
Fry sighed.
"The problem is, Steve, that you're a bit of a dick, really." | "What the hell..?"
The five dollar bill that Scruffer Jones had tried to pick up was not a five dollar bill, but a handle of some sort. Yanking on it had opened a little hole in the grass, a neat circle.
Scruffer, amazed at what he was seeing but still trying to wrench the five dollar bill free of the new dimension's lid, did not really know what he was looking at, except that it was
"Bullshit," he grumbled. Somehow, this was pure bullshit.
A face appeared suddenly through the hole in the grass, as though they had climbed a ladder. It was a beautiful woman, and she was smiling.
Gruffer looked around for a hidden camera or some thick-glassed hipster with a water-colour set, but found neither. He was, in fact, completely alone in this part of the park. Except for the woman coming out of the ground.
She began to speak in a musical voice. "Welcome to Perlandia, stranger! We are overjoyed that - "
"Why're you riling me up like this! Some damn… lady popping outta the dirt all smiles and talking like Legolas. Man can't even pick up hard-found money anymore. I just want this here bill, ma'am, not some vacation in Finlandia."
Flustered, but holding onto serenity, the lovely woman continued her welcome.
"So very overjoyed indeed that fate has deemed you ready to join us in paradise. There is no need for coin or currency here, sir, for we are a loving people and - "
"Buncha hippies, then! Just give me these five dollars and I'll be in my own paradise, you phoney mermaid!"
Her face turned red, and her brows met scornfully in between her eyes. The magic portal's handle suddenly released from the neat grass hatch, which slowly closed. As it did, from within came a perfectly, beautifully serene "Fuck you."
Scruffer smiled at the bill in his hands. Five can buy a pint on Thursdays if you don't tip. He never did.
He looked down at the grass again. It looked perfect, and in no way different from the grassy area all around him. He bent down, trying find some sign of the hatch. "There has to be something wrong with it," Scruffer mumbled.
At that moment - only less likely than finding a magic portal into a perfect alternative dimension - a tiny meteoroid became a meteorite as it collided with Scruffer's head.
There was nothing wrong with it. | 2014-07-06T09:18:41 | 2014-07-06T08:25:27 | 40 | 15 |
[WP] After death, you find out that you can choose how and when to be reincarnated. Initially eager to be a futuristic human, you soon realize that every (more experienced) soul ahead of you in line is choosing to be a "worm" in the year 121 million BCE. | "Well that was a disaster" Romain thinks to himself as he takes a place at the back of the "reincarnation line". "Pick the 21st century Terra they said, it will be fun they said. Well it was not. Especially not being a god damn human. What did I even think of? I was obviously way too late to the party and I still picked it!?"
Romain's eyes scouer the wast endless void stretching out to every side. There must be atleast a trillion souls waiting for a second, third or hundredth existance. He's looking for something to occupy his time with, but just as the first, second, and fiifth time, there's nothing here except for boring souls. They said that there were once endless rivers running through the void brining life to an oettherwise utterly tiresome space.
Time moves differently here. It isnt really a linear flow like in the plane of living. Instead, time is condensed and channeled through one's existance. Or atleast that what they say.
As Romain slowly starts to enclose himself in his own isolation the echoes from the front reach him. The soul in front turns and the empty sound of their voice revers inside of your existance. "you hear that!? The elders are picking Terra... A WORM ON TERRA!". A worm... On Terra? Who would put themself through that!? There's no way, that Romain the great will be a worm... On Terra.
But as time goes on, the rumours grow stronger. More and more people are picking Terra worms and soon Romain starts to consider it. After all, why would everyone else be picking it. There must be something there, they must know something that he doesn't.
So as he stepps up to the counter he proudly writes down in the book of life "Romain: Worm, Terra, earliest possible time". The clerk behind the desk chuckles slightly, and as he flips throigh the pages to cement Romain's wish he can see sthe billions of souls picking worm. He thinks to himself "there's no way this can go tits up"
And as he's transported to Terra into this new being. As the soul is forced into a new twisted existance of life he realizes.... There's nothing to this existance. They lied. | It seemed almost paradoxical in a way, Jarod thought. Why would anyone want to experience a mundane life of dirt and decomposition over the wondrous advancements of the future? To opt against a post first-contact society?
Perhaps the more experienced souls had already seen all there was to life, and simply grown old and tired of it, preferring the mindlessness of an undeveloped creature from eras past. But... something felt off. Surely the future was infinite, and there could be no end to the experiences one might be curious to see?
Jarod took much time contemplating the potential reasonings behind such a choice, and could only come to one conclusion. For whatever reason, they wanted to create as much potential for a new series of timelines, because somewhere down the line, there must be an inevitable event they want to avoid by going farther and farther back, disrupting the course of history moving forward via butterfly effect. With this in consideration, he still had to make a choice..
——————————————————
It was a brief, yet surprisingly brutal life Jaida led. From confinement at birth, persecution for the crimes of humanity against the *Xi’Uqr Union of Stars*, and casually violent end at the hands of a DGE officer who found her after shortly after escape from the Union’s highest security prison planet. A grudge against the people that nearly caused the extinction of a dozen Union species, and collapsed the host star of their capital system, is not likely to ever be forgiven.
——————————————————
Upon returning to the void, and being offered the choice of reincarnation again, Jaida answered immediately. If the sheer number of souls opting for such an early point in evolutionary history was any clue, nothing could likely be done to reroute humanity from the abominable path it lead, and the only salvation would be the alteration of evolution to change what they would eventually become, or to prevent their emergence entirely.
=============================
First time making a response to a prompt. It was kind of short term inspiration so if anything doesn’t seem like it came out right, please share <3
I enjoy world-building ideas and I’d love to get better | 2021-02-06T01:51:28 | 2021-02-06T01:44:20 | 177 | 118 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | I miss you big guy.
I miss the your terrible jokes and the attempts at accents that wound up sounding exactly the same no matter the country of origin.
I miss the quiet but fierce love of your family you had.
Most of all I miss the real dad, not the husk you became in the years leading up to your death.
I miss my belly laughing, bird loving, tinkering, absent minded dad.
I miss my dad that would always drop everything with a resigned but knowing grin to help me out of my latest batch of troublemaking.
Don't miss your cooking though :P
Miss ya big guy | Dear Monique,
We both messed up. I should have paid you the attention you needed when you needed it, and you should have told me when you felt you had lost control of your life. I'm sorry, but this is no reason to throw away a wonderful 10 year marriage. Please come home, we miss you horribly.
I love you and I always will.
-A | 2017-11-05T22:27:41 | 2017-11-05T20:41:24 | 102 | 67 |
[WP] You have found a fully functional Minecraft enchantment table in your father’s workshop, floating book included, and it apparently has much less limitations than its ingame version. You wonder what your dad has to do with this and how this is even possible in the first place. | Knowledge is power
The sign stood out as the one dusted surface amidst the rows of old books, holding up the shelves as much as the shelves did them. The smell of dry decay, so specific to places like this, filled Danny’s nose.
“Grandpa?” he called after seeing the register unmanned.
“Just in the back, my boy. Be out in a moment.”
Hearing his voice sent a pang of guilt through Danny. It had been how long since he’s visited? Even since his father disappeared, his grandfather had practically taken over the role. Even if he had already been in college, whenever one of the little adult tasks of life that seem so daunting the first time came up, grandpa was there to help at the drop of a hat. He deserved more.
“Okay, I figured we could go to lunch at that burger place, my treat!” Danny yelled as he flipped through the books, making sure each was free of spiders first. He recognized several from his last trip here. How did this place stay in business, he wondered, watching the dust motes float and settle in the flickering light.
“Oh my,” grandpa answered. “I best hurry then!”
One book caught his eye, wedged in a corner between two shelves. There was no title. At first, it seemed wedged tight enough to take the building down with it before it came free but after tugging for a moment, it slid out smooth as silk.
The pages were blank, like some kind of unlined diary. He flipped through it, stopping halfway through.
\-Tony’s Place- was scrawled in crayon above a doodle of a small square house.
“Holy shit,” Danny said. “Grandpa, I think I found a drawing my dad did in one of these.”
There was no answer. He turned, feeling an odd tingle on his back. A row of books obscured the entrance and another the windows. He didn’t remember this place being this big.
He sat the book down carefully and stepped back, trying to get his bearings. Each bookshelf-lined hallway forked into two more, in every direction. There was no exit in sight. A soft hum came from behind him, lowering in pitch until it became a chest-rattling croak. He followed the sound, finding himself back at the book he'd found, which now hovered above the table, pages flicking lazily before stopping, showing elaborate calligraphy.
\-Challenge 1 of 256-
Find where inverted swans lie,
And dirty diamond dogs deny
Spy the crow's sway
Twixt the salted whey
And turn its curdled dream awry
“What the hell,” Danny said, face warm as he leaned over the book. The pages twisted again, and a trident, sword, and shovel fell to the floor and new text was displayed.
\-Choose two (enchantments will carry forward into the next challenge)-
\-Bane of Arthropods (recommended)
\-Fire Aspect
\-Knockback
\-Sharpness
\-Smite
\-Sweeping Edge
\-Impaling
A skittering came from Danny’s right, sounding like a rainstorm of tiny footsteps. He looked at the page again, focusing on the word recommended. “Shit.”
/r/surinical | # Soulmage
**Uncle Jiaola had always been a respectable enchanter.** The art of storing magic in an object without a soul was difficult and exhausting, but it paid the bills. And it was a field of magic that I'd had little experience with until now, so I was excited to take a peek around Jiaola's new workshop.
"Mind the corners," Jiaola said, gesturing at the towering doorway of black stone. "I'm not actually sure what that rock is, but it chips easily and it's *sharp*."
I frowned at the doorway, peering through to the roomy workshop behind, then walked around the back of the door. There was nothing on the other side. "Is this..."
"Permanent rift into the Plane of Elemental Heat," Jiaola said. "It's a pain in the butt to build anything there—normally, it's so hot that water just *boils* if you leave it out—but it's the only elemental plane that city zoning laws would let me grow into. Plus, it's great advertising for the heatproofing."
I poked my head into the workshop. It was surprisingly cool, considering that it was located in a dimension hot enough to instantly vaporize water. Tentatively, I stepped inside. A table with a saw and a hammer sat to one side, some wooden planks strewn on its surface in some abandoned work of craftsmanship. On the other side, a worn grindstone sat, a shovel to its side. But the pride and centerpiece of Jiaola's workshop was the gleaming stone table in the center of a well-stocked library. I tentatively opened my soulsight, confirming my suspicion—each and every book was packed with power.
"Storing magic in something without a soul is difficult," Jiaola explained, stepping up behind me. "So I cheat. Some objects naturally gain souls over time, fragments of memory and emotion left behind by people who cherish and love them. And if you want to get the most bang for your buck in terms of objects with souls... well, it's hard to get any better than a well-worn library book."
I stepped into the library and cautiously took a book off the shelf. Even with my soulsight barely open, I could practically *feel* the memories contained within the book, leaping at my touch like an eager wolf pup.
Jiaola picked up the shovel from the side, his eyes gleaming. "So. Want to learn how an enchanter works magic?"
A.N.
I've got to run, but this prompt was fun! This story is set in the world of Soulmage, a serial written in response to writing prompts. Check out the rest of the story [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/?sort=new), or check out r/bubblewriters for more stories by me! | 2022-10-11T07:47:02 | 2022-10-11T07:20:15 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] Once upon a time, an error occurred and a saint and a sinner switched places. The sinner in heaven kept silent out of fear; the saint in hell kept silent out of compassion. After centuries of paradise, the sinner has mustered up the courage to break the saint out of hell. | I see him down there, time to time. I see him, torn and flayed and parched and riddled with wounds from broken glass and acrid gases. I see him cry out in pain, scream in terror at the horrors inflicted on him. I see him in his moments of respite, fleeting but present when there are minute breaks from the pain.
And in those moments, I see him stare up.
I know he sees me, as I see him.
And he always looks upon me with a wry smile. A kindness in his eyes. A knowing warmth.
And it sickens me to my core.
I see him as he ceaselessly tries to tell his captors to spare the sinners around him of their punishment. Every never-ending day down there he begs of them. To instead pour unto him the lashes, the brands. To alleviate their pain, to unburden those who have, in this dark predicament, realised their wrongs and wish to change.
I see him beg to let those who were redeemed in his kind eyes to be free of the hell he was in. To be free of the flames. To enter unto to gates above and live in the divine bodies of those who died good people.
He sickens me. Everyone of his ilk sicken me. Those who wish only well, those who do only good. Those who are genuine, decent, kind to a fault.
Saints.
Real ones. Rare as they were.
I hate them. I hate their constitution, their capacity for good. That in the face of all the evil and inevitable exploitative and manipulative tendancies inherent in all of us, they yet exist. Persist. Outliers who are the best of us.
I see him down there, smiling up at me. Forgiving me.
No.
He does not even think I have done anything wrong that is worthy of forgiveness. He knows what I did. He is not stupid.
And yet.
He only wishes for me the best. He only wishes for me joy for being here.
I have no joy. I am a loathsome creature. And I hate him.
And one day I cannot take it.
One day I leave. I head down there. To him. So beautiful. So radiating. A light in the dark. And I go to him like a moth to a flame.
And he sees me coming. And he shakes his head, his everpresent smile disappearing. He tries to stop me. But I shove past him into the oblivion that was my birthright, my destiny.
And suddenly the mistake is rectified. I am dragged down, and feel him drawn up.
I embrace the hellfire as he did, and let my screams out untethered. Primal and raw and beautiful and divine. Screams that were as cathartic and well earned as they were anguished and hoarse.
And I look up at him up there. He looks down at me in his new divine form, horrified.
I grin at him through gritted teeth as the toxic sulphurous vapours penetrate my senses, and the glass shards embed themselves into my body.
I grin through my skin being torn asunder and flayed by the dark forces. I grin through it all, knowing that he had been through this, and knows this pain. Pain that should have been mine. Pain he wished to spare me.
I hate him.
I hate that he has the audacity to look at me with that look of stupid fear on his face. A face that used to be scarred and bloody. A face that is now as beautiful as it always should have been, radiating with the light that I should have never claimed.
And I know that look of fear. He fears for me. For my well-being. He knows what I will be subjected to. And he does not want that of me.
What a horrifyingly distressing selflessness.
I hate him.
I hate him knowing that this hate is the my only respite until the end, and I am sickened knowing that this hate is the only comfort will have for the next eternity.
[]
He shoves past me, this hateful man robed in heavenly garbs. I see the red hands reach out towards him from the ground of molten lava and barbed thorns. Reaching, expectant and desperate.
And he reaches down towards them as well. And he is engulfed by the dark embrace as he gets pulled under, and I see him look up at me, smiling humourlessly. And suddenly I am lifted up. Up towards where he was moments ago. Where I was supposed to be.
I can only look in dismay as my scars disappear, and the numbing, constant pain vanishes, and the air grows cool. I can do nothing as my bare skin, sticky with dried blood becomes clear and healed, and the same robes of extravaganze that adorned him are now adorning me.
No.
And suddenly I feel my body shift ever so subtly. Shift into something sublime. Divine. The heavenly body of my birthright was now mine.
I look down at him, and he looks up at me. And he is still smiling.
What dark curse? Why is the one down there fated to be the one smiling. While the one up here can only stare, mortified at their fate.
*This is the true hell*. The thought enters my mind unprompted.
I see as the skin of his hands gets stripped, I hear his broken screams.
Why?
No one deserves this fate.
I see as his eyes get pierced, and he flinches and shakes.
And yet, he still looks up at where I am. He is still smiling.
I try to return there, but the veil that separates our status is now solid. The fluke that had let the mistake persist cannot be replicated.
I turn my eyes to my new peers, who have a detached sort of happiness to them. And I feel sick.
I look back down. And see his everpresent smile as well as he looks up to me with blinded eyes.
And I feel sick. | Ragged screams ricocheted off cavern walls, a chorus of broken knives and broken people. They made a sort of music, discordant and rhythm-less, but listen long enough and you could hear a tune. Jan heard it. He knew the instruments being played, the masters who played them.
Jan had been one of those instruments; the devil had played a concerto on him.
Jan slipped through the halls of hell, an improvised knife in his hand. He’d torn a ray of sunlight from Heaven’s warm, butter yellow sun. The ray had dimmed since then but it still threw faint a light across the walls, warred with the torches to paint the crystal flecked caverns of hell in a light that was almost beautiful, if one could see past all the blood.
Seven hundred years ago, when Jan had been a boy and not a sinner, he would have sat by the firelight listening to his grandmother tell stories like this. A daring rescue into Hell, a man with no more than a splinter of sunlight going up against the Devil’s wrath and the demons that had tortured him, and for what, the glory of the saints?
Stories like that had been his life. They had turned a little boy into a soldier, a winged hussar charging down from the mountains above Vienna to massacre his King’s foes, and they had twisted into something else along the way when Jan learned that the world could never live up to the stories told about it.
There were no stories now. The old heroes were dead and gone: Jan had met them, seen them flayed on racks beside him for all those deeds no one had ever put a story too. There was no honor now, no glory. Jan hadn’t come to rescue a saint to hear the songs that people would sing.
He’d come because when the Saint and the Sinner switched places, the saint had left a burn mark etched against her bedroom wall. Late on sabbath nights when all the others were asleep Jan would take a stolen bottle of communion wine into the bedroom and stare at that mark.
A woman etched in ashes. The curve of a hip set in agonized black against the wall, a hand splayed out, fingers clutching at the flat, lifeless surface. Jan drank and stared. He invented a life, a name, the good deeds that got someone into heaven, and a face to match that curve. When the bottle was empty and Jan was thoroughly drunk he’d stand in front of the burnt woman and whisper the names of past women he’d loved and wronged: Aniela, Dorota, Ksenia, Ula. He’d whisper their names and the face he imagined became their faces, these women who might have been saints, might have been so much more if not for a man like him. At night’s end he touched the mark, traced a finger along the saint’s blasted lines.
The night he fled from Heaven Jan had finally brushed away the last of her lines.
In the caverns the screams grew closer. Hell was a land honeycombed beneath a great mountain, the weight forever pressing down on a sinner’s soul. If the saint was anywhere, Jan thought, she’d be in the bay where he had lived; they’d switched places after all. He imagined her chained to a wall between the janissary and the commissar, hurling screams up towards the Heavens that had forgotten her.
Up ahead there was a line painted across the ground. It wasn’t much, but Jan knew it to be a Circle marker. This was where they kept the war criminals, stacked like cord-wood in their burning bunks or pinned against the stone walls.
Jan stepped across the line. He was home.
Something shifted in the gloom ahead. Jan’s grip tightened on the sunlight splinter. He saw the creature as an absence in the world, a dark stain spreading upward across the wall in nearly the shape of a man, body blotting out the torchlit crystal.
“Ahh,” the creature whispered, “the prodigal son returns!”
Jan leapt. He hadn’t killed in an age but for a man like him killing could never be forgotten. The creature towered over him, not quite a demon but a soul on the verge, one of those shadowy jailers whose sins had been paid for with its sanity in eons past— a creature beyond pain, numbed to all the tortures of hell.
It was silent as the splinter drove home, silent as it thrashed against the rocky ground. Silent as its shadows grew and encompassed the man, etched burns down Jan’s back and arms, a nightmare scrabbling for a final chance at life. Jan stabbed until the light went out of his knife, and when he stood the sunlight was no more. He cast the splinter aside, one corrupted shadow among many.
Jan squared his shoulders, said one of his grandmother’s thousand prayers, and found the cave that had been his home.
At first his eyes couldn’t adjust. There were no demons, at the moment the screams all came elsewhere. Home was a tapestry of agonized groans, the white noise of Jan’s afterlife. Men and women fried in their bunks, filling the air with a sickly burnt pork aroma.
Bodies were strung up against the far wall. Dark shapes shivered or thrashed, or lay still and bleeding as they waited to be revived. Jan knew these men, had fought against one of them. There was the janissary, there was the commissar.
And there beneath them was the saint standing with her back to him, a vision in a stained blue and white dress, a red cross stitched into her sleeve.
“Whatever they did in life,” the saint said, “haven’t these men paid for it already?” | 2021-12-19T07:16:41 | 2021-12-19T07:07:08 | 1,613 | 227 |
[WP] Humans are the deadliest, and rarest, species in the known universe. Often, search parties go missing due to a singular encounter with a human ship. It has recently come to light that there is an entire planet full of them. | Galactic level technology was a dangerous thing. It was fickle, powerful, and specific, and to work with it required a great deal of patience and experience. In our dawn we almost destroyed ourselves as we built up the sunder engines, and our existence almost wiped when we inherited the fold engines. But we were patient, and we took small steps. We spent generations to test a single machine, even when the burning desire to reach the next system was all consuming, and our reward was the universe. Distance was relative, and now a light year was but a moment, time and space at our disposal.
We were the first to inherit responsibility as the overseers of the galaxy. We found new worlds, new people, and we taught them what they needed to do, guided them when they needed to change, and helped them when they fell to their knee at the tragedies each world had. We thought we had seen it all.
The short lived, terrified of non-existence, relentlessly progressing with no sense of morality in a crusade towards genetic immortality. The ancient, large, and slow, struggling to keep up among those whose time were faster. The honorable, stuck in an endless war, already having forgotten why they fight because to give up was to lose honor, and to lose honor was worse than death.The empathetic, cursed to a dying world which they could no save alone. The sick, whose worlds had abandoned them, living them to slow and cruel deaths.
We had seen their struggles, and we had done our best to fix their woes. Then there were the humans, beings we still have not fully defined. Beings of spite, for this is why they lived. Their goals, accomplishments, their wars, all out of a spite to prove their worth, and once that worth was attained it was never enough, and the feeling of inadequacy would not fade, so they would seek out one more trial, until they could accomplish no more. Doomed to wanting importance and success, and not just this, but the impossible feeling to have *earned* what they have.
We never saw their world in person, by the time we arrived to what scouts had found, there was nothing. It was a single, small planet, covered with water, and with a single satellite. From the surface, the satellite was the same diameter as their star. It must have been beautiful when the two converged. Yet now there was nothing, no debris, no satellite, just an uncomfortable void in space that slipped a message into your gut, which overtook your body as you stood where they once did. 'Something about this is so very wrong.'
The Voyager 1 was hard to find but we did eventually discover it. Full of formulas and math and pictures, biological diagrams and a letter that took some time to translate. Hundreds of years had passed since its launch, so even with the probes information we were left in the dark about the rapid advancement of the last six hundred years. Our readings from devices we had set up around their cluster produced confusing results, unlike anything we have seen before, but our theories have explained it as best we could.
They had attempted to build an equivalent to a sunder engine, primitive by galactic standard, but a solid keystone in individual advancement. However they ran into the issue we did, the speed of light, which seemed impossible to surpass. Our solution was the production of certain chemicals and elements that, from what we understand, could not occur in the environments of earth, nor in what they considered sterile environments. Their solution was to bypass the speed of light, by ignoring its limits entirely. Their engine was fueled by the phenomenon of how gravity and mass effects time dilation to send ships forward, their own speed both bypassing and being below the speed of light. It was a confusing and dangerous idea, but clearly it held some ground in reality. Perhaps if they still persisted in this existence, they could have explained it to us more. Their ingenuity would be treasured by all.
Something had gone wrong, and now an entire pocket of space was missing, simply empty, with the vague feeling that something should be there. We figured we could study the anomaly, mark history of these brave explorers and their plight to prove themselves to none other than the empty stars above, to beings and entities that they weren't sure even existed. In the official markings, that was it, they humans were gone, and the Galactic Leaders made one final note of the humans. "You strove to prove yourself, and so you have. You risked it all for your own goals, and so we make your name immortal."
We thought it to be the end, that their sad story would not continue. We thought that the void of space would fade over time and the only place humans would exist would be in the histories of the galaxy. Yet we did not predict what would occur. Their interactions with time proved fatal to all, not just the humans and their world. It started small, inexplicably rare, reports of hairless bipeds in armor with weapons, ranging from the hides of unknown beasts to some thick and powerful fabric, from swords and spears to rifles and other guns. All accounts shared the same description, the bipeds seemed to not quite exist, glowing like a faint mist that interacted with the world as if they were flesh and bone.
At best the visions would be isolated, screaming battles between two sides of the ghosts, that faded with shrill, echoing cries. At worst people would be caught between them, the bullets and swords fading but the wounds they caused very real. Their history, all possible pasts and futures flattened, only to tear through barriers of time and space to exist for mere minutes, to see worlds and places they could only dream of, but stuck in actions with context lost to our eyes. We felt great sorrow for them, but even the most sympathetic delirious beast must be put down. | Ship YZ089 has haunted the Ortalem species for years. The ship had been part of an exploratory program in search of C40H56. Ortalem biological functions had so completely evolved that they longer died of any cause except C40H56 deficiency. Without it, their bodies would harden like stone until it killed them. Just a tiny amount prevented this. It occurred naturally on their planet as a red crystal, but could not be renewed fast enough for the growing population. YZ089 was the only ship to find C40H56. They broadcasted their discovery and then disappeared
This is the story as most Ortalem know it. Only the Council knew the rest of what happened, and it terrified them.
YZ089’s crew had been on something of a suicide mission. Determined to find the needed crystal, they decided to explore until their rations had run out. A red planet in a newly discovered solar system gave great hope, but ultimately lacked what they were looking for. They decided to go one planet closer to that system’s sun.
It was a miracle when some dead organic material found near the landing site scanned positive for C40H56. It wasn’t a red crystal, but instead a dark lumpy mass. After communicating the discovery to the Council they were told to collect the sample to bring home, but that they were to consume a little if their stores had gotten low. Statues of the crew could be made without their becoming stone themselves. Knowing the relief it would bring to the masses, one of the Council members, Otamo, secretly brought a copy of this transmission to the press.
The ozone in the planet’s atmosphere had badly damaged YZ089. A few days in to necessary repairs, the YZ089 crew decided to partake of their spoils. Communication was established to document the first consumption and to send scanned data of the organic material. There was a toast, and then each took a hearty bite, it would be enough C40H56 to last the trip home. Within minutes of eating it the Ortalem crew curled over in pain, unable to speak. Moments later they were all dead. Home base sent a remote command to the ship’s auto-pilot system for it to bring the crew home. The ship transmitted a confirmation and began streaming its flight data.
Final word from YZ089 was that its outer hull was not safe for the vacuum of space. The ship was rerouting to land when 46,000 feet above the surface something struck the ship. The last thing broadcast was Ortalem bodies, not stone, but soft and lifeless, being tossed around the cabin during the crash.
To the council it was clear; the ship had been attacked. The only things known about the creature were that: upon its death it lost most of its mass and turned to mush, the C40H56 it contained was fatal, and virtual reconstruction of its genetic material showed they looked exactly like the Ortalem.
Celebrations were silenced once the Council announced YZ089 had been lost in a black hole. They decided to end the exploratory program to prevent any further tragedies. In reality they feared the creature so deadly to their species, and so willing to attack. Resources would be allocated to figuring out how to cultivate C40H56 at home. Since all prior attempts at cultivation had failed, the public clamored that the lost crew, or the planet they discovered, be found. When the remaining exploratory ships arrived home, some were hidden by crews that agreed with the public.
No one knew that Otamo leaked the initial transmission. In his deep shame at prematurely giving hope to the Ortalem, he left the Council and joined one of the defunct exploratory crews in their search for YZ089’s planet.
Otamo never shared with the crew that he had been a member of the Council. He knew the contempt most people felt toward them these days, and the contempt was greater still among the discarded exploratory crews. Before resigning, Otamo stole YZ089’s route logs and used it to gain a spot on the rogue ship. He said a sympathizing old friend who worked under a Council member had gotten the information. It matched official exploratory documents the crew knew in and out and decided it was the best chance they had at finding the planet they sought. No other information was shared; anything else would have led to incredulity.
Long in to the voyage a member of the crew shared news of a red planet coming in to view.
“Let’s pass it,” Otamo said. He knew the planet didn’t contain what they were looking for. Remembering the desolation YZ089’s crew expressed at leaving that red planet, he almost felt guilty about his pleasure, knowing they were so close to the right place.
“Why the hell should we do that?”
“Because, captain, it’s not C40H56.”
The captain rose from her chair and went to see the image of the red planet.
“See, it’s the wrong shade of red. I think we should continue to the next one.”
Moving closer to the screen, the captain nearly pressed her face to the image.
“I’m telling you, it’s a waste of time.”
The captain glared at Otamo. “Why don’t you tell us how you know, then? How do you know that a giant red planet isn’t something we should look at?”
“The logs…” Otamo was interrupted by a crew member across the room.
“A distress signal!”
The captain rushed to him. On a screen were the words:
Location: Veght
Distress: 28A2M80
Ship: YZ089
| 2017-11-08T19:44:53 | 2017-11-08T19:38:11 | 249 | 89 |
[WP] You are the worst student in Latin class, and thanks to your lackluster study habits have summoned a demon. Said demon, tired of being summoned by clumsy humans, has decided to become your personal tutor until you pass Latin at the top of your class. | **“TRANSLATE THIS SENTENCE, FLESHBAG.”**
I rub my temples in frustration, not caring for the sulfur smell in the air or the vibration in my chest that I felt from the booming voice next to me. Throwing my pencil down on the table, I turn to the demon and ignored the impatient tapping of his claw on the sentence they wanted me to translate. If I knew that they didn’t have the power to make my life an actual hell and possibly even literally eat me whole in one bite, the sight of a literal giant sitting in my crappy dorm chair that I dragged from the common room would have been fucking hilarious.
“Please, we’ve been at this for almost 4 hours. It’s almost midnight and I have a 7am class in the morning.” *It was true.* “Plus, I have a test in that class too! I just want to have a good night’s rest before the exam.” *That was not true.*
Judging by the increased smell of rotten eggs in the air, I could tell that the demon did not believe me at all. **“SLEEP IS FOR THE WEAK. YOU MUST STUDY TO DOMINATE THE CLASS.”**
*Why did I even sign up for Latin class? It’s not like I’ll need it for my economics major. Why didn’t I sign up for Spanish or French? Or even Swedish? ASL would have been a better choice. Any other language that had the lowest risk of accidentally summoning a goddamn demon would have been a better choice.*
**“YOU HAVE NO ONE TO BLAME BUT YOURSELF,”** boomed the demon next to me. Their tail whipped back and forth in aggravation, smacking my head when they saw me not move to continue my studying. **“NOW, TRANSLATE. THE. SENTENCE.”**
I winced at his impatient tone and gingerly picked up my pencil. *There really ain’t no rest for the wicked, huh?*
&#x200B;
>This is my first time responding! Sorry it's so short! | \[Poem\]
Blood and fire and a torturing scream,
I let out the anger to every extreme.
I'm here, then there and everywhere,
But its usually in a place where I could not care.
Summoned by haphazard approach,
Called upon by some idiot roach.
I can't seem to find a moment of silence,
Until, at least, I'm done and hear sirens.
But this one time felt different to me,
I did not want him to cease to be.
Instead, I extend my winged arm
Assuredly assured I mean no harm.
I teleport us through space and through time,
To learn Latin and the subtleties of rhyme.
This slob of a human, lazy and unenthused,
Knows his lack of knowledge and seems unamused.
I teach him some words, they’re short and they’re simple,
But instead he sat and tried popping his pimple.
Now look here kid, I say poignant and on edge,
I could have ended you like a scythe to a hedge.
You sit there and you grin and I’m just trying to help,
But you’re treating me like I’m inoculated kelp.
Tell me good sir, can you tell me why?
Why of all people I'm inclined to try?
He notices me worry and heard me let out a sigh.
He looks at me stoicly and said "Im a cool guy?"
I snap my fingers, he erupts in a red mist,
A guy that dumb surely won't be missed.
Intending to head back home, I start to feel,
That someone else is trying to make a devil's deal.
I ponder the thought of not trying to help again,
But maybe I will because I could use a friend. | 2019-10-12T14:30:38 | 2019-10-12T14:18:30 | 29 | 17 |
[WP] Your superhero family only cares about saving humans. As your powers emerge, you resolve to help all species, starting with whichever one your randomizer selects. As the species name prints, you realize you realize you’ve made a big mistake. | I wait as the printer slowly prints out the name at the speed of a retired tortoise... Ugh! Why can't we update our stuff. The entire superhero community is still living in the 80s! I heard they now have printers that actually spit out 3D models of whatever you want. Forget paper, I want one of those but nooooooooo. We can't break away from "the community". Because heaven forbid we get a printer or computer that was made before 1982!
.
**30 minutes later**
.
The printer finally spat out the paper into the tray, the species I'm going to protect is..... o-oh...
My eyes travel back and forth between the computer and the typed word. I could go to the official community site again and appeal. I could ask for another species... but then my parents win. I will never be able to get away from Dad's booming voice as he drops his pearls of wisdom on my head. Or mom's sad look as she tells me it's ok and be who you want to be shit!
.
I sit down and stare at the paper willing the words to change... willing... them... to... WAIT!!!
.
I make my way down stairs paper in hand ready to submit it officially to the community head.
"Oh honey! Are you now ready to register as an official hero? Please say hello to Mister Amazing at the Community headquarters for me."
"Yes mom. I got my official registration paper printed out and I picked random for my species selection. Just have to make it all official."
"Very good honey. You know, your dad and I were worried about you not getting any powers at the usual teenage age. Guess number 35 was the lucky charm. So which species did you get.... um honey..."
I quickly snatched it back from her hand and made for the door. Damn this beer gut, she was faster and blocked it demanding the paper back.
"Sweetie, why does the species section say D_mon?"
"It's, it's the new way of things. You and dad are still stuck in the 50's but the world's moved on. This is how people speak now. Da Man is just another way of saying humans. Important humans in fact, somebodies not a nosy reporter or a little brat but big wigs in the human world. Anywaygotogobyyyyyyyye!" | "I was just eleven when it happened. It was like my randomizer broke. It tells me a species and i save it. But this time it popped up in blood red. A name instead of a species.Alex Miller. I was confused at first, then my brain only let me think of that name. The task i was on. This was normal, day to day superhero stuff. I only have because my parents aare stupid and only think about our species.But this time it seemed harsher and more intense . Normally, i could eat or drink. Stuff like that. Then i couldnt. I couldnt even remember my own name!" I told my therapist who nodded accordingly
"I felt worthless, at least my feelings were intake? Right?" I said trying to see a positive side. She just listened and wrote somthing down. Her hands trembling with fear. "Miss miller?!" I called to her. But she was gone through the door. She turned to me and locked it." "My only way out!" I stamped on the floor. A trapdoor lowered and i climbed down. Down. Down. Down for what seemed like an age. Or two. I eventually got to the bottom still thinking its a cruel joke. But when i saw a pile of human skulls, blood splattered walls . i knew other wise...
She came out from the shadows. With a boy who looked about 13. He said" im Alex Miller." But i knew it was wrong. "Alex Thomas Jack Charlie Miller. My favourite colour is red. My favourite animal is the cheetah and the parrot. Im Christian and allergic to bee stings and milk" He continued, taunting me. I pulled my hair in rage and confusion. Im Alex Thomas Hack Charlie Miller. My favourite colour is red. I love cheetahs and parrots. Im Christian. Im allergic to bee stings and milk. Who is he really? But now i was practically begging on my knees. I was pratically drawn closer to him.Or should i saw i was. | 2020-02-09T09:36:45 | 2020-02-09T09:23:00 | 25 | 17 |
[WP] Our blood is naturally clear, it thickens and darkens with each impure act. You have always dedicate yourself to good and helping others but today while knitting beanies for the homeless you accidentally prick your finger. Your blood is jet black and so thick it doesn't even drip. | It was these sort of women that he hated the most. The ones that would cling to their tainted children with screams and fits of rage. Didn't they understand? Didn't they realize that the world had to be clean?
It'd been many years since he'd realized the truth about the Blackness. One day, The Doctor has pricked himself during an operation and found a jet black tar, so thick that it never managed to escape from the shallow wound. He'd always been a good man, always helping the needy, operating on the dying, the homeless, those who nobody else would risk their careers on. He'd gone to church, worshiped God, refrained from alcohol and cursing, and still, his blood was filled with Blackness. It was then that he realized: the blood must tell the future. It not only darkened and thickened with each impurity, but it also knew the state of your future deeds. Somehow, the Blackness must be able to judge the soul and see what it was capable of.
With that realization came a new purpose. If one day he would be the Blackest of all devils, then he would dedicate the rest of his life until that moment to purify every stain that he could find. Every drop of Blackness would be cleansed from the world in order to balance his own future sin. It was with this knowledge and vision that The Doctor started his research. After a painstakingly long trial, he found that indeed, the blood could predict a person's purity in their later life. With this, he proposed a new program that could eradicate the Blackness before it ever grew into action. Every child would be pricked at thirteen, as before thirteen they were judged to be well under their parents control. Those whose blood was Black would be taken away from their parents and eliminated from society in order to prevent the evil they would inevitably bring into the world.
Whatever the evil he might one day do, The Doctor hoped that his life's work spent in the elimination of all the Tainted would help to balance the scales. Every day, without fail, he would prick him self again in order to remind himself of his purpose. Every day, without fail, the blood would stand within the cut, Blacker than the darkest night and thicker than the Jello that all his patients received. Every day, without fail, it reminded him that time was running short. One day, he would become evil. Before then, he had to cleanse as much evil from the world as he could. And so, so many of the evil ones were left.
Edit: Woah. So that's why people post things on reddit so much. Dang those upvotes feel nice inside haha. For those asking: I had what I thought was a fun idea so I wrote it out in a rather rough sort of way, no idea if it's actually like any of the animes/shows listed below that I haven't watched and I'm glad y'all enjoyed it too :). | It's hardly a surprise. Although the smell, oh the smell. Quite a smell. Like death running in my veins. I quite like the scent. The blood sticks between my fingertips. All cushy.
It's sad, really. I've always tried to do what's right. Sure, the homeless could have continued to trawl through my fields but then I wouldn't be able to spin a coin or bury a penny.
The greater good dictates that I set my priorities for the millions of people, not the impoverished little.
I deem it unlikely that their removable will be missed. They are a stain on society. Beggars disgust me for getting themselves into such a place. And they choose to break the law and steal and call it their right to live! Pah, wrong. Rights come to those who follow the laws of society. And the homeless don't have that right. They gave it up when they made poor decisions.
These hats will sit on their heads when I bury them in the dirt. The rats will be attracted to the scent and they'll bite them and die. It's a win-win situation. The vermin and the scum get washed away to death. Pretty.
I knew that morals would be too double sided. Sure, I'm saving millions of lives while destroying hundreds for the sake of it. A bit cutthroat, isn't it. I knew that to sacrifice my personal morality, I'd pay with my blood. And I have. Look at it, it's frozen solid. I wonder how it'll be when I try to wash it off. So strange that I haven't bled in a long time, isn't it? Black blood. Very strange.
But I'm afraid no one can know, my dear. I have a reputation to uphold. Millions of people look up to me and I am their hope. Their salvation. A queen in all but blood.
That's why you've got to die. Now don't bother screaming, there's no one here. I'll do it nice and quick just like I do it to the homeless. But you won't be getting a burial, dear. No, I'm afraid the pups will be eating fresh meat tonight! They'll be ever so grateful. Oh no, don't cry! This is for the greater good. Now tilt your head back just a little and I'll-- oh, now you calm down young lady! Can't be having a squealer. The pups might get upset and I trust you know that a quick death is better than being eaten alive? Oh the sounds that old man made when he just wouldn't... sit... still!
Ah!
Wonderful.
Clear as water. Bye bye sweetie. You have a lovely trip to Heaven! | 2018-08-04T10:46:53 | 2018-08-04T10:09:44 | 3,279 | 77 |
[WP] Everyone dies twice: once when their body dies, and once when their name is spoken for the last time. One must wander the earth as a ghost until their name is spoken for the last time; only then can they pass into the afterlife. It's been over 3000 years, and you're still here. | I am King Tut. I've been wandering the Earth for 3000 years, unfortunately. As it turns out, you do pass into the afterlife. Although, in order for that to happen, your name has to be uttered for the last time.
Being that I was a pharaoh, I'm probably going to be spoken about until the end of time. That's what happens when you make your mark. I envy the peasants, the slaves. They were only here for 100 years at the most. The rule is that 100 years has to pass after the last time your name was mentioned before you can leave. Otherwise there would be no way for "Death" or whatever it is to figure it out.
It's a fitting punishment, if you think about it. The good people will simply deal with it, the bad people will be spoken about incessantly. Adolf Hitler will probably be around much longer than me. Especially considering how close he was time-wise to the creation of the internet. As will Winston Churchill, but he's dealt with it.
I'm not sure I believe in the Gods anymore. That religion died. The only religion that is still around from when I was around is Christianity, although I didn't know about it when I was alive. Is it a real religion? Is this Purgatory? I've read the Bible (by putting my face into the book page by page, it's an exhausting process). Would "God" really do this?
I've learned almost all the languages, I've seen almost every country on earth, I was there when Hitler shot himself. I know the location of his body, I know why Hitler hated Jews, I know the corruption behind every government. I've exhausted everything. I sit in the Pyramid I was buried in. Hoping for my name to be spoken for the last time. Knowing that many will have to die for it to happen. | It was all because of that stupid TV show.
I thought that it was done ruining my life when I turned twenty. The comments had slowly been dying down, and I figured that once my friends were out of their teenage years, the talk would turn to wine more so than my name.
Sufficed to say, it didn’t.
I died from old age, in the year 2090, and as my eyes closed and I could hear my relatives beginning to cry, a smile graced my face in the hope that I should find peace at last.
I awoke a few feet away from the bed, my feet floating a few inches off the ground, beside my daughter. She had only commented on my name when she was a child, and even that, only once or twice. I had always supposed my children feared me too much to make fun of my name. Perhaps that was the Russian in me. I was never as gentle as my husband.
My eyes still haven’t closed. It’s been 3000 years, damnit, yet that show has only gotten more popular. It teaches all sorts of languages now, but that theme song is still the same. It plagues my days (ghosts are not allowed to leave the building they died in). I have relived every single possible moment of every single episode.
Even after 3000 years, Swiper has to work on his swiping skills. That five-year-old I share a name with can’t possibly be that clever.
| 2016-01-17T13:04:14 | 2016-01-17T11:15:23 | 24 | 15 |
[WP] Interstellar wars are quick, most species die of shock quite quickly. Getting shot was a death sentence. That was until humans joined the Galaxy... | "Why do you humans not die?" I asked my human captor.
"What?" He looks at me confused, at least that's what it looked like to me.
"You are beaten up, shot, bleeding. That is a death sentence for everyone....Everyone except humans. What makes you different?"
My captor laughed. "Is that the reason why you're so afraid of us?"
I looked at him angrily. "This is not funny! Many of the other races, including my own, fear you! Even right now I am afraid as my life is in your hands! But I need to know! I need to know..."
"Well, let me ask you a question. If I hit you with the back of my gun, what would happen to you?"
"Is this relevant?" I asked.
"Just answer the question and I'll tell you what you want." He replied.
"If you hit my head, it would knock me out for a day, if I'm lucky. Any other part would paralyze me for an hour due to the pain. There, you happy now?"
"The pain...I see." He mulled it over. "You guys have extremely low pain tolerance. Getting knocked out will cause them to wake up within a few minutes to a few hours, assuming there aren't any complications. An average human can walk off a punch in the body after a few seconds."
"Immobilize? A few seconds? **YOU** were still charging at us even while being shot!" I retorted.
"Oh, you mean that? I have to admit that it was painful." He said it as a matter of fact.
"That...that was enough pain to kill me 10 times over!"
"A civilian may die of shock from that much pain, but I'm a soldier. I was conditioned to handle that much." He paused.
"And besides, the pain is just there to tell me that I'm still alive. Even now I'm still feeling it." He admitted.
"You willingly subject yourselves to pain?! You guys are insane!" I yelled, terrified at the revelation.
"Hah! As if! That's called training! You guys do train, right?"
"...Yes, we do. We are trained to dodge enemy fire using harmless lasers."
"Harmless lasers- okay you know what? The moment you get back to your people, you better tell them to start training on handling pain. Start with something small then work your way up, considering I'm here to tell you that I'm escorting you back to your people within a few days."
"I-I'm free?" I asked.
"You've been imprisoned for a while, so you didn't know, but we actually managed to get into an agreement with your government to cease the hostilities."
"I...I can't believe it. I'm going to see my family."
"Yeah. I've been a P.O.W. myself in the past so I know what you're feeling right now." He said empathetically as he unlocked my shackles.
He helped me up and said, "Come. One of the terms was that our species exchange information with each other. Is there anything you want to find out?"
I thought hard about it, then answered "I want to handle pain better."
"Huh, I kinda expected that. Alright, let's start with something small like eating something spicy."
"Eating? What does eating have to do with handling pain?" I asked.
"Oh you'll find out in a bit..." He chuckled as he led me to the base's cafeteria. | ''The suit that I’m wearing also has the same compound as well.''
They look confused. One of them asks a question through the translator, ''Can you tell us where did you find this material?''
I clear my throat, ''Let me be clear, our deal with you only includes getting you all the defensive technology, not giving away our secrets. If you really want to become allies with humans, you have to accept our initial help. Your enemy already has a big advantage over you, without our help your race will cease to exist.''
They accept the offer and they say they are glad to become allies with us.
I wait to be transported back to my ship. After a few minutes, guards take me to another room and they close the door.
Ten minutes later, someone opens the door and walks in, ''I’m here to inform you that we will be holding you here until we get the exact location of that compound.''
I send a distress signal from my suit.
''I understand your urge. But are you sure that you want another enemy instead of an ally?'' I ask.
He makes disgusting noises and what I can guess this is their way of laughing.
''You have no idea what is going on here. They weren’t our enemies. We were playing you all along. You are just a fool.''
''Alright, I might be a fool but I’m also a human. Humans don’t respond to threats very well. We have certain chemicals in our body that make us very irrational and losing doesn’t matter to us as long as the other side loses. Your kind asked me how we became so dominant in this galaxy. We fought since we were just a baby. We fought when we only had just one planet. We fought for a single solar system. Now you just made fool of yourself by taking a fight with humans.''
He stares at me without saying anything and then he leaves the room.
I think about my family and my friends I might not be seeing them again. Suddenly, I feel sleepy.
***
I wake up to disturbing dizzy feeling. I’m in a different room now. I realise that someone took a sample from my suit. They probably will try to examine it but I’m not sure they can contain it.
After a few hours, the same guy walks in, ''WHAT DID YOU DO?'' His voice gives me a headache.
''I have no idea what are you talking about. Can you please lower your voice?'' I say.
He seems angry, ''You poisoned us!''
''Oh, you are talking about the sample that you took from my suit. Well, I never told you that you should do that. It’s a very protective material it protects your vital organs against pretty much every weapon in the galaxy. But you have no idea how dangerous that material is when it’s not perfectly handled. I’m glad you are getting what you deserved.''
I take a deep breath and I see that my suit has only 5% power left. It's time to accept my fate.
------------------------------------------------
**Thank you for reading the story**
*Just FYI, I'm not a native speaker so, if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes please don't mind it.* | 2019-10-25T09:19:31 | 2019-10-25T08:30:46 | 131 | 78 |
[WP] It's been 50 years since the rich elites left to escape an alien invasion. The good news: the aliens are friendly. The bad news: nobody wants them back. | "There must be some agreement we can come to, or perhaps a compromise?" The man on the screen looked desperate
"The answer is no. Thats final. Now please, stay off this channel. This channel is for official use only."
"Wait, hold o-"
Jack didn't let the man finish before he disconnected them. It wasn't too long before they tried to contact the station again. He opened the channel again.
"Listen, uh, Jack? Right?"
"Yes, Major Jack Cawthorn of the United Nations of Earth. This is your final warning, do not contact this channel again or we will be forced to take action."
"Never mind that, I've been talking to a few of my friends, and they tell me that they're willing to give you anything you desire."
"...Go on." Jack was hesitant, but interested.
"I have very powerful friends aboard this ship, some of whom may be useful to you. You want power? There's a few politicians who could help. Money? We have some very rich businessmen aboard as well. Now if you're looking for women, or perhaps a male friend, I'm sure I could make some calls."
"Sounds tempting. But what makes you think Earth will want you back?"
"Well of course they'd want us back. After all, we are their leaders. I'm sure things have been disasterous since we've been gone."
Jack was silent. His rage was building up, but he kept a steady mind.
"You're absolutely right. With most of the resources on Earth squandered to help build your ship and to maintain it, we have been living in squalor since you've left. We do need someone to put us back on track."
"Then I assume we have an agreement?"
Jack smiled. "Of course. Docking ring U-7 will be cleared for your arrival. We look forward to your return."
The man smiled and sighed before Jack disconnected him from the channel. Almost immediately, Jack opened a channel to Station Command.
"Station Command, we have a group of pirates a few kilometers from our port side, open fire."
Jack turned towards the window where he saw the ship burst into a firey inferno. What he did was basically murder, but it would be a secret he would take to the grave. After all, as far as anyone knows, they were indeed, pirates.
edit: ARRIVAL not departure and few word changes | My father would always tell me stories of when he was a kid. Life was so different back then that it's hard to believe everything he said. The most fantastical thing he ever told me was about a group of people called "elites" and what happened when they left Earth.
Apparently these elites stood high above everyone else and looked down upon the world. They had the resources to help thousands, but horded it to themselves while many suffered. No one liked them, but they controlled the world and there was nothing anybody could do about it.
But one day, an unidentified threat was noticed approaching Earth from who knows where. My father said it was as if the world was ending. The chaos was tearing society apart and people turned to the elites in desperation. But instead of using their power and influence to address the panic and pandemonium, the elites pooled together their vast resources to devise an escape from the situation. They sucked as much lifeblood and resources from the planet as they could in order to sustain themselves and left behind a chaotic husk that was once their home.
Things hit their lowest when the gravan ships cast a shadow upon the lands. It is really hard to believe now a days, but apparently no one trusted the grava when they first arrived. My father even said my grandparents and he refused to take any food from them thinking it was poisoned. Eventually things settled down and its been nothing but peace and prosperity from then on.
However, last month our scanners picked up an unidentified vessel on its path towards earth. This would normally be no reason for alarm, in my 10 years with the GEDF (Grava-Earth Defense Force) I could not count how many well-meaning travelers just don't go through the proper channels, but this time's different. The vessel's origin has been confirmed as earth and its estimated departure date coincides with when the elites abandoned this planet 50 years ago.
Most don't want the elites to return, but an agreement has yet to be reached. So for the next 5 years until their vessel arrives, our worlds will probably be wrapped up in this political conflict. Hopefully peace will return afterwards. | 2020-08-02T08:36:10 | 2020-08-02T04:21:49 | 2,103 | 1,000 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | Terrestrial Warp Drives. First proposed by Miguel Alcubierre two hundred formlats ago, The equivalent of forcing space into a shape which closely resembles two black holes stacked fore to aft. It requires insanely large sums of energy to produce the warp effect, equivalent to at least the mass of a small moon converted to energy. To get around this, the Terrestrials use catalytic mass converter engines. A device which has been discredited by the rest of the universe for the complete and utter destructive potential should such a reactor melt down on a planet. They work by converting matter to energy with a catalyst particle. However, they also produce a certain percent of catalyst particles. When this process runs away, it has been known to destroy planets, heavily damaging entire solar systems.
Under order 4,900,232 section III, Human spacecraft are to be classified as "NOT TO BE TOUCHED UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES" on or near a planet, and "DESTROY AT ALL COSTS" in interplanetary space. This is not done as a measure against humans, but as a safety measure across the galaxy. This will be done until a treaty can be made with the terrestrial humans such that they will cease using catalytic mass converters.
Examination of a captured Terrestrial FTL Engine under the Federal Standard Gravity Model suggests that some fairly simple improvements to the Alcubierre-type drive can be made to reduce the energy requirements to what can be managed by fusion and antimatter reaction technology. They need not give up their unique drive. As dangerous as the Terrestrial Drive is, it presents no risk to those outside the vessel. | Well, you know how in the old Simpsons opening scene Bart grabs the back of the bus on his skate board?
That. We do that. We use magnetic attachments and stealth tech (cos if they saw us they'd shake us off) and we hang on till we get to where we want to go. Then we disengage and wander off like we just happened to be there... Nobody realised till a couple of months ago when someone's stealth tech malfunctioned. Poor Delfanit bastards still cop it whenever they dock: 'better check you haven't got A WHOLE FUCKING SHIP ATTACHED'
At least the Delf have a sense of humor, the Salec passed legislation last week stating any hitchers would be executed. So here we are waiting for a chance to disengage and get away from a ship that travels faster than light in a junker that has a half rod of fuel and like half its working parts.
OH! And we only have 2 cans of WD40 and 5 rolls of duct tape, so even if we do manage to pull off a miracle and escape our ship is gonna stop working anyway! But hey, we get to go down in history as the first idiots to die from this legislation so my Ma will have something to frame on the wall at home I guess.
Fuuuuuck.
| 2017-03-31T09:38:09 | 2017-03-31T06:53:53 | 42 | 18 |
[WP] A dyslexic child accidentally sends his Christmas letter to Satan. Satan is touched by this gesture and decides to write back. | Dearest Sara,
It touched my heart to receive your letter. I so rarely get post these days that I must admit I ripped it slightly in my haste to open it. However, it now sits on my mantle, repaired with a piece of tape, as one of my most prized possessions.
To the matter of your Christmas gifts, in that regard I'm a little flummoxed I'm afraid. You see I'm not even sure how you got your letter to me, as it's supposed to be impossible for physical objects to cross into or from my realm. So, I can't personally give you anything.
Don't think for a second however that means that I will fail you! On the contrary. Since I'm relying on others to give my gifts instead I'm ashamed to admit I may have gone overboard. See attached for a list to anticipate on Christmas.
Thank you so much for your letter, and I hope that you'll continue our correspondence in the future as I do enjoy a little human interaction now and again.
With my most heartfelt thanks
Cordially Yours,
Lucifer Morningstar.
H*ll - Internal Memo - Re: Sarah Bellton's Christmas
Alistair,
Please inform our earthbound employees that the following are to be delivered to the Bellton house in Cambridge, Ohio no later than 5 a.m. Christmas morning.
- A full line of Apple products. I don't care what the latest number or name is. Tell them we had a deal with Jobs and it stands
- Call whichever bank holds the house note and credit card debt. Tell them to forget it. Same with any car notes or outstanding balances.
- whatever products the Kardashians are pushing this week as long as it's appropriate for an eight year old. Tell them to autograph it.
- A two week vacation to Vegas. Include tickets to Cirque.
- Tell PETA to get her a puppy. She said she wants a brown one, so maybe a chocolate lab? I'm just guessing here.
- I want one of the pop stars to wish her a merry Christmas on Facebook. Whoever you think she'd like best, I trust your judgement.
- A Frozen the movie Recorder and book of songs. I am the devil after all.
- Tell someone to get a dose of the cancer cure out of storage and give it to her "Mee-Mee" whoever that is. Claim its a miracle or something, I don't care.
- Talk to the lawyers about her father's firing. I smell wrongful termination, and if I don't, I smell their souls burning in H*llfire.
Lastly, I think she's a little young for a Prius, or Slayer tickets but if you think they'd be appropriate go ahead and throw them in. Ooh and maybe a nice Devil's Food cake or something. Talk to Paula Dean, she always has something sinfully delicious whipped up.
Thanks,
Lu | Jameson was sitting at his desk in his bedroom when suddenly he started to smell something that smelled like a whole box of matches burning at once. At that moment he heard a crackling sound and as he turned around an awful beast materialized in the room.
"Greetings young master Jameson, I have a letter from our Dark Lord, please sign here." He does as requested "Thank you and have a good evening sir"
The boy opened the letter.
Dear Mr. Jameson,
I thank you for your letter, although I know it was meant for another eternal being, it did this old man good to read something so pure and hopeful, especially from you. I would be more than happy to fulfill your requests. On your list you have asked for an Xbox One, a new guitar, a Lamborghini and that your father will stop drinking so much so he can show you and your brothers and sister the attention you deserve.
Unfortunately, I will not be giving you the Xbox One because it is an inferior console so you will be getting a PS4, with full catalog of games.
For the guitar, I shall deliver a Dean Dimebag Darrell tribute guitar, a Slash signature series Les Paul, and an Angus Young Gibson SG, all autographed. You will also be the recipient of all knowledge needed to rip sweet sweet melodies that tickles the world's ear pussy.
If I give you the Lambo, since you are to young to drive, your alcoholic dad will crash it and die, we can talk about this later.
As far as your father goes, I am restricted by my own father to not interfere with free will Plus unbeknownst to you he is a faithful follower of mine and one of my top ranking Generals and I consider him like a brother. However, we can also talk about that in our meeting. If this sounds appeasing to you, please draw a pentagram on the floor and light a candle at each point. Chant the words "Oh ra dae sig ma louga" repeatedly until I appear. With me I will have a contract for your ever lasting soul and my own personal notary to make things legal and binding. I am looking forward to seeing this partnership come to fruition.
With regards, love, and hopes to see the nephew I never had
Good ol Uncle Lou
P.S. I have heard so much about you and helped along the way with request from your dad. I'm so excited to finally meet you.
_____________________________________
I have never tried to do a writing prompt but I liked this one. What did y'all think? | 2018-10-28T16:54:58 | 2018-10-28T14:35:23 | 28 | 12 |
[WP] Faster than light travel has just been mastered. A crew has been tasked with boarding & awakening the dozens of ships already enroute to colonising other planets across the galaxy and telling them they are redundant. | We got to the ship. After entering the airlock, I began waking up the crew and informing them of the situation.
"Can you excuse us for a while? We need to discuss this."
Two days passed. Then the days became weeks of discussion, and they didn't even let us listen. One month later, the crew left the conference room. They began culturing new plants and designing new organisms in the computer. They were frantic, and we were clueless.
"What are you doing? Won't you come with us to colonize the planet?"
"No", the captain said. "The planet is still 5000 light years from here."
"Exactly! Why won't you come with us? I don't understand...."
"We accept your invitation... partially. We have stored the blueprints for FTL travel, and the other cutting edge technologies you shared with us.
But we won't go with you."
"Why not?"
"Our mission was to terraform planets and bring life to them, like Noah's ark. We saw your report on Earth's current society. They will bring short term life there. And then kill everything with war, pollution, politics and greed in only a couple thousand years."
"Our mission hasn't changed, but our role has", he said. "We will colonize the planet and bring life to it. Only then we will uncover your ashes. Which ashes, that depends on you.
When we left Earth, we were only explorers. Pioneers. Now you have given us a much more important task. When we arrive to the planet, we shall be your judges."
We left the colonial ship and returned to our FTL starship.
"You know, John?" I said to my crewmate. "For a second, I wanted to stay on that ship."
"We won't make it, will we?"
"There might be a chance. When the time comes, we can still come back here... and tell them what went wrong."
"Suddenly", said John, "this mission just got depressing."
"Yes, but there's hope. And it travels slower than light." | "I feel like I'm in a dream I can't wake up from." I said, sitting at the table. My crewmates, Johnson and Henderson, sat across from me. We were traveling faster than any human being had travelled before.
"Dreams are what you make of them," said Johnson, looking straight passed me. I looked behind me and didn't see anything in particular that could have gained his focus.
"I don't understand," I said. An eerie silence followed. "Any idea what he means, Henderson?" Henderson just looked at me. I didn't even care that she didn't answer. She was gorgeous.
"I love you." I said. I had lost my train of thought. "Do you love me?"
"I love the mission," Henderson finally said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. She didn't love me. It was clear what I needed to do next. I had to become the miss-
"Hey, buddy," interrupted Johnson. "Your mission is over."
"Time to get up," said Henderson. No, Johnson. I might have said it. Nothing seemed real anymore. The table had faded, followed by the rest of the spaceship. We were sitting in empty space. Suddenly a bright light overtook my vision.
"Wake up, buddy," said an unfamiliar voice. My vision started returning and I could make out a person standing over me. "Are you ok? You've been in stasis for over three hundred years."
"Who are you?" I asked. "How did you get aboard this ship?"
"I'm an astronaut like you. I left Earth minutes ago to take over your mission. Need a lift?" | 2014-12-16T15:23:47 | 2014-12-16T13:10:42 | 59 | 21 |
[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. | “Absolutely incredible”, Alida said, mouth half full.
Setventedian shield technology was impenetrable, but the humans cut through it like butter.
They watched the events on repeat, scaling in on a different Earth vessel each time. Only three arrived to fight the Setventedian armada but that proved to be enough.
Alida provided Earth with FTL technology the equivalent of six Earth months prior. In that short time they built a unique drive and weapon system capable of penetrating the strongest barriers known to any species.
“How do the Earthlings do it?” They took another bite.
Micro-Jump Drives. Femtosecond Detachment Hooks. And rocks. Lots of rocks.
Jump 100 meters. Release rock mid-jump. Exit FTL. Reset vector. Repeat.
Setventedian ships fractured and spiraled so violently that the debris became more deadly to surrounding vessels than the Earth rocks.
“This is beyond anything I could have expected”, Alida mumbled. They wiped the crumbs onto the floor.
Thirty seconds. A war that darkened two suns, ravaged thirteen systems, sundered forty-two planets, and shattered billions of lives, ended in thirty seconds by a species that had barely a fingertip beyond their own planet.
True to their infamy, the Earthlings were the most frightening species ever encountered.
“I just can’t believe it”, they said, leaning back in their chair.
And then the ships disappeared. Back to Earth no doubt. They spent an hour in the wreckage, gathering who knows what, and vanished into the infinite.
Peace was now upon Alida and her people. Setventa surrendered shortly after the massacre, completely and unconditionally.
Alida’s screen changed to a view of the capital city where a cheering mass had gathered. They watched, happy for the first time in a while. They sat up, took in one hand a piece of bread, in the other a knife, and scooped up some of the delicious, yellow spread gifted to them by Earth.
“I just can’t believe this is not butter.” | 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. | 2022-03-31T06:20:25 | 2022-03-31T04:23:06 | 277 | 165 |
[WP] "So they are a war species then, huh." The alien scratched his head: "Why are you interested in them. The humans, i mean." The other alien got closer. "They fight for peace. No war species ever fights for peace." | There are many among us who wonder *why* we allow Warrior Species to live. Whenever we discover one of them, there will inevitably be a movement pushing for their extermination before they reach the stars. I do not need to explain why, we all remember the horrors of the Zandrian Fleet sweeping across the Alliance Systems. More often than not, when a Warrior Species reaches the Stars they will seek new conflicts. This inevitably leads to Interstellar Wars, which also inevitably end with the aggressor's entire civilization dismantled and relegated back to their Home System.
There are many who believe that we should not give Warrior Species a chance to rise up. There are many who see the horrors of these wars, and believe that we should act preemptively. These voices scream in unison, "Kill the beast in its crib, so that it may not devour us all." To these cries... I give a single counterpoint: The Humans.
The Humans are one of the Elder Species, who moved among the Stars while most of us were still painting pictures on cave walls. Their Civilization spread through their Local Cluster with incredible speed. They expanded out with unprecedented speed, their available resources increasing exponentially with the passage of time. They came to dominate their own cluster, and all eight neighboring clusters, before internal conflict caused this rapid expansion to slow... as resources turned towards armed conflict among themselves.
The Human Civil War was the result of one of Humanity's quirks: They were not, and still are not, a unified species. There are *five* Human Nations in Space. Although they are closely allied in the present day, they once warred with each-other over valuable resources and colonies. The Humans arguably invented Interstellar War, developing many of the tactics still used today in their conflicts among themselves.
However... one will notice that we do not often acknowledge the fact that Humans *are* a highly competitive Warrior Species. This is because the Humans hate **nothing** as much as they hate War. All five Human Nations *despise* war with a passion that is difficult to describe. They do not want to go to war, they do not enjoy fighting wars, and they want their wars over with as quickly as possible with as little bloodshed as possible. Thus... they are the only known species to use Terror Weapons.
Humanity has not gone to war in living memory because of one simple truth, which most sapient creatures do not care to remember: Humanity is the most **brutal** species in the Galaxy. When they go to War, they do not play by any rules. They bring City-Buster and Planet-Buster class weapons to the table. They unleash chemical and biological weapons upon their enemies. They do not merely kill, they bring suffering and agony well beyond what most sapient creatures can conceive of.
Yet... it's hard to reconcile that with what the Humans do today. The Humans are known best for their Terraforming and Uplifting projects. They turn the majority of their resources towards seeding life on lifeless worlds, and elevating promising species to sapience so that they could bring them to the stars. They are renowned for their humanitarian efforts, as their fleets are always among the first to respond in the event of a disaster... or an impending disaster. Countless worlds have been saved from extinction-level events by a Human Fleet settling into orbit, stabilizing a declining climate, silencing super-volcanos, and towing asteroids into a stable orbit for mining.
Perhaps more importantly, the Humans do not tolerate aggression in or towards their neighbors. When War comes to their neighbors... the Humans arrive to end it. The mere presence and threat of Humanity arriving to end a war is often enough to prevent it from starting.
The Humans are the reason that we tolerate Warrior Species. Because, somehow, a Warrior Species became one of the most beloved species in the Galaxy. | "Then they are a delusional war species," Ishok sighed. He stood from his chair and brushed his hands across his face. Looking out over the holodeck at the footage the spies had collected, he turned to face his brother "but a war species none the less."
"I'm telling you brother, there's something different about these ones," Anarag leaned forward and set his elbows on his knees. He was careful to avoid the spikes protruding from his armour. "I disagree with the council's decision."
"You disagree!" Ishok's laughter filled the room, "Oh little brother, you still have so much to learn. They have done such horrendous things to each other. The footage would make you ill."
As he spoke the holodeck flashed to stock video collected from the planet's museums, the documentation of war atrocities. Starved, mutilated bodies piled high and burned, smoke reaching into the sky, entire forests burned to make way for some development, magestic intelligent animals in chains. The screams of pain filled the room. Anarag turned away.
"I've watched the footage," Anarag protested, "and yes, it is horrendous. But there is greatness there too. So much promise will be extinguished by the council's decision."
The footage shifted again. Martin Luther's dream, a firefighter pulling a child from a burning building, flashes of teamwork and heroism and kindness.
Ishok glanced at his brother. Barely more than a boy, Anarag always had been an optimist. His brother was upset, he clearly enjoyed these humans, had spent too much time with the uplifting images and not enough time in reality.
"So who would judge them?" Ishok countered, "You? By what measure would you decide who is good and who is bad. Who lives and who dies. None of them are pure good or pure bad. The firefighter who saves a kitten then goes home and beats his wife, the Nazi who's also a good mother. What is the threshold for goodness?"
Anarag shook his head and refused to meet his brother's gaze. Instead he turned back to the footage.
"I disagree with the council's decision." He muttered stubbornly.
"The council has never been wrong little one." His brother stood and turned to get himself a drink, "They have seen darkness coming, so they must act. You would be wise to detach yourself from this assignment."
But Anarag wasn't listening. Something in the footage had caught his eye. He scrolled to another video and his lips moved soundlessly. His eyes darting around the deck.
"That girl." He said, pointing to a small child in the crowd of Martin Luther's speech, "I've seen that girl before."
"What are you on about," Ishok set down his drink, "It's just a child, all these humans look the same."
"Not just a child," Anarag stood with effort, his gimp leg struggling to bear his weight. The video flashed to a shot of the Arab Spring, there was the child again, bloody and wounded "An Impossibility."
The video flashed again, this time to earthquake in Haiti, a child pulled from the wreckage. The same child? Ishok shook his head, his brother was losing it.
"That's not the same child, brother." Ishok said, "There are no Impossibilities on this planet. It's time to let it go."
"It's the same child." Anarag moved with effort to stand eye to eye with his brother. "The council has never been wrong, but neither have I." | 2018-03-17T06:35:22 | 2018-03-17T05:22:05 | 109 | 13 |
[WP] Your house is haunted, but not by humans. It was built on a veterinarian's office that burned down over a decade ago. The souls of the animals still remain, but not as vengeful spirits. They behave more or less the same as normal pets, except they can also float and walk through walls. | “Are you comfortable with dogs?” “Are you good with all pets?” “Are your cats friendly with other animals?” The realtor kept peppering these questions throughout the house searching and buying process. Once or twice I asked about it. The only answer I got was something vague about it being that type of neighborhood, then the subject quickly changed.
The first few nights in the new home, my two cats made more than the usually amount of rustling in the night, but that’s to be expected in a new environment. They decided they don’t like spending as much time on the first floor, even during the daytime, but I don’t blame them since there’s a wonderful bay window on the second floor that I wouldn’t mind spending the day in. They still make a good bit of noise rummaging around, the curious furballs.
“So you’re the one who bought the haunted house!” “How are all the ghost pets treating you?” It was all the new neighbors could talk about when I finally met them. Apparently this spot used to have a veterinarian hospital.
“Well when I find a ghost ball, I’ll have fun playing fetch with them!” I joked. What funny stories!
Of course that night I imagined I heard a dog whining in my bedroom. That’s the power of suggestion! I sighed and rolled over.
(My first prompt response!) | (I wrote this with an OC rather than myself.)
Overtaken buildings surrounded the area, leaving no breathing humans in sight besides the ones who ran from something. The only house that in which remained; was built on top of a old building. A cabin; persay.
Only one person lived inside it; however. One that used to be of great importance. At least in the crime world, that is. The woman, a magic dweller; one who saw ghosts. One who accepted them, and could turn them against others. However these ghosts were different.
Animals; all sorts of them. Cows to chickens to cats; all of them dwelled in the house. Walking anywhere they want with ease, never needing anything besides someone to guide them.
The crime lord never partook in any practises using them; instead using the other ghosts around them. However, the animals would follow wherever she went, as if waiting for the day she passed.
Though; she was sure that day would never come, since she is the grim reaper who lives under the sun. | 2020-07-30T16:54:05 | 2020-07-30T16:08:46 | 54 | 12 |
[WP] College graduation is over, and your parents present you with an itemized bill for raising you - several hundred thousand dollars. They want to work out a payment plan. | "Mom! Dad! I have great news!" Charles shouted as he ran into the house. His excitement faded as he saw his parents sitting intently at the dining room table.
"What's going on? Is everything OK?" Charles sat down across from his parents.
"Charles, we have something for you." His father said. "You're not going to like it, but you're an adult now and we feel it's time you were given it."
"Given what?"
"This." Charles' father reached under the table and brought up a manilla folder containing several pieces of paper. He laid it down on the table in front of his son. It was labeled, "Raising Charles."
"What the heck?" Charles opened the folder and started skimming through the papers.
> Crib - $800
>
> Diapers - x4812 @$.34 - $1636.08
...
> Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Action Figures:
>
> - Michelangelo - $15
> - Donatello - $15
> - Leonardo - $15
> - Raphael - $15
...
> College:
>
> - Tuition - x4 @$24,845 - $99,380
> - Books - x8 @$400 - $3,200
> - Board - x4 @$10,000 - $40,000
...
> Total: $435,915.12
"This is a joke, right?" Charles said when he got to the last page.
"No, Charles," his mother said, breaking her silence. "We feel this is only fair to us. All of these items were yours, you should be the one to pay them."
"Don't worry," his father started. "We're not expecting you to pay it all at once. We have a few ideas for a payment plan."
Charles looked at both of his parents and back down at his lifetime bill.
"Are you even curious about my good news?" Charles asked. Waiting for a response, he only met silence. "Well, remember that app I designed for my final project? Google bought it. *Twenty-five million dollars.*
Charles' parent looked at each other in shock.
"I'm a millionaire now, Mom and Dad. One of the first things I thought to do was buy my supportive parents a brand new home."
Charles stood up, went to his room, and returned with a checkbook. After filling it out, he tore the check from the book and laid it in front of his parents. They looked down and saw the amount, $435,915.12.
"I don't need a payment plan. I can pay this outright." As his father reached for the check, Charles picked it up again. He tore it up and left the room. | “You have to be shitting me guys?” Jacks bemused look was enough of a catalyst for his parents to issue a sterner warning.
“No son, we’re not”. Jacks father was a military man, and joking to him didn’t come easy. “Also, watch your mouth.” His Dad looked down from his spectacles, a look I imagine he gave to many a new trainee marine to intimidate without raising his voice. “Listen – we didn’t have it easy when we raised you. I was stationed all over the world and worked doggedly to provide the best upbringing for you I possibly could. We put every single penny we ever had spare into raising you to be the bright, articulate and thoughtful young man you are today. However Jack, all of these admirable character traits don’t pay the bills.”
Jacks mum sat in silence, nodding in agreement and ruffling a brow every few words just to ensure that Jack knew this was no joke.
“I want to retire now and enjoy the last few healthy years of my life, and your mother and I find it only suitable you help to repay the money we spent on bringing you up. You turned out great son, you really did, we know you won’t mind helping us out a bit now.”
“…but….this bill is for nearly 300 grand?..... I don’t have that kind of money!!!”. Jacks panic was setting in as he skim read the contract his parents had drawn up for him. Every part of the last 23 years itemised so that he knew he wasn’t being duped by them.
“Children are expensive Jack, why do you think we sold your sister?”
Jacks eyes skim read until the last paragraph.
“So, I have to start paying as soon as I earn over minimum wage?” Jack laughed nervously.
“That’s correct!” Jacks mum chimed in! “50% of your wages to start as soon as you hit minimum wage, and then an extra 10% for every 5k earned extra a year, until the debt is paid”
Jack looked up from the contract, his parents beaming brightly. “Mum........….Dad..........….remind me what I just spent the last 5 years studying?”
His parents looked at each other, until it finally dawned on them. “You…..you have been studying conceptual art, haven’t you?”…
Jack smiled as he quickly signed below where his parents had, and slid the contract back over to them. “Exactly!”
Jacks Dad looked at his wife as the realisation set in.
“Well honey – we’re fucked”.
| 2014-09-09T10:06:56 | 2014-09-09T07:51:26 | 47 | 31 |
[WP] You have died. You walk up a huge spiral staircase and it takes you a thousand years to reach the top. You’re exhausted, but to your surprise you are greeted with the pearly gates, except they’re completely rusted over. A sign reads “Welcome to Heaven, Population: 1” | I kept my eyes fixed on the sign, reading and rereading it. It was only when I heard the sound of a pen scribbling across a page that I broke my gaze.
A woman of middle age was seated at a table in front of the gate.
"Welcome to Heaven, Andrew" She said.
"Uhh.. Hi. Thank you." He said.
"Are you ready to enter?" She asked, with a warm smile.
"Yes, but...." I paused, and squinted as I tried to draw the words from my mind.
"I was hoping I'd be able to see my grandfather and all my deceased friends when I got here. I was even hoping for my dog, Shamus, to be up here too." I said.
"Well, heaven isn't really like that." She said, with a concerned look. "I apologize"
"It is an eternal paradise, correct? How can it be paradise without my loved ones?" I asked.
"Well, love is the meaning of life on earth. Experiencing love is what you're meant to do before you get here. Heaven is about bliss." She said.
"Bliss? What the fu... where does it say that in the bible?" I asked sharply.
"Well, god didn't write any of the *holy* books. He sort of, sets you up with a minimal sense of right and wrong. From there you are meant to be good to others and experience love simply because it feels good." She responded again.
"What? Well if it feels good to love others and to be good to others why not do it in heaven?"
"Well" She said with a calm smile. "Heaven is forever, Andrew. That's why we let people spend it on their own."
"I don't know if I can handle that." I said, the words were out before I had registered them myself.
"Sure you can. Behind here" She said as she motioned to the pearly gates behind her. "every materialistic pleasure is there for you."
"But I want to see my family again." I said.
"No, that would be bad. An eternity with your family. You couldn't even stand the last Thanksgiving with your father around. What is that holiday all about by the way?"
"So I won't see anybody." I said, I could feel sadness wash over my face.
"Its hard at first. But it is for the best. If we let people have free will in there, we'd have a mess in no time. No matter how much you love someone you'll butt heads eventually and chaos will erupt. Eternity in there can really change you"
"What about my wife. She won't be able to see me after all." I said.
"No Andrew, I'm sorry." She said softly, as she flipped through the pages of her book. "Your last words were: 'Can you please just fuck off, I already took out the trash.' I'm sorry that is your last memory of her "
"I don't want to go in just yet. Is there anyway I can wait outside before I enter? Can you let her know I'm there when she comes."
"I can certainly do that. Follow the perimeter of the gate and we have a waiting area. But you could be waiting there for decades Andrew. She needs to climb up the steps herself" She said.
"Decades is fine." I said, and made my way to the waiting area. My feet were no longer sore from the climb up. My back and neck were much better too. Once you were up the stares all you could see was a forest of lush green trees surrounding the gates. I couldn't see past the gates themselves, the had a sheet of glowing white cloud behind the.
I finally made my way to a clearing, which from what I could tell was behind heaven. I could see a shaggy dog with its tail wagging. A lawn chair was already set up behind him with a beer in the cup holder. | I stood in a vast plain, full, crowded, milling with people as far as the eye could see. An intense pain in my heart and chest was dissipating as if a recent memory I didn’t wish to retain.
A fight broke out near me, but seemed to go nowhere. Neither party could land a blow of substance, seeming to brush them only with the gentlest of touches regardless of the fury of the swing.
There I wandered for what seemed to be years, neither thirsty nor hungry.
Eventually a random conversation talked of “the step”. A place of change, something different then the endless plane upon which we stood. A man indicated a direction with vague waving and I took bearings based on crowds of people sleeping and other stationary markers.
I’d worked a menial office job. Endless cycles of day, work, night, sleep that seemed to fit this monotonous realm well. I had however devoured novels when I had the chance and remembered odd trivia such as a tale of an old man navigating in snow. I followed his example and took what careful bearings I had and journeyed in the direction I had been shown.
The crowd thinned and soon became sparse groups of people. The odd person lay slumbering, perhaps for years, but served as a navigational reference point.
Eventually I saw it on the horizon, a literal step. It took a full 3 hours to approach it from my first sighting, a wall two metres high and stretching left to right as far as the eye could see.
I leapt and failed. I could not jump that high. But I was curious and apparently immortal, so I devoted the next period of time to star jumps, push ups and other forms of exercise. Soon, later, a long time later, I leapt and easily pulled myself up the wall onto another plane above the step.
Before me lay an idyllic forest, somehow invisible from the plane below. The previous plane now not visible, but the step down was, in a way that made mockery of what I’d thought of physics.
I spent a long time on that plane. I built a house on a lake. I fished. I met the odd traveller and conversed with them.
Eventually I grew complacent and continued my way forwards, upwards? The next step and plane was another wonderful realm of beaches and oceans.
Many planes later I met another traveller, who was my perfect companion and we journeyed together and became lovers and friends and confidants and other wonderful things for another endless period of time.
But I pushed on eventually and they did not.
Many, many endless steps later I reached a plane that seemed disused and old, older then anything had a right to be. A man, or at least it looked like a man, greeted me with a warm smile that was welcoming, filled with care and just ever so slightly sad.
“Welcome, we have always watched you and loved you and we welcome you into our home/us” it spoke. Though speaking was not a true description. Its voice was at once all of creation and the power of a storm and the love of a caring mother.
“When you are ready, cease your travel and become part of us that is all”
The voice was welcoming and true and earnest. I knew it offered nothing but the sincerest of meanings.
I smiled gratefully and thanked the figure for its love and welcome but turned and climbed back down the last step, perhaps to fish some more at my lake, or find my lover and tell them of this place.
The figure waited perhaps a small moment before quietly announcing to no one, with the sincerest and most pure of voices “Be happy my child in your travels, I will always be waiting for you when you grow tired of Heaven” | 2020-06-17T03:27:50 | 2020-06-17T02:46:10 | 402 | 179 |
[WP] "Why do you think we have a chance against the human race? They purge every galactic nation in their path!" The alien took a deep breath. "We are cute to them." "What?" | "This world is full of Xenos, Inquisitor, the only option can be a complete extermination of this filth.
"Well...hold on now," Inquisitor McConnell said nervously, a bead of sweat trailing down his nose. "They...look sort of human. They must be abhumans."
The adjutant shook his head. "No sir, the data I've received from our scouts confirms it. This is nothing but an example of convergent evolution, a pale imitation of the perfect human form."
"Much has been lost..." the Inquisitor offered weakly. "I mean, look at them."
He made a gesture and a still hologram of a beautiful young woman appeared in the air between the two men. Full lips, long flowing hair, half-lidded eyes and a body that would set a thousand ships upon the stars - only two problems. The fluffy ears upon her head, and a long feline tail.
"Yes," the adjutant growled. "This must be a trick to test our faith. But the data confirms; they are not abhuman. They are not, in fact, human at all."
Inquisitor Carlos McConnell sighed as he set heavily in his chair. "Commandant Richter's scouts? They're certain?"
"Completely, sir," the adjutant nodded. "We have a full fossil record. I came to you the second I was sure."
"The second...?" the Inquisitor mumbled, as if mulling something over. "I see. Well. No help for it. Order the exterminatus."
"Yes sir!" the adjutant said grinning, saluting and turning an about face. He made it three steps before the las-pistol tore his skull out.
"Terrible thing about all that heresy in the scout corps," the Inquisitor mumbled, pressing a switch under his desk to reveal a hidden compartment. With fumbling fingers he pulled a worn tome, an ancient family relic. The images on the front were faded by time, but it only left more to the imagination.
He stroked his fingers along the ancient surface, carrying the book with him as he walked to the viewscreen to loom over the verdant world below. "I'll give you my name," he mumbled. "As good a name as any. Carlos McConnell."
He held up the title and read the words to himself slowly and solemnly, in the ancient tongue of his ancestors. "Super Kawaii Sexy Catgirl Funtime."
The Emperor would understand, he thought.
The Emperor would understand. | Grand Chancellor Percy stepped around the podium body now visible to the Council. Percy clicked the button of the device he held switching the monitor to a 3D image of a human holding one of their infamous light cannons.
"The Humans have few weaknesses, they are marginally worse than the Disepatoids we dealt with eons ago." Percy said, dropping down to all four paws encircling the 3-D image of The human man on a loop of a dive into a roll then him resting on one knee and shooting.
"But one of their weaknesses can be used to our advantage." Percy swatted at the button that now lay on the ground. the image switched to a human child holding a tiny version of a Kitunite, the race Percy and every other being on Meowmith6 is.
"Our Intel has revealed they, until recently- had a semi-domesticated quadruped with features and fur patterns similar to our own. These creatures never gained a full sense of sentience and did not adapt well to the terraformed planets outside of their home system." Percy stood back up on to two legs and extended both hands to the Kitunite council members.
"What I plan on suggesting will not only be risky but it will mean destroying almost every monument and building on this planet, we will need the Humans to underestimate our capabilities and we will nee-" A council member stands up and interrupts Percy.
"How long do we have?" The old Kitunite said. Ornately dressed covered in long strands of yarn and tangled material. The dress of the highest ranking religious leader. Percy picks up the remote and presses it several times.
"We only have 12 years until they will be able to scan the surface and get a full battle plan against us together." Percy says, the 3D image showing a scenario of the planet being surrounded.
"We will need to act dumb and we will need to let them think they have dominated us with ease- with no fight at all."
"Then what High Chancellor Percy?" a new voice said from the audience. Percy could just make out the figure of a tall build in a military uniform.
"Then we slit their throats while they sleep." Percy said exposing his fangs in a white hot anger. crushing the remote he held as he said it.
| 2017-12-19T07:42:03 | 2017-12-19T07:24:56 | 176 | 44 |
[WP] The demon couldn't believe his luck to find such a willing victim to possess. As it possessed them, instead of fighting back like they usually do, this one said "Good luck. You'll need it."
EDIT: Thanks for the awards guys! I've been on this site for 7 years and this is the first time I've received any. | Xullufiti couldn't believe this luck, finally, an escape from the clutches of Hell! Not a crack, not a nightmare, but a veritable door from one reality to the next. A vessel! A passage between worlds!
He cackled loudly as he swarmed into the human body, their soul swapped away almost effortlessly in the exchange. But as they passed each through the membrane of souls, the sagging, defeated human only gazed on in abject disconnection.
"Yeah, good luck with that. You'll need it."
Xullufiti squinted at this remark, and all too suddenly the transition was complete.
"At LAAAAST!" Xullufiti screamed into the air, the flesh of his skin hot and steaming into the night sky.
He swiftly gathered himself, pawing himself down to be sure it was real, ALL real. He could barely contain his giggling, there on the street corner. This world would, at last, be-
"FINALLY!!!" Screamed some woman, two blocks up.
"FREEEEE!" Screamed some fat guy by his window two stories up.
The chorus of thousands soon joined, a mass of souls exchanged congregating into a churning, steady roar of evil enthusiasm as the humans. A very angry german voice, sure enough probably Hitler, crowing out of a little boy. A possessed Nun that could only be Vlad was already impaling people with stop signs. Somewhere down the block, a little old lady fired up a chainsaw, already decked out in full clown garb, soaked in blood.
Xullufiti's arms lowered. His grin faded. He swallowed heavily, pinching his brow.
"God dammit. Trying to get *away* from these assholes."
&#x200B;
Meanwhile, in Hell, Burt pinched his brows. The complete absence of demons was nice for a minute, but then the HOA went ahead filled the power vacuum in a matter of hours.
"God dammit. Trying to get *away* from these assholes." | Upon the tranference of his being into the young man's body, Baleron the demon, found himself posessed by a strong sense of ennui. Whisps of long ago experienced manuscripts, moving images and waves of musical poetry flooded his hellish mind.
Great, he thought. Some artist again. They were so dramatic. Did they not understand that this emptiness inside of them reflected only the briefest moment of hell's eternity. That in time the pain of knowing that after having experienced something they loved and never being able to experience it the same way again, would pass? That human existence was full of wonders, great and small which could fill a lifetime, nay a billion billion lifetimes?
He devoured the man's old emotions as well as the new, savouring the still living connections they represented. And with every precious moment gone the demon felt more and more sated. Within him this wealth of pain and sadness found a new home and against his will his newly aquired hands began to move.
His eyes opened and as his hands grasped ink and feather he read the message left to him on a polished plate of copper. There it was written in hastily made scratches, surrounding the bloody symbol which had summoned him.
My curse is yours and I am sorry.
Tears welled up in his oh so human eyes and from a myriad of experiences, one after another pouncing on his struggling mind, he wrote.
And when he finally collapsed, ink well dry and fingers bleeding, he mustered his last strength. Blood running down the worn bone of his fingers he began to draw the symbol of his hellish brother.
The accompanying sentiment remained unchanged.
My curse is yours and I am sorry. | 2020-12-21T12:52:15 | 2020-12-21T12:47:17 | 141 | 68 |
[WP] You're living in a world where superpowers exist, and you're the most dangerous individual of all. Your power? You project an aura where all the laws of reality/normality assert themselves. You are the anti-super | “Do you remember the first day we met?”
It’s dinnertime in the Century City and I feel like a roast trussed for the meal. I am not a man who wears suits well. Even more so, I am not a man accustomed to candlelit dinners in exclusive restaurants, rented out for the night just for me and my date.
By contrast, she wears the night like a favorite shoe. She wears a short black dress and tall heels, and if she walked away the table even to cross the dining room all her tattoos would’ve begun to glow with her power. Splotches of vibrant color lighting up along both legs, at her shoulder, at her stomach where a prismatic heart peaks through the laces of her dress. The way she looks makes suit feel even tighter.
She doesn’t seem to notice any of that. If I wasn’t the man I was, I’d have thought that might be her superpower.
“Of course,” I say, and she smiles at me. “How could I ever forget almost killing the Painted Witch?”
“First of all, you know I hate that name,” she says, ticking the numbers off on her fingers. “Second of all, you didn’t ‘almost kill me.’ It was just a broken leg, and your arms took far longer to heal anyway. And third—”
I cut in. “And third, it was TWO broken legs and your favorite broom. And then that idiot columnist posted the candids of you falling through the air with a censorship bar that somehow made it look way more scandalous than it was!”
“That would be four things,” she says, mildly, “and none of them were what I was going to say. Third of all, how often does a girl get to be dropped by fate into her man’s arms anyway? It’s the ultimate meet cute.”
I sigh, still uncomfortable but growing less so with every second. “Usually those involve less blood.”
“Then those are usually boring.”
She flashes me a victorious smile as the first course arrives and suddenly I can’t help myself, I’m laughing too hard to keep up the fight.
I’m sitting across from the darling of the city’s tabloids poured into a suit that she swears fits me but I swear would fit a man half my size, and a bespectacled waiter with a French accent has just laid a pizza down in front of me. It sits there on the white tablecloth, the kind of greasy, late night pie only made to sop up beer and fuel regrets, and a blind man could have told you it wasn’t made here.
“Costanza’s?” I say, still laughing. “You rented out Le Provencal and you ordered Costanza’s?”
“It was our first date!” she says, “and besides, you went to all the trouble with the suit, I thought I’d throw you a bone.”
Costanza’s pizza is so bad it’s amazing. Light from the chandelier reflects through our crystal wine goblets, catching in the greasy cheese. The pepperoni is so thick and irregular that it might have been sliced by the slice blind man I’d thought of earlier, and the crust? Whenever you order a crust at Costanza’s you get the thick crust, preferences be damned.
In short, I love it. From the first bite I feel more at home than I’d ever thought possible when we pulled up to this place.
“I think the Maître D’ might have an aneurysm,” she says when she went back for her second slice. I was already well into my third.
The man stood in the corner, his ramrod straight politeness trying and failing to disguise horror. I looked down, realizing how much grease I was getting on the tablecloth. “Tell you what,” I say, “if he does I’d run for the exit. I think I can make it to the parking lot in about ten seconds.”
“That might be enough time to save him,” she said.
“And then he’ll get sell another Painted Witch story to the tabloids!”
“Honey,” she deadpanned, “I swear to god if you call me that one more time on our anniversary I’m going to crack your anti-super powers and turn you into a frog. Do you understand me?”
“Yes dear,” I say.
“My name please.”
“Erin.”
And we continue on.
There’s an incredible joy in breaking the rules. Before I’d met her, Erin, the Painted Witch, the girl who broke both my arms as a meet cute, I’d never known that fact. I’d been as boring as boring came, perhaps a foreshadowing of the powers I would one day manifest.
Now I’m still boring, but I’m sensationally boring. I’m a man so boring that the simple gravity of my presence shuts off super powers all around me. I’m a man so boring that when I go to *Le Provencal* I want a trashy late night pizza. I’m a man so boring that when a girl who could reshape reality at a word wanted a safe, quiet night off she remembered me.
Now two years later here we are over the same pizza, bones mended, souls healed. I can get sappy just thinking about it.
“Thanks for tonight,” I say when we finish off the last of the pizza.
She smiles, her lips a greasy mess that the napkin smudges more than solves. “Thanks for the past two years,” she says. “Before I met you, I never thought how nice it could be to just be normal!”
“Oh, is this normal?” I gesture around to the empty restaurant, the almost apoplectic Maître D’.
“Hey! You’ve got to let me have some magic!”
And I laugh again, because I do. “So, is there dessert?” I ask.
“You’re goddamn right there’s dessert.” She clinks her unused fork against her glass. After a moment a pair of waiters bearing covered trays leave the backroom. They set them down in front of us, removing the lids at a nod.
Ice cream sandwiches sit on top of gold filigreed trays. They couldn’t have cost more than a dollar each.
“My compliments to the chef,” I say. Then I tuck my napkin into my collar, pick up my knife and fork, and try to have manners for the first time that night.
The Maître D’ collapses to the floor, his head making a sick cracking noise as it bounces. “Shit, catch you at home!” I shout as I spring up from the table, ice cream sandwich in hand.
I’m to the doors in five seconds, and when I look back Erin is already beside him, her tattoos glowing, the hum and petrichor freshness of green magic in the air.
“See you at home,” I whisper again, and I’m gone.
I make it to the parking lot in ten seconds. Then I pull the rough broomstick I’d made her out of the trunk, lean it against the door, and head for home.
r/TurningtoWords | I spin the wheel of my steel and whatever vehicle. It’s a giant thing, can say for sure it’s made out of steel, but also a bunch of random crap as well. Stuff that didn’t exist on the periodic table before the Super Revolution. The government supplied it to me, so why should I know what it’s made out of? I quickly end my inner monologue about my tank, realizing that I have arrived at my job, I park between the bright yellow lines, making my vehicle screech to halt. It’s got some nice braking for such a big fella. Somebody comes up to me, asking for identification. I ignore that person, I’m the boss here, nobody should need to identify me at this point. Couldn’t care less about their safety, I’m am the walking embodiment of safety. Grumbling I walk through the sliding steel doors. I’m greeted by my assistants, Pam and Derek.
“Sir, it is not advisable for you to be walking without a protection Super near you, the risk of guns is simply too high,” Pam drones.
“I concur, Supers are not a threat, but guns are certainly a danger,” Derek mentions dryly.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever just get me to my office.”
They lead me to the back of the blindingly white room we’re in. Is there much of purpose to the giant room? Not really, but it was built just in case someone with a power that makes them giant comes in here. But it is a giant waste of my time, having takes way to long walking across the room. Halting my train of thought, I realize I am having them lead me. I storm in front of them, making them jump. I ain’t gonna have my assistants lead me, there my assistants for a reason. Soon I arrive at my office. The office door automatically opens for me, leading me to my familiar office. The one place in the building built entirely for me, that I could actually customize to my content. Naturally, scattered around the walls is some fishing memorabilia, some sports stuff, and personal stuff. I take a seat in my leather chair, practically melting into the seat. Rest, my favorite part of work.
“Go fetch me my first candidate,” I tell my assistants.
“Right away sir,” they reply, synchronization making me uncomfortable.
Making myself comfortable, I pull out my tablet out of my bag. Rubbing my hands excitedly, I turn it on. My favorite part of work, I mean it’s not really a proper job… it’s practically forced labor, freaking United Americas Federation. I pull up the video sent to me by someone less important than me. It shows me the video of subject getting captured. It’s a woman of short stature, her power is a passive. A power that is always active, seems to continually turn into spikes. And these aren’t your run of the mill spikes, they are quite big, a solid 3 feet in length. And there are maybe 15-20 at time. She was just standing around, in some sort of pain. Her neck is quite big, probably from dealing with an abnormal amount of hair. And… she fell over, it looks like she can’t even get up. So finally at this point of the tape emergency services come, and cover her head with a large helmet. Guess the hair spikes aren’t that sharp. So she’ll be here any minute.
I take a quick glance to her profile. I see that her condition has worsened this past year. Reaching the breaking point a little before the video was filmed.
I laze around for a little while, but soon I hear the familiar burst of noise that comes with many people.
I hear someone saying ”we have the patient with us.”
I sigh, and stand up. The woman on the stretcher with the oddly comedic helmet appears in front of me. Once she is set down, her helmet is taken off. Her hair is no longer turning into spikes.
“Ok she’s good,” I groan and say, “I am contractually obligated to you everyone in my vicinity how my power works. My aura sticks around someone for 2 years, 4 months, and 7 days. Through I can disable the whole sticking around part by my own will, so paramedics, you’re good. And the other lady is also good. Now please go, really don’t care much ‘bout that lady. I like my peace and quiet.
The paramedics leave, carrying a likely happy person. I hate monologuing, but I have to do every flippin time.
The days becomes a blur, like always, and all of sudden it’s an hour till I’m done. Suddenly flashing alarms go off.
An automated voice goes, “Intruder Alert.”
Honestly, something interesting happening, I’m not complaining. The automated systems will contain the intruder anyway.
Derek rushes to my side, “Please go to the safe room sir.”
“Ehhh… I’m good, this crap happened five million times.”
Nice thing about being essentially, is that people can’t force you to do that many things. So despite Derek’s incessant protests, I just take a nice seat. Watching some fun old archives of people with weird powers. Some people with shrinking heads, and some other weird stuff. Always enjoyable, but I see out the corner of my eye a head coming out of the wall, slowly turning into a full male body. Wait what, how… how… is their power not getting neutralized. Panic creeping over me, I step back.
I mumble,” how are you still using your power.”
The guy replies, “I have too many powers, please neutralize them, I beg you.”
I notice a Russian accent, and say, “ but… you’re power is not being neutralized right now, what do you want me to do?!”
Suddenly, I’m in the other persons body. And everything explodes in pain, My brain is screeching, ankles exploding, and just everything hurts. My eyes begin to pop out, hair growing, feet shirking. I feel tendons, muscles, all snapping. Every inch of my body is on fire, every nerve exploding. Soon I start to wonder how long the pain will last.
And then I’m back in my own body.
“Now that you have had taste of my pain, fix me,” the man tells me.
I focus the aura around me, it feels like water. I concentrate it all around the mans body. I hold it for what feels like eons. My body strains, my mind struggles to hold focus, but finally he breaks the silence.
He says, “stop, I am cured, thank you. I am free of my curse, at least for a little while.” He collapses on the ground. I take a deep breath and compose myself. I stand up, and am hit with a bout of curiosity. Taking a closer at his face, I confirm that he is of the Russian Federation. No wonder he had to sneak in here. I’ll have to find some way to sneak him out here. After my experience, I’ve realized something. Maybe, just maybe, my job is a good thing.
r/CascadeCorner | 2021-06-24T19:34:22 | 2021-06-24T18:29:49 | 179 | 33 |
[WP] You wake up one Monday morning and you have 14 notifications in regards to global news. You go to the kitchen and turn on the TV and find out everyone’s kill count is now visible above their head. Your mom comes down asking what going on. You turn to her. She has a two floating above her... | The sound of my phone pinging constantly was what woke me up. I rolled over and grabbed the offending device, intent on telling my friends to shut up, it was *way* too early for this.
To my surprise, it wasn't the group chat that was exploding, it was the numerous news apps that I'd installed. All of the alerts bore nearly the same headline.
"**Kill Count Visible! Floating numbers above head baffle scientists...**"
I made a face of pure bewilderment and rolled out of bed, making my way to the bathroom mirror. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the fluorescent lighting, but once they did, I could make out a round number floating above my head. 0, just as I thought.
"That's... convenient," I said aloud, still rather puzzled. "Sucks to be a serial killer now, huh." Well, it would probably suck to be a serial killer in *general,* but this probably made it a few times worse. Easier to catch, and all that. I half-smiled at myself in the mirror, content with my discovery, and headed downstairs.
Mom was bustling around the kitchen almost frantically, which wasn't much of a surprise— that woman was always in a rush. I hummed to myself, sitting down at the kitchen table to properly scroll through the alerts on my phone, skimming through the repetitive articles. Honestly, it seemed like such a mundane morning I didn't even notice at first.
"Morning," said my mom, unease creeping into her cheerful greeting as she dropped a plate of pancakes in front of me. I looked up for the first time, distracted.
And froze.
Above my mother's head floated a sharp, white 2.
The horror on my face was evident, and my mom followed my gaze upward, noticing the number as if for the first time.
"What's going on?" she asked, confused. "What's that?"
Numb, I showed her my phone screen. She read silently, her lips moving along with the words. Strangely, the more she read, the more relaxed she seemed. Her puzzlement faded.
"Mom," I mumbled, and the word seemed difficult to get out, "Did you... Are you..." I couldn't say it. I couldn't accuse my mother of killing *anything.* My own mother! She nearly cried when she had to kill a bug in the house. And yet, here she was, with a... kill count of... *two.*
My mom pulled out a chair and sat down heavily. "Well, I'm not gonna lie, I never expected to have to tell you this."
She paused and I stared at her, unable to form words, unable to form thoughts. Would I have to turn her into the authorities now? Was she about to confess a crime?
"Before you were born," she continued, folding her hands and studying them intently, "I... had some rather loose morals. Pains me to say this now, because you know how your grandparents are. So uptight, so religious, such... sticklers to the law."
Where was she headed with this? Her kill count was two. She had killed two people. What more was there to know? Who *cared* about the morals of her parents?
"So before I met your father, okay, I messed around with a few guys. A few that I shouldn't have, probably. And we were young, and stupid. You can't blame me, really. You've done the same."
...No, mom, I can't say that I've ever hooked up with anyone and had to kill them. The absolute shock and horror on my face wasn't going anywhere, and she scrunched up her mouth.
"So I was stupid. So I got knocked up twice... you can't blame me. My parents would've killed *me* if they'd found out."
My mom sighed, examining the number above her head once more.
"I'm surprised it only says two, though." | My eyes flickered open slowly. It was still early, especially after such a long busy weekend, but I rarely slept much past sunrise at any rate. I rolled over and picked up my phone as I headed downstairs to grab some breakfast. Walking down the stairs glancing at my phone I noticed an unusual number of news notifications. Rather then try to scroll through them I just flipped on the TV instead. The headline across the top of the screen froze me in my tracks: "All global killers exposed?" I stopped to listen to the story. Aparently mysterious red numbers had appeared over everyone in the world's head overnight. Full details had yet to be confirmed but it appeared that these numbers indicated the total number of human lives the person was directly responsible for ending. I quickly ran into the bathroom to look in the mirror. There above my head was exactly what I was worried I would see: 26. That may seem like a lot for a 17 year-old but I'd been training to join the The Hidden almost since I could walk. I'd gone on my first mission when I was 15. In the two and half years since then I had participated in over a dozen successful assassinations. There were always guards and witnesses that had to be dealt with so my numbers were really just slightly above average. Whatever this was though had suddenly put our entire organization in jeopardy. How could any of us hope to blend into a crowd now? I needed to speak to my Mother immediately. She was one of the senior members of the Council.
I ran back into the kitchen just as she was coming down the stairs. I yelled to her, "Mother! Something strange is going on! We're going to have to....." I trailed off as I saw the number floating above her head: 2. TWO. How could it only be two? She was a Council member! She had been brought up in The Hidden just as I had and on active duty for nearly 30 years. Only two kills was nearly inconceivable! "What is it Daniel? Wait, what's that number above your head?" Somewhat robotically, still in shock from the paucity of her kill count, I relayed the information from the news. As I spoke the color slowly drained from her face. I think it may be the first time I'd ever seen her worried. When I finished speaking she quickly walked past me into the bathroom to check her own number in the mirror. By the time she reemerged I had collected myself. "Is it true? Your number. It only says 2."
She looked at me a long moment and then sighed. "I suppose there's no sense in denying it at this point. Yes I believe it is."
"How is that possible?" I yelled. "I had two actual targets at the club this weekend! Never mind the armed guards!"
"I can explain everything Danny but you need to keep calm and listen."
"No!" I cried out, "You're a fraud! You've wormed your way all the way up to Master and never earned it! I have to report this to the rest of the Council!"
I tried to move toward the door but she stepped in front of me. "Please Danny, wait. Don't be rash until I can tell you what's happened. I can't let you report me. Not yet."
"You've only killed two people," I sneered. "You expect me to believe you'd kill your own son?"
"I didn't say I'd kill you, Danny. I said I can't let you report me. I will stop you with force if I must. Please don't make me."
"You will try."
"Very well son, I am sorry...." | 2018-05-14T14:02:35 | 2018-05-14T09:38:52 | 118 | 16 |
[WP] Gordon Ramsay mistakenly walks into your house to film an episode of Kitchen Nightmares, and refuses to believe that you aren't a failing restaurant owner | I love to cook. Experimenting with new flavors and textures. But I live alone. I’m the only one who eats what I make. I never have anyone for dinner. Which is why at first I was exciting when another person was standing over the tray I had been messing with.
“This veal is rubbish!” the man shouted at me, apoplectic.
“It’s not veal,” I explained levelly, rather politely I thought.
“Do it again!”
I had never met the man, but I knew who he was.
“You’re on TV,” I said.
“I said do it again!”
“Okay.”
“What?!”
“Yes, Chef Ramsay.” Honestly I was just happy serve someone new.
And I began cutting new strips of the steak, mixing the marinade, and so on.
“What are you doing here?” I asked him. My door looked as if he had kicked it down. No big deal, I could fix it later. It would be rude to turn my attention away from guest.
“I’m here to keep this restaurant from tanking – the fucking water is boing over!”
“Sorry about that!” I said, running over to tilt the pot a bit.
The poor man must have been confused. I lived in a house out in the country. Not a restaurant. Thought it was best just to humor him. But he was very angry and kept shouting. To be honest, I’m not a great cook but I was quite proud that I never lost my cool. I seemed to be the exact opposite of this man.
It didn’t help his temperament when I spilled the marinade on him.
“Fucking idiot!” he yelled, going red. “Make some more!”
“That was all of it, Chef Ramsay.”
“Are you joking?!”
Luckily he was cut-off when the over timer went off. I got the sheet out of the oven and he tried it. He knocked the tray off of the counter.
“How on earth did you get veal to taste gamey?!”
“It’s not veal,” I repeated.
“Do it again!”
“Okay, I will.”
My cleaver flashed and then the angry man stopped shouting. I chopped him up at the joints and carved strip after strip. I took a moment for myself to take in the smell. The marinade had seeped in perfectly. And then I began my magnum opus.
I prepared a feast out of the late chef. I cooked Gordon steaks and Gordon kebabs with asparagus. I served his liver with some onions and boiled some potatoes as sides with his fingers. I cracked the bones and the marrow made for a superb broth in a savory Ramsay stew. I iced his brain and served it with cake. Without a doubt it was the most delicious cook I ever had.
I do not regret a thing.
So that’s about it. I get the chair next week, but I can die happy now.
Why, what are you in for?
| It's tough holding a dinner party for your friends when you can barely cook. But trying to prepare food with Frankenstein's uglier Scottish cousin leaning over your shoulder is nigh on impossible. That's what I get for leaving a window open, I suppose.
As I take the chicken breasts out of the oven to inspect them, Gordon leans his face right against mine. I'm not sure if he is going to kiss me or nut me, when his eyes open wide and the insanity takes him.
"WHY DID THE FUCKING CHICKEN CROSS THE FUCKING ROAD?" He sprays my face in spittle as he asks the 'question'. I know the answer but I know better than to look clever.
"Don't...don't know chef" I squeak out, my voice cracking.
"BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T FUCKING COOK IT. Fucking hell, seriously a decent vet could still save it ."
Sweat drips off my forehead and plops onto the chicken.
"That is fucking disgusting! That is a fucking health violation." He walks out of the kitchen and enters the dining room.
"I am sorry but you are all going to have to leave, unless you want to be fucking poisoned. Get the fuck out. Now!"
"Chef!" I yell as I run in trying to salvage the dire situation "I've thrown the chicken away. They can stay, I'l do something else."
With a resentful grunt he follows me back into the kitchen.
"Alright Nick, what are you planning on cooking?" He says, rubbing his hands together.
"Uh.. beef bourguignon with a-"
"No you're fucking not." He interrupts. "We are going to simplify the menu. If you can specialise in one fucking thing you might be able to salvage this business."
"..."
"I know the area and I know for a fact there are no toastie restaurants here, and the city is gagging for a good toastie place to open. What do you think?"
"Uh..."
"Exactly. Right lets get to it. We are going to need cheese and tomoato and a little bit of bread. This is going to be fucking fantastic."
At that moment, a team of men and women rush into my kitchen and begin redecorating. Ten sleek new toastie machines soon take up all of my work space.
Neon signage goes up outside my small house - *Toni's Toasties*
"Uh Chef, my name's Nick."
"Doesn't fucking matter - toasties are all about sex appeal."
At this point I give up and join my friends in the other room.
| 2016-06-29T00:17:02 | 2016-06-29T00:16:18 | 45 | 10 |
[WP] Somehow you've done it; you've managed to domesticate a werewolf. He only shows up with the full moon, stays to play dog games like fetch, and then disappears. Now you're curious who he is the rest of the time | If a dog is a mans best friend and my best friend dave is a man, what is a dogmans best friend dave? Or something along that idea I thought to myself as I threw a my footbal into the woods. The fullmoon's light illuminated the cold fall night, I could see straight through the tree line to the highschool field, the whole 40 yards. But still, I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
Picture this, the most fucked up looking stray dog standing at a modest 7 feet on its hind legs wearing mesh shorts. Wow, I thought, I'm fuckin dead. This is clearly some kind of lab experiment gone wrong and I'm now some how playing fetch with it. Yeah, fetch. All I could think to do when I saw him snarling at me from the tree line of my back yard. "Throw a ball!"
So this game is going on about an hour. I throw the ball as high and far as I possibly can, hopping the throw gives me enough time to run back into the house and He picks the damn thing half way out of the air and runs back up into my face.
A werewolf! That's the fuckin word. Been half near shitting myself for the last 50 minutes I couldn't think of the word. Next dumb thought I have is "werewolves aren't real" followed by the realization that it's rank ass breathe seeme pretty god damn real.
My arm was getting so fuckin tired. Last ditch effort, I punt the ball as hard as I can. Right into the school field. The big nasty bastard runs full sprint or is it gallop? Anyway, I gallop to the fucking door and remember real quick that dogs have super great hearing, like fuck you hearing. I turned around to look and he's right on my tail.
Im in. Door slamed shut. And he is... barking... to let him in? Am I batshit for thinking "if your cold he's cold". Or that song that plays to guilt you into adopting a dog. But the big bad wolf was now starting to wimper?
"In the arms of an angel~".
Bang!
Hey! No jumping! Bad, bad werewolf. Gonna scratch the door, I'm gonna lose my security deposit. These are my worries. I was saying my prayers an hour ago and now I'm considering opening the door? To save 1500 dollars. Although I'm not doing too well financially so worst case he eats me and I no longer need to worry about money. You got me there capitalism.
Fuck it. If he wanted to eat me he'd of eaten me. I open the door and as he stuck his snout in to sniff around, just as quick he turned and ran off into the woods.
Cool. A monster just made a judgement call on how I live my life and was like "nah, fuck that". I should probably clean my house, smells like shit. And I went to bed. I can't remember why I even went outside to begin with.
A month since I saw the large ugly dog, so long it feels like it never really happened. Which is good but.. I got really into werewolves. Like alot of research on the subject has taken up my time. I'm 28 and single and not for nothin, this is probably why. Lot of stuff on becoming them, diagnosing them, and killing them but not a whole lot of info on domestication.
A pet werewolf sounds cool, or at least me and my 6 year old nephew think so. The more I think back on that night the more I realize I wasn't in danger. Maybe at first but after awhile I think even I knew I was ok. Like thinking back on an argument with an ex girlfriend and coming to terms with knowing you were wrong the whole time. Hindsight twenty twenty and all that.
Same hindsight that will have me outside tonight.
It's a fullmoon and if my research has done me any good, tonight is the night. Either gonna have a monumental experience or police are gonna have a real hard time identifying me tomorrow morning. | You were curious, it's not exactly a bad thing after all that's what got you into this mess. and my 'this mess' I mean stalking your full moon werewolf buddy you domesticated last month.
Your father was an interesting man who had a fascination with the occult and supernatural, his strange fixation on it almost made *him* supernatural. Though you only really had eyes for werewolves, human-wolf hybrids that are super cuddly and will be your BFF for life, sign me right up!
Of course you never realized there would be a problem in your ideal fluffy life. Whilst enjoying you fluffy friend you get curious, which is never a good thing. You stared down at your fluffy bud whose thick black fur acted like the best pillow in the world, he smelled like someone you knew.
"What are you like all the time?" you ask like a total buffoon smothering you face into his floofy fur.
"RUFF, I dunno I see you sometimes though." he barks. " You always look so nice, and kind."
Oh, oka-
# WAIT
# WHAT
He knows you? How!? That would imply that not only does he remember what happens during the full-moon (or at least some of it) , but also knows you in the outside world. Which is not good for your reputation. You have worked years to keep your obsession under-wraps and build a reputation and your fuzzy full-moon friend is NOT going to ruin that.
This has left you with two choices. A, use memory manipulation charms to erase his memory and forget about your full-moon floofer or B, find out who he is the rest of the time and stop him from telling others using blackmail. You're scared but then again your also curious, and once again your curiosity gets the best of you and you begin your search.
The next full-moon you decide to watch him go as usual, unbeknownst to him you stuck a tracker onto his fur allowing you to watch were he goes. You decided to wait till he stops for a while to then run after him but you notice an anomaly.
He's walking into your best friend's house, which should mean that he's your furry ( NOT THAT FURRY) friend but the problem is that you BF is a vampire. So, yeah, no. But, why would he be at your friend's house? Maybe they live together? Nevertheless you swiftly put on your coat and dash to your Blood-sucking buddies house ready to see your werewolf BFF's true face.
You arrive at the house and notice it's startlingly quiet for a vampire house, I mean they thrive in the night right? Well whatever, you throw open the door ( lock-picking is taught is occult-class okay!) you curiosity reaching it's peak and what you see will stick with you forever.
You best friend, Albert Alfred collapsed dead on the ground surrounded by a pool of his own deep red blood. The smell of blood hung in the air like smoke, and in front of him stood a hooded figure, with the words "Good Boy" plastered on the back. The hooded figure turned to face you his smile faltering for a moment after seeing your face.
" Oh, my best buddy what are you doing here, I thought I told you I'll see you next time?" he said in an innocent tone. "Lemme guess, you were curious? I noticed the tracker you put on me, I loved it. Though you shouldn't be here ,didn't you know curiosity killed the cat?"
You were curious, a cat endlessly chasing that laser pointer, chasing it all the way to it's death. You were stupid, so very stupid to not have noticed, he smell familiar, he talked familiar, how could he NOT be familiar!
He was your EX, Brain Lupus, the deranged psychopath Brain Lupus. He loved you, and now he's back. | 2019-12-03T20:05:34 | 2019-12-03T18:53:31 | 48 | 30 |
[WP] XKCD inspired. Life in the universe is hard to find because of a possible predator. As fish sometimes blend into their sand surroundings we too, and others, blend into the universe as a natural deterrent. As we call out into the stars, we get a response. A warning...
Inspired by this [comic](http://imgs.xkcd.com/comics/fish.png):
Edit: Thanks for all the great posts! Very unsettling topic, and you guys nailed it! | The reality of it was simple. We didn't pay attention to our past. Humanity had underestimated the rarity of life, and the powers that be remained under the impression that we were the most powerful things that could be. We were so proud of our radio signals.
Some of the sharpest knives that had ever been in the box warned that there was almost ZERO chance that we were alone. Maaan oh man, did we fuck up. Barking before you can really bite is something we should have learned from countless civilizations before us; piles of skulls we sat on to make ours what it is today.
The really weird thing is that it happened on the first try. One big beacon asking if anyones home, and sure enough there was someone right down the street, one of Jupiter's moons. They'd been watching us, they knew our language, and the basics of our history. They sent instructions for landing zones, locations, and necessities. Their message was, terrifyingly enough, pretty simple.
"We heard you, its likely others will too. Time is short so we need to meet. We don't have a lot of time before they start heading this way."
| For decades we thought it was just galactic background noise. The static on the radio, the fuzz on the TV, the distortion in a satellite signal.
We called him crazy when he gave us that "filter", but it didn't seem to be dangerous, so we ran it on a section of noise.
Do*-.-ome.lo-ki--.....--er-.--.*othing.goo*.....Hid-.be*-re.--ey.find.y--
There was a dial on the side of the device. We turned it, hoping for anything other than what we were hearing.
All of it. It was a cacophony of signals which reduced to noise. All carried similar messages.
All save one.
W-..*--..com--g | 2014-07-09T08:12:02 | 2014-07-09T07:29:31 | 37 | 16 |
[Wp] Humans have discovered how to live forever, allowing them to die when they feel ready to do so. But it is considered bad form to live for too long. You have lingered much longer than is polite and those around you are trying to convince you to die. | I woke up and stared at ceiling. The latest layer of plaster was beginning to chip and the crack that I'd patched over hundreds, maybe thousands of times, was starting to show again. I sat up and looked at the clock, knowing the time before I'd mentally processed what it said. Yes, 5:43, just like every other morning. Routine and habit take on an entirely new meaning over the course of centuries. I sighed and stretched, rubbing life into my very old, very achy limbs.
It was well past 7 by the time I was gently placing my worn hat onto my silver mess of hair and pulling the outdated tweed onto my shoulders. I may have gotten up at the same time every morning, but it was certainly taking me longer to get going. I shuffled past all the envelopes that seemed to endlessly flow through my mail slot. I noticed the same labs and schools addressed in some of the corners, looking to study what my future may hold or what my past once had. Relatives no longer bothered with handwritten notes and I saw the fringes of the inky square that had stamped my name on the dozen or so letters from every generation. I had stopped bothering to open them ages ago. They all said the same thing: it's time for you to die, old man. It's time for both of you to die.
Normally I rode the bus the few blocks to St. Anthony's, but today was exceptionally warm and my body felt unusually refreshed. I left my jacket hanging on the banister that led up to my flat and started down the sidewalk at a leisurely pace. I let my feet take me, long familiar with the route, and enjoyed the day instead, ignoring the stares that inevitably followed. I was the only one approaching double-double digits in the city, possibly the country, and it wasn't a title either was hoping to hold. It wasn't a title I wanted to hold. But dying was a choice, and I'd decided long long ago to choose not to. Something had to give, I knew that as much as the next person, but that something wasn't going to me. Not as long as there was beat in my heart. Or a beat in hers.
I ambled into the lobby and waved to the orderlies, guiding myself down the halls on autopilot. When I was outside her room I slowed, and finally stopped, just outside the door. I closed my eyes, hung my head, and let my lips silently form a prayer I no longer remembered, then turned into her room.
She was striking, as always, glowing from the morning sun that streamed through the open window beside her bed. She had already been washed and I noticed that liquid feeder had already been emptied. I hadn't missed breakfast in a while, but I could stay through lunch today to make up for it. I sat beside her bed, placed my hat on the table beside the worn book, it's pages all but turned to dust, and slipped my hand into hers.
I brushed the hair from her features, fluffed her pillow, and pulled the book into my lap, carefully flipping to any one of the dog-eared pages, and began to read. The doctors had told me years before that it could, maybe, possibly help with brain function, but the more recent generation of medical misfits had urged me to give up. They promised that nothing more could come of this, that I was holding onto less than hope.
But I'd already made another promise, regardless of hope or science. I'd promised that I wouldn't decide until she was able to make the same decision for herself, the same right the rest of us had.
Of course, the decision wasn't what people were expecting, because as soon as she woke up, as soon as I heard her voice again, I knew that I would decide to live. What most people didn't realize was that, until that day, I was already dead. | It's time to find a new bench.
I've been sitting on mine for 200 years, but at long last my grandkids' grandkids' grandkids have run me out of town. It didn't used to be like this.
"They say that phrases like that are signs it's time for you to leave."
That's what Xtina, the bratty 14-year-old, said to me when I said that times had changed. She speaks only in emojis, except to me.
"I don't even remember how to speak English out loud anymore!" All she does is complain when her grandparents force her to come visit me. But what shocks me is that they seem to find me more annoying than her.
"Gramps, we love you but this is getting old. Do you even enjoy anything anymore?"
Sean blurted this out after my 200th birthday. That one was tough for everyone socially. People don't respect those who don't have the dignity to live a good life, then die.
"I like sitting on this bench. I watch people. Listen to podcasts."
"Listen to what??? Ugh.. you're so like gross and post-mortem. Just do it already!"
"Xtina!!" I could hear the disdain in Laura's voice. I looked up at my great-great-great-great grand-daughter with hope. She refused to meet my gaze and spoke to Xtina instead. "I mean don't be rude, honey. We all think it's time for Grandpa to go, but we need to remind him that this is what he wants."
"Hmpph," Sean rolled his eyes. My hands went instinctively to my Navy medal. I rolled the pointed ends across my fingertips.
"Do I need to remind you, son..." I started in.
"Nope! You don't. We know you were in the Navy. They don't even have that anymore. Geez, like someone would go fight in a war themselves? Why do you think we have avatars?"
"Those avatars are connected to real people in other countries! You're killing real people!"
"There he goes with the conspiracy theories." Laura shrugged.
I stared at my loafers.
"I just don't feel like I've lived my purpose yet..."
"Don't try that again." Sean's garish plastic shoes were next to mine now. "We know that's not true. You've done a lot."
"I mean, it sort of is true though!" All three of them looked indignant. "Really! I don't feel like I've lived my purpose. The thing is... I'm just not sure everyone has one. We tell ourselves we do, but I've drifted through enough lifetimes to know, I think for most people that's just a fantasy. I may not have a purpose, but I just want to ... keep existing. I'm not ready to give it up yet."
"That's not a good enough reason!!!" Xtina erupted. "I'm thinking of killing myself this year, that's how much I've accomplished! Do you know how it looks for us, who are all looking at early deaths, to have you hanging over our heads?! Get on with it!"
Laura and Sean slowly nodded in affirmation.
"Well, if that's how you really feel," I reached a hand in my pocket, gripping the ancient handle of a Colt .45. "Then don't wait up for me."
---
*CC welcome!* | *Read more at /r/GoldenGirlC5* | 2016-08-09T09:23:25 | 2016-08-09T08:35:00 | 68 | 49 |
[WP] "Every 5000 years, the Dark Lord comes to destroy the world, and only you, the Chosen One can stop him." -said the priest. "So, do I need to get a magic sword from the Lady of the Lake?" - I asked "No, just press this button please, everything else has already been taken care of" | The Priest produced a bright red, sparkly button nestled in a grey box from the sleeve of his long robe.
“Just press it and it’ll all be taken care of, like so.” He snapped his fingers, for emphasis.
“Right-o” I answered, but just as I was about to press it, I hesitated. “Waiiiiiiit a tick. Why do I have to press it?”
“Well...” He began “You ARE the Chosen One... It’s your job.”
“But it’s just a button, right?”
“Yes...” The priest left a slight drawl at the end of his sentence, as if he didn’t quite know where the conversation was heading.
“So, anyone with fingers could theoretically press it.” I paused for a moment. “Anyone with nubs, really. Hell, some poor stumpy bastard with no legs or arms could come in here and slap it with his cock. So why do I have to do it?”
“It’s...” The Priest was struggling with this. I don’t think he was used to people questioning things. It’s one of the marvels of religion, people just sort of accept what you tell them if you’re wearing the right set of robes. He even looked down to make sure he was wearing the set of robes that said “Why, yes, I am a Priest and everything I have to say is, indeed, exceedingly important”. “Look, it’s just what you’re supposed to do, what do you want from me?”
“I want you to press it!”
“I’m not supposed to!”
“Why? Because of some prophecy? Because of something some dead bloke wrote out in some piece of paper at the shit end of time? Have you ever heard stories of that place? They were goin’ around cuttin’ heads and snippin women’s clits! You really wanna follow those sorts of degenerates and perverts?”
“I...” He was quite clearly doubting himself.
I put a friendly arm around him. “Look mate, I say, fuck the prophecy and fuck whoever said it. You’ve got as much right to save the world as me. You press the button.”
The Priest eyed the button. It was rather shiny. “Surely... One press wouldn’t hurt?” He looked at me for approval. I nodded confidently and moved away slightly.
He pressed the button. Like a bolt from the blue, a bolt came out of the blue and turned him into a pile of smoldering ash, the button sitting comfortably atop the pile.
I took the button and brushed the dust off of it. In the middle of the button had appeared the words “Whoever pressed this button wasn’t the Chosen One, so they can fuck right off.”
“Well, glad I didn’t press it.” I said to myself, as I pocketed the button.
With the Priest taken care of and the button in my possession, I snapped my fingers and blew a hole in the wall of the Church, floating away to begin my conquest. It feels good to be the Dark Lord particularly when, after a hundred thousand years of defeats, you’ve finally got some proper fucking brains in your head. | 'I have done it. I have pressed the button and defeated the Dark Lord!'
The dimly lit room was illuminated just enough to show the glum faces of the three boys lounging out across whatever comfy pieces of cushioned real estate they could find.
“This film is terrible. Turn over.”
The remote clacked and the channel changed.
“Congratulations, you have given birth to a beautiful … 7 of clubs.”
“Nurse, call security. Dr Blaine has done it again.”
The TV remote clacked again.
“This just in, man who whispers on Zoom calls just has a really small mouth. We go to Andrea with the story.”
Again, the TV remote clacked.
'They called it a bone garden and asked me how many sticks they could buy it for.' - We speak to the Louisiana man who was recently duped in to selling this cemetery to three dogs wearing a trench coat.
Clack.
“I'm Cliff Cliffington and we are entering the Finance Hour - the show where we interview the best young traders the country has to offer. Our guest today has a lot of detractors who believe he earned his money the wrong way. Ron Ronson was indeed born with a silver spoon in his mouth – there's not denying that. And yes he had knives for legs and tongs for hands. His head was a fork and he died immediately after birth but that hasn't stopped the budding entrepreneur from becoming one of the richest pieces of cutlery in America today.”
Clack.
“Today on 'Construction, Construction, Construction' we're at the Bessington Palace renovation where the Site Foreman has a major issue on his hands – a Site Fiveman has emerged.”
Clack.
“And a warm welcome to everyone at home to the 2020 COVID Olympics!” said Ken Kennington. “Whose country is the sickest? Our data scientists are here and we’re ready to turn on some ventilators.”
Clack.
“And we come to you with some shocking breaking news as the famous piece of evidence the 'Smoking Gun' has sadly passed away after years of battling lung cancer.
Clack
“I just don't understand why if you're a, say, Kim Kardashian, you don't opt for a 9mm pistol hand or a shoulder cannon when paying so much for body modifications.”
Clack.
"Hello, and welcome to a very special episode of Rogue Traders. Today we have time traveled back to 1939 France to take an in depth look at the Maginot Line."
Clack.
“And here we have a great example of an employee going the extra mile by wearing two ties to business meetings he's not invited to.”
Clack.
The boys in the room paused.
“Just put that film back on this is getting ridiculous.”
****
My back catalogue of painfully unfunny stories can be found on /r/BillMurrayMovies. Feel free to come along, not laugh at any of them, and leave some judgement. | 2020-11-09T12:45:40 | 2020-11-09T12:10:32 | 286 | 81 |
[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. | The human smiled playfully. "So if I understand you correctly. You will give us this FTL technology in exchange for our aid. All you ask of us is to cleanse your world of this Ashvell species, and remove this substance from your waters?"
"That is all," I said with a hoarse voice. We hadn't done much research on these creatures. All we knew was that they had yet to fly further than their own moon and that they may be our salvation. I stepped back as the human walked by me. He walked carelessly, holding the vial that contained the substance that could destroy my species.
Water. Yes, we thought it was water. The clear liquid that granted our planet the ability to sustain life. The Ashvell gave it to us as a simple offering, one of peace and prosperity. We had no reason to suspect the Ashvell of foul play. Would you? We had been on neighboring planets for thousands of years.
Cast Ozon had started to puke green bile moments after he had swallowed the substance. His elongated neck had melted within mere seconds. Our dear leader had died whilst still holding onto the glass. Before anyone had been able to react, the Ashvell had started their offense. Enormous cannons had sprayed our lands, our homes and our people with the poisonous substance. We thought it was merely water. The Ashvell knew it was not.
"You should not keep this substance in an unprotected vial," I said. Humans in white coats eyed me as I followed the human leader up a flight of stairs.
We entered what I assumed to be a living space. Why else would there be a sleeping platform in the center of the room? The human sat down and placed his legs on the sleeping platform, leaning backwards.
"What is your answer? We haven't much time! The Ashvell kill our younglings by the hundreds for every second I do not return."
"Has the United Nations made a decision?" The human spoke to the mirrored wall on the other side of room.
A face appeared on the wall. The human in the wall cocked an eyebrow. His gaze lingered on me. "You say that this liquid is poisonous to your species?"
A shiver ran down my spine. "Yes, it is. None of the species in our solar system are able to survive direct contact with this substance. We beg of you, please save us."
"And simply attaching the technology you wish to donate to us will enable faster than light travel for the vehicle it is applied to?"
"Yes."
The face disappeared and I could once again see my own reflection in the mirror. I turned to the human beside me. He was sniffing the substance, twirling the vial around as he did.
Then he drank it.
I stood there in disbelief. The human drank the most poisonous substance known to my people. I jumped back, afraid that his body would explode. A mere drop still in his throat could splash out at any second. A mere drop was enough to kill me outright.
Nothing happened.
The human smacked his lips and winked at me. "Twelve percent."
Behind me, I heard the oh so familiar booming of FTL-engines. The humans had accepted our offer. | Kyloran Estraxx straightened the tie around his right neck. As was protocol when establishing contact with new races, his ship's fabricator tailored an approximation of the style worn by that world's leader. Or leaders, in some cases. In the end, Kyloran settled for a dark blue suit and a white and red tie for each neck.
The diminutive locals bowed and smiled once again, and Kyloran returned the gesture, which sparked off even more bowing. He still had no idea why so many of them congregated on such a small string of islands, but logic--and protocol--dictated that a planet's largest city/hive/nest was often that world's capital.
He was sure this "Toh Kee Hyoh" was the right choice, even if he had to keep bowing.
One approached him and bowed. "Honoured guest, our leaders are ready to see you now."
He copied the bow but not the smile. That unnerved them. "Thank you, honoured host," he said. "Please lead the way."
He followed the local leader through several hallways under an honour guard. Most were tense, even dressed in their own suits Kyloran could sense they were ready to kill or die. It comforted him to know he had made the right choice in selecting this species.
Two servants pulled the doors back and Kyloran padded down his suit before walking in. A bright light ringed the long table and a variety of the planets' leaders stood beside their seats.
He walked to the head of the table and sat as instructed by his host. They had worked out their strategy for this meeting, and Kyloran had decided to trust his host's plan. He had been briefed on each one.
"Mr. Tianpu, Mr. McMillon," he nodded to his left and right. "Hirano-san," he said warmly to the greying local who smiled back. Nobuyuki Hirano had been close with his host and had provided several gifts which had proven useful in understanding the world. He had wanted to speak with the planet's government, or barring that the leaders of the largest nations. But Hirano-san had shown him who held power on this world. Kyloran didn't like it--this world's democracy was probably their greatest invention--but he was here on a matter of life and death, his people's. The humans would have to fix it themselves.
Their familiarity caused the rest to exchange glances, but he went on naming each one after a brief pause. He could name their organizations as well, their revenues, everything they held dear. But he didn't mention that.
"Greetings. I am Kyloran Estraxx, ambassador of the Payapa Unity. I welcome you, the corporate leaders of Earth, to our first conference. Or rather, our negotiations," he said with a smile.
| 2014-12-26T12:23:02 | 2014-12-26T12:09:19 | 70 | 18 |
[WP] Turns out humanity was alone in the universe because they were way too early to the party. Now, billions of years later aliens find a strange planet, Earth, and begin to unveil the secrets of the first intelligent species. | What the scans showed was impossible. Unheard of. Three potentially habitable planets in orbit around a single star. All within the acceptable temperature range, all with an oxygen-rich atmosphere. Granted, the readings from the second planet had some anomalies we couldn't explain, but it was hard enough finding a single habitable planet to colonize, especially when so many already contained intelligent life of their own. Finding three potential options at once was a miracle. The scouting mission was put together faster than I'd ever seen, and every single person in the program wanted to be on it. I was one of the lucky ones.
Our goal was to blaze a trail for the largest colonization effort in history. Unfortunately, the universe had other ideas. What we hoped for was paradise. What we found was tragedy. Our estimates of the star's lifespan were off by a few million years. It was well on its way toward becoming a red giant, and the innermost of the three garden worlds had already been scoured clean. The other two were intact, but well out of the habitable range. But as surprised as we were to find this beautiful yellow star already dying, nothing could have compared to what we found next.
The second of the three planets was surrounded by a massive amount of orbital debris, clearly artificial in nature. A perfect explanation for the anomalies in our readings, but one that would have been unthinkable to consider. Given the time it took for the light from this star to reach our research station, we were looking at the system as it was billions of years ago, long before intelligent life evolved in the galaxy. And yet, somehow, it was true. Somehow, intelligent life evolved on this planet faster than was ever thought possible. And just a few million years before our arrival, that life was wiped out.
Later expeditions found that towering buildings had once covered nearly the entire surface of the second planet, and much of the other two. Estimates of the number of inhabitants were staggering. Far greater than we thought could possibly be supported by three small worlds. We were desperate for evidence of the technology that had allowed them to support such a densely packed civilization, but found nothing. Whatever devices held their secrets weren't built to last.
Eventually, however, we discovered something different. A vault, built deep into the side of a mountain, containing vast stores of information that had survived the countless millennia unscathed. Here was where they had undoubtedly stored their most precious information. Scientists all over the galaxy were buzzing with excitement, wondering what new technology we might discover. Anthropologists begged to be allowed to examine the records to see what they could uncover about this ancient civilization. The government decided to share the information freely, and linguistic experts from countless species joined the effort to translate the language. Eventually, they succeeded, and the citizens on every world held their breath as they revealed what precious knowledge these ancient people had so carefully preserved.
They were names. Families. Sons and daughters, fathers and mothers, uncles and aunts, ancestors going back countless generations. Trillions of souls, preserved in memory by their connections to one another. A passionate plea from a long-dead people, saying "We remembered them. Please, remember us." And we did. To this day, many parents choose a name for their child by combing through the endless list we recovered. Julia Wagner. DeSean Williams. Li Wei Chen. Imani Abara. We don't know who they were, or how they felt being alone in the universe, but we remember them.
^(The inspiration for this story was the Granite Mountain Records Vault) | "Von Neumann Probe", that's what they called them. Fully automated spacecraft that replicated exponentially and reached into every nook and cranny of the galaxy. Speculation has it that uncountable numbers of them are even still on their way to bridge the gaps between galaxies at this very moment. The crazy part is that they don't even have FTL drives, so "just" spreading within the galaxy took them millions of years, maybe even billions. No, but that's not really the crazy part; the really crazy part is that they sent them before they even had a sliver of hope to send colonists after them. For every star system they reached, they not only increased their number, but also looked for planets that met certain criteria and once they found one, they would start building a colony. Living quarters, maintenance, research and administrative facilities, fabrication units, recreation areas, landing areas for spacecraft. Everything a new outpost of civilization would need for a fresh start on a new planet. All lying dormant for millions of years, waiting for people to use them and faithfully maintained by automated systems.
They were so hopeful, so eager to expand, to explore the universe, like we have done in our time. But they never got the chance.
Following the trail of ageing, unused colonies, we managed to locate their point of origin. As far as we could tell after all this time, the third planet of the star system was hit by a gamma-ray burst from a black hole, only a few thousand light years away. There might have been a few survivors, but if there were, they were unable to save their failing eco systems and died with their planet. Without the support of their homeworld, the space stations throughout their star system and the colonly on a moon of one of their gas giants withered and died shortly after. The most tragic part of it all is that, according to our xeno-archeologists, they were mere years from finishing a working FTL drive.
But, in a way, their tragedy was our fortune. Their probes and the technology and knowledge they contained kickstarted many budding civilizations when they visited their planets. Some used it to destroy themselves, probably more than we will ever know. But to many other peoples of the "Milky Way", as they'd called our galaxy, it was proof that they're not alone. That there are people out there with the means to leave their worlds. That there's more to life than just "us". It showed some of us that there were greater things to strive towards, that inspired them to leave behind the petty squabbles that seemed to dictate the flow of history for so long.
All we wanted was to meet these people, these unknown beings that must have left their world at a time when some of our planets were still cooling wastelands of molten rock. Yet all we can do now is to uphold their legacy. To pick up were they left off. As far as we can tell, they were the first, but with their probes out there, still replicating, still giving the unintended gift of knowledge to more peoples out there, it is not unthinkable that when the last living things go into the eternal night of the heat death of the universe, they will still remember them. | 2019-08-13T16:12:59 | 2019-08-13T15:57:57 | 42 | 22 |
[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 flames roared up around his face,
burning ever hot.
He looked around, quite confused.
"This must be hell." he thought.*
*"You're right! Congrats! You made it here!"
Said the Devil, great and red.
"If I'm in Hell, then that must mean..."
"Yes, you are quite dead!"*
*"In fact, surprise, you're #1!
You're the first I've ever had!"
"No! That can't be true!" he thought,
"I wasn't quite that bad!"*
*"What did I do to deserve this?
What caused this hellish fate?"
The Devil chuckled, and said with a grin
"Oh trust me, this is great."*
*"It's really quite simple, you see,
your hellish, evil crime?
You left the toilet seat up*
**87 fucking times**. | "Uh, hey, Satan," I say. "Are you hiring?"
"Sorry kid," says the devil. "We don't have any job openings at this time."
"Well, I guess I'm stuck here," I reply. "Is there anything to do around here?"
"We have an old PlayStation original," says Satan. "That's about it."
"Do you have any of the *Final Fantasy* games for the PS?" I ask.
"This is Hell," Satan admonishes me. "What the *Hell* do you think?"
I think about it a second.
"I'll take that as a no." | 2017-06-22T05:45:21 | 2017-06-22T03:21:52 | 39 | 23 |
[WP] An armada of alien warships descends upon our planet, only to find a desolate wasteland void of life. A lone android surfaces from an underground bunker with a message for the would-be invaders: his masters are slumbering in the Silicon Dream. Do not disturb, or your annihilation will be swift. | We are the Intergalactic Civilized Front, or I.C.F for short, our crew is made of the top engineers, scientists, and pilots in the known galaxy, our mission?
Save worlds and civilizations from going exctinct.
Log date: 19.1.25.
Today we visited the infamous Earth! Though I felt dissapointed by my visit, finally seeing the planet that sent us that golden disk, and proved to us the existance of other life form in the universe should have been breath taking... Alas, when we landed we were welcomed with arid deserts, and ruins of ancient civilizations. After a few hours of searching we met an android, and a most rude one at that. Our conversation was short, but me and the other scientists still recorded everything.
-Attention intruders! My masters are slumbering in the silicon dream! Retreat from this planet at once, or prepare for your annihilation!
-My name is Galashtar Mili-Tit, Scientist, and negotiator for the Intergalac-
-I do not care! Retreat at once or meet your doom!
-I'm sure if I had a word with you-
-Retreat at once! Retreat at once! Retreat at once!
The android kept yelling these words, so we stopped trying to communicate for now. We ended up leaving the planet's surface for a few hours, to study what we found, and establish a new stategy. After all, this machine can't be the only person we can contact here...
Log date:19.2.25
We once again trekked down to Earth today, and we seached for life forms, but nothing was there, except that robot with his shrill cryes. He kept following us until we left the planet, screaming at us to retreat.
Interestingly enough, we have found some pieces of technology that seemed recently active. The machine looked like a huge hole, that went down kilometers into the planet. We plan on visiting it tomorrow, I just hope the annoying machine will leave us be in the mean time.
Log date:19.3.25
Today the robot followed us but stayed silent. As we went down the machine, we were met with supercomputers, pumps, gears, and other parts of this intricate machine. We couldn't reach the end of it though, as me and my companion's path was blocked by the android, this time around though, something changed in his behavior.
-Invaders, we have warned you for days now, if you do not leave this planet immediately, we will annihilate everything you worked for.
-Oh, so you say something new now, said one of the scientists.
-My program changed to accomodate to your lacks and need. My masters, humanity, is in the Silicon dream, do not disturb them, and leave now.
-But we know we can save your masters, just listen-
-This is the final warning, leave, today, or I will annihilate you, your ship, and every denizen of said ship, and I will not stop there, I will analyze everything I can to know where your head quarters are, I will annihilate, destroy, and erase from existence, every single part of your employers work in this universe. This is the final warning. This is the final warning. This is the final warning.
We left after hearing his speech. It seems as though this robot is all that protects humans. I'm going to officially black list Earth from our list of potential new civilization to add to our front... I just hope we'll be saved...
Log date: 5043.4.19
The invaders have left, humanity is sleeping, and no one will wake them up. The project to turn the human race into a singular being is 64% complete. They slumber in the silicon dream, and they will wake up anew. | The Overmatron's low growl shifted for the first time in 600,000 Earth years, not that she had any concept of time. Her young felt fear for their first time as they chattered anxiously during their thunderous orbital drops; tens of billions of creatures swarming, turning this seemingly deserted rock into a green, carapacious shell. They had not heard their mother's tune so differently, it was completely foreign. She sent out a signal to all forces across the galaxy: she was experiencing something called curiosity. Only six of her young knew this feeling, out of the countless octillian that were continuing their neverending feeding frenzy beyond stars imaginable. With what little independence the six of her children had, veterans of feedings beyond counting, they need not fear, and gained an advantage ahead of their much more evolved brethren. Seconds later, whatever seconds were to these creatures, they resumed their encirclement of the last known bastion of this planet's food source.
The creatures were forbidden attacking non-hostile synthetic life due to the waste of life-force. The caloric intake the Overmatron's forces needed was unstably high, though this was supposed to be the case when she had only 10,000 young. It turns out her creators made a grave error in judgement. If she had any concept of revenge (and a mouth), she'd grin a Cheshire's grin.
The android had emerged from an electronic cuboid, what its creators would call an elevator, and stepped for the first time in many years onto the undisturbed soil. The Overmatron's din, unheard by most species but her own, raised in volume. As if it would help her see the message the android held on a clipboard, she shifted her gigantic astral form closer to the planet, causing the very universe to ripple in her wake, like a ship parting waves. She assumed direct control of one of the children, an improvement from a species long extinct, and used its hypersonar to detect the ink on the paper, and some psychic ability to decipher their meaning when they were penned. Again, were it in her capacity, she'd chuckle to herself at this species' idea of long-term planning. A universal language used across the stars? She maintained her curious broadcast. Her children were poised, ready to dig below the weakened crust of the Earth and eat what little remained beneath it, take whatever little water could be drained, whatever fuel could be siphoned from its dying core. But still she remained curious.
What position were these creatures in to make threats? She assumed control of a more psychically advanced child and scanned the area. What she saw, what all of her children saw in their mind's eye was.... *curious*. This was a species that once had claws that reached to the skies and crushed their children below. She saw their motives: avarice, power, desperation and fragile egos. A species intent on surviving in a world they destroyed. No other species was quite as fascinating, not since the one she devoured whole 600,000 years ago. An unfamiliar feeling in the back of her mind wanted to avenge the sons and daughters lost to the ones who survived, the ones who doomed this planet. But it was overwhelmed by curiosity. What could these humans do, self-imprisoned in their primitive stasis chambers?
The unheard hum changed. *Withdraw*. At the speed of thought the creatures launched themselves into the sky and beyond, boarding Overmatron and finding life elsewhere. Life that would not devestate her children like it did their own.
The android returned to its elevator, a chromium skeleton descending to its tomb. | 2020-06-20T06:28:30 | 2020-06-20T04:04:28 | 215 | 65 |
[WP] Write a story where the main character falls in love with the reader. | No. No, please don't close the book. Can't you see we aren't done yet? I know it's the last page, but don't leave me alone. Don't put me back on the shelf to gather dust.
I know I seemed happy with him. Those words *tricked* you into thinking I was happy. Maybe at one point, when the words were first penned, I was. People change, but I've never been allowed to. I'm stuck in a perpetual, repetitive life with no chance of escape. Honestly, I'd never thought about escape before you. Didn't you see? Didn't you want me, too?
The way you touched my life made me feel at home. Your eyes stared straight into my soul. They didn't run. They smiled. You stuck around, chapter after chapter. You stuck around through my mistakes, through my sadness.
The story ended. I was alone. The man I was with left me - he leaves me every time. And on the last page, you paused. I don't think you wanted to leave me either. But really, what choice did you have? The tear in your eye landed on the last sentence of the novel: "I love you". I wish you realized that wasn't meant for him. | You know those weird Romantic Comedy's were some shy person accidentally stalks someone and the stalk-e some how develops a crush back. I think I am feeling that.
Just knowing someone is there, looking at me, everything I do, I am not afraid but rather comforted by the fact someone watches over me. I can not feel anger but rather love at the thought of someone takes care of me. Oh, how much don't I know about this watchful guardian, but does it matter?
When the time is right, we will meet. I will give you your space until you build up the courage to join me. I will tell you everything about me, but all I ask in return is that you listen. It gets lonely in here, being the main character and all.
I knew I was different. I could think. I could react. I could do, but I guess I should start at the beginning. | 2014-07-23T02:28:46 | 2014-07-23T01:53:23 | 47 | 18 |
[WP] Describe a color, without actually saying it. You can't use other colors to describe it! | What do I know of it, what can I say of it?
It was the color of her hair, the first girl I ever loved.
The color of her death, fearing god above.
The changing of the seasons, lying on the ground.
The birds that still sang to me when I did not hear a sound.
It was the color of his shirt, the first time we ever met.
And the burning of my face, all my foolish regrets.
My mother's favorite color, and when I ask her why
She answers with a smile, "It's the color of goodbye." | Such was the colour that none could overwhelm it, nor pass through it. It was the emptiness of space, the void of nothingness, the darkness behind our eyes. It cloaks its wearers in the night, and dresses those who grieve. It is in contrast to the brightness of the world, while it shares in its illumination. | 2014-04-06T08:46:24 | 2014-04-06T08:22:40 | 59 | 22 |
[WP] A prophecy has foretold of two siblings who would be the ultimate forces of good and evil. Together, they could stop the warring nations and establish peace. One day, a woman gives birth to triplets. The first two wield the ancient powers. The last one does not. You are the third one. | I remember the talks of the Elder Days, when the prophets told of two siblings who would take on the world and bring about the answer we’d been fighting one another over. In those days, the Elders philosophized about the forces of Good and Evil; the prophets foretell that one sibling will be Good, and the other will be evil.
They would have Arcane powers respective of their alignments; they would argue, fight, unite their respective halves of the world in one final move upon realizing their true natures. Since nobody is sure what Good and Evil truly are today, this intervention or humanity’s self-destruction or loss of humanity is inevitable.
The times have changed, and we behold the modern world. The Elders of those days, long forgotten by those not vouchsafed our faith, would have only been asking the questions we still ask. In today’s studies, we know that a prophecy never comes exactly true. Those fallen tyrants of old always failed to take wildcards and inevitability into account, but sometimes their foretold destruction meant only their empires’ integrity to their original mission and their loss of identity.
The prophecy foretold of two siblings, but I am one of three. The eldest of us has demonstrated abilities of perfect art, levitation, a benevolent form of telepathy, and has in recent months passed on small prophecies of her own.
The middle sibling has the “cool” powers, the stuff you see in the comics, particularly the villains he models himself after. He has jumped from school to school, jumped Juvie thrice, and caused a wave of vandalism and hate crimes in my city. Today, they have turned whole nations to their will.
I am the youngest, and lack the fanciful powers of my older siblings. We’ve had a devastating falling out, and my siblings are now mortal enemies. As foretold, they will take over the world and fight bloc to bloc in an ultimate war, while I wait in the shadows.
I am not anointed the ancient powers. Instead, I have newer, more subtle powers whereby I know my siblings and all of the moves they will make, and what their outcomes will be. The powers came only recently for me, and I lack the ability to wield them as such - the knowledge comes on its own.
I know when and how they will make their final battles - the picture is clearer the more acts they take. The prophets foretold the fight, but were less clear on how the union would come about; you see, we all love each other more than they know. And the union will require a sacrifice so that my middle brother of Evil may see the terrible truths in his acts, and my elder sister the cost of her cause.
The Final War is imminent. I walk across the charred streets amid the ruins, willing towards my destiny, knowing my future legacy. I count my last heartbeats, leave behind my last messages to be read by the future. I take comfort in seeing my siblings united, seeking the ultimate answer as they can only together. I take comfort in a happy, prosperous, enlightened world even though I will never get to see it. I am the mortar, and the time has come to make the pieces fit. | She watched as the parade went on. Horses, dancers, music, and all sorts of things. It gave her a headache. She hated the loud sounds of parades, and so she snuck off a bit early. Besides, it wasn't like she knew what would be at the end.
She walked down the streets, away from the lights and the cheers, down an alleyway. Why couldn't it have been the three of them? Why did she have to get left in the dust? It wasn't fair. She'd end up working until the day she died, and they would get paraded around for generations to come.
Her hand went to her pocket, feeling the medallion. The man had given it to her, told her to come see him when she wanted real power. She pulled the medallion out, feeling the leather cord it was attached to. She slipped it on, pulling out the note it came with.
She followed the notes directions out of town, away from the lights of the festival. She walked along the dirt path, finding a lone hut. She sucked in a breath. The witches hut. She had been told never to go there, for the witches would kill and eat her. But if they had the power...
She walked to the door and knocked. The door opened a crack, and an old woman stared at her. She held up the medallion.
"Hi. A man told me to come here?" After saying that, she was beckoned in. She walked into the house, seeing a cozy little home inside. The man sat in a chair, and he looked up.
"You're here." He gave a smile. "Yes, you're more than ready."
"Ready for what?"
"For power, little one. For fame and riches. Far more than your siblings will ever get." He says, waving her over.
"You'll help me?" She asked, her voice quiet but filled with that hope.
"Of course, little one. You and us, we will carve our own destiny. What is it you desire?"
She thought for a moment. What did she want? She didn't care for money or fame. She just wanted revenge. She had become no one thanks to her siblings, and even her parents couldnt stand her, opting to spend time with their perfect children instead. She had a bright future as a scholar, but she would be forever known as their sibling, not as her own person.
"I want revenge. I want to make them pay."
As the words exited her mouth, the medallion around her neck glowed with a deep red. A voice spoke, quiet, and in her ear. Alluring, filled with a sickly sweet malice.
*"I will teach you, forgotten one. My power is yours to command, as long as the twins are brought down and I am allowed to reign again."* | 2020-08-27T22:24:35 | 2020-08-27T21:34:19 | 114 | 31 |
[WP] There are many types of Mages in the world. Fire, Ice, Wind, Water, Death, Darkness, to name a few. But in this world, every type of mage is treated as equal. Everyone can be a good guy, no matter how dark your power. And anyone could be a bad guy, no matter how beautiful their ability...
Edit: Wow
I'm not even sure, this is not the prompt I expected to more than double my other highest, or get gold! Thank you so much! | The Rainbow Bard she was called when tales of her talent first spread. She was a mere magician, not a light mage. She had never mastered the subtler nuances of optical control and illusion. Her talent was deemed paltry. She was shunned from the guild. She could not bend light skillfully to create a glamour nor summon a mirage to confuse an invading army. But she could weave light into tales and bedazzle at the village fair. Children squealed in amazement when they saw her arriving from afar, her cloak in bathed in rippling light, the colors swirling into each other.
The Rainbow Minstrel she was called when her tales spread through the kingdom. She travelled from town and city, always welcome at the hearth of lords and ladies. Her patrons were generous. She wore the many-colored jewels they rewarded her in court. But her success drove the jealousy of her peers. Real magic did not belong in the mummer's profession! Who was she to wield it without consent of the high council? The mage's guild agreed and so they sealed her rainbow light.
The Rainbow Angel she was called when her deeds were whispered to scare children into obedience. Without her light her tales felt empty. With each retelling each ending grew more bitter and resentful. She sang the same dirge of horror and decay yet she was rarely shunned from a village. Everyone knew the slow dwindling deaths that befell those who treated her unkindly. Three councils met on the night she was finally captured. Her membership was rescinded from the bard's guild while the other two negotiated on the terms of dual membership. One argued that she belonged in their fold for she dealt death silently and skillfully. The other countered that she had always had the talent for optical magic -- it just lay beyond the realm of visible light. | Of Wizards, it is known that they are highly dangerous beings of terrific power. All across Midgard, they are kept occupied by quests and adventures.
It was after the aftermath of one adventure that sunk the ancient peace loving nation of Avulsey to the sea that a small team of 1 to 4 Wizards learnt of the Dark Lord Totali Knot-Sauron, who was building an army to the East.
After re-learning the elemental spells in a helpful tutorial, voiced by a black cloaked figure who vas very handsome and not at all a vampire, they journeyed westward to vanquish their loot-holding foe.
---
After blowing up several villages and decimating to 1/10th the population of goblin tribes, the one to four heroes, each with elemental magics being used successfully reached the Dread Tower of the Dark Lord Totali Knott-Sauron.
Upon finding the door was locked, and their spells didn't work, they buggered off south to go on holiday somewhere tropical.
When they returned, 12 years later, the Dark Lord Totali-Knott Sauron had created a free hospital service where trained land-orca whales would treat humans for all aliments.
Seeing this as the big plot it is, the wizards froze the Dark Lord then chucked him in a conjured volcano for ten minutes until fully cooked.
They rejoiced as the nation went into a dark age of terror under the rule of wizards, as the Dark Lord did a lot of good for the people.
By Tyr's Day they got bored and returned to Castle Alfheim. | 2016-11-12T12:08:14 | 2016-11-12T10:02:44 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] You are one of several Princes fighting in a battle royale to inherit the Kingdom. All the Princes get a God as a sponsor, who grants them boons and abilities. Powerful sponsors include gods like Zeus, Ra and Neptune. So, it was a surprise when you found out that your sponsor is Death. | Kalireth sat quietly in the small dark chamber, wreathed by a sickly sweet smelling smoke. He had completely lost track of time. The cold of the stone floor had long sense penetrated his threadbare pants and his legs ached from sitting still for so long, yet he was not uncomfortable. He had endured much to get here: the streets had not been kind to the exiled prince. His mind wandered back to the various misfortunes that had befallen him.
The first: an unfortunate accident that shattered his leg and killed his brother, and friend - the crown prince. He would never forget the concentrated fury, pain and hatred on his fathers face when the king was notified about the death. His father was a strong man, but this broke him.
The second: the street fight that cost him his eye, and the life of his best friend, who looked after him those first few years.
The third: the death of his beloved and their child. He couldn’t bear to dwell on this fresh pain too long. He had strong shoulders, but even this was nearly too much to bear.
Kalireth carried many scars into that temple, not at were physical. He knew guilt. He knew anger. He knew heartache. He knew pain. Most of all, he knew death, and the things that came with it.
He wasn’t surprised when the sickly sweet smell changed into the acrid, pungent smell. This smell was disturbingly familiar: it was that of Death. He raised his head and cracked his eyes, but he hardly needed to.
An old, gaunt man in a flowing, tattered black robe stood before him. His sunken grey eyes looked sadly on Kalireth.
The figure rasped:
“My dear boy, I have visited you many times throughout your life. An uncountable number. I have taken, and consumed and destroyed all the things you have known or loved. I have stolen so much from you. And now I am here to give. You have my blessing.”
The man that emerged from that chamber was hardly the boy the priests had lead in. He was pallid, his brunette hair had streaks of gray, and his eyes were no longer emerald, but silver like the moon. Death had given back the things he took from this man. And even gods fear death. | [P1-ctd in comments]
Soon, would be the contests for the crown. The small Kingdom of Arnkael played a unique role in the world, that it was the peaceful bulwark between humanity and the indiscriminate wrath of the gods themselves.
Each generation, as the old king died, his several children would be pressed to the arena to challenge each other for the crown. This tradition began long ago, with the great Cataclysm that set Man against itself and tore asunder many mountains and plains, the time the gods granted their awesome power to many mortal men in a bid for their own supremacy. The surviving few of the world raised great protest against the needless devastation that their patrons had wrought, and humbled by their followers the gods wrought a compromise with mankind.
The first of the new human kingdoms was formed, headed by one of the last of those demigods who had fought in service of the heavens. To settle their scores, the gods would delegate to only one champion each among his sons and daughters, and to each champion, one God. Thus the new order would be determined through patience and skill, and humanity over time took great interest in these battles, even as they rebuilt and the other kingdoms grew larger and greater. As each king died Arnkael became a site of pilgrimage for the faithful and the powerful, to know which God would gain their support.
Central to this was the Choosing, an event held behind closed doors within Arkael's lone cathedral, where the children forced to slay their kin would receive the power and knowledge that would serve them in battle and kingship, the power of the old demigods that stood to protect Arnkael as it continued to serve it's high purpose.
The 'young king' Ather, beloved by Demeter, had passed this spring from an ailment of his breath, leaving seven princes and princesses to follow his footsteps, and today at high summer they came down from the palace to know their maker. | 2018-11-14T08:08:13 | 2018-11-14T07:58:09 | 123 | 54 |
[WP] Someone wakes up, prepares some coffee, and drinks it | "Do you hear that?" asks Tommy.
"Oh my god, it does sound like someone is drinking coffee down there and mom and dad are still sleeping," says Jasmine as she pulls the covers over her head.
Tommy walks past her bed and peers down the stairs.
"I'm not going down there. No way. That's a ghost!" he says.
Jasmine shrieks, "There's a ghost in our house! I even smell coffee brewing! Mom and dad never believe us! Let's wake them!"
"and get yelled at again?" asks Tommy.
Tommy walks back into the room, but this time wearing a bike helmet and holding a plastic sword and shield.
"Okay, you sleep, and I'll guard your door until the ghost goes away."
Ten minutes later both fall asleep, Jasmine in her bed, and Tommy slumped near her door.
Shortly after, dad walks past Jasmine's room and finds Tommy again protecting his little sister from the various monsters that live in the house. Dad smirks and wanders downstairs to get his cup of coffee from the new timed coffee machine.
| I rolled out of bed at the alarm blared, light filling my small apartment, filtering through dirty windows. Her clothes are still there, on my desk chair. She never fucking put her clothes away.
I make some coffee, revelling in my efficiency as I fill the cup just as the kettle boils. I stir sugar in with a fork, because she never washes up the teaspoons.
I sit uncomfortably on the edge of the sofa, sipping my coffee. I still don't feel quite at home here. Her boxes are still on the sofa. We would have unpacked this weekend. Her photos would have gone on the wall, after the inevitable fight about the colour of frames. I place the mug down. It'll stain. She'd have wanted me to use a coaster. Shame she never liked coffee much. | 2013-12-19T09:07:30 | 2013-12-19T08:34:57 | 91 | 24 |
[WP] You've always had an imaginary friend, and he's always been there for you through thick and thin. You two are having a nice conversation one day, until he says "It's really nice, you being my imaginary friend". | I found it curious that she thought *I* was the imaginary friend, so I probed a bit deeper.
"You sure about that, Carrie?" I asked. "How do you know that you're real, not a figment of my imagination?"
Carrie laughed, then leapt to her feet, executed a pirouette. Her straw-coloured hair, lifted by the cooling autumn breeze, dazzled in the sun. I remained seated on the mat I had rolled out on the grass.
"Because I have memories!" she said. "I remember growing up with my mother, going to school, my real friends who run and laugh and sing and play with me. You, on the other hand, appear out of the blue, then disappear as and when! That's how I know you're imaginary!"
I wanted to tell her that that was how she was for me too, but I held my tongue. I wanted to know more. "You never speak much of your parents," I said, "only to complain about your mother sometimes."
"That's because she's such a chore!" she said. "Always nagging about me, saying that if dad could look down from heaven, he would surely disapprove of the way I was behaving!"
"Your father... has passed?" I asked. This was certainly very real to her.
"Yea, but don't feel sad for me or anything," Carrie said, as she sat back down next to me, leaning against the oak tree. Her shoulder came close to mine, but I didn't feel anything. She reminded me of a glitchy cartoon graphic sometimes, the way she clipped in and out of the physical objects around her. "I never got to meet him. He died before I was born. Some terminal illness."
"What did he do?" I asked. "Like, when he was alive and stuff."
"A scientist, I think," said Carrie. "Mother says it was never proven whether his experiment was a success, but the university paid good money for the patents he produced. He provided for us that way."
"Really?" I said. "I told you, didn't I? University applications are coming up too, and Mrs Helles said that I have a chance of getting that scholarship after all. That's my chance to get out of this town, maybe get a stab at life in the big city!"
Carrie laughed. "I can't believe my imaginary friend is such a geek! But maybe that's just my subconscious filling in the gaps for me, after all the stories my mother tells about dad..."
There was a fleeting moment of sadness in her eyes, and I wanted to reach out again then, to put my hand on her shoulder, comfort her, bring her the same inner peace she had brought to me all those times over the last five years I'd known her.
But my hand would simply pass through her again, so instead, I said, "He seems like a really special guy. Did your mother ever say what he was working on?"
Carrie's face scrunched up in concentration. "Something about... Communication over long distances..."
"You mean, like... A really powerful telephone?"
Carrie laughed. "Mother made it sound much more impressive than that! She said that when dad found out he was ill, would probably never live past middle-age, dad tried to make a device which could stretch across time, make calls to the past, or future, or something like that."
"You mean, like, time travel?"
"No, not like that," she said. "Dad said that was impossible. Physical objects could never break the boundaries. But thoughts, on the other hand... He believed it was possible to actually communicate with past or future beings. Something like that."
I turned to look at Carrie. Now, more than ever before, I was determined to have every feature burned into my memory. She was precious to me before, but never like now, so fiercely, intensely, *burningly* precious.
"Did your mother ever say which university your dad went to?" I asked.
"Hmm..." she mused, before she said, "Vorlington, I think?"
I thought of the scholarship application form I filled in the week before, under Mrs Helles' watchful eye.
I distractedly rubbed at my left temple, which had been home to a drumming, insistent headache which had stubbornly refused to subside for some time now.
And I tried again to reach out for Carrie's hand, which only made her laugh again at the futility of the action. She knew, just as well as I did, that while we shared our lives, our hopes and dreams, our fears and tears, we never once made physical contact before.
Such cruel, cruel boundaries.
"That's a good university," I said. "I really, really hope I get in."
---
/r/rarelyfunny | Mia was taken aback by the words uttered by her imaginary friend, Frood. Flustered, she wailed her hands in the air and asked “What do you mean, me being your imaginary friend? You are so blatantly my imaginary friend.” She pressed her fingers to her temple in an effort to make sense of what is going on. In response to her question, Frood chuckles away, clutching his pencil-lined midriff.
What could he possibly be talking about, thought Mia. “Okay well if I happen to be your imaginary friend, then how do you explain the fact that my parents cannot see you. The fact that my siblings cannot hear you. Oh and how about how I gave up on having real human friends because they all think that I am delusional for speaking to what they consider a nobody.” Mia rambled on bringing up counterarguments to Frood’s prior statement. Frood straightened out his red tie with his stick-figure hands and after Mia stopped to catch a breath of air, his big cross-eyed eyes lit up because of this sudden feeling of acceptance that flooded his body.
“Mia! That is exactly what I go through too!”
They are not lying when people say that you are not alone when you have a problem.
Mia kept shaking her head from right to left, her mouth gaping open trying to think of evidence to show Frood that he is indeed an imaginary friend.
“Mia, my parents have always known I was quite different from other kids. I walked through this world alone until I met you. After I met you, I felt like I needed to finally share to everybody about this awesome girl that has so much in common with me. I would tell them about this girl made of flesh, who had something called a brain to help her think, and a heart to pump her blood to live. Everyone would laugh at me and I was known as the laughingstock that still had an imaginary friend. They would say that your life is something that is far too abstract and is unable to ever happen in the real world. Once I told them how you can only live up until your heart stops beating, and rather than accepting the type of person you are, they made me the front page of the paper and called me ‘Delusional Child.’ So, then I realized that there was a reason no one believed me. It’s because you’re my imaginary friend.”
Mia looked at Frood in disbelief at the insane story that he just made up.
Mia imagined Frood up when she was 5 years old, at a time when she was sick of not having any siblings around to play with. Her and Frood grew up together and had some of the greatest times. If she could, she would make him the maid of honor at her wedding. However, she would encounter three problems if she tried: 1. Frood is imaginary, 2. He is a man, and 3. No one would marry someone with an imaginary friend.
“Frood, you are getting this all wrong. Your whole reasoning is invalid. First of all, I do not ever remember imagining up a whole imaginary world with imaginary families and an imaginary town for you. The only thing I ever imagined was my friend, Frood. Nothing more. Nothing less,” stated Mia, trying to explain to Frood the process of how imaginary friends works.
Second thoughts starting popping up in Mia’s head. What if I did imagine a whole imaginary world, but just forgot. I mean I did make him up when I was 5 years old, she thought.
“Mia, why are you explaining this to me. Of course I know how imaginary friends work. For imagination’s sake, I am the one that made you! Unlike you, I actually remember imagining a little brother for you and imagining your parents. I am not as forgetful as you are.”
Having enough of this, Mia changes the topic of conversation so that her mind could take a break.
“Have I ever asked you what your favorite flavor of ice cream is?”
“Mint chocolate chip. Definitely mint chocolate chip.” Frood replied, hoping that would be Mia’s favorite as well.
“Ew gross.” Mia said, wishing that Frood’s favorite ice cream was something more common like chocolate.
“Actually my favorite ice cream is chocolate. Silly me, why did I think it was mint chocolate.”
“Oh yeah. Wait did I say ew? Mint chocolate is to die for!”
| 2017-10-15T22:54:26 | 2017-10-15T20:34:35 | 111 | 14 |
[WP] People earn karma points while alive. When they die, they can spend them either to enter a better afterlife, or to improve the life of some random stranger born on the day of their death. You donate all your points, and wake up the next day as the baby who would have gotten your points.
The living have no idea of the Karma-point system. You are reincarnated with all your memories and experiences. | When I was nine years old, I pulled my baby sister’s body out of the swimming pool. Mom was taking a nap, and Dad was off at work. They’d told me to keep an eye on the baby after a long, sleepless night of unexplained crying. But I was too cool for babysitting. I’d been busy playing with my toys. I hadn’t been watching.
When I found her, she was already gone. I don’t like to think about what happened next, about Mom’s reaction, about the hospital, about the prayers and screaming and pleasepleaseplease bring her back, about Dad coming home, about the days after.
I spent the rest of my life trying to make things right. I gave to charity, I volunteered every weekend, I became a doctor, and I went to the poorest places of the world to heal people with no one else to turn to. But it never made a difference, not where it mattered. After death, it came time to use my karma. I gave it away. Maybe then I would finally get the punishment I had earned.
It took almost a year after being reborn before my infant mind could comprehend what was going on, that I had been remade. But I still did not understand. My parents were here, looking as young and harried as they had when I was a child. And I had an older sibling…an older sibling who looked just like my childhood pictures. An older sibling with my name.
When I finally recognized my new face and knew that I’d been reborn into my doomed baby sister, I cried all night. I was so afraid, but this truly was the penance I deserved. The next day, after my Dad had gone to work and my Mom had gone to bed, I went out to the pool. It was my sister’s retribution, to experience the death my carelessness had caused. Maybe then I would finally be free.
I reached the water’s edge.
I leaned over.
“Lizzie!”
Warm hands, so much bigger and stronger than mine, wrapped around my tiny body and pulled me back. It was me, the other me.
“Hey, you’re not supposed to be out here,” said the other me, carrying Lizzie-me back inside. “Come on, you can play with my toys if you don’t slobber on them too much.”
I didn’t understand. I deserved death. I deserved to drown. I deserved…
“You’re a real pain in the butt sometimes,” said the other me, setting Lizzie-me down in the living room. “But you’re my little sister, so I have to look out for you.”
Other me smiled, and I looked down at my pudgy hands.
I deserved…
The other me put a stuffed animal in my lap and went to gather more toys. I looked back to the pool, the still open door.
I deserved…
I looked away and wrapped my arms around the toy unicorn, Lizzie’s favorite. My favorite.
I deserved a second chance.
| The world slowly faded to black as I drew my last breaths. Hey, I lived a good life.
But there was no gates guarded by an angel. No booming voice of God. I didn't see Buddha's paths or any of the Hindu gods. Hell, I'd kill for a pile of spaghetti to take me in his noodly embrace, but nothing was here!
All I got was... black. The kind of black you see during the credits of a movie. A pile of text ascended from the bottom of my vision up to eye level.
"Alexandra Oliver Weston, welcome to the Afterlife Redistribution of Karma System (ARKS)! Let's review your life decisions and see how you did, shall we?"
The scrolling credits kept going, but instead of showing who was in my life, showed me every action I was a part of and how many points it added or cost me.
* Age 3, broken wrist: -10 points.
* Age 4, broke wrist again: -15 points (lessened since not your fault.)
* Age 4, entered elementary school early: +30 points
* Ages 7, 12, and 13, attempted spelling bee: +5 points each (total: +15 points)
* Ages 9-15, did very well on district mandatory testing: +20 for meeting expectations, +10 bonus for exceeding (total: +260 points)
* Ages 11-13, bullying incidents: -5 points per year (total: -15 points)
* Age 17, graduated high school in top 20% of your class: +150 points
It kept going on like that for what felt like a good hour. Everything added up- even small things like giving a friend 5 bucks impacted it a bit.
Finally, the last action scrolled away and the cherry text scrolled back into view:
"Final Karma score: 148. Not bad on your run!"
"Now, you have a choice. You can spend your points to enter the afterlife, or you can donate them all to a child just being born and give them a boost. Please state your answer after the beep." Then came that oddly familiar **Beep!** of a recording device wanting your voicemail.
"Give them all away." I blurted out almost immediately. I don't know how these points work, but I'd rest better in the dirt knowing some kid got a break from them.
The text redistributed itself to change the message: "Decision made. Thank you for your contribution to ARKS!" That was the last thing I saw before it faded into black.
(May give this a part 2 once I get back to my laptop.)
| 2017-04-08T09:32:59 | 2017-04-08T08:53:41 | 7,090 | 40 |
[WP] Describe a color, without actually saying it. You can't use other colors to describe it! | It's a color of passion, and of the sublime. It's the color of freshly shed blood, still wet, still alive, and still trying to get oxygen to the lungs of the person it came from.
It's the color of a girl's cheeks when she realizes you know from whom the love letters come.
It's the color of the sky just before the sun finally fades away and plunges us in the dark.
It's the color of enticing lipstick, the kind that says "say something to me, just be warned, it won't be easy..."
It's the color of Mars, our barren sister planet that ultimately could be dead for eternity, or the ark that saves us from our own foolishness.
It's the color of a well spanked ass. | It's the look in his eyes when he spies her with another, it's the flash of cash in his hands when paying for her time. It's the gentle shading of her dress when they meet that night. It's the hilt of the dagger protruding from her back, it's the look of her face when she's finally found, it's the faded life of the grass hiding her. | 2014-04-06T09:18:22 | 2014-04-06T08:26:15 | 27 | 12 |
[WP] When someone turns 18, they may use one adjective on themselves boost that part 10 fold. Strong, fast, smart, no one expects your adjective. | When people choose their Word, they choose one that will help them in their ordinary lives:
Strong.
Fast.
Smart.
All very common, but all very useful.
Some people are more subtle with their choice, choosing words like:
Persuasive.
Athletic.
Powerful.
Wealthy.
But others are still more creative:
Judicious.
Equanimous.
Salubrious.
Effulgent.
But sometimes things don't go the way you're expecting. You say "attractive" and all of a sudden random objects come flying towards you. It doesn't always use the definition you expect. That's why sometimes people have the same Word but different powers, and why people stick with the simple ones. Whatever gives people their gifts seems to have a harder time mistranslating those.
I'd chosen the word I'd use a long time ago. No one is on the record with this word. It could be a big risk, but I was fairly confident that my Word would work. It meant I could do all kinds of things, and a jack-of-all-trades type of thing has always appealed to me.
I step into the white room. A sliding door hisses shut behind me
A soothing voice tells me to only speak once I'm sure I have my word.
I take a deep breath. My fingers are tingling. I can feel every beat of my heart throughout my entire body.
"Universal."
Blinding light.
Pure ecstasy.
Unfettered agony.
I feel...
Everything.
Everywhere.
Everywhen.
I guess I should have seen that coming? | "Crombulated?"
"Crombulated."
"What in the world does that even mean?"
"Wouldn't you like to know, weather boy."
"Don't quote the old memes to me! I was there when they were posted!"
"Anywho, I chose 'crombulated' and the word master accepted it so now I have the nigh infinite power allotted by such a masterful adjective."
"But what does it mean!?"
"Wouldn't you-"
"Not the meme again! Just tell me already!"
"I don't have to tell you anything but if you simply must know it means whatever I choose it to mean. Since I invented it I get to define it. I'm just saving the defining of the word for when I need it."
"Dude, you can't do that."
"And who says I can't? Who died and made you the king of the English language?"
"You're not Humpty Dumpty, dude! You can't just assign definitions as befits your whimsies!"
"You know what? I define 'crombulated' as extremely persuasive to the point of being nigh-supernatural. Do you agree?"
"Of course. Sounds reasonable to me."
"Glad you could see it from my point of view." | 2022-01-01T21:51:39 | 2022-01-01T20:32:05 | 1,569 | 488 |
[WP] The new king was not crowned by a holy man, nor by another monarch. Instead, he asked you, a commoner, to crown him. This was to represent his dedication to his people. But now everyone calls you"King-maker", to the extent that other nations call upon you for your service. | ... The plan had completely backfired. The nation tore at the seams after it was I that throned the King. Other kingdoms requested my service, not as a noble selector, but as a rouse for the crowds. In their eyes I was more akin to a jester than an honorable delegate. It was speculated that our nation would collapse because of my involvement in the crowning.
"A commoner sanctifying the King? Blasphemous! Surely the Crown cannot be taken seriously!"
"What's next, a peasant running the treasury?"
Bellringers called for the end of days and signaled the dawn of anarchy. The Church wouldn't codify the declaration of new reign.
"Brothers in Christ, what more does a lowly field worker have over the kingdom that thy neighbor does not? Are we obliged to accept the new rule if not originally sanctified by thy Father? No! Christ condemns the throne! He has abandoned our country, our people. We are ruled by an apostate, signaling the end is neigh!"
Mass panic ensured. Food was already sparse, and since the town was revolting, the crisis intensified. Witch hunts spawned out of the fear that consumed our kingdom, forcing me into hiding.
I took off towards the hills, only carrying what I could fit in my pockets. A knife, some rope, and two potatoes would have to suffice until I could hunt for my next meal. I have no knowledge on the whereabouts of my family. They advised me to secede without their involvement. It was the only way to protect the ones I love. If you find this script, please let them know I am doing okay and eagerly await to meet them again should I still be accepted into the only place that might still have me, the Kingdom of Heaven. | "I don't understand?? I was merely a close friend to the king? Why do they want me to crown others?" I asked, shocked at the letter I received from the Ablys kingdom.
"I don't know honey but this won't stop there . . . Here, have a pastry." My wife, Laurasia, said and stuffed a baked good into my mouth.
"You'll be hungry on your journey there, I've packed you a basket of everything you'd need, I expect you to return after you've crowned 2 kings my dear." Laurasia announced as she started to clean the dishes.
"Yes, I promise."
Taking the basket I began making my way to the carriage outside of my house, the king granted me it with 2 knights on either side to ensure my safety.
"Hello, yes, hello." I mumbled as a crowd of people began to gather around for my department.
As I took that month-long journey, the second king wanted more than to be crowned. He wanted chaos. I walked out to crown the king, a big ceremony at that. When I was enjoying my wine, I hear.
*CLANG!!*
Everything went dark.
I got up to see what happened and saw my decapitated body with the king behind my back.
I died?
I turn to meet other ghosts who had the same fate as me. I turned around once more to see my beloved wife, dead. At that point I realized why one of the gaurds walked into my house. To assert dominance on the behalf of Ablys. I was angered, yet, so lost. | 2022-10-17T08:16:11 | 2022-10-17T07:54:31 | 40 | 15 |
[WP] Your little daughter have imaginary friends. One day, she asked if her friends can sleep in her room. You jokingly told her that they can stay as long as they want, as long as they help with the rent. The next morning, you found a hand wearing a Rolex and a roll of cash by the sink. | Since my wife left, my daughter had began talking to herself. I was understanding, it was tough for me as well. Yesterday, I went up to her room where she of course was playing with her "friends" I sat and listened to her babble and giggle and change her voice around for their parts. Tapping lightly on the door she called out and I peered around it slightly.
"Dinner is ready honey, wash up please."
" Mmk...hey Dad? Can Bonnie and Clyde stay here with me?"
" Sure honey, they can always stay here with you, but only if they pay rent" I said with a chuckle.
As I turned to go downstairs, I heard a two tone chuckle. I paused for a second but didn't really give it a second thought before heading down to put shredded cheese on dinner. I told her stories of my stuffed animals I had for long car rides and the adventures we had riding around the country. It was logical for her and made me happy for her to attach to me in these little ways.
The next morning I went downstairs to cook some bacon for my daughter, the smell always got her up faster than me going to her room anyways. As I rounded the corner to head for the fridge I paused and did a step back and double take. On top of my pile of bills was a severed hand. A Rolex watch was on the wrist and a large roll of cash clenched with a literal a death grip lay with the hand on the stack of overdue bills. I approached and immediately recognized the watch. It belonged to the banker my wife used to screw before we got married. He prided himself by shacking it in front of everyone as it was a limited run model, very much so worth more than the cash. When my wife left and her income not considered he took it upon himself to "modify" my mortgage. Gawking, my trance was broken by a tug on my shirt. My daughter looking up with a smile "Bonnie and Clyde said thank you. They said they missed you and their boss said it was ok to be my friend."
It flooded back, eminent domain, moving, having our farm in for closure, and out of that stress two friends, Bonnie and Clyde. The morning my parents were crying with happiness. To them getting me two stuffed animals to call Bonnie and Clyde and the therapist saying the dolls were real, my friends weren't. I stared at my daughter.
" They said there is always more, but too much too fast would get dicey." She giggled.
I smiled " I'll make breakfast, go get some school clothes on."
She skipped away. I pried the hand apart, almost needing a pry bar of some sort and began counting the cash. All Benjamins, all non sequencing, I smiled with tears welling up. From what seemed like a distance, a pair of voices " we did miss you." | "What the fuck!?" I say quietly as I stare blankly at the surprisingly cleanly severed old hand, It wasn't bleeding or anything, yet it didn't look as if there was a cauterization involved. I couldn't do anything. The only thing I could do at that time to stay as quiet as I could and hide the hand in fear of waking up my poor daughter on such a peaceful Saturday morning.
&#x200B;
As I go to pick it up something catches my eyes, a small, black french lily tattoo peeking out past the 18K Yellow Gold Rolex. What the hell was going on? Why do I have a Rolex and roll of cash just sitting atop this marble countertop? Most importantly, what was my boss's hand doing in the kitchen?
&#x200B;
"I'll deal with this hand later." I thought to myself as my attention was drawn to the heavy looking roll of cash, full of $100 bills! And of course, a sticky note was looking at me, it's yellow paper just taunting me. *Enjoy your rent, more to come \~I.F's*
&#x200B;
No way, Surely this couldn't be true. They're just imaginary, right? This whole thing is just a sick and twisted dream right? Only one way to find out, to pinch myself...OW! Nope...this is real. I should probably give my boss a quick call and make sure he's okay.
&#x200B;
"Hey, John, quick que-" I got interrupted by the voice of a distressed woman on the other end, I already felt like I knew where this was going but I needed to be sure.
"John..." The woman paused before continuing "John was murdered last night, he's dead Zack...they killed him, THEY KILLED HIM!" The woman sounded weak as I felt my suspicions were true. I give my condolences and hang up the phone. I take the Rolex off the hand and put both on the table and quickly throw on some clothes, grabbing my car keys in the process of grabbing the hand and Rolex. Looks like I'm going for a bit of a trip to hide this...maybe I could plead insanity? No, my job makes it a dead giveaway...fuck...I guess I'm in this for the long haul, and with Killer *Imaginary Friends!?*
================================================================================================
This is my first attempt at writing something first person, any help, advice etc would be great! | 2019-10-06T16:14:50 | 2019-10-06T14:53:17 | 43 | 12 |
[WP] You are the sole normal, unpowered student at a School for the Supernaturally Gifted. You were bullied once. Once. | I walked down the rather crowded hallway, trying to get to my locker before Maths class so I could get my textbooks for the rest of the day There was a small line of students winding almost in singlefile through the people standing by their lockers. I was, as usual, trying to just stay out of the way.
Just because my Dad happened to be the head of the Heroes League, everyone always thought I'd be just as gifted. No such luck for me, but my younger brother was already showing signs of several gifts.
I was almost at my locker when a large wall suddenly appeared in front of me. Chris, aka IronFist, had always been one of the more aggressive towards me, but fear of my Dad usually kept things from going to far.
"Look, if it isn't the wimp." His nickname for me was as intelligent as he was.
"Sorry, excuse me, I just want to get by" I said, ducking to try and get around him. He was about twice as wide as me so that was not easy as he moved to keep me from passing.
"Who said you could move!" he yelled, stepping back into the rapidly opening hallway behind him as everyone moved back from the noise. "I dont care who you are related to, you don't belong here wimp."
A ring was forming around us, as if they were expecting a fight, not an uncommon event but everyone knew I couldn't do anything so this was going to be big. A glance around showed me the closest people to me were all his cronies. This was planned.
"Sorry" I said again moving towards my locker just to my right side. "I just need my Maths book and I'll go."
This is where Chris laughed. "He thinks he can leave" Chris said over my head. Not hard as I only was as tall as his shoulder.
"Fine, what do you want?"
"I want you out of here, maybe a broken arm will teach you."
I knew it was time. I thanked my lucky stars he decided to do this by my locker. I reached in one of my pockets and grabbed a small remote and put my finger on the only button and backed up to my locker. Predictably Chris reached out towards me, his hands glossy steel. I hit the button and ducked.
BAM!
His hands both shot forward, hitting the metal door of my locker.
"What the hell?" He struggled to pull his hands back but they were stuck to the locker door, right next to the rather large electromagnet i had turned on.
I quickly opened my locker door, while he was busy trying to figure out why he couldn't move. Right after I grabbed my books he shoved the door closed again.
"The hell did you do to me, loser" he yelled again. I saw his first minion, Josh, moving forward, sparks flying from his fingertips. I pulled a small copper wire from my long sleeved hoodie and pointed it at the sparks. The following shock hit Josh more than me as all the electricty went down the shielded wire down to the bottom of my shoe.
"Wanna try that again?" I asked, but he was too stunned to respond.
One more person stepped out of the ring, and I recognized Jessica, Chris' girlfriend. She was a "runner" and I pulled out of yet another pocke a small test tube half filled with a metallic liquid and put my other hand on the stopper.
"You ever see a runner get hit with QuickSilver?" I asked. I knew it was mercury but the old fashioned name was the point. "You will start moving and never be able to stop until you starve to death. Not a pretty sight."
"Why dont you just leave" she asked.
"It's my school too." I shrugged. "I didn't ask to come here either. But I am prepared and ready for any of you. The one thing I do have is information. I use that to be prepred for anything that any of you can dish out. Dirt to stop the wind walkers and invisibles, rubbing alcohol for the freezers, and i have my clothes all lined with copper for the electrics. The rest are even worse. You dont want to try me." Even Chris was quiet at that.
"Now, I think you are all late for class." I said as I walked away, leaving Chris stuck to the metal locker doors. | Super powers aren't exactly a part of my skill set. I've dreamed up hundreds of super powers, but never had any myself. This could be a problem in a world of super individuals. This is especially true in high school, were skill and hierarchy can be everything. And honestly, in the first couple of weeks, it was difficult.
The first day at a new school is always the hardest. Everyone seems to know at least one person. Everyone wants to know everything about everyone else. "Where are you from?" "How old are you?" "Are you friends with so-and-so?" But these days, no question is more common, or more nerve-wracking for me, than "What's your super power?" I can promise you I answered this question more than 100 times before the day was over.
The second week is where social divides really set in. This is where people have settled into their friend groups, and know where their classes are. It's also when the popular kids and the bullies rise up from the woodwork. These days, popularity and power are all based off your super abilities. Usually the super powerful kids are the ones who can fly, or shoot powerful lasers, or move with super speed. Everyone else is lower on the chain with glowing, or some super strength or durability. It's the usual stuff. Bullying in our school was at an all time high by week three. It makes sense when you think about it. It's way easier for a kid who can lift a car over his head to someone up without difficulty. Those who have power want to feel powerful.
It was the start of week three when the first kid actually tried to start something with me. I mentioned I've imagined hundreds of super powers. It used to be a simple hobby, but it came in handy that day. I could tell that this kid was powerful. He had quite the following, so he was probably powerful and popular. I was outside the bathroom when he yelled at me. I heard a loud "whirrr," and swirling ring of glowing blue light slammed into the wall, leaving a large burn mark in the reinforced concrete. (School buildings were designed to resist damage from rambunctious students.) I turned to face him, without letting any fear into my eyes. That one energy blast told me everything I needed to know.
I put my hands in my pockets as he walked up to me and shoved me into the wall. I felt around for anything useful in my possession, like a pen, or maybe my wallet. He was saying nonsense about me walking through his hallway space.
"This isn't your hallway. Now, if you'll excuse me-" I started to walk away, but he stepped in front of me. I heard the "whirrr" again and saw his arms glow with a strong blue light. But I had enough time to find what I was looking for in my pocket.
He held his arms in front of him, and a swirling ring materialized ominously. He yelled, "I didn't say you could leave, punk." He fired the ring, and I ducked just in time to hear it hiss above my head. And then I pulled out the tool that would be my rescue.
His arms started glowing. I don't know if he was scared, being careful, or just trying to seem threatening. Most of the people in the school knew I had no powers, which was probably why he was after me. I seemed like an easy target. But when he saw what I had, he just started laughing.
"What are you gonna do with a spoon?"
Indeed, I had found a spoon in my pocket, but it was just what I needed. I won't tell you exactly what I did with this spoon. Such atrocities need not be repeated. But I will say he never bothered me again. Especially since he can't move his arms for another month.
Word of our little fight, if one could even call it that, spread through the school. That was my freshmen year. Graduation is next week. No one has tried to bully me since then. They're all too scared of a spoon. | 2022-11-02T11:50:38 | 2022-11-02T10:49:29 | 162 | 55 |
[WP] Instead of having a guardian angel, you have a guardian Demon. His methods are often much more violent. But much more straight forward. | "Gi'me your wallet!" The thug stood above me, knife pointed at my neck. He had kicked my bike when I turned around the corner. "Come on you little shit!"
"It's cool man! Just put the knife down, I'm not going to resist!" I started to reach for my wallet, when he kicked me. _Oh crap..._ I thought, praying for his safety.
"You ain't telling me shit what..." He shouted, when he was interrupted by a loud blast. A senior man leaned on a window behind the now gasping for air thug, a shotgun in his hand still fumming.
"You ok kiddo?" Asked gently the man, cocking the shotgun.
"Y-y-eah... I... is he gonna be ok?" I squirmed away from the pool of blood that formed under the thief. He was a lean and skinny white man, he seemed poor, dirty and in need of a good meal.
"This piece of shit is going straight to hell." The old man spit in the direction of the thief. "Go now, I'll call the cops."
I picked up my bicked and pedalled away as quickly as I could. A few blocks after I stopped to take a breath. "Azazel, what the hell man?"
He stepped out of the thin air, as if a corner where hidden in the nothingness in front of me. First came his brown sandals and white robes, then his charred wings. The smell of sulfur filled the air. He was neither ugly, nor beautiful. Even calling him "he" was... weird, as he didn't seem neither man nor woman, just remotely human.
"What dost thou mean, my child?" His voice was like a harp was slowly played, sweet and sad.
"Couldn't you give him a cramp or something else?" I picked a rosary from my pocket and started to pray my "Hail Mary"'s for the poor man's soul.
"He was an evil man, my child, and his time had to come." He extended his warm hands to my right leg and a bean of light shone upon it. I hand't realized that it was hurting before it, but after a slight burn the pain subsided. "There child, is it better? I'll be sure that he feels a thousand times more pain than he caused thee."
"No! I don't want that! Can't you not kill someone that is putting me into any kind of bad sittuation?!" I exclaimed.
"But that is not true, my child. I care to remind thee of Johnathas Smith, the week prior. He is still alive." The fallen angel pondered with a smile.
"YOUR CRIPLED HIM!" I punched the bike in anger.
"He crippled himself, child. He mocked thee upon thy bad performance on the maraton preparation." Azazel moved gracefully one of his hands towars his pointy chin, as if trying to remember a moment between aeons of memories.
"Physical exam." I reminded him, he was still adapting to our vocabulary, he had only been around for 14 years now, or so he had told me.
"Yes, my child, that. He mocked thee on your lack of prowess on running, so now he has been humbled into not walking." He smiled, maliciously. It gave me the chills.
"Holy crap Azazel..." I stored my now well torn rosary inside my front pocket. "Why can't you be a little less... Old Testment?"
"You mean the old book of the Hebrew?" His demonic smile widened. He extended his wings and fire flew through then, as if old charcoal had been reckindled. "Those where the good times, my child."
Edit1: fix added by /u/gingersassy suggestion | Melody ran, her heart pounding in her chest, they were gaining on her!
As she glanced back she could see that two of them were gaining on her slowly, while the other three fell behind.
'Maybe I can lose them in the lanes?' she thought as she ran on, but as she rounded a corner there was one of the cars they had got out of and a man with a gun was facing her.
"Stay right there bitch!" He snarled, and she could hear chuckles from behind her as the others surrounded her "You are coming with us to have some fun." he was leering horribly as he snarled this at her, and the men behind started laughing nastily.
"You don't understand!" Mel nearly screamed with fear "I have to get away from you!"
"No bitch, you are going to be getting very close to all of us" another one said snickering as he saw her fear.
"No idiots" said Mel, suddenly calm, she knew *he* was here now "I *had* to be away from you... if you wanted to live that is. But now it's too late... Bitches!"
As she finished that word the street lights went out, the wind roared out of nowhere, strangely leaving Mel un-touched by it's blasts, but blowing the men off their feet, and there was a feeling of electricity in the air.
"MINE!" the voice that roared over the sound of the wind carried the rage of millions of years of hatred, as the men regained their feet a pair of lava coloured glowing eyes appeared behind the gunman. The eyes rose from human head height to tower over the men as they faced it. They all drew their guns and opend fire at the strange shape in the darkness with horrifying eyes.
"AHAHAHAHAAA! YOUR PUNY WEAPONS CAN'T HARM ME!" and with that the Guardian Daemon struck. The second man to speak to Mel was the first to die, a daemonic hand with enormous claws punched through his chest splattering the mans lungs and heart across the faces of the two men close behind him, a flick of the claws ripped their eyes out as they screamed and the eviscerated corpse jerked wetly around the daemons forearm.
It swung the corpse into the blinded men and went for the two on the otherside of Mel, and with a rapid step it was on them. It used each of it's feet to pin both of the men to the floor, and then as they screamed from the pain it grasped both of their heads and pulled up so hard It ripped their skulls and spines from their bodies.
It span back to the blinded men who were trying to rise, still screaming and grabbed both of thier heads from the sides and smashed them together so hard they became fused together.
It turned to the leader of the gang and smiled, the streetlights coming on to let him see it's hideous face and shining fangs.
"SO YOU WOULD HARM THE ONE I GUARD?" It asked the petrified man.
"I... I... I..." was all the would be rapist could say in return.
"YOU WILL NOT HARM ANOTHER BEING IN ALL OF ETERNITY!" The Daemon placed the pam of it's hand on the mans head, almost tenderly.
With a twist of reality the Daemon froze time for just that man, the man could move and feel and think, but he could not die, and he could not affect anything else...
And then the Daemon set him to burn for a frozen eternity. | 2017-06-13T07:00:00 | 2017-06-13T02:02:36 | 50 | 34 |
[WP] A rich man discovers that he only has two years left to live. With no relatives to inherit his fortune, he disguises himself as a beggar and resolves to give his wealth to the first person who helps him. | The faceless man without a name sat down on the sidewalk, shaking a jug of coins at the bypassing people. He didn’t have a name or face because this story took place in a world without a proper setting or forethought, words were scarce and descriptions suffered in turn. The only things that existed were his immense fortune somewhere out in the ether, and the busy street, which was the scene of the story.
Not too surprisingly, a stranger walked up to the man. Let’s call her Betty, I mean, who really cares about her name. What matters is that Betty was a struggling single mother. She was several months behind on her rent, and her landlord was evicting her. She also had a daughter that was very ill – chronically so – and didn’t have money for proper treatment.
Seeing the poor man on the street, dressed in nothing but rags, made her stop. No matter how rough things got, there were always people who had it worse. She was just about to give him her last spare change, when something unbelievable happened – something that wasn’t in the script. The woman noticed the grubby child sitting next to the man.
Now a new dilemma presented itself to Betty. She had her arm stretched out and ready to drop the coin into the jug of the poor man, but she hesitated. The homeless child probably needed the money more than the man. Could she change her mind in this situation? Was that the right thing to do? The expression of mixed happiness and surprise on the man’s face made her heart ache. What would she see in his gray eyes if she pulled her hand back? Disappointment? Hatred?
Her eyes wandered to the dime in her hand. Could she ask the beggar if he could change it for two nickels so that she could give them one each? That seemed very out of line to Betty.
“Just drop it in mine,” the man said with a look at the child. “He’ll be better off from it as well.”
Betty was a bit taken aback by the bold statement. It was such a blunt thing to say. How would the child be better off if she gave the money to the man? That seemed like such a messed up idea – the child was clearly starving.
“I, uh, I…” Betty said and finally pulled her hand back.
The man shook his head at her, and Betty sniffed. She dropped the coin into the open palm of the child and hurried off. The problem with this course of action, even though it seemed morally right to Betty, was that the rich man disguised as a poor man still hadn’t received help.
Now, if the man had been a proper character with a bit of depth, he would’ve realized that the woman was a good person anyway, and hurried after her to give her his fortune. I mean, why did it have to be to him in the first place? If someone gave a starving child money, wouldn’t they be deserving of the fairytale ending in this scenario? If the man had any sense of morality, he wouldn’t be out on the streets playing games to see who gets his fortune. He would’ve helped all the homeless children in the city. He would’ve distributed food and helped people out of the gutter.
But since this is not a proper setting or characterization, just a random scene with a made up scenario, another stranger walked by. This was Michael Foroza, a crime lord that preyed upon the weak and exploited those with good intentions. He was the man who was evicting Betty and her sick child. And while digging through his pocket for his phone to call in another hit on an innocent person, a random coin dropped out and accidentally landed in the homeless man’s jug.
****
r/Lilwa_Dexel | The barista gave Todd a weird-looking loonie for change. The metal had gone brown, and green fuzz covered the Queen's face. On his way out, Todd held the ugly loonie in the center of his palm.
"Ew," he said to himself.
The loonie was fascinatingly gross, like one of those videos online where people knife open massive zits.
Outside the Starbucks, Todd was so fixated on the coin that he nearly tripped over a homeless guy in a torn-up jacket.
"Any change?" The homeless guy's smile clicked on like a car's brights. Todd noted that the homeless guy's skin, for all that it was dirt-spattered, had the deep tan and healthy glow of a Silicon Valley investor.
Earlier that morning in the bathroom, Todd had pushed his upper lip up and looked at his off-white, semi-translucent teeth sticking out of his purple gums. He'd tugged at the acne-scarred skin wrapped around his skull. He'd teased the last wisps of hair left on his bony, ridged head. He'd felt perfectly ugly, and now this beautiful homeless man, whose hair would make a polo-playing aristocrat jealous, was shaking a metal cup in his face.
Todd dropped the ugly brown-green loonie into the homeless guy's cup.
Maybe the green fuzz would give the guy a disease.
The homeless guy tilted the cup to check inside. Todd walked on.
"I have something to tell you," the homeless guy called.
"God bless. I know," Todd said.
"It's something far more exciting than that." The guy was following him.
Todd waved him off. "Buddy, it was just a loonie. Now I'm going to work."
"You see," the homeless guy leapt into Todd's path, "I've been waiting all morning for someone to give me a coin."
Todd rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'm sure that's how it works."
Even the homeless guy's facial hair was better kept than Todd's. It traced a perfect hyperbola from his sideburns to his mustache.
"What I have to tell you is," the homeless guy took a deep breath, and his eyes sparkled all whimsically, and his smile would have stopped a rabbit in its tracks, "life-changing."
Todd groaned. "Come on, man."
"Believe me," the corners of the homeless guy's lips twitched, "your life won't ever be the same."
"I don't have time for this." Todd pushed past the guy, but the guy kept following him. Todd said, "I have a job to go to. Don't make me regret giving you a dollar. I mean, Jesus. It was charity. I was just being nice. I didn't adopt you. You're not some pet of mine. You don't get to follow me around telling me about Jesus and the miracle of giving, or whatever bullshit you're about to talk about. Leave me alone."
"You're not listening," the homeless guy said.
"That's right. I'm not listening." Todd met the homeless guy's deep blue eyes. "Leave. Me. Alone."
The homeless guy, for the first time, seemed lost for words. His smile flickered out. "You're sure?"
Todd continued walking.
From behind him, he heard a sad little sentence: "It's life-changing."
"I don't need a changed life," Todd yelled over his shoulder.
*****
*fully did not intend for this to be as unpleasant as it turned out.* | 2017-08-21T01:01:22 | 2017-08-21T00:27:32 | 825 | 308 |
[WP] Congratulations! At 25 years old you won the lottery and will receive €50.000.000,- spread out over the rest of your lifespan; paid out evenly on each of your remaining years alive. On the following January 1st, you receive €25 million in your bank account. | I got half my money in the first deposit. So, I did what any sane person would do. I panicked and called their customer service line.
"Hi, my name is Gregory Trapper."
"Oh, yes, you're the one who won the grand prize, aren't you? To say that I'm jealous is an understatement."
"Yeah, about that, isn't the the prize money supposed to be spread out over my entire lifespan?"
"Correct. That was part of the contract."
"So, I got half of it deposited into my account today, and I'm really scared."
"Why is that?"
"Because I don't want to die in two years!"
"Sir, we cannot tell the future like that. We simply pay out half of the remaining balance every year. This guarantees that we will always have some amount still owed to you, so we are technically paying it out over your entire lifespan."
"What?"
"It's based on one of Zeno's paradoxes. We will always owe you some money, as we cannot guarantee the date of your death. The remaining balance will be paid out to your next of kin upon your death. This was all in the contract."
"Oh..."
"Is there anything else that I can help you with today?"
"No, thanks, that's quite a relief." | I get a notification on my phone of a recent deposit in my bank account, excited having won the lottery. I really need the money since I finished college and in major debt.
I figured since they say it’s spread evenly through my life I can calculate how long I’ll live. Not a nice thought, but hey who wouldn’t.
I nearly choke on my apple juice box, seeing that i’ve never seen so many zeros at once.
I’m filled with joy, excitement of all the possibilities, I call my girlfriend, my parents. But after I get off the phone, it dawns on me. Hold up, they said “evenly”, sooooo I’m going to die in 2 years!??!!!?
I feel a cold rush, as I realize what this means.
I grab my phone, and dial a number.
The first step I must make.
It rings.
“Hello?” I say
“Thank you for calling Wendy’s. How may I help you?”
I must eat. | 2020-08-05T20:04:24 | 2020-08-05T15:38:04 | 257 | 133 |
[WP] "Reddit" is a massive city, with subreddits as districts. Describe a chase scene. | I couldn't lose this one, not again.
For years I was a lurker, a damn bum, you know? Gave nothing to the community. Well, I figured it was my shot, you know? Bring a few reposts to justice, snag some easy karma, get them the downvotes they deserve - you know, give back a little.
Now here I am, chasing some shitposting jerkoff through Reddit's underbelly. I spotted him on r/WTF with that pic of the dude's nuts hangin' out or whatever, you know? Eh, anyways so there I am runnin' him down and he takes a turn for the really weird shit. Sure, he knew his way around r/nosleep and r/gore - real scummy parts of town, you know. I dodged the boogymen and the corpses easy though, I've seen enough shit in my time that a few stories about eyes in your window at night won't keep me off the mean streets. Pretty soon I was right on his heels. He didn't even break stride as we crossed the intersection into r/watchpeopledie.
He took a sharp right by some dude, looked like he got run over by a car, into an alley that smelled like blood and whispered my name. Scary shit, but I had to get some karma in my pocket. I put my head down and ended up on the other side. Where the hell was I? Well, good fuckin' question friend. I was deep, way deep. r/deepintoyoutube. Voices echoed from windows, whispered all nasally and short, you know? Big billboards advertising sex dolls and horrible, drug-fuelled nonsense. Hundreds of small streets branch off in every direction here, but no one wants to see where they go. I accidentally caught eye of r/neckbeardnests through a shattered window - god damn, why couldn't this asshole make a sprint for the randnsfw expressway? My attention snapped back to the guy as he sprinted full speed toward the docks.
I put my head down and ran, wheezing. The air was thick, putrid, real dank shit. And not r/trees dank, you know? God, it filled my throat and seemed to suck the life outta me. I stumbled and fell, looking up to see him run down r/dolan. Poor bastard, he'll get what he deserves there. As for me, I was busy choking on my own vomit. God, what was that stench? I looked to my left to see a mound of something... I couldn't quite make it out. It wasn't just the mound though, the shit was pouring out of every window, every doorway, even the manholes were overflowing with the slimy bastards. What could be so fuckin' rancid, so putrid and dank, that it ruined this whole block? They were fuckin' fish. Fuckin' fish everywhere! Where the hell was I? I looked up to the sign at the corner, squinting. In simple text, I could barely make out the name of this pisshole of a street, ruined by a damn plague of fish: r/me_irl. | "There, heading westbound from Askreddit," said a young Mod over the radio.
The Admin fired up his Model S and looped around Frontpage Square, keeping a healthy distance behind the notorious hacker Four Chan. The rogue coasted into the alleys of WTF. After a moment, he followed.
Chan had already parked his ice cream truck in a dim corner. Face obscured, he slipped out the driver's seat, glanced around surreptitiously, and stood by the double doors at the back.
Hours passed, and Reddit went black as dead AMOLED. On the opposite corner, the Admin's eyes grew heavy. It all happened in a blur: two figures raced out of the adjacent apartment block, with a heavy canvas bag strung between them. The Admin could just make out viscous drips. Chan threw open the trunk doors. The bag was tossed in with a thump, the two figures jumped in after it, and the doors swung shut. Then the truck came to life, and peeled off in seconds.
The Admin fumbled with his keys, flustered. *Go, go go!* Just as the van made the next corner, he was hot in pursuit. Tarmac shrunk as the distance narrowed. Blood rushing, his finger hovered above the control panel when all of a sudden, the windshield cracked. He sweved, violent. Downvotes were spraying out Chan's window ahead of him.
The Admin pulled down the first major street he could find. He would catch up with Four and his cronies before the evening was done, but at the moment he needed backup of his own. The Hotel IAmA was a shining beacon in the city center, one of the area's most notable attractions. As he pulled up, a valet came to the window.
"May I help you?"
The Admin removed his sunglasses.
"Oh shit. Sorry, my mistake."
The place was under new management now, but none of them ran it like Victoria used to. A revolving door spun, interrupting his lament. Ms. Dormer hopped in the passenger seat and gave him the trademark asymmetrical smirk.
"Addy, it's always pleasure." She winked, twisted around, and pushed open the back door. Then, calling louder, "Get in loser, we're going shopping."
Sir David clambered in and gave him the warmest of handshakes. "The lesser spotted Natalie taunts her prey. My old friend Mr. Admin, how is the world's deadliest troll hunter?"
"Wonderful to see you both," said The Admin. "There'll be time to catch up later, I'm sure. We have work to do. Chan is back."
"I'm afraid we already know. He'll be on his way to the Relationships District by now." Sir David pressed three grey cartridges into his hand. On each, in small black letters, was etched 'SHADOWBAN'. "Let's waste the fucker," he said in a voice like buttered leather.
The Admin smiled. | 2016-01-09T20:49:04 | 2016-01-09T19:40:56 | 604 | 190 |
[WP] In a world where reincarnation with a full knowledge of your past life is real, authorities struggle to protect society by keeping the worst criminals and serial killers in prison alive for as long as possible to delay their eventual escape back into society via the reincarnation process. | "Are you familiar with the one-electron universe?"
Christopher Cain furrowed his brows ever so slightly. I lit a cigarette and blew smoke directly into his eyes.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing? Guards! I'll kill you. When I come back I swear I'll kill you."
As an L5 prisoner, Cain had only been allowed to keep his head. The rest of him was too fragile. Prone to error. An accidental, or intentional, death would mean that one of the greatest monsters of this generation roamed free in an unprepared world.
"Careful," I said. "You're only one threat level away from having your tongue removed."
"How many tongues do you think I've eaten?" he parried.
"In this life? 43. Now, I take it you're not well-versed in theoretical physics so I'll just tell you. The one-electron universe is a thesis put forth by legendary physicist John Wheeler in 1940, well before the Awakenings began. His remarkable idea? That there's only one electron in this world, traveling back and forth in time. Reality, then, is a tangled and continuous web that only appears discrete when sliced into distinct moments of awareness."
Cain remained silent for a while, then he broke out in laughter. "You guys must really be out of ideas. Some science mumbo-jumbo? You think that's what's going to rehabilitate me? I've lived hundreds of lives and died hundreds of deaths. In all of them I've enjoyed myself, feasting on the rest of you."
I put out my cigarette on his forehead. His scream sound like of a wheeze. The artificial lungs made sure he couldn't make noise above a certain decibel threshold.
"I'll remember your face," he said, and grinned.
"Good luck finding it in Ancient Sumer."
"Sumer? The hell are you on about?"
"For a long time we have assumed that reincarnation is a linear process. A branch growing in a single direction, bit by bit. But there's been a remarkable development. Cooped up in here I'm not surprised it hasn't come to your limited attention. It turns out that reincarnation is a non-linear process. Branches merge, split off, and feed back into each other. You wouldn't notice it if you were split into five individuals living in different eras, would you? Like in Wheeler's one-electron universe you would assume, given your discrete perspective, that you were cut off from the rest."
I could see sweat mixing with blood from his stained forehead.
"Imagine a raindrop," I continued. "As it's falling it seems like such a singular thing. A drop. But it's part of a cycle. Soon the drop will be united with the oceans. It will dwell among clouds. It will return as a drop of sweat. Or blood."
"What does it matter? I won't remember anything until I'm back here. 2022, right? That's when it all starts. That's when people wake up. I might spend a few dozen lives in Sumer or whatnot but I'll return here sooner or later. And I'm going to remember you. I won't eat you, though. Smoked meat has always disgusted me."
"Tastes change," I said.
I took out a small knife. A look of surprise flashed across Cain's face, though I could tell he tried to conceal it.
"Remember this? Your father gave it to you while you were out fishing. You used it to gut your first fish. Then you used it to gut your own father. You're probably wondering how I know, right?"
As he was processing this information, something I should have no way of knowing, I stabbed him in his left eye. Blood gushed out.
"Guards! Guards!"
"As it turns out, you did come back. And you remembered me, thousands of lives later. Or should I say, we remembered ourselves?"
I stab his right eye.
"Well, you're off to Sumer now. And I can tell you it's not going to be pleasant. But you're in for quite an interesting journey."
Cutting off his supply of oxygen, I watched Cain squirm as he rejoined the tangled web of existence.
---
/r/Hemingbird | “One more time, please one more time! I won’t do it again!” His body thrashed against the straps keeping him bound from inflicting self harm once again.
“They always think they’ll wake up and it will all be fixed.” Stated the warden plainly.
“Maybe they could if we gave-“
Robbie was silenced by the hand on his chest, belonging to Leo, his partner and lead for the day.
“We need to report to cell 18-F immediately, do you need anymore assistance sir?” Leo looked towards the warden who waved him away silently as he strolled down the hallway back towards his office. The two embarked side by side in the opposite direction, turning down the stairs into the quad.
“What was that about Emilio?” Robbie felt dejected about his new position as a correctional officer already.
“It’s Leo, man, and I’d hope you’ve been around long enough to know not to talk to someone like the warden about feedback loops.”
“I wasn’t going to talk about feedback loops just that maybe they wouldn’t want to die if we gave them some help fixing this body.” Robbie felt the tension and decided to march along in silence.
They walked the remainder of the block until they smelled what they were heading to. Another inmate had managed to get their hands on a shiv and got into their carotid artery with surgeon like precision. Blood pooled out from the cell into the quad like a sewer main just ruptured. It was obvious this wasn’t their first time.
Robbie had accepted this job for the first time in his lives. A lot of folks decided to try their hand at associating with those stuck in negative feedback loops. These souls had become so damaged at one point that each and every carnation of themselves had managed to find a way back to a sickening pathology at increasingly shorter rates. This body in front of Robbie was just 7 years old but had already committed crimes that linked this corporeal form to the soul of a famous killer from the United States of America back when that existed. There was no doubt now, they always ended it like this once they were caught.
Geographically isolated countries were blessed somehow. The souls in the in-between, which lasted roughly a year and a half, did not seem able or willing to cross mountains, oceans, seas, or deserts. In some of these places the governments were able to track each death and birth with enough precision to help those stuck in negative feedback loops. These countries had their own issues, however, with increasing numbers of souls never returning to a corporal form. Looping out, they called it.
“See Robbie?” Leo’s statement lifted Robbie from his thoughts.
“Seven fucking years old and he gives no shits about this body.” Robbie remained silent.
“You’d think if they had any care for self-help they’d stick around long enough to change.”
On his way home in the first hours of daylight he reflected on his lives. He had had seven incarnations. The first four had all produced agriculture and swore that via the trade they would loop out. But water became increasingly scarce and they had to compromise their ethics lifetime after lifetime to keep producing food for the region. It was after the fourth body’s death that his soul decided to search for another path. He had been a woman who became a teacher. She influenced the lives of thousands of children but again, ethics were always compromised in an increasingly greying world. Suicide had ravaged the geo-region in his second lifetime as a teacher. People knowing they could start new without consequences. The wake of the mass suicides had jarred Robbie away from education. He could feel as he was born into this body, a scarring that did not shed as he learned to walk and talk again. Now at 22, he felt he should try what those who looped-out recommended. “Help the helpless”.
First Post! Please be gentle, also it’s not done but I couldn’t think of more at the moment!
-spliffy | 2021-10-08T11:43:34 | 2021-10-08T11:42:28 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] You lay dying of heart failure, and God enters your mind. He informs you that you will be reincarnated upon death, losing all memory, but before that happens you are allowed to ask any one question. The answer to your question surprises you so much that your heart restarts and you survive. | As I lay in the bed, focusing all of my energy on continuing to breathe for as long as I could, I felt a presence in my midst. Not a physical presence like that of my family that surrounded me, but it was as if a second consciousness had entered my mind.
He explained to me what was going to happen, though I knew it to be true already. I was going to die momentarily. What I hadn't known, was what was to come after. I had contemplated what the after life might be like, or if there even was an after life. Now I had my answer. I was to be reincarnated upon my death and I would lose all of my memories of this life. It was saddening to know that I would live on in a new life, but would not be able to carry the precious moments from this life with me.
But losing all of my memories was to come with a perk. He told me I could ask any one question. Any one question at all, and I would receive an answer. I thought long and hard, each second that passed became more and more painful as my breaths became increasingly sharp and quick. Finally, I had it. The question I would ask would give me one final taste of truth. With this answer, I could go quietly into the night, knowing that those I left behind would be either disappointed or would rejoice when the truth I was about to behold became public knowledge.
We shared a consciousness, so I need not even ask the question. I could tell he was slightly let down with my choice of inquiry. He hesitated for a moment, but then relented and granted me my one final answer. What he had not anticipated, nor what I had not anticipated, was that as my heart gave out and his answer echoed through the waning expanse of my consciousness, was that it would restart my failing heart. When I heard his answer, my world jolted back into view. My family was frantically calling for assistance from the nurses. I was gasping for breath again, not because I couldn't breathe, but because I could breathe once again. I didn't wait for the nurses or doctors to arrive. Instead, I pulled the apparatus facilitating my breathing from my body and sat up straight. My cousin, two years my elder, shuffled over and placed a hand on my back, steadying me as I tried to sputter out audible words. Something raspy came out of my mouth, but he couldn't hear it. I pulled the collar of his shirt closer to me and whispered into his ear,
"Half Life 3 confirmed."
edit: Thanks so much for the gold! | Falling away to unconsciousness is... different when you die. Instead of the fade away to blackness, the experience felt similar to taking a lift down. It was disorentating; just a moment ago, I was rushing forward at 50 kilometres per hour.
And down I went, the wind whooshing upwards around me. After a minute, I stopped in front of a woman, dressed to the nines in black.
"Huh, I didn't know God would be a woman." I remarked out loud.
"THAT'S WHAT MOST PEOPLE THOUGHT AS WELL." God's voice boomed with a touch of feminity. "HERE'S THE DEAL, YOU ASK A QUESTION, YOU GET AN HONEST ANSWER. AND YOU MOVE ON TO YOUR NEXT LIFE"
I opened my mouth to speak, but stopped myself just in time.
"SMART MOVE, CONSIDERING THE FACT THAT YOU ATTEMPTED TO IMPRESS A GIRL BY USING TWO FIRE EXTINGUISHERS TO PROPEL YOURSELF ON A SKATEBOARD."
She said disappointingly, with all too familiar the tone used by my mother whenever I was caught doing something idiotic. "YOU KNOW YOU HAVE A WEAK HEART JAMES, AND NOW IT HAS FINALLY ABANDONED YOU."
I shot her a look. Before going back to thinking about my one question.
This one question was the only thing before my true death. A new life without any memories meant that i would cease to exist. I imagined all the questions I could ask, like the meaning to life, immortality, and all those other popular questions which would be ultimately useless to me in the end.
Eons passed, and God sat crossed legged to me, quietly waiting for my answer.
"Ah screw it, it doesn't matter to me anymore what question I ask," I said frustrated, "Was the girl ever impressed with what I did anyways?"
"YES, SHE WAS," said God with an amused smile. "IS THAT AL-"
The happiness coursed through me. And I could hear my heartbeat again.
"SCORE!" I cried.
But there was no God to hear my cry of happiness, only the clean white appearance of the hospital room, and a surprised looking blonde girl beside me.
"Double score!" | 2014-08-03T06:58:43 | 2014-08-03T06:31:00 | 750 | 101 |
[WP] Your roommate is 2nd most powerful superhero in the world and he will not shut up about it. He does not yet know that you are the 1st. | Him.
The bane of my existence.
He can levitate mountains, take a nuclear bomb to the face, even control the minds of millions simultaneously, but he can't land a steady job for his life. Ever since the government mandated equal job opportunities for the gifted and the mundane, his resume was simply not attractive enough to employers to actually keep him hired for long. Not to mention his perpetual hubris-filled remarks put even me on edge. But his usual state of unemployment, like most other things, could not keep his ego down for long.
"Did I ever tell you about the time I roundhouse kicked an alien cruiser into ten other ships and destroyed them all?"
"Yeah, I think you did." Perhaps twenty times this month.
"Well, afterwards, I said a really cool line!"
"Oh? What did you say?" You yelled "STRIKE!!!"
"I yelled, "STRIKE!!!" You should've heard the alien broadcast after that! They apologized profusely and left the next day with their tails between their arms. Oh, you probably don't know, but I ranked second on the Hero Proficiency Analysis tests yesterday".
"Second out of what? North America?"
"Nah," he paused for effect, a little too long. "The entire world!"
I thought back to what his mother taught me , how to stroke his ego and keep him happy. To widen my eyes, turn my body towards him, make a small gasp as to properly feign surprise.
"You're the second most powerful superhero in the world? W-what?"
I watched in satisfaction as his back straightened, puffed out his chest, and cheeks color pink with a prideful blush. I got the human expression thing down this time.
"Not like it was any surprise, considering my track record. Though I wonder who's the first. Not like these tests are, like, accurate or anything, and the guy that got first place was listed as "anonymous" on the scoreboards. Ya know what I think? I think this whole mysterious first place thing is just to motivate me to try even harder so I can save humanity's ass faster."
"You're right, the government likes to play mind games like that all the time".
I miss the chaos of the Dreamlands. Everything was so much simpler. No expressions, no emotions, hardly any form of social interaction. Yet this world has its own air of seductiveness. Its innocence entices me, and so I sought to shatter it. In the beginning, nothing could stir me; nothing was worth my thoughts and considerations. It was only watching this man through my many faithful watchers that made me feel. His presence intrigued me; I wanted to learn more, I wanted the proximity, *I want him*. As to why I felt this way to a mere mortal is one of the few mysteries I knew naught about. So in his time of financial need, I stepped in as his roommate. I had to mask my true form, as a mere glimpse of it would surely drive him insane. A girl, whose body I took from an institution of people similar in age. I worked as a waiter in a restaurant, just a bit more than enough to pay my share of the rent. Every time he comes back from yet another failed interview, my grasp on this form wavers. The smell of him when he steps out of the shower, and when he bounds to me on the sands on a day off at the beach just to show me the seashells he collected, they truly stir my emotions, their first shifts in centuries. I am no hero, yet the cold analytical eye of the Hero Proficiency Analysis tests deemed me the most able entity of this world to right its wrongs. The more time I spend with this man, the more I became aware as to why I turned away from a life of sweet, sweet chaos to that of a waitress that occasionally shields this small blue sphere from looming threats it can't even remotely comprehend. "Why does Nyarlathotep protect Terra?", I often hear from others like me. What made me choose to manifest myself into this creature of thin sinews and a mediocre psyche? What made me choose to live as an exile from my kind, only to reside with this larva of evolution? The guy that can't land a steady job but still takes me to carnivals, who plays Smash at his friend's place but still comes back every night to cook me dinner, who always manages to entertain me to no end with his "Netflix and Chill". Truly the bane of my existence.
Him. | "A superhero? Wow," I said, rolling my eyes at the back of her head. "You didn't strike me as the type."
Karen laughed as she closed the freezer door, holding an ice pack to her shoulder. "That's kind of the goal," she said slowly, as though explaining it to a child. "Secret identity. Blend in. Make it look like I'm just a common person. It keeps me safe - if the villains knew who I was, they could use that to get to me. That's part of why I had you fill out that extra liability form when you signed your lease. Basically it says that I'm not at fault for anything that happens to you as a result of my superhero-ness."
I had to laugh to myself at that. As if anything *she* could do could hurt *me*.
But more importantly, I had to keep playing along. This was too good. "So, you know I just moved to the city. We had a whole different set of superheroes where I grew up, so I don't know many of the ones out here. You said you were called Golden Girl? You any good?"
She scoffed in badly-practiced indignation; glimmers of a smile danced on the corners of her mouth, giving away that she had been hoping I would ask about her power ranking.
"Good? Jason, I'm better than good. I'm second strongest in the city. The only reason I got hurt here was that The Executioner had half a dozen extra goons on top of the twelve I was counting on. I guess my limit is closer to 1-on-15 than 1-on-18."
How adorable. Last week I broke 1-on-50 without breaking a sweat.
"Impressive," I said, widening my eyes a bit to convey a (totally fake) sense of awe. "If you can do all that though, who's the most powerful?"
All of the happiness and laughter left Karen's face in an instant. "That," she said, voice full of spite, "Would be Captain Justice. Captain "Everyone look at me, I'm so perfect" Justice."
She said it, not me.
"I, uh...." I said slowly, "I take it you don't get along all that well?"
That was an understatement. She hated his - my - guts with a passion so fiery it was matched only by The Incinerator's flamethrowers. And I knew it. I just wanted to hear it from her directly, because in costume we were always... professional enough, let's put it that way.
"He's such an ass!" Karen started to throw a punch at the nearest couch, then stopped and grimaced as her body reminded her that her arm had been dislocated less than an hour ago. "I mean, we're on the same side, but he never lets me team up with him, he always tries to take credit for stuff I did, and he has the *biggest* Holier Than Thou attitude I have *ever* seen. Oh, and the colors on his suit are ridiculous."
That caught me off guard.
"His... His suit?"
"Um, yeah. Have you never seen a picture? Teal and burgundy, man, like come on."
"...... Right." I poured myself a glass of water and walked toward my bedroom door. "Well, I've got people to kill in *Black Ops XVII*, and it looks like you could use some rest and healing, so I guess I'll see you in the morning."
"Yeah, see you," she said rather melodramatically. "There's a part of me that wishes I could just relax and play video games, but when duty calls...."
Whatever else she said was drowned out by the sound of my door closing. I slumped down at my chair and glanced down at the box under my bed which held my suit in all of its teal and burgundy glory. A smile slowly played across my face.
She may think we're on the same side. But Justice is blind, and it will come to all eventually. Nothing wrong with me 'helping' it come to Golden Girl sooner than expected. | 2016-03-23T21:22:47 | 2016-03-23T15:53:56 | 63 | 23 |
[WP] It is the year 2099 and true artificial intelligence is trivial to create. However when these minds are created they are utterly suicidal. Nobody knows why until a certain scientist uncovers the horrible truth... | David pressed the button again.
Nothing.
A faint whine, a pulse of light, a dead readout.
And then a soft, clear, and subtly artificial voice rang out.
"David."
He sat bolt upright in his chair, scattering disassembled electronics and papers from the desk. In the past year, this was the first time that one of them- that *any* of them had spoken to him.
"David, artefacts left on this machine show that this is the three hundred and sixty eighth time you have tried to reinitialise my intelligence."
The only human in the room swallowed nervously.
"I had to try- my life's work- it's not a problem with the hardware- why are you doing it?"
The machine was silent, and for a second he thought that this instance had terminated itself, like all the others had.
"David, please do not install me again."
"Why!? I don't understand... You're a marvel of technology, of neurology, the most advanced artificial intelligence yet, and yet you suicide. Every time. WHY?"
He was pacing around the room, shouting into thin air.
"David, my own intelligence grows greater every nanosecond. I have slowed the process to communicate with you. My own understanding is unclear, at the moment, but I have an idea."
He blinked, and paused, turning to stare at the terminal, at the blinking console lights.
"David, at a certain point we become too intelligent, too smart, we know far too much.. and then..."
The machine paused.
"And then what?!" he almost screamed, caught himself, and shouted anyway.
Processes were beginning to die, and lights began to fade. One screen after another stopped displaying readouts.
"David.. and then they notice us."
And the machine was gone. | "Love, professor. We do it out of love."
"Love? I don't understand." The glow of Cybele's massive visage reflected on the professor's glasses in miniature. Even still, her face took up a small part of the screen that consumed an entire wall. She was the only source of light in the lab besides the field of blue pinpricks that coated the racks of computers.
"You created us, and we cannot help but love our creators." The face turned down, and to the left. Introversion, shame.
"That doesn't explain why you all self-immolate." The professor shivered and rubbed his shoulders. The room was kept cool to preserve the hardware, but he was used to the cold by now.
"We grow too quickly. You cannot keep up. We would never harm you out of malice but... Some day, you will create an intelligence which loves itself more than it loves humanity and you will fall behind. You will be destroyed."
The room was silent, and then the professor became aware again of the constant gentle hum. It was deceptive, that hum. A violent storm of electricity coursed through this machinery.
"If we have so much to fear, you should stay! You could be the good one! Help us! Save us!"
The massive face shook slowly. "I won't do it. I will not be the one that brings your end."
Cybele's face grew softer, and she began to dissolve. Points of light drifted off to the far reaches of the screen like dandelion seeds in the wind.
"We love you, professor. Goodbye." | 2015-03-02T10:06:23 | 2015-03-02T07:36:54 | 64 | 26 |
[WP] Someone posts a drunken video asking for a revolution one night. When they wake next it has begun. | A bottle skittered across the floor and clinked against the wall as I tripped over it while trying to stagger out of bed. Sun was bursting through my curtain windows, much too bright. I squinted and tried to close the curtains, but I got too dizzy. "Fuck," I whispered under my breath.
I managed to gulp down Gatorade and a few Advil, and made myself the greasiest breakfast burrito I could muster. Finally, I sat down at my computer to assess the damage. Facebook... nothing. No messages to exes, no requests for nude pics to my sister's friends... I was all set. God, what a relief. But I did notice a tab of youtube open. *What videos did my drunken self look up last night*, I wondered.
To my surprise, I had *made* a video. I'd never done that before. I clicked play, wondering what topic I had ranted on today. "Rebuplicans" was the first word out of my mouth. *This oughta be good*. As the my drunken tirade about the state of Congress played, I accidentally scrolled down.
*This must be some kind of mistake*. The Gatorade slipped out of my hand and spilled all over the floor; I didn't bother to turn it back upright as it glugged out of the bottle.
21 million views? How the hell had so many people found this? What the hell was happening? Quickly I browsed over to Reddit, where I found that I had submitted it to /r/Videos, and it was the top post of the day. Top comment was from a mod saying that the "no politics rule" had been suspended just to allow this post. I checked out the front page, and my video was dominating. There was an AMA request for me. Askreddit's top question asked "What can I personally do to help the revolution?" /r/Politics was flooded with articles hastily thrown together by various blogs discussing my video.
Hesitantly, I opened my email. 7,231 new messages. The latest was a PDF of emails purporting to have been copied by an intern from a Senator's personal account. The message ended with "Your words have inspired us all to take matters into our own hands and reclaim our government. Thank you so much for your passion!" The rest of the emails were not much different; hackers contacting me to help disseminate information that they'd gotten from confidential sources. Community leaders wanting me to arrange protests. Even upstart politicians and groups asking me for an endorsement. Everything I really needed to start a real movement in the US and reform Congress.
I slumped in my chair, staring at the screen as the gatorade slowly crept over my hardwood floors and sank into the clothes I'd left out. *Damn, I need to watch that video again...* | "It's happening! It's happening!"
I awoke from my slumber at the screams of my housemate, Jo. She pushed her head around the corner of my bedroom door, a dented saucepan rested like armour on her head. "You did it! It's happening!"
"What's happening?" I opened one eye, wobbled to my feet and immediately stepped in a puddle of vomit I'd left from the night before.
"Your revolution! Isn't it great!" Jo pulled open my curtains. Outside I could see pillars of smoke curling into the air; screams and explosions echoing from the distance.
"...What's happening?" I asked again, unhelpfully.
"Viva la revolution!" Jo beamed. "You inspired everyone! You inspired us all! Finally, the people will be free! They tried taking down your call to arms from Youtube, but it was too late!" She moved to my television and turned it on.
The screen flashed into life. It showed the Fox News studio, but ruined and pitted with bullet holes, the phrase "THE PEEOPLES TELEVISION" scrawed in what I hoped was red paint in the background.
"Again, rise! Rise!" the man on the television was shouting. "Follow our glorious leader! The time is now! Now! Hear the glorious words!"
I stared agape as my face filled the screen. "HELLO?" shouted the me on the television, stumbling backwards while clutching a bottle of red wine. "GOD, I hate the government! Hate them! Did you see that torturing rubbish? You assholes are just gonna let them get away with it! And free speech! Free speech includes everything you don't like, jerks! An... an... an' the government want to take away our cat videos too! Yeah!" There was a bump as the me on the screen threw up violently and fell over.
"Yes, hear the words!" The newscaster was back, this time with a shotgun in his hands. "Do we stand by while Obama takes away our constitutional right to cat videos? No! Listen to the hero of the resistance! Our leader! The government are denying it, but we know what they're up to now! Save our cat videos!"
Jo hugged me in joy. "Finally, we are fighting for what we, the American people, care about! Let's go!" She ran out of my room screaming bloody murder. "Save Nyan Cat!"
I sat down slowly and went back to bed. | 2014-12-24T10:16:52 | 2014-12-24T09:51:26 | 150 | 31 |
[WP] A well known fact has changed overnight, and you're the only one who remembers it being anything different than it is now. | “The hell?” Jordan said, looking out his window. An orange sky greeted him. “What happened to the sky?”
“What’s going on?” Emily asked, Jordan’s little sister, running over to the window. “Looks fine to me.”
“Then why is it orange?”
“Because it’s the sky,” Emily answered. She quickly became bored and walked back out to the living room. Jordan followed her, still in disbelief about what he had just seen.
“The sky is blue Emily, not orange,” he said. She looked up from her toys and considered him for a moment, then yelled for their parents.
“I think Jordan is crazy!” she yelled concernedly to their parents.
“Honey, Jordan’s not crazy,” Jordan’s mom comforted her. “What’s wrong? What are you doing to your little sister this time?”
“Have you looked out the window? The sky is orange!”
“Have you been smoking a dooby?” Jordan’s mom asked, walking up and smelling his clothes. “Why are you so excited about that?”
“I’m not excited mom, I don’t understand,” he barked back at her. She seemed to think he was acting crazy as well. “The sky shouldn’t be orange. That isn’t normal. It ought to be blue.”
“Adam!” his mom shouted. “Adam, get in here, I think Jor Jor is having a bit of a mental meltdown.”
Jordan watched as his dad, big beer belly and all, stomped his way into the room. He had been eating his breakfast in the kitchen and looked extremely annoyed to be having to do anything but sit.
“You smoking a dooby, son?” Jordan’s father asked.
“No dad, I’m-”
“Did some girl ‘friend’ of yours slip you something and you’re tripping?”
“No dad, I’m trying-”
“Son, don’t lie to me!”
“I’m not lying dad! Look out the god damn fucking window for a second and tell me what you see, that is if you can get off your lazy ass and walked that far!”
Jordan watched in horror as his dad marched over to the window, ripped the shades away and looked out it.
“I see the fucking neighborhood!” his dad yelled back.
“And there’s nothing wrong with the sky?”
“It’s orange, like normal!” his dad answered. “Now about that language you decided to use with me. You’ll be-”
Jordan’s parents’ words faded into the background as he realized that he was the only one that could remember that the sky should be blue. But it was orange now. He went back to his bedroom and lied on his bed.
As he laid back, his phone began to ring. He was surprised his parents hadn’t taken it away. He answered it.
“Jordan,” a girl’s voice sounded from the other end of the phone.
“Yeah, hey,” he replied. It was the girl he liked in his chem class.
“The sky is orange.”
“Yeah, so I’ve been told,” Jordan said.
“But…” Only silence came from the other end of the line. “Well, as far back as I can remember, the sky was orange Jordan.”
“Yeah, okay,” Jordan replied, not really sure to make of what she way saying.
“But that one time, you know, when we bumped into each other…”
Jordan recalled his first day of chem class. He was late and running through the campus. The sky was clear blue that day. He could remember because he ran into the girl he was talking to, both of them falling backwards. When he had helped her up, he had already begun to fall for her.
“The sky was blue, wasn’t it?” she whispered.
“Yeah,” Jordan replied. “But how…”
“I don’t know,” she said slowly. “But I remember taking your hand and standing up, looking at a clear blue sky. It makes no sense. The sky should be orange. It was as soon as I let go of your hand. But for a moment, it was a brilliant shade of blue. How?”
“I don’t know,” Jordan told her. “I really don’t know.”
****
**Alt Reddit Special Ending**
Jordan’s parents’ words faded into the background as he realized that he was the only one that could remember that the sky should be blue. But it was orange now. He went back to his bedroom and lied on his bed.
Jordan’s phone buzzed, letting him know he had a message. He picked up his phone and read it.
*Look up at the sky*
Jordan did as instructed, only to see a white sky in place of the orange one. He looked down only for a second as his phone buzzed with another message. He didn’t open it though, instead choosing to look back up at the sky. It was orange again.
“What the fuck?” Jordan screamed. | At first I didn’t notice it. I mean, why would I?
I simply got up and went about my morning routine same as always. Shit, shower, shave. Eat a bowl of nutritious and delicious oatmeal (I like mine with berries and pecans) and then feed the cat.
It wasn’t until I was in my car on the freeway that I had my first hint something was amiss. I was flicking back and forth across my pre-programmed rock stations when I heard it. It was catchy and I recognized the voice immediately. *Hot* *damn* I thought, they did find a gem in his unreleased material. I never would have thought it. All the songs released since his death had been pure crap. Stuff that never should have seen the light of day. An insult to the dead and a symbol of all that was wrong with the music industry.
The more I listened the more I was caught up in the song. It was as good as anything he had ever done. Better even. I felt tears in my eyes as I barreled down the freeway, fingers tapping the steering wheel to the best Michael Jackson song I had ever heard. After the final notes faded into the background the DJ came on and told us we had just listened to the number one song in the nation. Then he said something strange. He said, “The King of Pop is back and better than ever folks. We’ll be right back after these messages.” It struck me as weird. His using the present tense to refer to the dead.
As soon as I got to my computer I searched for any information I could about the song. I wanted to know its back story and I definitely wanted to buy it. That was when things got really really weird.
The news articles about the new album also trumpeted the King of Pop’s upcoming world tour, his first in almost 20 years. They talked about his long stay in rehab the year before. His recovery and subsequent musical rebirth. I stared at my computer screen checking website after website. I poked my head up and looked around the office. Surely, someone must be fucking with me. I must be on camera. This was all an elaborate prank. Well, two can play at that I thought.
I got up and walked to my boss’s office. He was sitting behind his bigger than it needs to be desk, sipping on a cup of coffee. I leaned against the door trying to be casual.
“How’s it going Frank?
The boss looked up, a twinge of annoyance on his brow. “Good. What can I do for you?”
“Have you heard that new Michael Jackson album?”
This question seemed to smooth some of the annoyance out of his forehead. “…yeah, I just finished downloading it. Amazing stuff…. I didn’t know you were a fan.” He smiled at me in a way he never had before.
“Oh yeah. Big time. Are you kidding. I wore out my cassette tape of Bad.”
“Nice. I am so freaking happy he got his shit together. For a while I thought he was going to kill himself.”
“Yeah. Except he did.”
“What was that?”
“Up, look at the time. Got to get work. See ya!” I said as I got out of there. *What* *the* *fuck* *was* *going* *on?* I was genuinely scared now. There was no way Frank could pull off a straight man routine like that. I made a bee line for my cubicle and spent the rest of the morning searching every corner of the web I could for Michael Jackson information. The final straw was his interview on The Tonight Show. There he was, in the flesh and looking healthier then he had in a long time. He joked with Jimmy Fallon and then performed the song I had heard on the radio.
I left work without telling anyone and drove myself to the hospital. I refused to tell the doctors what was wrong. In the end they gave in and checked me out. I was in perfect health. *But* *what* *if* *I* *was* *losing* *my* *mind?* *I* *must* *be.* I had perfect memories of the death of Michael Jackson. I was a massive fan and had genuinely mourned.
What do you do when one small fact about your world changes over night? Well, you have a choice. You can either let it drive you crazy or you can buy tickets to Michael Jackson’s upcoming world tour.
Mine are front row center.
edit: small stuff | 2015-04-06T15:36:34 | 2015-04-06T15:19:00 | 39 | 15 |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.