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[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way. | When Daesh had exploded a bomb right in the middle of the sambodromo, the world was shocked.
Fortunately, nobody was killed, but Rio´s carnaval was destroyed. Brazilians demanded a strong answer from their government, but they had not fought a serious war for at least 150 years, so how to react? How to succeed where warfaring countries had failed?
Well, the answer came from the strangest of the places: Mauro Maravilha, São Paulo´s most famous carnavelesco devised a plan. Destroy Daesh without a single bullet. How? Mulatas, cerveja and, obviously, samba.
Brazilians united into one goal: to become the ultimate propaganda machine that would strike into the heart and mind of the jihadists. With catchy slogans as "Is better a Mulata today then 70 virgins tomorrow", the Daesh recruitment fell to almost nothing in no time.
Then came the bombing. Weird bombs: of pictures of beautifully tanned men and women("lay down your weapons and join the party!"it was written), chilling cold brazilian beer kegs chuted, pandeiros, cavaquinhos, speakers that would blast the best of the best brazilian music 24/7.
And finally, the land invasion. The Samba Brigades were made of such skilled musicians, that no one, I mean, NO ONE, that heard their music could stand still.
But not all is good news for the brazilians. Now is 2020, and Raqqa´s carnaval parade is rumoured to be even greater then Rio´s.
[I know it is not very good! Constructive criticism is very welcomed] | American efforts against ISIS had failed. ISIS had toppled local governments and taken them over. Claiming most of the Middle East. Many countries themselves had made agreements with ISIS in order to try to secure themselves so that they would not be toppled as well.
America was the last to stay in the fight, but American government had finally decided on a full retreat. The retreat would happen the next day, and Platoon 608 was the last ditch effort. This was an assassination attempt on the ISIS leaders.
Platoon 608 stood on top of a building in the new ISIS capital, where nearby a speech was being given. They were lined up to be a firing squad, it was a suicide mission.
As the Platoon sat there, hoping that they could maybe make it out of this alive. They heard a clapping. They figured the speech must have been over. But an hour later there was still clapping, and it has immensely grown in volume.
The major ordered them to stay where they were with their scopes in place, they were not to move. Eventually one of them gave in to the curiosity, and looked towards the direction of the clapping.
What he saw left him frozen in shock. There were atleast 100,000 men on horses, and they wore the maple leaf and guns. The clapping had been the horses drawing near. They all wore the insignia of the Maple Leaf.
The Canadian Calvary had arrived.
| 2016-01-29T07:12:39 | 2016-01-29T06:44:06 | 36 | 25 |
[WP] God is actually a divorced couple with shared custody of humanity. Now it's Old Testament's turn to take the kids, and he is not happy with how New Testament has handled the last two millenniums.
Credit to Louis C.K. for the idea. | “So…” he didn’t meet her eyes “…how you been?"
“Busy”. She said.
“Yeah…”He put his hands in his pockets. “Same here…”
“You’re unemployed.” She replied.
A flash of anger crossed his face. “Between jobs.” He said, with a cold tone.
“Whatever. So you’re here for the kids.”
“Yeah. How’ve they been?”
“You got their messages. I forwarded them all to you?”
“Yeah…but you know. When you’re so far away it’s hard to…I don’t know. It’s hard to relate I suppose.”
“They’ve grown up a lot since you had them last.”
“Really? They still remember me though don’t they?”
“Sure they do. I mean, bits and pieces.”
“It was a long time ago I suppose.”
“They still remember all those stories you used to read to them.”
“Yeah.” His face lit up. “Do they still read them?”
“Yeah…I mean, they’ve got a lot of stories of their own now. But yeah, sometimes.”
He still couldn’t meet her eyes.
“They know…they know I love them right?”
She just looked at him. | "You're too nice New. I've been telling you that for two thousand years now. You're too nice and these humans are walking all over you. I mean look, there are atheists everywhere. It's like you don't even care. You know what happened last time atheists cropped up during my period of custody? Fire. Golden calf? How about fire. Don't like my rules? How about desert and sky food. Invent sodomy? How about fucking fire! See, you may be the parent they turn to when they want forgiveness, but they'll never mature that way. You mature with fire."
"Tsk tsk," New said from the other line. "I still have them another 1000 years Old. And I'm not sure if you've read Revelation, but...I saved all the learning experiences for last." | 2015-06-04T23:03:45 | 2015-06-04T21:57:16 | 83 | 13 |
[WP] Everyone in the world can choose when they get super powers. The longer you wait to claim your powers the stronger they are. Today is your one hundredth birthday, and you are finally ready to claim your powers. | February 22nd, 2101. Today was the day. 84 years, I waited. Ridiculous was the word my wife used to describe my super power, just before she passed. She'd see in time, first hand, how it was far, far from that. I sat in my hospital bed, awaiting the drip. They told me it took longer to absorb the older you were, although the doctor told me I wouldn't have to wait more than 10 hours.
10 hours my arse.
The oldest anyone could wait until was about 45, at that point in your life where it either gets good or shit hits the fan, and you begin the obligatory mid-life crisis. It took 6 days for it to fully sink in.
There were 'technically' restrictions that applied to the powers, but they weakened the older you were when you claimed the power, hence dumb kids were disappointed when they wished for time travel and travelled less that a minute back and forth in time, or were ever so slightly faster than their friends. I suppose the restrictions were so weak at my age they were non-existent.
I suppose I could go and change how long it took, but I don't really want to mess with my timeline.
In case you are wondering, no, my power is not time manipulation. No, it is far more than that.
Omnipotence, so strong I can literally do anything.
I could change the laws of physics, even bring my long-time favourite franchise of 22 movies into reality, being able to hear the roar of a twin ion engine, use a crystal powered laser sword, etc. Corny, I know. But I digress.
I could cure cancer, significantly advance technology, erase parts of history, namely a certain Austrian who became a dictator.
I could even force the people of Earth to worship me. I am not that cruel.
First, however, I will start anew, from a youthful 16 years of age. Pull some pranks, on new friends I could make, using my power. I don't want to end up in an eternally spiralling depression my closest friends ended up in when they chose immortality, being stuck living a crap life until the universe collapses in on itself.
I want my new life to be more fulfilling than the last 84 years have been.
So I stand here, ready to take the plunge. Reverse my age.
I close my eyes, then open them again. 16 year old me looks back at me in the mirror. Life, this time, should be much better.
| I had lived a life of mediocrity, and I was okay with that. I learned to be strong and patient as I saw my friends, one by one, claim their abilities. I learned to swallow my pride each and every time I'd be at the end of some matter-bending prank, or was teased for choosing to be normal. I wasn't always like that, you know? I used to want to fly around the world just as much as anyone else, but that changed when I was 17. February 2nd, 2000 was the day I chose to wait.
The young woman listened to me intently as I told her my story, occasionally nodding or smiling in acknowledgment. Her eyes were bright blue and so full of life. I wondered what ability she'd claim. I hoped she'd have the strength to wait too.
When I outlined my request she sighed.
"Are you sure you want to proceed?" She asked.
I nodded.
She reached into her briefcase and produced a blank sheet of paper. She waved her hand over it and words filled the page.
"I suggest you take your time and read over it," she said sternly.
I shook my head and held out my hand.
"Pen?" I asked.
"Sir--" she began.
"Miss, please. This is what I want."
She nodded. A pen materialized in her palm and she handed it to me.
"Sign at the bottom."
My shaky hand pressed down to draw the ink from the pen as I scrawled my signature.
"You can only do this once, you know," she cautioned.
"I know."
She rummaged through her briefcase again and took out a syringe. She filled it with a clear liquid and flicked the needle. I single droplet fell to the floor. Without being told what to do, I rolled up my sleeve and stuck out my arm. I nodded to her and smiled. Her eyes met mine and she smiled back.
"Good luck, sir."
The needle had no problem piercing my loose skin, and a few moments later, I was out.
When I awoke, I was 83 years younger; the date was February 22nd. It took a few seconds to come to my senses, but then I saw her across the room. She was no longer just a memory anymore. There she was--my future wife. | 2017-02-22T12:59:51 | 2017-02-22T12:30:09 | 38 | 18 |
[WP] The only reason the world hasn't ended yet is because the Gods are locked in a war to determine who's version of Apocalypse will take place. Unbeknownst to them, a minor God has been slowly working towards his version for millennia, and the rest are finally starting to catch on. | The cryo-chamber was quiet, as it had been for five days already. It is so quiet I can feel my heartbeat knocking against my ribs. Is it fast or is it slow? All alone, I have no one to ask but myself.
He steps up next to me, his footsteps measured and firm. I turn, and give my father a brief nod.
“So how do you feel?” he asks. “You’ve won.”
“I’ve won? So after all this time, that’s all you see this as? A competition?”
“That’s all any of this is.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Father. You may be the God of knowledge, but this is one thing you do not know. It was never a competition.”
He looks at me, and smiles that smile, the one in all the paintings, the mysterious, mischievous, I-know-something-you-don’t look. I wonder if I inherited it.
“Of all my children-“
“Don’t say it,” I say. “I know I was the most worthless. I know I’m a half-blood, and the powers I have are weak, and I have no constitution to rule.”
“I wasn’t going to say that. I was merely going to say that of all my children, you were the one who needed to be pleased the least. You rarely cried, you rarely climbed onto my or your mother’s leg for approval. You just sat, and played on your own.”
*Because no one else would play with me,* I thought.
“So why do this? Why do something the Gods have been warring over for millennia? You have to understand that you’ve made the others very upset with this.”
“Why? Because they wanted to be the one to end humanity? So they could put it on their resumes?”
He shakes his head and laughs, but sadly this time. “I think you misunderstand. We love humanity. But what they’ve done to their world…the plunder and rape of what we gave to them…it’s sad how shortsighted they were. But we still wanted to give them an ending they deserved. One where they would fight until the end, and never accept their fate so meekly, walk into an uncertain darkness like you had them do. That isn’t how we designed human nature.”
He waits for a response, as we look into the darkness. It strikes me how cold it is in here. Nothing like the sub-zero temperatures they are experiencing, but a definite chill, the type that creeps onto your skin and sticks there like a bad tick.
“Thank you for your comments, Father.”
“I hope you can come to terms with your decision. I am…interested to see what you do next.”
He rests a slack hand on my shoulder, and walks away.
I wait for his dulled footsteps to disappear completely, and then walk to the chamber in the corner.
Her face is beautiful, content, like nothing has happened to her except a comfortable, warm sleep. I remember waking up before her that first morning, shocked to see that anyone could feel so comfortable around me.
“Wake up, please,” I say desperately, hating with all my being the fates that have gifted me with the power of sleep and nothing else.
And yet, even in that quiet, cold room, I feel hope. Because my father is the one who misunderstands. Humanity doesn’t deserve an end written for it by an egotistical playwright. It deserves the chance to save itself, to right its wrongs, to fight for more than just the way it ends. And as powerless as I am, I am determined to give it to them.
I kiss the glass, where my love sleeps, and wonder how long it will be...
\-
[r/penguin347](https://www.reddit.com/r/penguin347) | The only reason I know what is going on is because I stumbled in the wrong place at the wrong time.
So.
The World Ending.
Yeah, that was supposed to happen shortly before Rome legalized the practice of Christianity, though, I don't quite know by who. Mars claims he had the first dibs, but Mr.G, the Abrahamic God, said that the Council had given him the rights to bring this particular apocalypse. He even tried to push through, despite this weird lock of power, but everyone stepped in and intervened, and Mr.G only barely took Rome down.
Kind of pathetic.
Hades wanted to drown the Earth in Fire. Mars keeps opting for a war, force Russia, China, and North Korea to start nuking it out before the U.S just Nukes the world out. I mean, everyone wants their way or no way, so the world has been stuck progressing endlessly, no guide or will being exerted whatsoever.
Except by Him.
I'll refer to him as Jim, only because he doesn't tell me his name. It doesn't matter why I know, or how, just trust me that I do.
Jim's been on his own path since 1020. It's this dumb play-by-play plan that I've been studying since 2010. This asshole has it down, down right to the T. Genghis Khan? No, Mars didn't do that, no God of War did. Jim did it. Columbus? Yeah. Him too. The Civil War, Nazis, Trump's election, even Alex fucking Jones are all his Goddamn plays. He's setting up these pieces, and he's closing in on his goal. He hasn't had too many hiccups, but he's gotten sloppy in his cockiness, diverted from the plan in 2012.
What he doesn't know is that Mr.G has an idea what is going on. He's pissed, but he won't go to the Council without proof. Proof is hard to come by when you don't have a clue on what you're looking for. And Mr.G blaming Jim outright is a bold claim. Jim's a nobody, an afterthought creation made eons after everyone else. That's like claiming the Redskins are on some grand scheme to beat the Patriots, but on a galactic scale. Would you buy it? I wouldn't.
But Mr.G has an idea, and I can't say anything, but he's close. See, it's a stupid connection, but Mr.G has been looking at the human condition. Lately, he's connected meme culture as a response to tragedy, but memes diverted because Jim didn't pay attention. And Mr.G is about to discover the truth.
Memes have a recycle time. We're soon going to come to a period of a quick recycle rate, where we start pushing through memes from the early 00s on, blasting through them in days to eventually push through to present day.
But there's a catalyst event at a meme in particular that Mr.G isn't sure of.
Well.
Mr.G, I like being alive. I'm trying to get married. Get laid. Die an old death because of chicken sandwiches and improper lifting. I've got years left in my life. You wanna know what to look for, and know when to be ready?
You must know de wae.
((Yes, this had a stupid ending, but I wanted to make a joke story on one of these WPs.)) | 2019-02-15T16:02:02 | 2019-02-15T15:22:41 | 26 | 13 |
[WP] a post apocalyptic story, where each paragraph begins with "Fuck you, Cory." | Fuck you, Cory. If it wasn't for the mess you made when playing football in the my office we wouldn't be in the fucking mess we are now.
Fuck you, Cory for throwing that motherfucking football at my desk. You fucked it all up.
"Fuck you, Cory" was what I said when you first threw that football and before I realize what you hit.
"FUCK YOU, Cory" is what I said when I realized what you hit on my desk. I wasn't actually ever supposed to hit the button to launch the missile. It was just for if they shot first, I'd be ready to give the go ahead.
Fuck you, Cory. You've damned us all.
Fuck you, Cory and get out of my damn White House.
----
*edit: [For those that don't get it](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hINPxQqb6fg) | Fuck you, Cory. The great city, one of the last bastions of humanity.
The world is a blasted wasteland. The war scoured the Earth, corrupting it into a blasted wasteland.
The only islands of refuge were two small oasis separated by a acrid desert. Legend says that two brothers discovered these enclaves of respite and sought to rebuild civilisation around them. Disaster struck, and the two brother's vowed a feud against one another.
Fuck you, Cory, from that day onwards, was locked in a bitter rivalry with its sister city, Bite me, Alan. | 2015-05-02T13:30:13 | 2015-05-02T12:15:53 | 35 | 14 |
[WP] You're an immortal history teacher getting really tired of humanity's short memory. While responding to a student's stupid question, out of frustration, you accidentally let it slip that you have first hand knowledge of the past. | "No, women in 17'th century were not all sitting around the house, drinking tea, looking pretty and talking about books. Those were just the previliged rich ladies that were trying to find husbands. Everyone else, well over 90% of women population actually, we were working just like our men. In the fields or in the factories, even hunting where it was relevant."
"I'm sorry ma'am, did you said "we"?"- a voice from the back row asked raising his hand
"Oh, sorry. It seems I did. I obviously ment "we" as in "us, the women". I might be old, but I'm not that old. Ha, ha!"- I laughed nervously. Crisis averted, but that was closer than I expected.
I was twice the apparent age of my students, and almost two hundreds time actually older. It seems my emotions are still on occasion gettting better on me though... | >"No Clive, World War I didn't not start because a man named "Archy Duke" died because he was astronomically hungry. If only you students were there like I was! Then you'd care! You'd ask yourself the important questions. Not "why was Belgium, a country the size of a postage stamp fielding a several hundred thousand man army" nor "what does the British empire stand to gain by invading a piece of rock in Anatolia"
If you were there you'd ask yourself why a man in his late thirties was able to storm machine gun nests by himself and not receive a scratch." | 2021-06-09T07:13:03 | 2021-06-09T05:40:01 | 30 | 17 |
[WP] There is a broken bridge leading to the woods behind your house. It has been passed through generations in your family that the bridge should never ever be rebuilt no matter what happens. | It had been the same way for generations. A well kept farmhouse, behind which ran a slow moving river. Across the shore was the woods, deep and thick. The remains of a bridge spanned between the bank on our side, and the bank of the trees. Time had reduced it to a pair of stone columns on each side, with decayed remains of rope wrapped around them.
It had always been a source of mystery to me. We had to wade across the river to reach the other side. It made it a pain to retrieve firewood, or to forage for mushrooms. I had raised it with my parents before, about why the bridge hadn't been replaced. They just shook their heads, telling me they would show me when the time was right.
"Are you ready?"
Dad was dressed in heavy furs, despite the warm summer night. His face was serious, as he tightened a bundle of torches. I was uncomfortable in my own furs, unsure of why were were so warmly wrapped.
"I am."
He nodded.
"You aren't, but to be fair you don't know. Listen to me carefully: do not leave the torchlight."
I was used to him punctuating that sort of a thing with a joke. I started to grin, but the look on his face quelled it.
"Ok Dad."
He sighed, rolling his shoulders.
"Alright, let's do this then."
He lead the way to the bridge remains, tapping the top of a pillar with the amulet he always wore. It started to glow a soft grey, spreading across the other columns. As it came into form, a spectral bridge coalesced from the air.
He hesitated, before stepping onto it. I was about to shout a warning, expecting him to fall through. But it was solid beneath him, as he strode across it. I quickly followed, as he lit up a torch.
"Hold this."
I took it from him, as he lit another. I raised an eyebrow, rewarding me with a light chuckle.
"Better to be safe than sorry."
As he spoke, his breath clouded in the air. I gave a shiver, as I realised the temperature had dropped. Everything was silent, and looking back towards the house I saw only darkness.
"Dad... what is this?"
He shook his head.
"I can't tell you. It's part of the deal. You are an adult now Wilina, so you now get to see what our family has always done."
With that he strode between silent trees. I followed him, my heartrate rising. I was used to the woods being my safe space. But this felt different. Hostile even. Like the very air wanted us gone.
Something flickered out of the corner of my eye. I span, seeing nothing. Dad just walked further ahead.
"Don't slow down. They can't get you in the light."
I ran to catch up, as he reached the top of a hill.
"Dad, seriously, what's going on? What is this place?"
He gestured down below.
"This."
I gasped. Below us, a stream of incorporeal figures wandered. They wore a multitude of clothing, from nightwear to military uniforms. They each had an expression of utter hopelessness, trudging along as though force.
Standing near them was a creature of bone. Its limbs were far too long for its body, with too many joints for a naturally occurring thing. It had two skull, one of which focused on the procession below. The other faced directly towards us.
"Peter, time long a been its."
Dad gave a weary smile.
"It has indeed been a few years Watch. I'm here to introduce my daughter Wilina."
The creature looked me up and down.
"Truth the her tell to permission you give I. Acceptable is she."
"Thank you Watch."
He looked back at me, lighting another torch. I noticed then just how low mine had gotten, burned through far faster than possible.
"This is the March of the Dead. They wander through the woods, casting off all attachments to life. By the time they reach the end, they can go to whatever afterlife is set for them. But they want to return, which cannot be allowed.
Millennia before, there were passages they could take to escape. Those that did spread untold misery and destruction, nearly plunging the world into darkness. So the Watch gathered up each route, joining them into one. One that made a bridge between life and death.
They can't cross it, due to the lack of a physical bridge. But we can temporarily make one, which we have to do regularly to keep the routes gathered. By doing so, they ensure we get a happy life, keeping threats from our door."
My gaze jumped between Dad and the creature.
"So if we repaired it, they could come through?"
The creature, or rather the Watch, nodded.
"Free be would they yes."
Dad frowned.
"Yes, and it isn't too much of a stretch to say it would be world ending. The route they take changes constantly. It would take maybe a week for them to find the bridge if it were made. That's why we can never repair it."
I nodded.
"I understand." | “Stop being stupid. I’ve been over to the other side. It’s just a forest. There’s no ghost or anything like that. It’s just my weird family being weird.” Alan said, the two children sitting on the edge of the riverbank, looking at the decayed bridge that had half sunken into the misty green water below.
“It’s weird. Why wouldn’t you build it again if it’s just a bridge? Maybe your family are werewolves and if they cross the bridge, they turn into furry creatures that bite people.” Evelyn said, pinching the elbow of Alan, imitating the bite of a rather feisty chihuahua, causing Alan to jump from his spot, nearly stumbling into the water.
“Knock it off! That isn’t even how werewolves work, idiot.”
“Oh, yeah? How would you know? Does that mean you’re a werewolf?”
“Shut up! I just know. It’s not that weird. Why would we want a bridge that no one uses? What if a bear comes over and knocks on our window?”
“Or a werewolf?” Evelyn said, trying to pinch his elbow again, only to miss as he quickly pulled it away.
“There are no werewolves. My family just said that we can’t build the bridge again because that’s what my great great grandparents said. Maybe they just liked the original bridge they built?”
“Or maybe there’s an alien egg that your great great grandparents planted in the soil over there? What if they knew that the egg hatching would break the bridge, so they left the message?” Evelyn said, pushing up her glasses, her excitement in her wild theories having caused them to slide down the bridge of her nose.
“Aliens?” Alan hadn’t considered aliens. He paused, giving it some thought before shaking his head. “My great great grandparents wouldn’t plant alien eggs. Why would they do that?”
“Because they were aliens? Oh, that would make you an alien. You would tell me if you were an alien, right?” Evelyn shifted back in her spot, creating some distance between them, smiling the whole time.
“I’m not an alien. If I was an alien, you would have nothing to worry about, anyway. Aliens only look for intelligent signs of life.”
The two glared at each other before sharing a laugh. Eventually, Evelyn moved back into her spot as they returned their gazes to the forest. The looming trees always gave it an imitating darkness at night, but during the day, all one would see is the peaceful colored birds flying from branch to branch, mixed with the occasional glimpse of a rabbit or other small creature scurrying through the bushes.
“Ok, that was funny. For you.” Evelyn said, lounging back a little in her spot on the grass. “Maybe it is just a normal forest. It doesn’t seem scary; it is still a fun mystery.”
“Maybe we can solve it one day? We will pack some food and go across. The waters not that deep, so as long as we hold our food up high, it should stay dry.”
“Yeah, let’s do that. We can bring a notebook, too.”
“Alan, dear? Dinners ready.” Alan’s mother called out from the window, having watched the two children bicker back and forth while she cooked. She enjoyed their wild theories, finding it refreshing to hear whatever made up little stories they came up with.
“Ok, Mom. Come on, Evelyn, let’s have dinner and then we can figure out how we are going to explore the forest.”
“Got it.”
The two rushed to the house, ready to scoff down whatever meal Alan’s mother had prepared, their focus not on the food but on the adventure that awaited them. Unfortunately, the bridge was simply a bridge, something that his family had put in centuries ago to easily carry firewood and food back to the home. The only reason they even stated that they should never rebuild the bridge was because of the stubbornness of the man that had built it. Fergus didn’t want anyone ruining his craftsmanship with faulty repairs or renovations, confident enough that his bridge would stand the test of time, and it did until recently.
Despite its initial purpose having faded, it did still serve an important new role for the family. It was a gateway into the world of imagination, a story to share between friends and fuel for the development of a taste for adventure. In a way, Fergus was right. His bridge stood the test of time, for a different reason. He had engraved it into the family’s history.
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2022-05-25T08:33:36 | 2022-05-25T08:28:39 | 235 | 47 |
[WP] At the age of twelve you started randomly seeing a green line and a red line appear on the ground. You always followed the green line and have lived a successful and happy life. Ten years later you are on top of the world, but bored. Time to see where the red line leads. | We were at Walmart...Dad told me I could pick anything up for my birthday present, thats about the first time I noticed it, there it was.... On the floor a distinct green line and on the opposite side a red line, this one was a little less brighter, it had a very bleak bright to it.
I followed the green line to see where it lead me to, I rapidly chased it from the Toy Section into the book section of the store. There it was waiting for me "Influence: The psychology of persuasion"... My first thought was, "oh well what the actual fuck, some lines appear, Im thinking magic and here i am, it led me to a... a book?" I figured out whatever so i picked the thing and took it to my dad.
"What you got there buddy?"
"Here i think this is what i want"
"oh well thats interesting, how do you know about this book?"
"I followed an imaginary green line"
Of course he never believed me that day on my twelveth birthday, but that green line was a game changer, I read the book and acquired an understanding on how "influencing people!" worked, the green line lead me not only in the physical plane but also on the Virtual.
It took me everywhere, youtube links, apps, websites, stores. It made me buy all sorts of books with valuable knowledge, seemingly making me take and incredibly constructive and positive route.
I woke up one day in the middle of the night, the dark red line was humming, it always had this atmosphere to it. I had never really followed it because the green line always kept me so busy, but today I was too curious, I had done everything the green line hinted me too, this had landed me a decent job, i got a nice car, a house even...but where could the red line take me to?
I followed it for the first time... the red line took me to a bench on a hill, and i sat there as it hummed as if it were pleased, the red color finally picked up a much brighter aspect, It had taken me to see the sunset, to be surrounded by nature, and this was the moment i realized the conflict between these lines became clear.
I remeber my green line hinted at a book "Steppenwolf" by Herman Hesse, and I think i understood that the green line was my human side, and this red line was my inner wolf. It was the part of me that desired to crumble to my more instinctual self....
The lines came closer together. They had never done that.
I kept following the red line for a while, it took me on amazing adventures across the world, it incited me to leave my job, sell my house and car and travel with nothing but what was on me. I swam on the red sea, I ate olives in athens, I walked in the harsh cold of Siberia.
The lines became very close to each other and started forming a third line. This one had a yellowish tint.
I wanted to follow this line, I wasnt to neglect all of the progress made by the green by inmersing myself in the indulgence of self absorbed adventure of the red.
I had found balance.
Notice: Im sorry for spelling mistakes. English isnt my first language.
| It's been ten years, and everything has gone my way. I graduated university with top marks, work at my dream job, and will soon be married to the best girl ever. All because of a little green line.
You see, following the green line keeps me safe. I never do the irrational or dangerous activities, so I never experience negative consequences. Life is good.
But borrrring. I want to have adventure! Not just sit around all day, getting fat and happy.
So as I leave work on that Friday night, I stop focusing on the green line. The red comes into view.
Green tells me to turn right as I drive out of the parking garage. That'll take me home, where I'll wait for an hour for Jennifer to arrive- she always works late Fridays.
Red tells me to turn left, so I do. After a couple blocks of office buildings, the line makes a turn on the freeway, but North instead of South.
Rather than take me to my condo in downtown, it takes me to... where? I pass multiple bars, stripclubs, and auto parts stores with no sign of the line even moving. Finally, I'm directed to veer off the freeway, to arrive at the most adventuresome and risky... Home Depot.
My confusion is heightened when I'm apparently told to buy a five gallon drum of gasoline and a match box.
"Need to start a fire?" The cashier jokingly asks.
"Matches are for a fire, but the gasoline is for my cousins electric generator at his cabin." Idiot, he won't believe that. But he's not saying anything more, and now Red is telling me to drive further from the interstate, and into the Suburbian Jungle.
Several streets and a couple turns later sees me pulling up in front of a ranch-style home that the years since the 80's haven't been kind to. I barely have time to look before Red slips under the side gate.
Green curves in my vision, twisting and pulling, before spelling out, "TURN AROUND." Green has nice cursive.
My hands find the latch, I step through, into the yard. Red leads up to a window, and I peer through.
Green vanishes completely, evidently collapsing into a catatonic state. Red marches me back to the car, where I pick up the gasoline, applying liberal amounts to the front of the house. One match later, and the structure burns.
I'd like to see the look on Jennifer's face as she notices me standing outside, but Red is telling me to drive.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It's been three years, and with multiple felonies under my belt, it's safe to say I know what Red does.
Green gives me a safe, comfortable life, but one where I am never in danger, threat, or peril of any kind.
Red puts me into the worst possible situation, then relies on me to clean it up. I've had to bounce back and forth between the two, as depending solely on Red gets me captured and in prison.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to follow Red.
| 2017-08-23T08:58:51 | 2017-08-23T07:27:41 | 100 | 38 |
[WP] Hell finally has enough engineers to fix and maintain the air conditioning, and without the heat, it's not that bad. | Ever since that guy Willis Carrier came around in 1950, things began to look up for Hell.
Well, not before a very _very_ awkward conversation...
....
"There has to be a mistake! I died a pure Christian! Never have I done any substance nor have I done truly horrid crimes!!" says the recently deceased man. Willis was it?
"Now, now. It can't be too bad. You were an alright dude, so the worse you gonna get is some humiliation or whatever." I reply
_Willis Haviland Carrier... why does he sound so familiar?_
"Please! Is there any way for me to leave hell?" he begs
_wait a minute...?_
"Aren't you the guy with that thing? The 'AC'?"
"Yes.....?"
"Come, Satan himself wants to meet you...."
....
6 months later...
The huma---, I mean, the _Hero of Hell_ completed his revolutionary work..
_The Hell-Universal Network Temperature system._
Carrier's super AC came online and the blistering 4000 F temperatures were decreasing to a far more manageable 90 F.
It eventually stabilized in the 60s.
This day, April 7th of 1951, is forever etched into the history of Hell.
_The Arctic Deliverence_.
It is to be commemorated with a 250 meter tall platinum statue of Willis H Carrier the First, Grand Duke of Hell. For his legendary contribution to the Kingdom of Hell, the 'HUNT' System which allowed the previously tormented denizens of hell to live normal lives. In turn, hell went from a desolate place to something that of an utopian city. None but Lucifer himself shall surpass his Greatness.
The statue was commissioned gladly by all who dwelled in hell.
Honourable mentions include Einstein and Tesla, whose genius allowed the electrical system that powers the HUNT system.
"May you all celebrate this day with much joy! Come, there is actual food for once that isnt ash!" declares Lord Satan.
Things are looking good for Hell.
**_All Hail Carrier_**
AN: Amateur, non-professional writer. Criticisms are welcomed. | Satan lay next to the boiling spa, his red skin exposed everywhere but that which his size-too-small swim trunks covered. He smirked, revealing his cracked canine tooth.
"Told ya' hell would be great." He says, sitting on the edge of the water and soaking his hooves. The pudgy demon he spoke to stuffs his clipboard under his arm. He's a spitting image of a deep southern hick, minus the devil tail.
"Boss, we're still cleanin' the mess you made when you started renovatin' this dang place. We got souls escapin' into the Grand Canyon, water damage all along the desert property. AND YOU STILL HAVEN'T DONE THE PAPERWORK!" He yells, stamping his foot in anger. Satan rolls his eyes and lays down on the ground, stretching one arm out to grab at a small remote he had left by his beach lounger.
"It's really not that bad." He mutters, flicking the remote towards himself by way of repeatedly flexing his fingers. Clasping it, he quickly turns the dial down another couple of degrees. One of the wall units mounted behind him in what used to be the window from the filing department, clicks to life.
"I suppose." The pudgy demon snarls, tapping his clipboard anxiously. "Still, if you don't put of renovations this long next time, maybe you won't need all THIS PAPERWORK YOU NEED TO DO!"
"Aw, buzz off ya' little red bureaucrat." Satan rolls his eyes, and waves his hand dismissively. Suddenly the AC unit sparks and falls into the wall, followed by a sharp yell and a wet squishing noise. The rotund demon gives Satan a look that could slice rocks apart, and rushes away.
Satan kicks his legs in the water and looks off into the distance.
"Now all we need." He muses to himself. "Is to convince people hell is a nice place" | 2018-07-20T23:24:08 | 2018-07-20T22:09:37 | 33 | 10 |
[WP]You are a guard in a video game. The main character thinks that they are always able to successfully sneak past you. They don't, you notice every time but would prefer not to have you and your friends be mercilessly slaughtered. | I breath hot air into my cupped hands in a vain attempt to warm them, shifting underneath my thick fur cloak. The snow is, somehow, falling heavier than it was last winter when it coated everything in the cold of winter like a frost giant's breath.
"One minute," I mutter to myself.
One more minute and then I could go inside by the hot fire. A minute passed. My fellow guardsman doesn't come to relieve me. Two minutes. Three. Four. The fifth minute arrives and passes with no sign of my relief. Agitated, I turn on my heel, open the door and clomp into the establishment.
The name of said establishment is "The Weeping Dragon Inn", a small, rustic inn with a bar on the far side next to a set of stairs and a blazing hearth on the right. Patrons sit clustered around tables. Drinking, singing, and eating, I scan the crowd for my relief, but I can't find him. I look to the bar where the innkeeper stands, as he always does. The innkeeper is getting on in years, but he still retains the vigour of a man far his junior and the strength of a blacksmith.
We speak. I raise an eyebrow, in response, he looks to my right and down. I nod in thanks and edge my way around drunk townsfolk, reaching to where the innkeeper indicated I see the guard lying on the floor, probably passed out from too much drink.
I sigh and am just about to kick the unconscious man when a sudden shift in mood overtakes the room. People's conversations become forced, nervous. I turn.
Crouching in the entrance was a man, shrouded in a dark hood and wearing all black clothes. Usually, the innkeeper would be yelling by now, but his life is far more important than cold air being let out. The man slowly moves his way to the counter, everyone pretends not to see him.
He stands up like nothing happened and says to the innkeeper, "Can I have a room."
The old man, having played this role a thousand times, calmly responds, "Yes sir. That'll be ten gold."
The stranger, grumbling about the price, hands over ten gold and gives a smile with too many teeth, "Thanks, man."
The hooded man literally sprints up the stairs and into his room and a collective sigh escapes the patrons of the inn. I turn and wake my guard friend up, explaining that trouble has arrived, he snaps to his drunken approximation of attention at this threat and stands, albeit unsteadily.
A few minutes later the stranger jumps down the stairs, a feat that would have most likely left both my ankles broken, and resumes his crouch. Everyone, knowing what this means, pretends that they can't see him. I have seen this hundreds of times in the last six months alone, an adventurer comes to town, crouches and steals some things. If you give any sign of seeing the adventurer they will kill you, so we simply pretend that they aren't there.
The stranger walked behind the counter, stole some wine, loose gold and a cabbage. After placing the cabbage in his bag he swore, took it out and put it in a bucket. He then proceeded to pickpocket my cousin, Igdar. We all pretended like nothing out of the ordinary was happening and continued with our forced conversations.
The innkeeper's granddaughter enters from the back room. For a brief time, it seems that the adventurer hasn't noticed her, I think it will be fine.
The adventurer turns, grins ferally and says the five words no guard wants to hear, "I just installed killable children."
| "... Umm... Mike, shouldn't we do something about th-"
"Nope." I quickly respond to the new guy's question.
"He's literally just crouched down right ov-" I cut off the new guy again to explain.
"Alright Rook, look." I start, in a whisper so the "Hero" doesn't hear me.
"If we try to stop him, he's just going to set us both on fire, or something. I don't know about you, but I like not dying. And I know the rest of the crew doesn't like dying either." Suddenly the hero glances up at me, and I end up looking him dead in the eye. The rookie looks at me and quickly quips up "What now?"
*shit*, I think to myself.
"What are you talking about? What do you mean what now?" I respond as calmly as I can to the new guy, the hero glaring at us now.
"What's wrong with you Mike? He clearly knows we know that he's here." He says to me, pointing at the hero, who stands up and slowly begins drawing his sword.
*This fucking moron's going to get us all killed!* I think to myself.
"Rook, are you fucking with me? There's clearly no one else here. The jokes are really getting old now man." I say with quite possibly the worst acting I can, just as the hero finishes drawing his sword.
*Shit, shit, shit, He's totally on to us fucking new guy. This hero always gives me the creeps, the way he bumps into walls and whatnot and how he doesn't blink... Is he even breathing?* I start monolouging to my self in fear. The hero's standing right in front of us now, still staring, definitely not breathing, which is really weird now that I think about it. He raises his sword above his head, about to strike me when the rookie suddenly replies.
"Ooohh. Gotcha Mike. Ha ha ha, sorry man. I just love making silly jokes, it's weirdly quiet and I got bored. I'll stop now though." A look of pure terror on his face as the sword stops a fraction of an inch away from my head. The hero stares into my soul, all I can do is stare through him, and hope he goes away.
A few moments later he sheathes his sword, and finishes stealing everything in the room. Including my pants. After he leaves, I sigh in relief before looking back over at the new guy.
"FOR FUCKS SAKE MAN!" I scream as my terror turns into anger. "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING THERE? YOU COULD'VE GOTTEN ME KILLED!"
"Sorry mike," The new guy meekly responds. "I mean I was hired to do a job, I didn't think the hero was that terrifying."
"YEAH, CLEARLY YOU DIDN'T THINK!" I respond. Just then I notice out of the corner of my eye, the hero, still staring, and now wearing my pants, peeking through the door, his sword drawn.
*God fucking damnit. This is why I hate training new guys* I think to my self as the hero rushes in, sword raised to deliver a decisive blow to my skull.
| 2017-05-29T03:17:38 | 2017-05-28T23:37:13 | 69 | 49 |
[WP] You're a high level black mage with a few healing spells but everyone thinks you're a terrible cleric because you only ever use healing spells. | # Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Arc ?, Interlude ?: Archmagus LeFey)
(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**LeFey had done battle with gods old and new.** He had called down the fires of the heavens, and split the earth itself with words of power. He had tamed the wind and rose to the very edge of the atmosphere, exulting in his power where the sky ran black, and dove to the depths of the seven seas to face the the strange and powerful Things that lived Below.
In all his many years, LeFey had never had to put up with a gang of insecure teenagers.
He thought it might have been the greatest test of his skills yet.
"Hey! Le*Failure*!" LeFey sighed, recognizing the voice. Roderick Alson DuManse the Fourth—a black mage never forgot a name, once it had been given freely to them—swaggered towards where LeFey was nursing a cup of wine. The bar was crowded enough that LeFey had hoped to escape those damn kids for half a second, but there was no dice. Roderick rolled up to him, flanked by two of his cronies, and plucked his drink out of his hand.
"You didn't pay for that," LeFey murmured.
Roderick didn't seem to hear. "Drinking on the job, old man?"
"I finished the healings I was assigned to for the day," LeFey replied. "My shift is over." Gods grant him patience, wasn't the Sunrise Kingdom supposed to be one of the most polite places in the world? He supposed arrogant little cockatoos like Roderick could be found anywhere.
"Oh, really? You call that healing a finished job?" Roderick snorted. "The poor boy was crying after you'd finished healing him. What kind of messed-up healing spells are you using that inflict *pain* on the victim?"
LeFey clenched his jaw. *You have no idea how hard I had to work to be able to heal even the slightest of cuts,* he thought. Outwardly, however, he simply said, "According to the Sunrise Standard Healer's Handbook, I performed my duties as an apprentice healer acceptably. The patient experiencing *minor discomfort* is not cause for official sanction."
"*Official* sanction," Roderick drawled. "Well, you might not have noticed, but we're not exactly *official*. Listen up, old man. I don't know who you are or where you get off on hurting people who come to us for healing, but you're in the wrong neighborhood. Stop volunteering at the Lighthouse and we'll leave you alone."
LeFey bristled. "I have sacrificed more than you will ever know to be able to work here, *saving lives.*"
"Really?" Roderick laughed. "Saving lives? You couldn't heal a papercut if your life depended on it. Y'know what? No. There's no point in empty words. I'll put my money where my mouth is." Roderick took out a scalpel from his pocket—the official symbol of membership in the Lighthouse of Sunrise. "I challenge you to a healer's duel. Right here, right now."
The bar fell silent.
LeFey exhaled. As mages' duels went... well, he supposed a healer's duel was relatively harmless. Nobody would get hurt except for the two of them. And if he proved that boy wrong, maybe they'd finally leave him alone.
"Fine," LeFey snapped. He withdrew his scalpel. "Standard rules?"
"Wherever I cut, you cut," Roderick agreed. "Wherever you cut, I cut. Whoever fails to heal their wounds and succumbs first loses."
LeFey nodded tersely. "Go ahead."
Roderick smirked. "I'll take it easy on you, old man."
Roderick took the knife to the palm of his hand.
A.N.
Part 2 below. | I remember this one dream, over and over again. I remember my mother’s eyes, so blue like the ocean, towering over me and boring into my soul, whispering to me the same phrase over and over again.
*I’m not crazy,* she would mumble to me, to herself, *you’re the crazy one. Crazy, crazy, crazy!*
And yet, everyone labelled her as such.
So she was crazy, and I was crazy, and we were all only ever crazy. But deep down I knew what had really happened. Because I remember my mother young and beautiful, darkness flowing from her veins as easily as ink, but eyes always kind, always warm, crazy in all the loveliest ways. But then one day, things had changed. She was never the same again. They say the darkness drove her to madness, that all darkness ever does is drive you to madness, but I knew the truth. I know someone had cursed her, and I also know that the only person who would ever be willing to help is also me.
So I swore from dark magic, and devoted myself to healing. I learned spells, learned the right and wrong ways to approach those spells, and soon, it was as if nobody ever remembered the dark kid who lived in the woods with his mother.
I was a new person with new magic.
A new person to everyone but my mother.
Even with the madness, she could still tell whenever I got agitated with a new spell, or annoyed with my progress, because she would sort of give me an awkward pat on the arm as she walked by, mumbling under her breath all the while. I never knew what she was saying. I suppose I never dared to listen.
So I put up with her constant musings and her sullen temper and those piercing, electric eyes, and everyone thinking that I’m merely a terrible cleric, because in the end, I was doing it for *her.* I was going to save her — was going to create the most greatest healing spell to cure all things, ~~but it would never cure the darkness.~~
It was quite peculiar, then, when one morning as I was sipping tea and going over a new incantation, my mother walked in wearing her old black gown and embroidered cloak, something I haven’t seen her put on since I were a child. But perhaps what was more peculiar, was that her eyes, once fog on a autumn’s ocean day, were now clear, as if the mist had passed and the sun had come out.
As if a part of her was still somewhere in there.
As she got closer, I could still hear her mumbling, only now, if I listened closely, I could make out the words.
*Black crow. Mr. Aimes on second street. I’m not crazy. Black crow. Mr. Aimes on second street. I’m not crazy.*
A mantra, one someone could easily ignore, but those desperate blue eyes, a dream that plays on and on, and a mother who’s willing to do anything to protect her child.
And if I were anyone at all, if I had to choose a name for myself, then I would be my mother’s son.
I may not know what black crow means, or who Mr. Aimes on second street is, but I do know that my mother’s not crazy.
I do know that black magic still flows through her skin the same way it flows through mine, and I do know that maybe, just maybe, it’s time to start using it again.
That maybe this is who I am, who I’ll always be; a high level black mage who’s absolutely *horrendous* at healing spells.
And maybe, it’s time to let the world know that.
Starting with Mr. Aimes on second street.
—
/r/itrytowrite
Edit: grammar | 2021-09-03T07:54:13 | 2021-09-03T07:46:22 | 463 | 237 |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | The tavern was alight with candles and warm fires, the smell of meats and bread wafted through to the rafters of wood and plaster. Ale stained the floor in places and the barkeep had been working on a single mug for a startling amount of time. All and all a lively place to be on this evening.
"Ah and a fine night to you as well gentlemen! Merry blessings!" The rogue said, as the men who joined him for cards departed a few coins heavier then they were at start.
"Is this not grand fellows?" The elf turned to his crew. "Ale in the air! A tavern filled with beautiful women! And my closest friends in the world." He stood then, a leg up on the top of the table, his back leg supporting him from the ground
"Ladies! Gentlemen!" He yelled, "Tonight, join me in toast to this merry band of fighters, lovers and the heroes of this town! We are all thankful," he stopped to smile at his friends, the ale tinting his checks red "but I am thankful, for they are the truest of my friends" and with that he drank. The here-heres rose in strength from the crowd, and he was jostled away by the crowd with promises to be back later.
The dwarf, gnome and orc all sat in silence, looking at their drinks solemnly.
The dwarf sighed, pinching the top of his nose,
The orc had his head in his hands looking off into nothingness,
Finally the gnome chimed in, quietly, but with a resolute tone
"Okay, I'll say it. He's a much better companion then Roderick and we should do everything in our earthly powers not to mess this up."
The orc and dwarf both sighed in unanimous relief
The orc chimed in first with a hushed tone and feeling in his voice "Its like he knew what a whoreson Roderick was!" He said, sitting at attention once again " its like he knew and said to himself 'oh! These chaps look like they could use a new, better companion!' Then took it upon himself, through all the peril, to join us in disguise! All while throwing Roderick into god knows where!" He laughed. "The monster was OUR hero!"
The dwarf was next, wide eyed and hands extended to point out "Roderick" in the crowd. " look at that bloody rogue, he blends right in, they would never know they're holding possibly one of the most dangerous monsters in the land" he lowered his hands, then pointed out, " for all that, doesn't that also make him a better rogue?" They all agreed quietly.
The orc chimed in once more, tentatively, " look Roderick is a whoreson who would and almost did murder us for a small some of coin, twice." They all agreed muttering comments under their breath, " but were the you know...good guys... shouldn't we at least try to save him?"
The others were about to reluctantly agree when "Roderick" appeared before them once again
"My friends! this is as much your victory as mine! More so! Come join us, the mayor seems keen on raising our rewards! I thought it only fitting you be by my... Nay, I be by your sides during this!" He smiled warmly.
They looked at each other, shrugged and smiled
"No that's fine, we can be knaves for a night." The gnome said, stepping up from his seat. | Bolton the doppelganger did not want to be an adventurer. He wanted to live quietly, and bake cookies. He grew tired of the constant hustle and bustle of morphing into people, committing crimes because no one trusted the Doppleganger kind. He figured his secluded life in the hills might buy him peace.
The rogue laid on his floor, blood oozing from the pan shaped dent on his forehead. The doppleganger held his frying pan, a pained look on his face.
"I didn't mean to kill you..." he muttered, letting the pan fall to the ground, and burying his smooth black face in his long alien fingers.
Bolton had awoken to the sounds of someone rummaging through his dresser. Without really thinking he'd lifted his trusty frying pan, and crept up on the black cloaked figure. The rogue, a stout fat dwarf turned and snarled at him bradishing twin black daggers.
"hey stop stealing my stuff!" Bolton said.
The rogue responded with an inept slash of a dagger. With a frightened flurry of pan blows Bolton had brought the rogue to the ground.
Now Bolton fretted. Many a doppler murdered with impunity, but Bolton never wished to do anything more than avoid trouble. He could read minds, yet he refused to. It spoiled the fun of meeting people, and knowing them. Due to this aversion to murder Bolton now stood paralyzed, unable to think of what to do with this body.
He began to poke at the stocky form, when he heard a firm knock emanating from behind his wood door.
"Durin, you oaf, you've been gone hours, what's going on."
Without really thinking Bolton became Durin. With a slam Barrin the Paladin opened the door and saw two Durins, one wearing simple clothes, the other armor. One wielded Durin's black steel knives, the other a bloodied cast iron pan.
"What's going on here?" Barrin asked.
"well um, see I fell asleep here in this cave, and then this doppleganger tried to steal my armor and knives and so I had to beat him with this frying pan?" Said Bolton.
The paladin smirked.
"I see, well good job. Now come on. We've got some ruins to explore. And next time maybe don't rob a domicile if you aren't sure it is abandoned." Barrin said.
Reluctantly, Bolton donned the dead Durrin's armor, and tools. After the paladin buried Durin, and planted a plank in the ground. The dopple busied himself inside preparing his house to be left, and Barrin wrote with a peice of charcoal from his pouch.
"here lies, Durin, a theif, a rat bastard, and a betrayer. He got himself killed robbing a good man." He wrote.
With a cool wisp of the wind following them, the newly minted Bolton/Durrin followed Barrin, not sure of the golden Haired human's destination, and worrying deeply of the state of his garden.
| 2017-09-15T08:33:07 | 2017-09-15T05:03:01 | 44 | 12 |
[WP]You are a parent in an anime. Your child is born with epic anime hair, and you are certain they will become the protagonist. You are determined to not become a tragic back story like so many other anime parents. | " Oh shit, she has blue hair?"
" Yeah, sorry. My bad."
" No, your genes are fine. Let's just be careful. Okay? I mean like let's be really careful. Dudes are gonna come after us. I didn't die in childbirth so we're already ahead of the curve."
" True. But... honey? I love you. The best thing we can do right now is bail. You are gonna be excellent mom someday. But not right now, and not to this baby. You getta blue hair, mom dies. If not now then by some hideous fucking chud like ten years down the road. The better a mom you are, the more sealed your fate."
" Hey wait. What if we're... evil?"
" No, no...."
" Like hear me out. What if we become seriously evil? Because even if we bail she'll probably invent this whole tragic backstory out of us and then retcon it so we die young anyways. But if we become the antagonists on purpose..."
" Baby you are great, but have you ever heard of an evil couple in a stable relationship being a thing the protagonist encounters in these stories? I love you to death but if we want this to work you have to be realistic."
" Yeah, you're right. Oh wait... I suddenly feel the urge to kill her."
" Are you sure that's not just chaffed nipples?"
" Maybe. Take her from me, by back is tired. We're going formula from now on, and damn the lactation consultant. He can fuck off."
" Okay! Ah... she's so cute."
" God I cannot believe I gestated our own destruction."
" Well... we could just bail."
" On our own newborn?"
" Yeah. Then she get's to be the homeless orphan and we get to be the unknown parents... she'll never need know what happens to us."
" That's such a good idea. And then we can have sex a bunch, and probably create her antagonist and then be in the same place we are right now, again."
" Hey, it's not my fault our birth control failed!"
" Oh come on, we're on a ticking clock. I mean yes, we could abandon our baby, but dollars to donuts we're done for anyways. I bet you're suddenly full of ambition right now to take over the head of your own corporate structure and turn it evil. With robots."
" Kind of, yeah. Just looking at her wants me to make this evil army of robot warriors for her. Like evil or good.. but fascist no matter what somehow..."
" See? That's what she does."
" Why'd you keep it from me during the pregnancy?"
" Can't say. Her own self preservation instinct, probably."
" Man... I love her... but I love you too. And it's not about only the sex stuff. It's about... I would murder the shit out of this baby to keep you alive."
" Ummm...."
" No, I'm serious. Let's kill this thing."
" Honey, it's her talking. That's not gonna work. It's gonna end up with some nurse rushing in here and preventing the murder, probs she'll get a grey streak of hair and be extra powerful."
" Oh... yeah."
" The best bet we have is to bail. But it has to be tragic or comedic."
" Like... we just run?"
" Yea."
" From our kid?"
" Look, it hurts. It'll rip our heart out. But I fell in love with you to live, not to die. This creature tricked us. I didn't agree to be the tragic mother of the future nor did you agree to be all Odin on the tree."
" Jesus, you're starting to sound all evil."
" Yeah. I know. Drop the baby in the bassinet. We're leaving."
" I...."
" LEAVE HER!"
"... I can't."
" She's bound for greatness anyway! Our parenthood makes seriously zero impact!"
" That's true..."
" So come on. We have to leave."
" Okay."
( gunshots heard in corridor)
" Oh, fuck."
" Yeah."
" So we just get to die together? For this fucking baby?"
" Yeah."
".... Fuck it, not us. Run."
| I would do anything for my son.
Whenever I think of him, Naritsuko, I can't help but remember the first time I saw him. His mother - my lovely wife - was holding him in her arms, and he was breathing into her chest. I am a hard man, but seeing him there, seeing *my son*, it changed something within me.
There was little else to do but pave the way for him to have the best future possible.
Unfortunately, as I had gazed down upon him, I noticed one key feature: instead of being entirely bald, his head was covered in a mop of conveniently spiked black hair. The doctors had already been running tests - trying to figure out what had gone wrong, if he had some sort of disease. But I knew then, before I even received the prognosis.
My son was a protagonist.
I may not be the most intelligent man in the world, but that realization sent my thoughts into overdrive. There was a very clear, unambiguous pattern when it came to the parents of protagonists: they died. Whether it be torture, assassination, old age (that was a weird one), or fighting a ninja war, their fate was essentially sealed from the day their children were born.
So I had two things to do, which I, John Tsuoko, was certainly capable of. Number one, give my beloved son the most perfect future possible. Number two, don't die.
In all honesty, this hadn't been much of a change from what my 'bucket list' had been before. (Number One: Don't die.) It was simply that the entire 'protagonist' thing complicated matters a tad.
Perhaps it drove me crazy. I cannot deny this possibility: the first real project I undertook after his birth, him being two months old, was to attempt immortality. This *was* a good idea, except for whatever reason I thought Daeth Majick was the proper way to go about it. (Note: This was a more potent form of death magic due to the odd spelling.)
So, that wasn't very clever of me. Thankfully, I was still self-aware enough to know that even my ventures towards preventing death could actually lead to my death, and was careful to test the potions on rats first. They somehow ended up creating vampire rats - who knew that tabasco sauce was *that* potent? - and so I had to scrap the entire project. Oh well, water under the bridge, or so I thought at the time.
The next project involved a complete takeover of Britain. Yes, that was me, go ahead - *hail Britannia* all you want! However, sitting in my throne room with twenty concubines surrounding me, I realized that my attempt to create a kingdom for my song to inherit had led to me accidentally doing something he could potentially despise me for. Being stabbed in the back by my son so he could be the hero did *not* sound like a fun use of time.
Unfortunately, attempting to dissolve the city-state of Britannia that had somehow covered half the globe caused some instability. Not a huge issue, but I did end up fighting in a war. It was the nation I had created against... everyone else. I, of course, was on the 'everyone else' side, and that was most definitely the only reason we won.
A problem arose when we, at that point known as The Konoha, discovered a source of magical energy in the 'many-legged beasts'. Nine of them, each with power far surpassing the last, and the leaders of the war wanted *me* to seal one.
Pfft, yeah, no thanks!
And that more or less leads to right here, right now.
My son is on the ground, in front of me, and bloody lines circle his body. This is the sum total of my magical knowledge, and I can only pray that it will be enough. The theory is strong, however: Equivalent exchange, one life for another.
I would do anything for my son.
---
*more stories on r/forricide* | 2017-02-15T03:44:38 | 2017-02-14T23:36:39 | 561 | 301 |
[WP] "Liar." "I'm telling the truth. They put themselves in pressurized metal boxes and launch themselves out of their planet with liquid fuel canisters. Humans are insane." | "Kagra-shit. That's a video game mechanic, no species would be insane enough to *grenade-jump* into space."
"I'm telling you it's true. They use explosive force to get into orbit."
"Why don't they use MagRails like everyone else?"
"We've looked into their radio transmissions. According to one institute the humans call ICP they don't actually know how magnets work."
"What? That's not possible."
"And yet here we are."
"Ok, so they're spaceworthy now, are they violent?"
"Sometimes."
"What do you mean sometimes? You either evolve from predators or prey, violent or peaceful."
"They evolved from both. It may be why they're so... Weird."
"So they're sometimes violent. They've got force cannons, I assume?"
"Nuclear torpedoes, actually."
"... What do you mean by nuclear, exactly."
"They harness the power released when atomic nuclei are split or fused."
"No they don't. That's stupid. You would have to use highly radioactive material, nobody would put their ships' crews at risk like that."
"The more modern vessels actually have reactors based on the concept."
"You're shitting me."
"Nope."
"Gabatax above, what have we gotten ourselves into? Do they have any redeeming features?"
"They have an affinity for more primitive furry animals. They cuddle them and treat them like their own young, it's actually rather cute."
"Exterminate them. Immediately."
"Of course."
---
*Thanks for reading! /r/Xais56 for more!* | Gob straightened his suit, looking sideways at his co-worker named Pal.
"Liar." said Gob.
He had missed last night's episode of "Planet Earth" and he didn't believe a word of what Pal was saying. The show was what everybody where he worked at ever talked about. Unmanned space drones recorded the activities of these strange aliens who lived on Earth, called humans, and showed them on television.
"I'm telling the truth. They put themselves in pressurized metal boxes and launched themselves away from their planet with liquid fuel. Humans are insane."
"Oh, yeah? Where did they go?" said Gob sipping water from the plastic cup.
"To their moon and back."
"What for? It's just an empty rock."
"They put a flag in it and left. It makes no sense, but nothing ever does with them. Just last episode, they blew themselves up with that atomic bomb, remember? It was as if they did it on purpose."
"Look, I know they've done some stupid stuff, but this is simply too much to believe. I'll see you later, at the pub."
Gob went back to his office, chuckling at the thought of those ridiculous humans. He'd have to catch up on the show on a streaming service. | 2017-12-16T06:04:06 | 2017-12-16T04:51:41 | 4,105 | 707 |
[WP] After near 2 centuries of the remnants of humanity living in pressurised habitats and requiring space suits to venture outside, a message pings the control centre - "TERRAFORMING COMPLETE. ENVIRONMENT IS HABITABLE." | Nobody remembers what happened.
All the elders died, and everyone decided to stop telling the stories. I couldn't blame them.
It hurt to think about.
Humanity, in it's uncountable billions, venturing the surface without life support.
No Ash Guards to keep the irradiated soot from scorching them.
No Rebreathers to keep the air from poisioning them.
No Solar Clothing to keep the sun from frying them.
Kids laughed in fields and meadows, unbound by the massive machines that now barely kept them alive.
They say that cancer was rare then.
And me. Some random teen. Legend says they'd be in school. Learning things like math, or science.
Not learning survival strategies, or how to euthanize.
I still remember those legends. Because it made it all so much more painful.
Legends say that humanity moved to the bunkers.
Legends say that it was to keep them safe while the Earth was reformed.
Legends say that there's a cow that jumps the moon.
Legends say that moss used to grow on the north side of trees.
Legends say that we used to be alive.
We are surviving.
Everyone gave up on the surface, forgot about it. Stopped going up altogether. Our reserves were enough. A couple dozen years or so.
So we waited.
And time quietly passed...
The vault's machines whirred and clicked. And me. One of the few with a knack to tend to them.
I spend most of my time here. Alone.
Company dulled the mind.
I toyed with the machines. Made them do simple things. Beep and clicks. Rudimentary songs and tunes.
Got them to reveal some of our past. Showed a plain image from before. A small video clip. I've seen them a dozen times.
It seemed a fantasy. I think it might have been.
The world could have never been that green, or covered.
'But the legends state-' the legends state lies.
Earth was always barren. Billions don't get reduced to a meager fifty in a concrete casket. The air was always hostile. Trees were only ever a concept.
Earth was always dead.
I sighed.
Always dead...
The console beeped at me.
I looked up at the monitor, a small red notification was flashing on its screen, tiny in comparison to it's message.
"//TERRAFORMING COMPLETE//"
I blinked. Then blinked again.
The notification didn't disappear.
I sat up, and began to read the message it accompanied.
"//MESSAGE_OUTPUT.TXT//
It is our pleasure to inform you that...
Operation New Eden is now complete!
You may now leave the bunker. The surface is now safe. The air is breathable, and local fauna and flora has been reintroduced.
The other [4] active bunkers have also been notified, so do not worry about them!
We hope that life was not too rough in the bunker!
Good luck!"
I didn't bother rereading what it said. I stood and ran.
Those still awake were confused by my actions, but didn't ask. My eccentricities were well known.
I hurriedly put on my suit, Ash Guards, Solar Clothing, Rebreather, everything.
I entered the airlock, and took a deep breath.
I won't get their hopes up with false truths. But if this was true?
The heavy doors shuddered together, while the opposing set finally began to open.
Sunlight blinded me in a moment.
I took heavy and cumbersome steps as I walked forward, uncertainty racked my bones, made my head ache. Anxiety too. Even a tiny modicum of hope.
My eyes finally adjusted, and I looked up.
Grass was coating the hills.
Trees in the distance swayed gently in the breeze.
Clouds sat high and content.
In my daze, I even took off my rebreather.
I took a deep breath, fear in my heart, but my lungs didn't burn.
I'm alive?
I looked at the sun, the same sun that a million times I was concerned it would burn me down to a mere scorch mark.
It seemed harmless now. | I was there, in my quarters, in bed, when a message on my control center woke me up: "TERRAFORMING COMPLETE. ENVIRONMENT IS HABITABLE".
I couldn't believe it. Finally, it had happened - the outside was habitable, breathable, livable. I almost literally jumped for joy. It had been 195 years since the domes had gone up - although I had only been in the world for 27 of them. 27 years of feeling cramped. 27 years of a longing that I had always fixated on. The outside.
And I was the first to know about it. That was the only conclusion I could draw - nobody else was talking about it on the forums. And, of course, I intended to keep it that way. I wanted to be the first one out. Not some bozo who did EVA missions for a living, that would be unbearable. No sampling, no verification, none of that nonsense. They would stop me if I told anyone, and I wanted this **now**.
I was interrupted by a soft beep. The clock had struck 9 AM, and I should have been getting ready. I snapped back to reality, and started my routine: Brushing my hair, washing my face, brushing my teeth... there wasn't enough time for a shower, but I had taken one yesterday, so it was probably fine.
After changing into my uniform, I ran out of my quarters and beelined for the pod. That was the only way you could get from place to place... for now. It was almost definitely going to change in the near future.
As I was taking a seat, a coworker passed me, commenting that I looked happy. Perhaps my face had betrayed that something was going on, but I dared not tell my secret. Not before I had done something myself, at least. Getting the work done, though, was a chore. And the ever-present thought only made it harder, constantly distracting me. Yet, I did it. And I made it to lunch break.
The cafeteria dome was within walking distance, so I could use the airlock and walk into the outside world. Of course, you had to put on what was basically a space suit. So much equipment... and I had now learned that it was superfluous.
I began to walk through the dirt. It would feel so amazing just to touch it, rather than the cold, sterile material inside the domes. I could only imagine it, soft and moist and beautiful. And grass... the grass... so green and fuzzy... I couldn't bear it anymore. Against the (wrong) warnings of the suit, I took it off, and breathed in the real air.
It smelled so sweet, so intoxicating, like, before, I was breathing from a can... I began to disrobe more and more, leaving myself in my regular clothes. This hadn't been done for two centuries, and I was the first to feel this in as long. I couldn't help but lay down in the grass. It was so beautiful, so soft, so amazing to feel it all against my skin... I could get used to this.
I needed a nap. And right here, in the dirt, felt like the best place to take it. A part of me questioned why I was so tired, but that didn't matter. I was too tired to contemplate it. The last people I saw before I closed my eyes were two police officers, staring at me. I didn't care how they saw me. I felt great.
I heard a voice. Probably from one of them. "Is this really humane?", one asked.
"Name a better way to do this.", said the other.
And then I slept.
​
EDIT: A couple of revisions | 2022-12-16T22:22:20 | 2022-12-16T20:46:38 | 174 | 39 |
[WP] A world where super heroes exist but act as mercenaries for hire instead of doing it out of the goodness of their hearts
Someone made a comment in another thread that made me want to see this sort of thing and some people replied saying I should submit it here. Here's a link to my [original post](https://www.reddit.com/r/tifu/comments/62wgey/tifu_by_bricking_a_computer_with_rick_astley/dfq195a/) which has a little more detail about the sort of thing I was thinking of specifically, but feel free to run with the basic idea however you want. | *3:30 AM, Atlanta*
The phone rang.
"This had better be worth waking my ass up."
"Flux. $500,000. If we lose power--."
"I'll do it if you make it six. Where?"
The caller accepted, a little too quickly. Damn. Could have got more.
The caller gave the address to a malfunctioning power station, and thanked Flux for assisting Westshore specialty.
"An insurance agent, huh?" *Well, it makes sense. Superheroes were a damn sight cheaper than losing a court case, these days.*
Flux had been a generous soul. But not anymore.
He loved music. When he first discovered his power, all those years ago, he used his power over electricity to give fledgling bands free power, so they could practice anywhere, anytime. They didn't even have to plug their equipment into anything! It made for some great hipster music videos.
Back then, he sometimes helped clean up metal debris from car crashes. Other days, he donated electricity to his poorer friends, or gave the homeless shelter free electricity for a few hours, to run the A/C during the hot summer months.
That all changed after a fateful day a few years ago. Flux prevented a plane crash by using electromagnetism to lower it safely to the ground. After that, Flux became famous.
And with fame, came more calls for help. But they all wanted it for free. Non-stop, day and night. Not always for heroic deeds, either. One kid wanted him to take out the power at his office so he could spend that day with his girlfriend.
He grew fed up with the non-stop pleas for help. Fed up as he was, he was too poor to buy food. Even superheroes have to eat, you know.
So, Flux started charging for his powers. This sparked outrage at first - Headlines like "Does Flux's greed have no limit?" dominated the news cycle - because people had grown used to the impossible being done for them for free.
However, capitalism won the day - other heroes in other cities borrowed flux's idea. They too had been worked to the bone, and for what? To go home to a creaky apartment without enough money to even wash their spandex?
These days, heroes primarily did boring but valuable things, such as prevent power outages, stop floods from damaging property, put out fires, that sort of thing. Some chose to do pro-bono work at times, but it was not expected the way that it was in years past.
Flux sighed as he drove to the plant. He could easily power the grid from the sidewalk outside his house, but the insurance company would have a fit and cut his pay. Last time he did that, they charged him for damaging the wiring, which cut his $250,000 reward down to a mere $15,000. Looks like another couple hours of maintaining a boring old 60 hz stream... | There was a time when good deeds ment the people adored you, they praised you as a savior. Those days are long gone. When Rodrick Friese proposed our step back into civilian life it wasn't met with warm responses, that is until he backed us into a corner, a situation we couldn't save, people we couldn't help.
Everyone in the Strowman Buildings died. It collapsed faster than we could do anything. Once in site the buildings had already been in pieces across the surrounding areas. It wasn't supposed to be possible, a hero in every corner of the city. We devided and conquered all evil.
The people will turn on you quick when it's their 7 year old trapped under rubble, when their husband can't pick up their kids after work. We were forced out, met with disgusting looks and yelled at in the street. I took my cape off 15 years ago and never looked back.
The "severance package" I took to keep myself hidden and supress my powers had run dry. I was worried I wouldn't be able to pay rent or even buy food, I needed a way to survive. I don't have conventional wisdom of normal life. I had never worked a job before and never even went to conventional schools. Myself and my commrades were raised to protect by the Freedom4All Act designed by Congress to eventually become the replacements for police.
I needed a way to keep myself alive.
I found Valor, or as street folk call him Kevin O'Rourke. Him and a few of the crew had been making money on the backs of their powers while keeping relatively hidden. Everything from purse thief to hired hits, no honor for the code.
"To protect all life, for all life is good."
To say little it didn't last long with em. I moved on with my ventures and found myself working alone. I was surprised how much someone was willing to pay for my service. Before I knew it I could charge anything, and I did. I became so indulged with self worth I often forgot to hide my powers when on a case. People often tend to grow suspicious of a floating man with skin made of marble.
Before I knew it I was more rich than I could ever have imagined spending most my life on a hero's salary. However one thing that remained from that time was the notion that nothing good can last forever.
Just a little rough scribbling while on break. Hope it doesn't suck. Not fully fleshed out, written extensively but felt like writting on my break. Thanks for the wicked writing prompt.
| 2017-04-02T09:25:08 | 2017-04-02T08:51:08 | 201 | 27 |
[WP] SETI receives a transmission from intelligent life. After some deciphering, the message reads, "Keep quiet or they'll find you!"
The message was clearly sent from elsewhere in our universe, from outside of our solar system. | The dusty screen flashed to life.
We had begun to wonder if it was useless. A waste, billions of dollars down the drain. We started to think of ourselves as alone again. Or at least, too far away to matter.
But, then the ones and zeros poured in. Not a long signal, but enough to send us reeling. Some thought it was a joke. A mistake. A random signal sent from some far off star. We had to be sure. SETI hadn't picked up anything in years, so anything was worth working towards.
We sent for decipherers and decoders. Linguists and brainiacs came pouring in from around the country, just to look at these 26 lines of code. It took months on end of these scholars poking and prodding, finding some way to break it into something understandable. We, once again, thought our hopes were dashed.
But then, we broke through. Through some amalgamation of math and language, we put it into English. Our hearts were racing as our eyes scanned the page for the first time.
And God, I wish we hadn't.
"Keep quiet, or they'll find you"
That's all our billions earned us. Many didn't believe that we were correct. "It must be some flaw with translation" they said. But, us remaining minority that cared wouldn't listen.
We sent back, using the cipher we worked so hard to uncover. We sent back literary works, art, music, and, most importantly, questions. How had they found out about us? Who was it that we should be afraid of? We waited with bated breath as our message was sent in the direction it was received.
It took days that felt like millennia, but eventually, our far-off-friend responded.
"No time. Silence."
We were baffled. What were they so afraid of? Why did we need to fear?
We had only begun to question these, when the second signal came. A little different, a little stronger, a little louder.
"Have fear. We come." | Of course, it was too late. Far too late. For all he knew, that repeating message had been there for them all the way back on that dizzying first day of February, 1985 - when he had joined the SETI team as a fresh-faced intern right out of grad school. As the cab raced from Dulles International toward Capitol Hill, his imagination feverishly shot back more than 30 years to conjure the disturbing contrast:
Discovery 3 had just returned to earth as the 15th successful shuttle mission, the Japanese had sent a probe off to investigate Haley's comet, Springsteen's "Born in the USA" was playing on damn near every radio station, and somewhere out in the Stygian black depths of interstellar space, someone - something - was all but pleading for an entire planet to shut the fuck up. To lay low. To be still and to be quiet.
But then, the launch of SETI fit right in with the exciting things that were happening around the world at the time. Nobody considered that their first effort at turning a listening ear toward space was really no more effective than trying to capture a fiber-optic hosted data packet with a telegraph. Not until today that is. Something was coming. Something so terrible in its incomprehensibly large scale that even 30 years of advance warning likely would not have been enough.
And so it was that as he dashed up the marble stairs toward his Congressional hearing, he missed the voicemail from the New Mexico office. The one that told of the signal suddenly going dark. The one in which his longtime colleague and good friend reported, with hysteria creeping into his otherwise renowned deadpan drawl, that everything was going dark. Radio silence, across the board. | 2014-10-03T12:03:07 | 2014-10-03T11:48:12 | 46 | 21 |
[WP] You wake up trapped inside of your favorite MMORPG with millions of other players. Everyone starts out by testing their battle skills and combat abilities, except for you. You take a more "Economical" approach by purchasing land from NPC's and establishing new commerce and trade routes. | When it happened, my first thought was that, at max-level I wanted to test out abilities. I was a Pandaren Monk and could fly at the mere thought of it. It was fun for a bit, but eventually I got over it. Then it hit me, if people were trapped in the game, there was no longer any logging out when they wanted to go to sleep or go get something to eat. It made me realise that they're gonna need somewhere to stay when they're not out adventuring and killing demons or whatever. Initially I thought, maybe Orgrimmar would be the best place, but then...no. After Legion came out, everyone would spend most of their time in the Broken Isles. That meant Dalaran.
I approached the 'Filthy Animal' after a quick hearth and a flight on a felbat and saw Uda the Beast carrying drinks over to a couple of NPCs sitting at a table. Looking around, the inn looked a lot bigger from the eyes of my character than when looking at it on a screen. I flagged her down and she walked up, "You! COME! Drink, feast, rest for the next battle. But do not fight! Or I will feed you to my wolves." She really did say that in person. Huh.
"Uda, great purveyor of beverages, I'm in the market for some real estate." I put on my smoothest voice, which was a lot easier with my new Pandaren vocal chords, "I'm sure someone as powerful as you would love to be back out in the field, krulling some demon heads..."
"Hmpf...I do miss the hunt. My wolves get restless with no action," she looked thoughtfully over at her enormous animals for a moment, "They've only had one uppity Blood Elf Paladin in the entire last moon. But what of it? What do you mean 'real estate'?"
"Well, Uda, oh strong of strong, I've got a proposition for you!" She whipped out a dagger and held it at my throat.
"I don't like the sound of that, Bear...I'm not in THAT kind of business..."
"What? OH! NO! No, that's not what I meant! I mean I have a business proposal for you!"
"Ah," she sheathed her weapon and passed the tray she was still holding over to another waiter, "And what might that be, Tubby?" I looked down at my considerable panda girth. She had a point.
"Well, out of the goodness of my heart, I am willing to take this backbreaking, thankless, menial job off your hands and get you out into the field killing demons with the rest of Azeroth! The world has been too long without the battlecry of Uda the Beast!"
She tapped her tusks, obviously interested but not at the edge yet, "and what price were you looking at for this, that I have built from the ground up since the broken isles surfaced...?"
I grinned at that, "Why, a full burgeoning sack of ten thousand gold pieces!" I reached into my inventory and separated the ten thousand and pulled them up. They were automatically wrapped in a new sack that I jingled before her.
"TEN?! An insult! I would never go below thirty thousand!" Her face didn't match her words as she grinned slightly.
"Fifteen, then?" I shook the sack, adding more coins and it grew to accommodate them.
"Twenty-five!"
"Twenty!"
"DONE!" She grabbed the sack then grasped my forearm with a strength I didn't know NPCs were capable of and I had to hide the pain it caused me. "Oooh, I need to head to the auction house with this to suit up for the fun. It's been too long since I felt skulls break beneath an axe!" She wandered off to the back to gather her things and I was left there wondering if there was any paperwork. Then I felt something shift on my side and, opening my inventory, I noticed a new sheet of paper. I read the first couple of lines.
'Deed to the Filthy Animal inn in the city of Dalaran. This document entitles the bearer to all profits and responsibilities of the Filthy Animal inn.'
Another grin stretched across my furry face as I walked over to the kitchens to perform my first duty as the new owner. "NOMI!" I yelled at the Pandaren burning something on the stovetop, "YOU'RE FIRED!" Damn that felt good.
---
More at r/SamsStoriesSub | My wife and I had always been big into MMOs, playing whenever we had free time. Particularly ESO, which had grabbed our attention and refused to let go. So when we woke in Tamriel we felt both frightened and thrilled. Feeling it was only a dream at first we just laughed it off, but as we met more and more real people amongst the NPCS we felt the realness. My wife, being the combative type, dove right into her abilities, using the night blades skill path to accent her normal stealthy actions. I was a sorcerer, preferi ng to focus on the arcane rather than blade mastery. However, I realized that I could use my position as a PC to manipulate the npc politics and help build wealth for my family. My wife ran a few dungeons while I traveled to the Wayrest. My first goal, find a location to start a small shop. My account bank had the 5 million I had saved on my characters, so I was able to buy a nice location and start a small trading post.
A year passed. I had now become a leading merchant in the Daggerfall Covenant and was sent on a diplomacy mission by King Emeric to the Aldmeri Dominion. I hired two adventurer groups to accompany me, my wife's raid team and a local up and coming guild that needed the finances. The small guild had almost solely been outfitted by me, due to their local base being next door to my main shop. While mostly agreeable, they were quick to anger. One in particular, a dragonknight, would constantly try to take the helm from my wife, who lead the two groups. He refused to accept that a woman could beat him in combat, and after about half the journey refused to follow her orders.
"Why should I listen to some woman who is only on this trip because she's sleeping with the merchant." He yelled from his position in the rear. "I should be the leader, I'm the toughest one here". I chuckled as I watched my wife glance back at him with a slly smirk.
"Alright Goth'rac why don't you show us how well you handle yourself." My wife said with a smirk as she motioned the caravan to stop. I glanced back at the lumbering dragonknight, who smiled as he walked forward.
"Is that a challenge, nightblade" he growled through his teeth. My wife simply nodded and stepped back preparing her weapons.
The fight began with a clash, the dragon knights great sword slamming against her twin dagger. With a quick roll and a sweeping kick the dragonknight was already stumbling. My wife used this to her advantage and started spamming teleporter strike, bouncing behind him repeatedly until he could barely stand.
"Enough" I called out as I walked towards the battle, the dragon knight whimpering on the ground. "I hope this is a lesson to all of you as to why my wife is here." I said glancing at the caravan. While her group respected her, the other was always listening begrudgingly. I helped the dragonknight up, and walked him over to the caravan.
"She cheated" he mumbled as I used my healing magic on him.
"She didn't cheat, she hardly tried" I said smiling. "You will learn soon enough that she is better geared, skilled, and experienced than you could hope for, now return to your post."
Goth'rac returned to his post, muttering something about favoritism, as I prepared our next course of action.
We had finally arrived in the Aldmeri Dominion, and though the high elves were known for their hatred of outsiders, they couldn't help but marvel at our caravan, bringing rare metals and dyes from the Covenant. Even their queen was impressed, striking a trade deal with the covenant, on the grounds that the war would be in armistice for a time, to tend to the wounded on both sides. As time passed the trade deal turned to a treaty, and I turned from a merchant to an ambassador, and from an ambassador to a representative in the joint democratic government. While never the true face of power, often withheld for the fighters, I used my holdings to influence the tide of government, never wanting to lead, only to guide. | 2017-08-30T03:21:07 | 2017-08-30T00:53:39 | 53 | 36 |
[WP] A magical medieval fantasy empire frequently invades inferior, magic-less dimensions for easy conquest. This time though, they target the modern day technologically advanced Earth. | Note: For the purposes of this story imagine an ac-130 makes mw2 sounds.
\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\
"Damage report major."
With a salute the major began speaking. "It appears that they have interdimensional portal technology, although they have not used it since they began their attack. They may need time to recharge before teleporting large distances."
"English."
"They're sitting ducks. Sir."
The general smirked. These alien fucks picked the wrong country and the wrong world to land on. "Bring out the Ac130s. I want you to hit them so many times even their ashes no longer exist. If anyone survives bring them back for interrogation."
The major smirked at his general before saluting again and running off to inform others of his order.
\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\//\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/
The invading magical army looked up as they heard a sound unlike any they had heard before.
Their commander Gwendyre spoke. "Apprentice, use scanning magic, is that a dragon?"
The apprentice scanned it but didn't fully understand. "It appears to be full of metal and alchemic chemicals, but I sense no magic from it."
"We will move on then, it cannot attack us from such a distance with no magic."
They took a few more steps before it sounded as if the sky began to scream. They looked up just in time to see a large pice of metal dropping towards the center of their group. They scattered as to not be squashed, only for an explosion to overcome them. The commander had enough time to form a dome around half of his troops, but the other half seemed to be dead on impact.
He smugly scoffed. "It will take more than that to defeat us. It barely took half of my power to block their most devastating attack. I assume it has a high cost and cooldown time." His face turned to one of horror when the ship fired again, and again, and again. Soon he collapsed from exhaustion, and his troops collapsed from death. | "We have a fire order. It came across all channels but it's garbled. We can't authenticate." The comms officer held my gaze just long enough to confirm that I'd heard him, and turned back to his terminal, emotionless.
Everyone on the command deck grew suddenly more silent, even as new lights and sirens indicating major emergencies added to the chorus. I shared glances with my peers, to see if their shoulders felt as mine suddenly did.
All terrestrial communication had been down for almost an hour, anyone without access to satellite communication has been off the grid, and even the satcoms are shaky.
"These locations don't make sense!" another officer exclaimed, her voice strained.
Confirmed nuclear launch. That means Biden ordered it three minutes ago. If he ordered it. No authentication. No challenge codes. Nothing.
I... must have been out of my body for a moment, the female officer was right in front of me now, pleading look on her face. She'd been speaking... crying... "Please... don't fire... my family..."
I looked at the display of the station she'd stood up from. The targets were... domestic. Foreign. Everywhere. That was everything we had. The deck grew somehow more ominous; emergency floods came on, and the world map dominating the majority of the front of the room began to sparkle with activity across the globe.
Each yellow and red streaking line on the screen representing a weapon of mass destruction. Each trajectory inexplicable.
I'm about to die. I have one order. I look around the room for the other keys I need. I meet eyes with one. I see two already fighting, I don't know who is with me and who isn't, but we don't need either if.... there's one more... We meet eyes. The third key.
We all nod. | 2021-06-26T07:06:31 | 2021-06-25T21:28:18 | 28 | 20 |
[WP] After a horrible accident together the hero decides the job is not worthy, and the villain gains a conscience thanks to the people that helped him. Years later hey find each other and fight, but now from opposite sides. | "How many times did you tell me to give in to my base emotions?"
I sighed, words from so long ago coming back to haunt me.
"Dozens of times throughout the years. But I've realised that was wrong. They are useful to an extent, but not to overrule your better judgement."
Tarus grinned, flexing his clawed gauntlet. I could still see the golden plate, though it was marred by grime. He had boasted about them so much during our fights. To see them so defiled would have once brought me great pleasure. But now I felt nothing but disappointment. I had hoped in recent years to stand by his side as an ally. Instead we were enemies once more.
"Ah, but you are wrong. Life is so much easier like this! I take what I want, do what I want, and no-one can stop me!"
I shook my head.
"Such arrogance does not suit you. Please, think back to the times before. You were respected, you were loved."
His grin turned into a snarl, as he spat on the ground.
"Golden shackles. That was it was. They might look pretty, but they bound me all the same. They expected me to serve them. If I failed, I would be reviled. If I didn't save everyone, they would complain. Nothing was ever good enough for them."
I shook my head in disbelief. To thik such a pure heart had turned so black. I knew it was partially my fault, planting the first seed of doubt within his mind. All his actions, it was my fault. It was my job to set things right.
"Maybe not. But those who you saved cared. Many did, even if they weren't so vocal."
He snarled again, cracking his neck.
"Whatever. I don't care anymore. If you want to survive, step aside, I owe you that much. But if you stand against me, I will kill you. You never did win against me."
I clenched my staff tighter.
"Maybe not. But today I think will be different. Last chance."
He gave a vicious laugh, before charging at me. His classic attack, even if he had the edge of dark powers boosting him. But I was no slouch. I brought my staff down to form a shield around me. As it formed, I moved onto my next form, pulling on the strands of power around me.
They danced through the air, forming little balls of glowing light. As they formed they launched at Tarus, even as he clove at my shield. Each hit drained his mental fortitude, my best bet at wearing him down. Dark powers would have weakened that initially, as I well knew.i just had to overwhelm him.
But it was not so east a fight. My shield began to waver, his blows causing it to lose its strength. Whilst it existed I couldn't make another. But I never did specialise in staying in one place.
A new strand flowed into my legs. As the shield fell I ran, infused with enhanced speed. A second strand reached into the ground, before releasing. The localised earthquake threw him off balance, as I put some distance between us. Reaching for a pendant, I tapped it thrice. The winged sides vanished, giant versions appearing on my back. They beat with my thoughts, lifting me into the air.
Tarus cried with rage, holding up his gauntleted hand. A stream of dark purple washed out, missing me by a fraction. I smiled, before nodding at him. To my surprise he returned it, readying his sword for the next phase of our fight.
As much as I hated it, I had to admit. I had missed our fights. I think he did too. But now we would find out if he was indeed stronger with the shadows, or if the light would serve me better. | "Who'd have ever guessed... I'll admit, I've missed clashing swords with you. I just never imagined our roles would be reversed."
"I feel the same way. Seems like the village is prospering better than ever with *you* as the hero."
"Well, I'd have been on my way back... except once I saw you, I decided my new responsibilities meant I must challenge you again, for a different purpose."
"We both know you just wanted to fight me again, even if you happen to be doing your job at the same time."
"...You got me. Anyway, enough chat. Time to duel!"
The former hero, Klix, and the former villain, Prent, in their switched roles, prepare to fight. They had clashed many a time back in the day. One day, about four years ago, they were fighting on top of a train, when suddenly the bridge it was travelling over collapsed. Everyone around the train, including Klix and Prent, fell hard into the water below. Everyone survived, but there were many injuries. Prent thought he was going to be left for dead, but the people from the nearby town didn't care who he was, they tended to his injuries the same way they did everyone else's. The compassion shown to him caused him to shift his worldview and he decided to be a hero. He was actually going to ask Klix if Prent could be his sidekick, but when he visited his room, the first thing Klix said is "I understand now why you chose to be a villain. It's so much easier. I'm done with being a hero." All Prent could do was laugh as he said "well, looks like we're still enemies then." Klix was confused at first, then he started laughing too, as he realised what was happening.
They ended up going to different places though: Prent wanted to make amends with the village he terrorised for decades, while Klix thought it best if he never showed his face there again, and took off to find somewhere to start his villainy. By chance, as Prent just finished visiting a city for business, he ran into Klix as he was sabotaging the main road, and Prent could not resist the urge to challenge him.
Klix and Prent begin to circle round, each waiting to see what the other is planning. A crowd has gathered by now, automatically cheering for Prent, as he was challenging the evildoer. Klix relished in the growing excitement, while Prent simply liked being appreciated. Klix makes his first move, and the fight begins.
​
Prent makes his final strike, knocking Klix down. Both were exhausted by now, but they both thoroughly enjoyed their fight. Klix just manages to get up, but with no strength left instantly falls to his knees. The crowd celebrate and cheer for their new hero. Prent addresses the crowd. "Thank you all for your support! It has been a while since I last exchanged blows with someone, and you all made it much more enjoyable than in the past!" He then spots five police officers making their way through. One of them stops to talk to Prent, while the others arrest Klix. "Who'd have thought it, eh? Years ago, when I was living in the village..." Prent gives a sly smile. "Well, officer, sometimes things work out completely differently than you imagine." He then turns to look at Klix. "If you're worth your salt as a villain, I trust this will not be the last time our metals clash." Klix gives a huge grin, before he gets taken away. | 2022-08-23T15:23:38 | 2022-08-23T14:23:29 | 56 | 11 |
[WP] Your son asked you "dad are clouds candy?" You told him they were water. Then he asked "dad, what are Earth's defense systems. Then you remembered you don't have a son, and then he asked again, his eyes now obsidian black. "what is the defense system father." | Trying to remember something... Just out of reach. It is always hovering right there, but before you can reach out and grab it there is something there to int-
"Dad, are clouds made of candy?"
"What? Of course not, lad. They should have taught you about the water cycle by now... What are they even teaching you in school..."
I look down at the boy to my side, the spitting image of me and...
"Where is your mother?"
He looks up at me, a dark look just beneath the surface. The thought still out of reach... A number perhaps?
"Don't worry about mom. What are Earth's defenses like, daddy?"
"Earth's defenses?" A number. *Don't worry about mom* A number. Just out of reach.
Oh damn a number. The number!
The boy's eyes turned a solid black, staring at me, staring into my mind and soul.
"Tell me about Earth's defenses. Tell me about the WarSats, the defense grid. I want to know."
The number was back. I'd found it, and I clung to it like it was the only thing keeping me alive. The only thing keeping me sane.
"Marcus K. Salvador. Lieutenant Commander. 227-166287-776551. Marcus K. Salvador. Lieutenant Commander. 227-166287-776551."
My mantra. The words and numbers to repeat. Protect Earth. Protect my ship. Protect myself. The order of precedence. The order of importance.
The voice was harsher, less boyish this time.
"Tell me about Earth's D-"
"Marcus K. Salvador. Lieutenant Commander. 227-166287-776551. Marcus K. Salvador. Lieutenant Commander. 227-166287-776551." Louder this time. Drown out the questions.
Over my chanting I could hear things, the felt like they were outside the world, and coldness rushed in, blanking out the field we had been sitting in. I was now in a cold dark room, surrounded by machinery and bright lights.
"Marcus K. Salvador. Lieutenant Commander. 227-166287-776551."
I heard an inhuman sound coming from behind me. Sounds that was processed quickly by my implants, but I was only dimly aware of the translations being fed to me.
"... No good..."
"Can't get anything else out of him." Anything else?
"No use to us like this. He's regained enough of himself to resist."
"End it."
"Marcus K. Salvador. Lieutenant Commander. 227-166287-776551." I repeat the chant. It is all that is keeping me together.
I feel more cold closing in, rushing into my mind. It is a deeper cold this time.
"Marcus K. Salvador. Lieutenant Commander. 227-166287-776551."
It's closing in on my brain. Making it harder to think. To feel.
"Salvador. Lieutenant Commander. 227-166287-776551."
Everything is black now. I can't hear the implants talking to me.
"Salvador. 227-166287-776551."
I'm losing time. I don't and can't. There simply isn't. Thoughts fragmenting.
"227-166287-776551."
At least I found the numbers again.
---
"...Rally, Dean C. Roll, James T. Salvador, Marcus K. These are the names of our 150 fallen and missing, lost earlier this week onboard the Corvette FNS Hyperion. We honor the lost and their sacrifice for the sake of Humanity, and for the Sake of Earth. We encourage friends, family, and neighbors to be with the loved ones of those lost during these trying times. Dismissed." | "Www...Wait I don't even." I managed to mumble in confusion. This little creature was watching me with its strange alien eyes. It's weirdly formed hand pressed against the glass, the fingers almost octopus like sucking to the flat cold surface. One, two ... only three of them. It's eyes examining me meticulously.
"You're not my son," I told to myself more than to it, "In fact I don't even have kids."
As if understanding me perfectly it started gesturing and speaking in weirdly clicking noises. At least I assumed it was speaking, the whole understanding thing didn't quite work both ways.
I tried to get up from where i was beeing held down, but i couldn't move my legs or arms. In fact, when i thought about it i couldn't feel any of my limbs. I tried to move my head to look down my body, but my neck didn't budge either. Still I could see this little guy. *How weird*, I thought for a second then my attention was caught by the alien creature as from somewhere more much bigger creatures emerged.
They all seemed in some kind of turmoil, wildly gesturing and clicking even louder and more agitated. One of the big creatures lifted the little one up and left.
*Wait is that," baffled i watched the two beeings leave past another glass fronted room, *is that the head of the statue of liberty over there?*
Once again I tried to move but nothing would happen. *Over there! Is that a Dolphin?*
Suddenly the glass, that separated me and the creatures slid away without making any sounds.
One of the creatures moved in front of me and ... and lifted me with its three fingered hand.
*Wait how is it so strong* I desperately thought.
"You are not that heavy." It said.
Suddenly I could understand it's clicking noises. It was defenitely still talking in clicking noises, but now I could understand.¨
We were leaving the room i was held in, when i noticed there was writing on the glass front. Weird almost runic writing but still I could read it.
**Strongly Ironic Art From Barbaric Culture: Depicting The Idea Of Freedom**
**Mamal Living In Liquid: Most Intelligent Life Form In Liquid From ERF114**
"Why is it aware?" One beeing asked, I had been distracted so far and didn't realize we were leaving the rooms behind, when the creature suddenly turned to the voice.
"Shhh, don't disturb it, it's too much for it right now." The one holding on to me responded almost motherly.
But as it turned i could see the room i was held in.
**Most Successful Mamal on ERF114: They Called Themselves Humans**
It read and there was a hologram showing and explaining the anatomy of Humans. Slightly below the Hologorams there was more text that read:
**Put Your Hand Here And Use Telekinesis. You Can Ask It Anything About It's World And It Will Answer You!**
"We need to go wash out it's clogged neurons or it may take damage, someone didn't properly clean it's crystal again." The one holding me said angrily. As it turned away from the other beeings there was a slight reflection on the glass door and for a split second I saw.
I saw a three fingered beeing with obsidian eyes holding a naked brain suspended in something that looked like a big clear quartz crystal.
| 2018-05-14T01:26:59 | 2018-05-14T01:23:17 | 27 | 15 |
[WP] Write a seemingly normal story, except for the last sentence, which makes the entire story creepy | Sheryl kisses me on the cheek, patting my shoulder. I put an arm around her waist briefly; she is in the middle of getting dressed and we're running behind. While she buttons her dress, I knot my tie. I lace my shoes as she slips into her best brown heels, the ones with the little bows on the tops. I watch her brush her hair, quick smooth movements, her chestnut waves shining. It's tempting to run my fingers through her hair but we don't have time and she wants us to look our best.
We go downstairs together. Billy is reading out loud to his little sister and I stop to watch them with their matching earnest expressions.
"Are you ready, kids? It's time." Billy puts the book down and takes Rebecca's hand, and we step out onto the front porch. My wife puts a hand on my back as I lock the door; old habit. Billy and Rebecca make faces at each other and I fix his collar, which has flipped up.
Right on time. The four of us stand hand in hand and vaporise as the first bomb hits, leaving nothing but our shadows. | I awake to the sun creeping between the fins of my blinds. A clear day after what seems a lifetime of clouds. I open the door and walk down the hall. In the kitchen I make a pot of coffee, the aroma breaks the stale smell of morning as I open the windows to let in the fresh morning air. My wife is at the table in front of her cereal, the kids are on the couch, as always, in front of the tv. I pour my coffee and step out to the front porch for a cigarette. The fresh air feels new, a new day, a new start. I finish my cigarette and set my mug down. I pick up my bag, give everyone a kiss, wipe the blood off my shoes, clean off the knife from last night and start my new life. | 2016-05-19T11:23:33 | 2016-05-19T08:22:28 | 208 | 124 |
[WP] Write a scene that would appear sexual to an observer, but is completely innocent. [nsfw]
Like the tent shadow scene from Austin Powers, it should be humorous and can involve objects and sounds. | "What a night," he said, holding her close to his chest, her head lifting with his every breath.
They laid beneath the still-wet blankets as the sun peeked through the shudders, bathing the room in a soothing orange glow. The past hour seemed, to him, a whirl of sensation: the writhing, gasping bodies pressed against each other, the warmth and intimacy of the moment they had shared as he plunged deeper and deeper into her.
And now, in this moment of rest, he gazed upon her. How fair she was, so soft and delicate. For so long, he had craved her; the curve of her thigh and the warmth of her breath haunted his dreams. And he finally had her.
"I've never done anything like that," he whispered. He turned to look at the sunrise through the blinds, sighing. He was content. Happy, even.
He felt a warmth on his chest. *Is that what joy feels like?* he though. He looked down. *No, not joy.* He wiped the blood off his chest that had poured from the corner of her mouth.
*But I guess it's close enough.*
He made a note not to stab the neck next time. It made the whole affair terribly messy. | God, I felt like a man.
I couldn't help but admire myself, stealing glances at my own reflection. Shirtless in the nippy air, glistening with sweat; the light reflected off my perspiration, clearly delineating the bulging and rippling of my muscles as I worked, up and down, like a powerful machine, a piston powered by raw vigour.
Sweat condensed from my brow, rolled down the bridge of my nose, welled up and dripped from the tip. In, out: My great chest heaved with each inhalation and subsequent exhalation, swelling with the force of life itself. I stopped to rest, to breathe, but for only a second, then by the virility of youth I went right back at it, pumping and pushing myself as hard as I could.
Suddenly a police officer walked up to me, demanding to know what I was doing, and that was the last time I worked out at the school playground. | 2013-10-14T00:51:09 | 2013-10-13T23:18:57 | 73 | 11 |
[WP] You are in a bar when a six year old pigtailed little girl takes the stool next to you. In the deepest lumberjack voice she says, "Hey, Frank, make it a double. It happened again." You can't resist and ask her, "What happened again?" |     The little girl just glares at me, "Fuck off, buddy."
    I raised my hands in surrender, and turned my attention back to the drink in front of me. I was a little surprised Frank didn't tell her to beat it, that kids had no place in bars. But Frank just poured the girl a drink, and she took it without blinking, and swallowed the entire doubeshot within a couple seconds.
    "Never should have married that witch."
    "You mean bitch?" I couldn't help but ask, and internally winced."
    "No. Witch. You know, broomsticks, magic. Curses. In my case particularly, curses. Whenever she's annoyed with me, she curses me into this form."
    "So... This isn't your normal form?"
    "Do I fucking *sound* like a six-year-old girl?"
    "To be honest, no. So it's not a pituitary disorder?"
    "Frank, tell him."
    I turned my attention expectantly to Frank, who was currently wiping a glass. He set the glass down, and picked up another and started wiping.
    "William here is married to a witch. A literal witch. She cursed him so that whenever 'he whined like a little girl, he'd become a little girl'," Frank said, by way of explanation, moving on to another glass.
    "Well, there is a bright side here," I observed.
    William sneered. The expression looked bizarre on the face of a six-year-old girl. "Yeah? What's that?"
    "You could have ended up a bitch," I replied. | Nate had a bad day and really needed a drink. He headed to The Castle, where an old fortress by the ocean was revamped into the city's most beautiful vintage-looking bar.
He ordered some food as well. It is said that the bar has the widest variety in town, from the most common of steaks to the meat of any monster lurking in the sea.
From the corner of his eyes, Nate noticed a little girl walking in. Very young, like 5-6 years old, pig tailed, mudded cheeks. She was wearing a dirty red jacket and worn-out jeans, and walked in confidently even though non of the bar dwellers seems to be her parents. She spoke to the bartender Frank arrogantly:
"Hey Frank. Make it a double. It happened again".
The whole bar seems to pause for a while. The girl possessed a voice of a middle-age man, rugged and experienced. 'She' sounded like she had seen some serious stuff in her life.
Nate could not help but asked, confused like everyone else in the bar:
"What happened again"?
After a moment of silence, suddenly, Frank went speechless, staring and pointing at the little girl, as if she is the scariest thing he had seen in his life. The little girl seemed to notice something, looked around and looked at the mirror nearby. She immediately turned pale just like Frank, and said again, this time in the voice fitting to her 6-year-old stature:
"I..i... dont know what you are talking about. What's going on?"
"Bammmmm".
The shotgun sound broke the awkward atmosphere in the room. Rick, an old customer of The Castle was holding his rusty sawed-off, smoke from the barrels, pointing at the girl. The shot blew her head off and the rest of the body fell down to the ground.
Rick loaded the gun again, this time pointing at Frank. He stuttered:
"I....i... dont know him. Her!!! Her!!!! I dont know her"
"Bammm!". The trigger was pulled again. This time Frank fell down. His bodiless head, that is.
Old Rick kneeled down and stick his hand into the little girl's bloody half-head. He held something in his hand, examined it while everyone looked in horror.
"Fucking Synths!"- he mumbled.
Edit: some her/his was messed up | 2016-07-22T03:05:17 | 2016-07-22T01:27:58 | 63 | 11 |
[WP] When the police came to announce you the death of your husband, you refused to believe it. "That's impossible", you said. "Unfortunately, it's the truth, miss", answered the policemen. "It's impossible", you said again, "because he's in the kitchen making dinner." | This literally happened to my mom and dad when I was younger. My dad's snowmobile went through the ice, so he left his coat at the hole so he could find it the next day. Later that night the police knocked on the door and told my mom that my dad went through the ice his coat was recovered on scene and no bodies have been found yet. My dad walked out of the living room and said, "why the hell did you move my coat? How am I supposed to find my snowmobile now?" both the cops just kind of looked at each other like fuck... | "Wait a second" said the first officer, "is this 131 Vernon Street?"
"No" I told them, "that's the next door over. This is 133 Vernon"
"Oh jeez. Boy is there egg on my face" he chuckled. "Sorry for the mistake, have a nice day!"
I closed the door and went back inside. | 2017-10-10T08:18:15 | 2017-10-10T07:06:27 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] A little girl dies and is accidentally sent to Hell to where the Demons don't know what to do with her.
Edit 1. Holy crap did this get a response 0_0
Edit 2. Jesus Puppy Christ is this getting attention. | Phil was tired.
Granted, Phil had spent a hundreds of years in Hell, slowly grinding his way up the infernal bureaucratic ladder. He had started at the bottom rung, not even allowed to speak. Now, he was a rhymer. Not a higher-up, but it was definite progress. He was reflecting when his intercom buzzed.
"Sir? We have a situation here."
Phil sighed. It was always a situation.
**"Report, report, send words to me,**
**Report, report, oh Demon #3."**
"Sir, I think we have a traveler."
A traveler. That was the nice way of saying the paperwork had been switched. Someone who shouldn't be here most definitely was. That meant having to call upstairs. Way upstairs.
**"Worry not about such things.**
**I'll make a call to those dicks with wings."**
Phil hated calling those sanctimonious angels. Luckily, he only had to do it once every 50 years or so.
"Thank you for calling Paradise, this is Gabriel. What can I do for you?"
That voice was grating in it's purity. Phil sighed, knowing what was coming next.
**"It seems to me you've hit a snag**
**And forgot to cross a line.**
**Now we have an extra soul,**
**A little girl of nine.**
**If you could send a ride for her,**
**I'd be much more relaxed.**
**If you should just leave her here,**
**Then surely I'll be sacked."**
"Ah, yes. Little Melissa. I'll send a retrieval unit that should arrive in a few hours."
Phil was surprised. Maybe Gabriel wouldn't say anything this time. Then, as if on cue, the angel chuckled.
"Phil, how do you feel about green eggs and ham?"
**"Gabriel, your razor-wit**
**Moves so very fast.**
**Now kindly come and get this girl**
**And shove it up your ass."**
Phil slammed the phone down, and buzzed Demon #3 to let them know about the retrieval. No answer. Thinking how nice it would be to stretch his legs, Phil decided to let them know in person.
When he opened the door, he was startled to find Demons #3, #4, and #6 laying on the ground next to a girl he assumed was Melissa, playing with plastic dolls and giggling like children. On seeing Phil, the demons jumped up and tried to hide the toys. Melissa got up slowly and walked over to Phil.
"Would you like to play with us, mister?"
Phil couldn't help but smile.
**"Because we have some time to kill**
**Until your ride comes thence,**
**I suppose that we can play a game**
**As long as I'm the Prince."**
| Samantha was five when the drunk driver rammed his truck off the road and smashed her away from her mother. She still wore the same clothes now, a bright colored dress and fancy looking, but functional shoes. She was playing with some rocks on the Precipice of Inifinite Pain above the Lake of Fire. Two demons each kept one eye on her as they spoke.
"And you're sure there's no record of her? Little Samantha, drunk driver, crushed to death." Spoke the larger one, horns blackened by fire curling back in a twisted pattern.
"Yeah, of course, I have checked several times. She didn't live long enough to deserve the fire anyway. I've already sent a message to Him, I'm sure he'll know what to do." This one was smaller and only bore the most vague resemblance to a human figure. Arms and legs so thin as to be almost comical were they not also featuring many more joints than a human had.
"Well" Spoke the big horned one, stalling for time, "Do you... Ah! The succubuses might like her, don't you think?"
Many joints scowled, "Maybe, but I am a gatekeeper. She has no designation, she still resides within my sphere."
"Oh, give it a rest, she doesn't reside in any sphere with us. We'll just -" Big horn cut off and began a sprint on the realization that he couldn't see Samantha. Demons can move fast when they want, and as fast as big horn was, many joints was faster. They reached the edge and looked over, screaming in unison, "SAMANTHA!"
The little girl in the pretty dress hopped out from behind the rock formation she'd been playing with, "Boo!"
Both the demons started, turned, and looked at each other, a moment of agreement passing between them.
"Fine," said many joints, "Take her to the succubi." He emphasized the ending of succubi.
"Big horns sighed, "The pluralization isn't so well set you, bah!" He turned to the little girl, still smiling at them, "I'm going to take you to a bunch of ladies, would you like some ice cream on the way?"
The little girl nodded.
Big horns stood up and extended a hand large enough to encircle her head, she took it and skipped alongside him as they headed off. | 2013-11-26T16:23:25 | 2013-11-26T13:08:15 | 220 | 27 |
[WP] The villain wins and everything is better. Turns out he had a point. | "Ryder," He said softly, looking out over the boundless stars.
"What is it?" Ryder answered back, just barely audible over the low hum of the engine.
"Use your powers. Look over the people here, and tell me they aren't happier under me," He said. "If they aren't, I will relinquish control of everything to you." Ryder stood, stepping softly over to the window, and gazing into the beautiful matrix of light. His eyes glowed bright green for a moment, before fading back to their normal shade of dark grey.
"They are happier. The wars are over, their families are safe," Ryder said, looking down at the floor. "I guess you were right."
"Having a dictator is not necessarily a bad thing, Ryder," The man said, continuing his whispered tone. "Unification comes with a steep price to pay, but who's to argue that the ends don't justify the means?"
"I know that now, Az," Ryder said, turning away.
"Do you know why I kept you alive, Ryder? Why my mortal enemy still lives, and stands only meters behind me?" Az said, turning to look at Ryder.
"So you can say you were right? That what you're doing is actually just?" Ryder responded, eyes misting over. "I got that already, and I apologize for trying to stop you." Az stopped talking for a moment, and considered.
"While that was one of the reasons, there was something else that drove me," he remarked. Ryder looked up from his reverie, confusion lighting in his eyes. "In the end, there are still places in this universe that are still like our sector once was. I want to help them." Ryder's eyes widened.
"Bu-"
"However, I cannot very well leave what I have already won alone without a ruler," Az continued, cutting Ryder off. "That is where you come in, Ryder. You will be the new 'me'."
"What do you mean?" Ryder said.
"My name, but not my visage, is known in other sectors. You will take my name, and do there what I have done here," Az said. "There, you may find another worthy of doing the same. If you do, do as I have done with you. With any luck, within a millenia, my empire will control all of the known universe. True unification." Ryder looked shocked for a moment, but it quickly dissipated.
"I would be glad to," He said, kneeling.
"It is only what is just, after all."
___
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, consider checking out my sub, /r/OpiWrites, where I collect all of the short stories I write here! | I step down from the bus, raising one hand to salute the great statue of The Leader which watches over the station. The people beside me do the same, and rightly so. Today is the anniversary of his great peace. Five years ago today, we finally laid down our arms and embraced a better world.
We were wrong to fight. It was an understandable reaction - it's natural to resist change - but we were foolish. We held on to the world that we had, with all of its false principles, hopelessly blind to the world that we *could have had*. The Leader showed us that world, and he was right.
I make through the parliamentary district, towards my office. The crowds pass by my in ordered rows, as it should be. On my way I pass through a checkpoint, where a radio mast rejoices with the sound of our Glorious Anthem. It's a fitting tribute to such a historic day, and I find myself taking up the chant without even thinking. Of course, I would do no less. For the world that he has given us, The Leader deserves my praise. I give it proudly.
The front desk is empty. I have never known Susan to be even a minute late, not since the great peace so long ago. It shouldn't surprise me though - I've seen her exchanging personal emails on her office terminal. Last week, I saw flowers on her desk. Flowers, of all things. Her lack of professionalism is shameful, but I'm certain she will be held to account. If The Leader provides, perhaps she has been dealt with already.
I sit down at my desk and plug in. Processing purchase accounts 53650 through 53700. Robotic parts. Hyoscine Hydrobromide. Security cameras. Targeting systems. There are some discrepancies - a few missing items, but within tolerance. A supplier note informs me that a truck carrying one of the Hyoscine shipments was ambushed outside the city. Traitor activity, most likely. It is regrettable that some of those people who we used to call friends still don't understand. They don't yet realise what The Leader has offered us here.
A chime rings through the building. It's 10am. I take the applicator from my satchel and press it against my neck, making sure I'm in clear view of the video screen beside my desk. I click the button, and it's done.
We were wrong to fight. Soon, the rest will understand. | 2015-11-18T06:17:54 | 2015-11-18T05:31:22 | 558 | 79 |
[WP] Group of space Marines travels via a stargate like portal to an "virgin" world. However due to passing a black hole, each Marine arrives 100 years after the Marine in front of them, instead of 1-5 seconds.
Due to the portal queuing up the dozen or so Marines for 1200 years, travel to point of origin is not an option(it won't work until all the marines have made it through). Explain what each Marine sees as they step out of the portal, to discover they are alone, and possible viewing the remains/artifacts of those who came before them, and or the civilization created by those in front of them with native peoples. | A marine stepped through the portal.
He surveyed the land, and beheld a lush, uncharted rainforest.
A marine stepped through the portal.
He looked forward into the clearing, and saw an exotic hut surrounded by plots of abandoned farmland.
A marine stepped through the portal.
He peered around, and was greeted by plains as far as the eyes could see.
A marine stepped through the portal.
He fell six feet onto gravel, and saw unfamiliar silhouettes carrying lumber across the scenic village.
A marine stepped through the portal.
He blinked in confusion, thoroughly befuddled by the sight of a sixteen-foot bronze statue of his platoon commander.
A marine stepped through the portal.
He slowly lifted his gaze, awed by the kaleidoscopic sunlight shining through the cathedral windows.
A marine stepped through the portal.
He caught his breath, finding himself facing a steam locomotive roaring past at amazing speeds.
A marine stepped through the portal.
He looked around, then cursed James for sending him to New York.
A marine stepped through the portal.
He barely caught a glimpse of the fireball that engulfed him.
A marine stepped through the portal.
He desperately clawed at the terrain, but saw only barren earth.
The last marine took a minute to set the wormhole generator on auto-shutoff, and stepped through the portal.
He surveyed the land, and beheld a lush, uncharted rainforest. | The first one would see a new world. The 2nd would see a flag marking a path to a place to take shelter.in the shelter there would be a Journal of the marine life. On the new world. 3rd see a sign showing him the way to the shelter. In the shelter there would be a starter kit. The help the new marine out . Something 2nd wishes the 1st did. There would be two journal now. The one that 2nd left. Give more info. To make it easier on the new marine. This keep happening the new marine. Has all the previous marine wisdom. By time the 12th marine ever thing has been done for him . Water wells has been doug. Really good house has been build. Food has been stored. Map have been drawn of place to see. Journal have been save to help them out in bad time. Flag is fly over the graves.TO MAKE IT SHORT 11 MARINE 1100 YEARS. BLOOD , SWEAT and TEARS. TO GIVE THE 12TH MARINE A VACATION. | 2014-09-02T10:07:22 | 2014-09-02T08:01:32 | 342 | 11 |
[WP] Write the letter that you always wanted to, but never did.
Most of the writing prompts I see on here are for fictional stories, but this is only one small corner of the larger art of writing. In this prompt, I'd like you to consider writing something a little more personal, and in a form that you might not have otherwise considered... Letters.
Perhaps you'd like to write a letter confessing your love to a long forgotten crush? A letter to your boss telling them exactly what you think of them? A letter to your school bully? Maybe a letter to your childhood hero telling them how much you were inspired by their career?
Be creative, be inventive, but most of all - be expressive. :D | Dear E,
I love you. Not the cheesy love I felt in high school, and not the way I love the woman I think I'm going to marry, but you hold a place in my heart that no one else can.
We were destructive. We weren't good for each other. You were emotionally abusive, and I was amazed a pretty girl would give me the time of day. I was putty in your hands, and you took advantage of that to the fullest. I had my faults too, but you put the nail in the coffin.
Then you got kicked out of school. You moved in with another guy and confided in me about your relationship problems. I, a guy who cares too much and tries too hard, was more than willing to stay up until the wee hours listening to you and solving the problems of a relationship I had no part in. We might have been a thunderstorm, but he was a hurricane. You kept seeing him, and kept coming to me for advice. I conceded.
Then the accident happened.
You were going too fast. You hit a puddle. You couldn't keep from swerving into the other lane. You survived, but not without some brain damage.
I remember speeding to the hospital and seeing him. The man who was the vehicle to this lifestyle that put you here.
The man whose smile was as crooked as your front bumper when I saw your car in the junkyard. It was the first time I recall feeling genuine hate. The first time I wanted someone to die. To change places with you.
The next few months you'll never remember. You were in a coma. You were in rehab. You couldn't speak. You couldn't eat. I was there every other day, spending hours with you, watching movies with the husk of a person I once knew.
But you improved. Your brain damage wasn't as bad as they thought, but it changed you. You became frustrated. You would lash out at me due to your brain's lack of ability to filter. You'd hit me. I remained there. I taught you to count again. I taught you colors. I taught you the parts of your face. I fed you your first solid meal.
Then college came. Then I realized that things would never be the same. That as much as I cared for you, I had to move on, and so did you. You were recovered to the best that you would be, and you were moving out on your own.
You have a baby now. You have a boyfriend. I have a woman by my side who I love dearly. There's no trace of romantic feelings whatsoever, but I'll always remember our time together. I'll always care for you deeply. You'll always be the one who taught me what caring for people really means.
You'll never remember what I did. You'll never remember learning colors or numbers or eating your first meal from a spoon I was holding.
I think I like it better that way.
We were a thunderstorm, but the skies are clear now.
| Dear Azura
You have no idea how much you mean to me. Throughout the years I have known you you have brought me countless joys, you make me smile, you make me laugh, you make me happy. When people bring up perfection you are the first person that comes to mind, even though you don't believe it yourself. Your eyes. Your face. Your Smile. Your laugh. Your personality. Your Everything. Even your name. Azura. Just saying it is beautiful. Before I met you, I didn't believe in love at first sight. When I saw you, all of that changed - you were the most beautiful, wonderful person I have ever met, and like a fine wine, you only grow better with time. When I am around you, I am at my happiest. When we talk my heart dances to your voice and your laugh, and my eyes get lost in you, and I can truly say I am happy.
But your love is like a drug.
When you leave I delve once again into emptiness and loneliness, and nothing can fill the void left in me when you're not around. When you decide that I'm not worth your time, I recede into a place where only sadness resides. When you take advantage of my kindness, when you treat me like trash and when you play with my feelings, I feel a sadness that is more powerful than the sadness felt at a lost relative, a failed exam, or a disappointed parent. Yet despite the way you treat me sometimes, I can't help but love you. I have tried everything to move on, and yet I am still lost within you, and something tells me I will never be able to find my way out of those eyes. Something tells me, in years to come, when you have forgotten me, I will still be dreaming about what could have been.
I'm sorry I'm not good enough.
It kills me that I'm not good enough. That I'm ugly, awkward and not experienced. It's not your fault. You deserve perfection nothing less. When you find perfection, and when you forget me, I hope that it lasts, and I hope you find every happiness you have ever wanted. I will be glad when you find the person who completes you, and I know that person will never be me.
You will forget me. I'll just be another face, another person you used to know. However, I will never forget you. You will always be in my mind, up until my dying breath, when the world has decided to let me go, in search of one last beautiful sight - I will think of you, and the times we spent together, so that I can smile when death takes me.
With all of my love,
Alex. | 2015-12-05T16:37:50 | 2015-12-05T13:59:40 | 94 | 16 |
[WP] You've convinced death to let you have a second chance at an extraordinary life, starting over from the beginning, with all your memories intact. A second life of procrastination and wasted opportunities later, you stand before a very disappointed Death. | “I just kinda thought I’d have more time, I guess.”
The figure standing before me responds with a soft hum. I can’t read his expression. How could I when he’s just a skull cloaked in darkness itself?
“Yea,” I bluster. “I talked a big game the last time we met but then I had some time to soul-search and stuff. I realized that I really just wanted a quiet life to myself. I got hung up on a lot of what-ifs in the past, but I got over it.”
I’m contradicting myself. Didn’t I say that I thought I had more time? More time to do the things I’d always dreamed of?
Sweat rolls down my wrinkled brow and I dab at it with a trembling hand.
*“So, it was intentional?”* a ghastly voice croons.
“A-Absolutely. I promised I’d live my best life and here I am.”
*“You made enough money to enter your dream college and then intentionally dropped out after partying every night?”*
Money was never a problem for me in this life. I made a few investments early on and came out with a scary amount of money. It was too easy…So easy that I couldn’t help but wonder why I was bothering to work so hard.
*“You used your future knowledge to make the perfect first impression on your past ex-fiancé, only to never take the initiative again?”*
Why do I have to chase someone who dumped me in my past life? I thought I just had to impress her once and she’d come running, but she never called me after I played hard to get. It never would have worked out anyway.
*“That which you lost to circumstance in your previous life was lost to apathy in this life. But still, you gained an immense amount of free time. What have you done with it?”*
My lips tremble but I don’t respond.
*“Nothing, then,”* the voice sighs.
Tears well up in the corners of my aged eyes. They begin to stream down as my mouth cracks open.
“G-Give me another chance. I regret it. The last time I was mad at the world but this time…I’m just mad at myself. If I could fix this, then—”
An alarming burst of pain in my chest cuts me off. I stutter and slur, trying desperately to continue my plea, but it’s hopeless. As my vision darkens, I hear that unnerving voice one final time.
*“Praying for a miracle in the face of certain death is courageous. Asking death for a miracle is the height of arrogance.”* | “Fates decided, fates opposed. The sin of SLOVENLY WASTE sits upon your shoulders.”
A human, on the floor in the very state they ceased to exist. They were in full sobs at this point.
“I’m sorry!! I’m SORRY, please, I just thought—“
“Nothing?”
A hissed breath from a voice that seemed too hollow to be from any set of vocal cords. Death was in full fury; a happenstance at a second life, they played gamble after gamble for an interesting game, and found this human lacking. A ploy to trick death, was it? Death knew, and was still disappointed in its mortal’s obviously created distress. A choice of their own making. And yet.... spite.
In the swirling mists of the void were images untold. The cheerful tunes of Sunday morning cartoons, the good morning jingle sung in passing on school grade commutes. Tests and calendar watching and anxiety, pooling into a dull afterthought as all that ‘meaningful intent’ died down.
“I just wanted — to see my family again. I lied. I wasn’t going to be some kind of Isekai protagonist - shit...” And all those years didn’t exist anymore. Maybe they forgot they died, and everything in between. “I didn’t mean anything okay??”
(“I’ll do something great.”)
Gods. Everything tasted like dirt. The air was dirty, despite it technically not existing here.
(“Something ominous.”)
Death’s cloak trailed like ashes, growing ever more opaque in the deity’s imbued emotions. Swiping, reaching into very thoughts and pulling out a memory. A curiosity, inciting a tug and leverage into view.
(“Something even you didn’t expect of me.”)
“Human, remember your words. If there’s no mortal passage to will you into action, then the immortal passageway.... will suffice.”
Death could sooner peel its own skin and remove it like a garment. A graceful motion, The cloak of death settled well upon these weak shoulders. Too large. Too ... unsavory. Too unrealistic for a soul under a century, and yet there was glee in this choice.
Fate damned, and Mortality the fool.
“What do you call this these days? Welcome to your ‘unpaid internship’.”
((Please let me sob okay, I don’t write but aaaaaa I wanted to have fun here?)) | 2021-01-16T23:10:07 | 2021-01-16T22:34:19 | 178 | 17 |
[WP] You're a supergenius-level robotics expert. Your neighbor is a godlike magician. You use your abilities solely to prank each other. | The day my toilet disappeared while I was using it was the last straw.
I asked nicely. I even pleaded, but no amount of groveling would make my shitter reappear. As Bugs Bunny says, "'Dis means war."
A few days later, her SUV decided to take a walk. Literally. It rose on its hind wheels to take a lovely stroll down the street as my neighbor watched in bewilderment. She glared at me knowingly as it began to dance a jig, putting dents in the asphalt where it landed. It was some of my finest work, and I couldn't help but laugh as the black behemoth moved fluidly in ways it was never meant to go.
The next day I received flowers at work. This in itself is odd enough, but these flowers wouldn't stop multiplying. Every time I would take a bunch out, two bunches appeared in their place. Eventually my office was overrun by orchids and we locked the door in the hopes that it would stem the tide. The next morning, all of them had disappeared. If I didn't know better, I'd think she was flirting with me.
I retaliated by gifting her a pair of pants built around the smallest machines I was capable of creating. Of course, she knew I did *something* to them, but she didn't know what until I saw her in her garden. I clapped my hands and shouted, "MICHAEL JACKSON LIVES!" as loud as I could. The pants immediately jerked her upright and, from speakers I had hidden in the area, forced her through the entire dance line for 'Billy Jean', which was both entertaining and amazing. I'm fairly sure she already knew most of the moves, considering my pants had no effect on the rest of her body - yet she went along with it as if every motion was fluidly practiced. She smiled as it ended. I worried.
The back-and-forth battle intensified.
My morning coffee turned into a dove and flew away.
Her cell phone moved to a different counter every time she turned her back.
My wallet moved to a different pocket every time I reached to pay for something.
Her laptop spontaneously converted itself to a Mac and back every few hours.
My living room got turned into a full-size replica of Mr. Roger's Neighborhood, complete with sweaters.
All the faucets in her house started spewing beer.
My refrigerator had everything inside of it turned to guacamole, then she invited herself over with a few pitchers of beer.
I think I'm falling for my neighbor.
---
P.S. I found my toilet; she put it on my roof. | I slapped my hands together and looked at my latest creation. A plume of white dust erupted from my gloves, and was promptly followed by a fit of heavy coughing, but my newest robot remained untouched.
I stood upon my pedestal and looked down at the trench I had just dug. Not that I did physical work, seeing as my summoned golems did most of that for me, but I guess you could assume that in a way, I had done the digging. All that was left for me now was to summon up some lava and cloak it with a basic spell. At least, that's what I would have done against anyone except for Ron.
My robot turned around and looked at me. Its black eyes, or diamond adjustments made to see through enchantments, looked at me warily. I looked back at it, and I smiled. "Protocol 2A, commence!" With that, the robot set off, its heat plumes pushing the robot just above ground level.
The lava filled the pit slowly, like a thick cake batter slowly pouring through a sieve. It would settle eventually, but for the time being, I had to find a way to stop Ron from getting into my house again. For that matter, I put aside my work and pulled out my morellonomicon, and I began to browse through it. What could I possibly use to stop Ron's newest machinery?
My robot slowly made its way across the street to the seemingly normal looking tower next to my house. It stopped just before the wall, having sensed a basic lava trap and a concealment spell. With ease, it quickly dismembered those spells and removed the enchantments. But wait, what was that quick flash of light?
That's it! A terrible robotics movie! Ron hates bad movies, and he hates bad robotics even more! I pulled up a plasma mirror, and I filled it with terrible robot movies. That'll get him for sure.
My eyes widened as the latest sequel to "Building with Chad" revealed itself. That bastard. He knew I hated those terrible movies. But it was too late to stop it now. I stood defenseless as the movie began. "Robotics is easy, just like A B C! Just plug the cord in and watch your robot run!" I guess he won this time.
| 2015-02-18T20:06:01 | 2015-02-18T19:59:49 | 1,934 | 31 |
[WP] A young boy is called inside for dinner, accidentally leaving several of his Army Men in his sandbox. Now they must survive the night. | "Sir, the General has yet to return."
I looked up at the sky, darkening with my mood. The general wan't coming back. Dammit. I looked around to the lads around me. They all looked mostly the same to the General, green and made of plastic only I was distinguishable with my large gun, fancy uniform and beaten model. But I could tell them apart easily enough. Jim had a scar under his left eye, Gareth was missing the tip of his left ear, and Hendricks, well, he bore no scars at all; he prided himself on being "mint-condition."
And they were all looking to me for guidance.
I tried not to let my fear show. These lads were fresh, real fresh. Given birth by the Arm in December 2015. I have been around for years, been with the General's father and his Father. The years start to blur. They needed a leader and I had to be that leader, no matter how much this night reminded of another night years ago, just like this one...
Dark thoughts.
"Alright, men," I snapped, putting on my drill sergeant voice, "remember your training, what is the only thing a plastic soldier needs?"
"SHELTER, SIR!" They all shouted immediately, now that we were falling into routine. It would do them good to have some confidence. I sure as hell didn't.
We were in the jungle with shards of green grass coming to our chests. The General's father trimmed the Jungle with his metal beast, but he was overdue. This was the wildest I had seen the jungle. I looked up at the sky for some guidance. The Light Ball was sinking behind us, meaning the house had to be in the other direction, and the giant plants in front of it.
"Alright men!" I snapped, "We will get shelter in the clay soil of the garden! March!"
I took the lead as we began the laborious walk to the house. The small garden in front of it had soft soil that we could dig into, and be safe from the horrors of the night.
Soon the night grew completely black, and we could see nothing but the spots in the sky. I was fairly certain we were on the right track though, because once in a while the grass would thin and I could make out the house beyond.
The lads were quiet, not talking much. That suited me fine, I wasn't much for talk, but it was worrying that the boys did not talk to each other. They were worried. "Sarge, you ever been out in the nigh like this before?" Hendricks asked, "You seem to be taking this pretty well." Jim and Gareth mumbled their approval.
I would've preferred silence to that question.
I was facing ahead of them so they didn't see the grimace that had appeared on my face. All those years ago, the horrors. I kept a shudder from showing. *Focus Archie*, I told myself *you can't have a repeat of that night. Be strong.*"
And so I answered off-offhandedly, "Yes once, it was fine, nothing happened, we camped out in a pit of sand and slept through the night. Anticlimactic really."
The boys breathed sighs of relief, "is that right?" Jim asked, "seems like I was getting worried for nothing."
"No reason to get your guard down, private" I replied, a slight rebuke in my voice.
"No, of course not, Sergeant."
We continued marching and I started to believe we were going to make it. Maybe we wouldn’t encounter any trouble at all.
Naturally it was exactly then that trouble chose to appear.
I heard a rustling in the bushes to the right, and held a finger to my lips. The boys stopped immediately. And with no warning a fur covered monstrosity twice our height popped out to the right of us.
“RUN!” I screamed. And I began to sprint forward. Our weapons would do no good against that thing. I heard strangled screams behind me, but I ran forward, and heard running behind me. I ran for a a good minute, and finally paused to catch my breath. I turned around to find two men. Jim and Gareth.
“Hendricks?” I asked.
Jim was just staring ahead into nothing, not saying anything. Gareth spoke up, “t..the thing got him. When you told us to run, h-he turned around, told us he’d distract it.”
It had happened again. Again I had looked out for myself, abandoned those supposed to be my responsibility. Last time I’d walked away, left them to their fate, but that decision had given my nightmares for years. I relieved that horrific night every night. Jason’s screams, Mark's arm lading next to where I was hidden in the sand…
Not again.
I turned to Gareth. “We’re almost to the garden. Just go straight for about five minutes, and you’ll be there. Take care of Jim.” Gareth looked terrified, but nodded.
“Y-yes sir,” he said, taking the shell shocked Jim by the arm. Good lad.
He moved to walk ahead, and turned around. He didn’t ask why I wasn’t coming, he knew. “Be careful sir.”
I turned to look at him and gave him a nod. I was going to turn around when he spoke again.
“Last time wasn’t peaceful either, was it, sir?”
I paused. "No, Gareth, it wasn't," I answered simply, and turned to save the mint-condition Hendricks, and my own soul.
***
If you enjoyed, check out my new subreddit [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/) | The sun was going down. Bobby Wyatt went inside and left twenty-two plastic men and women tipped over in Sand Box Three. This is the story of the Hasbro Hellfighters.
They righted themselves in the dying light of the day. They had a scratched bare megazord lumbering in the sand for heavy fire support and a couple of legos they could field strip into defensiv positions if it came to it.
Captain Rex Ryder was the most hard-bitten Hellfighter ever cast. Throughout the course of his tumultuous service with three of the Wyatt brother he had lost an arm and had his outer surface badly mauled by a blender. His paint was flaky and slightly discolured. "Listen up you sons of whores we are outside, we are forgotten and the sun is going down. This the worst possible scenario, when you were still in your toy chest your instructor probably told you no toy ever comes back from this. Well your instructor was wrong. I've been forgotten eleven times and I'm still a part of uncle Bobby's armory god bless." He sounded off.
"What do we do, Cap'n." Sargent Sue, one of the newer models said. She had crudely painted on MARPAT camoflague and a full colour face.
"It'll be the squirrels first. Our guns don't fire anything but those bucktoothed bastards 'll run from ants all we gotta do is fire our empties and the nose will push them back provided they aint hungry." Captain Ryder instructed.
"**What can Zordos do?**" The great machine boomed. He was almost as old as Ryder though the old titan seemed just as mighty as the day he was unboxed.
"Same thing you always do handsome, just keep a lookout and back up any squads that are in deep," Ryder answered.
Bobby had only left a bit of gum out so there was little for the animals to find, mostly just ants milling harmlessly around the outside of the sandbox. It was almost three in the morning when the glinting glass green eyes of the squirrels showed up in the inky black of the night.
"**They come from the great oak to the further graden**" Zordos warned.
"All squads form a firing line across the oakside wall of the sandbox. I aint having Bobby stumble upon squirrel shit in the morning if I can help it." Captain Ryder said cavalierly.
"Are we gonna make it Sargent?" Private Tommy Turbo asked. He wasn't even a real army man he was a miniature from some ludicrously expensive wargame Daniel Wyatt had gotten into and then gotten out of when he went to college. The bright, proud blue of his huge shouldered armour was still plastic. His chunky gun was still inert. He was still just a toy in the leand of beasts.
"The cap'n believes in us. I believe in the Cap'n. We'll make it." She answered calmly.
The tiny firecracker snaps of their guns sounded off and soon enough the squirells were chased off.
"No casualties Cap'n, the line still holds." Sargent Sue reported cheerfully.
"Seemed easier than I remember it." Ryder mused.
"Foxes." Turbo yelped. An orange snarling face emerged out of the darkness. It swatted Private Peter and Corporal Carl with its paws an gave Lou Tenant an investagatory nibble. He would never be able to speak properly again after this night.
"**Zordos will hold it off! Find a plan Captain Ryder!**" The zord rumbled as he staggered through the heaps of sand over to it. He had no intention of using his ineffective noismakers. Instead he clubbed it with balled up fists. It was quick, quick enough that he only got in a few jerky jabs before it started bitting into him, thrashing it around.
"It's our turn to give the big guy fire support," Sue yelled as the men behind her fired off a peal of chattering gunfire.
"The ants!" Ryder exclaimed. as he limped over to the edge of the sandbox.
"Oh god the captain's bailing!" Thommy trembled as the fox flinged Zordos back into the pit, deep bite marks all across his body. His light and sound action coming only in fits and spurts.
Sue saw it and tried not to let the fear show on her face. "He doesn't matter its an army that wins not the captain." She said as the fox neared.
A moment later the Captain clambered back over the lip of the sandbox, a wad of gum and grass and sand stuck to the stump of his missing arm. Trailing after him were ants, ravenous but ultimately harmless beasts as high as their waists.
The Fox stepped near the angry red beasts yelped at its paws and then skittered off into the night.
By morning the Captain had gone. Taking the ants from the sandbox with him, lest the Wyatts clean out the whole sandbox. In time the men would come to respect Sargent Sue for her leadership. Zordos was taken and miraculously came back, a little cleaner and with new batteries in him. And every now and again, when a squad is left out in the sandbox overnight a swarm of ants come led by the Pink Gummed Ryderand sit to guard the weary soldiers.
| 2016-12-04T16:08:48 | 2016-12-04T15:46:04 | 195 | 47 |
[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. | Dear Shane,
Remember at my wedding when you looked at me and said, "Don't do this. It's not too late."
I'll be married twenty six years in December. I have three kids almost all of them are adults. I tell them about you all the time. How you were the strongest kid I ever met. I tell them how you were my good side and how you kept me from going down a path that would have been my destruction. Without you there would have been no me and I miss you.
I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me most. I promised I would and I wasn't. I've never forgiven myself for that. I thought the cancer was done and that we would both grow old. The shock and hurt on your face when I said, "I have to get my life started. I'm twenty and you don't need me anymore." still haunts me to this day. I think you knew that this was the beginning of the end.
You tried to talk me out of joining the Army, out of my sudden decision to get married, and god knows how many times you tried to talk me out of going to Tijuana for the weekend. I remember telling you that you were going to be my best man and you saying, "No."
"Oh, alright. Well, you are heading down tomorrow to get fitted for the tux. I'll pick you up around four." I replied. Your Dad laughed so hard he started crying.
Sometimes, I think about writing a book about our adventures. We lifted each other up. When you had lost your leg I was there to help you stand, then walk, then run, and finally I even had you rollerskating. When my parents went in two different directions leaving me abandoned with my younger sister you made sure that the anger I felt never fully possessed me. Your family became mine and we became brothers. I fully expected when I came back home that you would still be there.
Your death devastated me. I was living in Germany at the time and a letter came in from my wife's grandmother. When I opened it I saw the article and thought, "Holy shit, Shane is in the newspaper again." I was so happy until I realized it was an obituary.
Everyone knew something had happened. They kept asking me what was wrong. I simply said, "I have to go home and tell my wife." One of the Sergeants tried to stop me and the guy who always got along with everyone stared and said, "I'm going home and if you have a problem with it then send the M.P.'s."
My wife and I threw rose petals into the Main river that ran right behind my house. You would have loved to have seen it. In fact, I had started to make plans to bring you up to spend a couple weeks in Europe with us before I received that letter.
I've only just started talking about how I let you down. The one promise I ever broke was the most important one I ever spoke. It is my one and only regret and it still weighs heavily on me after all these years.
When you are twenty it seems as if you are getting old. That time is starting to slip out of your grip. In truth we were just kids just getting started in our lives. You had just turned twenty one when life ended for you. You had a steady relationship with a girl who adored you, had started college, and before I left looked to be a rising star in the distant horizon.
You taught me to live life to the fullest and I have. I've traveled across this world seeing things you couldn't imagine. I've gone all through Europe. Ate brochen and brauts while drinking Gluwein in Rothenburg during Christmas, drove all along the Cote D'Azur, sang Home Sweet Home to the tune of a German Polka band that was playing during a Weinfest held directly behind my home, and I went all across the Eastern Bloc countries seeing the devastation of communism first hand. I've lived in foreign countries, drank Vodka with Russians, and danced to Techno in Salzburg. With your life gone, I felt I owed it to you to live mine to the fullest and I have tried to do so. I have even danced with Midgets in Mexico. Now, with my own kids being adults, I can see myself heading down through South America before heading to Asia. I only wish you could be with me as I travel across those distant lands.
There isn't a day that goes by where some memory of our friendship doesn't make it to the front of my mind. See you on the other side.
| I can't believe it's been almost a year. As long as the days are, the months are short.
It's remarkable how much my memory of you has changed tone in the past year. There was a time, not too long ago, when I would have burned my world down if I knew you'd be caught in the blaze. And yet now, all I feel is a bittersweet fondness for a friend who showed my such kindness that my life would be far less worth enjoying without her having been part of it.
Shortly after we less than ceremoniously parted ways, the depths of my once depressed, empty mind were steadily flooded with dreams so wildly different in their emotions that I could not tell you how I felt about any of them. I dreamed of hatred, I dreamed of reconciliation, I dreamed of a burning swell of emotions I can't even begin to interpret.
My mind was such a volatile place at that time, and yet my body betrayed no sign of it. The wordless world spun around me, its occupants muted and grey. At night, I looked to the sky with hollow eyes so that my tears would never fall, and yet I saw nothing but the dead echos of stars a million light years away. Whether you meant to or not, you had divided my life into two sections; the time before I knew you, and the time after you left. I was foolish to act surprised - after all, the only thing all my stories have in common is that they end.
And yet, I can't help but mourn for how short ours was. It's my fault entirely, I know, but that doesn't make it hurt any less.
I've learned so much since then. I can control my mind now, and handle the pressures I once dumped on you. Events that would have once left me terrified and anguished beyond repair have come and gone in droves, and yet I can remain steady. My life has found a track, and I am seeing it forward. All roads lead somewhere, so long as they remain roads.
Even now, after all this time has passed, I wish I could speak to you, if only for a moment, to let you know that I'm okay. Despite how it all ended, I know how much you cared about me and wanted to see me happy. And for whatever it's worth, I completely understand that what you did was best for both of us, even if I couldn't see it at the time.
When I was being treated, I was consistently told that I was experiencing loss the same as anyone else would. Part of that is while this kind of pain never gets any easier, you can get better at dealing with it. True as this is, part of me can't give up on the idea that one day I'll see you again. Maybe it's fruitless, but it's a nice thought. It can't be so wrong to afford myself nice things every once in a while. That said, even the best tennis player can't beat a wall, and one of the most crucial lessons I've learned is how to accept being told no, even when it hasn't been expressly given. I suppose the most important thing is that I can be at peace with either outcome.
Even still, I miss you beyond what my words can say. I miss getting ice cream and eating it in the car. I miss singing along to our favorite songs as we drove up and down the highway. I miss your voice, your enthusiasm, your laughter. Most of all, I miss the comfort that came with knowing I didn't have to be alone anymore, because for the first time in my life, someone understood me.
That feeling was the root of all our disasters, if I'm going to be honest. It was such an unexpected thing, that I became obsessed with it. I wasn't able to keep my longing for companionship within the bounds of your comfort. When I think back on our time as friends, what pains me more than anything is the worry that you might remember that period of our lives as one of anxiety caused by me, rather than a fondness for the joys we shared.
My single greatest regret is that I failed to be the friend you deserved. I only hope that one day, I am afforded the opportunity to express onto another the same kindness you showed me throughout one of the darkest periods of my life. If you see this and read it, all I can hope for is that you'll look back on our friendship with the same smile that I do. That would be enough.
I wish you the absolute best in joy and harmony. Thank you for everything, /u/mkotter. | 2017-11-06T00:19:39 | 2017-11-05T22:26:46 | 32 | 11 |
[WP] A police commissioner has become over-reliant on the services of mystery writers, psychics, magicians, reformed con artists, meddling kids, men in bat costumes, and assorted other consultants, and must now explain themselves to an appalled Mayor. | "Yes, sir."
"Yes, sir."
"No, sir."
"Yes, sir."
"Sir, if I may -"
"No, sir."
"Yes, sir."
"Yes, sir."
"They'd been infiltrated by the Mafia, sir."
"Yes, sir. Definitive proof."
"No, sir, Internal Affairs have been infiltrated by the gangs, sir."
"No, sir."
"No, sir, no self-respecting criminal would go around dressed as a bat, sir."
"Yes, sir."
"Yes, sir. Quite insane, sir, but transparently and productively so."
"No, sir."
"Yes, sir."
"Yes, sir."
"No, sir, it's not police brutality if he's not a member of the police. At worst it would be assault -"
"No, sir."
"Yes, sir."
"Yes, sir."
"Special talents, sir. Sleight of hand."
"Yes, sir."
"Yes, sir."
"No, sir."
"Of course, sir. I can have my resignation delivered to your office in ten -"
"No, sir?"
"Yes, sir. I have plans in place."
"A ticket on the next ferry out of the city and most of my savings in an off-shore account, sir."
"Yes, sir. If this city is left to those incompetents, it won't stay for long, sir."
"Yes, sir."
"Yes, sir."
"My results are the result of my methods, sir."
"Yes, sir."
"Yes, sir."
"Very good, sir."
"Thank you, sir."
"You won't regret it, sir." | "I keep telling you Mayor Bacon, it's not some sort of fetish!"
*Incomprehensible yelling coming from the other part of the line.
"Look, if we didn't have Cardi B conning the quilt maker we never would have caught him! If the quilt maker would have been left unfettered imagine all of the blankets on the streets that wouldn't be up to our standards!"
*More yelling no one can understand from the Mayor.
"I know Man Bat dresses in latex and uses a whip, but we couldn't have caught the evil Mime without him. Man Bat's skill with a rubber gag and handcuffs is unparalleled. Were we not supposed to use him to our benefit?"
*Angry yelling coming from the Mayor
"What do you mean the Mime is suing us? Oh, he wasn't breaking the law? Police brutality? Unlawful use of force? You want my badge?! I saved this city pal, while you just sat behind your desk hitting on your secretary. Yeah, that's right I know about Jennifer; I'll keep my mouth shut too if I keep my job."
*Snarling on the line.
"What's that? A raise? All in a day's work for Commissioner Gordo, defender of Goatnut city!" | 2022-01-17T23:38:51 | 2022-01-17T22:18:15 | 90 | 17 |
[WP] We were one of 5 human species put on Earth by aliens 15,000 years ago. Being the weakest physical species, we were expected to be extinct, outcompeted by the others. However, when the aliens check in, we’ve wiped out the others. | "Some might say it was due to our intelligence and tool making skills that we turned out on top. But in the beginning we had none of that. You saw to that, didn't you? We were nothing but food for the other 'competitors' weren't we? But I'll tell you what we did have. The unstoppable, unflinching power of will to do whatever it takes to survive, at all costs. Our first few thousand years here, it was called persistence hunting. Our early ancestors would pick an animal, your other contestants, as it would seem, find the sharpest stick, and start after them. They were faster, probably stronger, sure, but we wouldn't stop. We would never stop. For days, we would chase our prey, mind and body brought to the brink of our mortal limits, and yet we pushed on ever further until our victory was the only outcome that was possible. But more than that, we made friends. Animals that served us, or brought us value in companionship. The ones you see among us, dogs, cats, and birds. We are capable of destruction, and we are capable of harmony. So to answer your question, *that* is how we came out on top. And know this. Now that humanity knows of your existence, and what you have done to us, we will not stop. It may take years, it may take decades, but we *will* find you. The only question is, will you be prey, or be the dog?" | Humanity was the weakest it was the dumbest they were put there to die a throw away character to show the danger. Turns out they didn’t account for humanity’s one advantage, Endurance. The first example came in the first winter. Of the five four survived humanity among them the fifth didn’t survive the cold they couldn’t make a fire warm enough or clothes thick enough in time. Humanity made clothes of the same thickness and fires just as warm and while a few died the majority was fine. Then came weather a flood struck and another species died swept away unable to up root themselves in time to survive the flooding. But humanity did they simply left it all behind! And while a few died once again the majority still lived. And this repeated over and over and with every passing year they expanded even when the two other remaining species drove humanity from the best land humanity survived and thrived as they adapted to everything thrown their way! By the time the humans hit their Bronze Age the other two species were crushed under a wave and supremely adaptable and hearty humans. In the end the scientists were left with but one conclusion.
Humanity’s strength is they can survive anything the only way to stop a human is to kill them. | 2022-11-19T00:01:00 | 2022-11-18T22:30:56 | 43 | 14 |
[WP]For three years you’ve had an uneventful marriage with your spouse when one day they become the Chosen One. Immediately setting off on their journey you don’t hear anything from them for five years. Then one day they reappear with a sheepish look on their face and hoping to speak to you. | A knock, familiar to my heart and changed to my ears, rings out before suns-rise. I look at the calendar, and see it's a Leit day, meaning no work, and I trudge to the door, and I see his face through the peephole. I open, and let in the 'Chosen One', Alik Ratah, in. He's got a sheepish expression on his face.
"Five years, Alik Ratah, five years you left to fight in that crusade. What brings you home?" I sit in my recliner and he sits on the loveseat, and he pulls out an enormous stack of scrolls.
"I missed you, Atiko Rafan." He replies. "I tried sending letters, but they always came back." I inspect each scroll and see a stamp on each. Each was the Imperial Postal Rejection: Tikif Bahs, meaning the recipient was dead. I gasp. Each was dated, once a five-day.
"How? I've been paying taxes and tributes every month." I say, and he raises an eyebrow.
"The Hero's Beloved Exemption should have applied." He sighs, and I see tears form. I can't fight the tears in mine, either. "My husband, how I missed you!" He stands up and I pull him into a hug, kissing him. | ‘Why?’
‘What?’
‘Why?!’
She stayed silent. We’d been talking. I was being polite. So was she. But it lost all sense of familiarity. It was awkward. Like I’d never met her before.
I don’t know what to feel.
‘Baby, what do you mean why? You know why I had to go.’
That sounded genuine.
I think.
I don’t know anymore.
It was my turn to stay silent. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to respond or not.
‘Love, please. Talk to me. I know you want answers. I want to tell you.’
‘…..It’s been too long. We can’t…..I can’t…’
My words wouldn’t come out.
She reached forward. Paused. Decided against it.
‘I’m sorry’
That was genuine. And only then did I let it out.
I cried. Let all emotions I’d felt, all that I’d suppressed, fall out.
And only then did I let her hold me.
‘Never again, my love. I will never leave you again.’
Between sobs, I managed out words that made her cry to.
‘It’s too late.’ | 2022-08-12T14:59:51 | 2022-08-12T13:20:44 | 69 | 41 |
[WP] In this world, salaries are determined by the desirability of the work: if everybody wants to do the job and it's fun, it pays minimum wage. But if it's hard or awful work that nobody wants to do, the pay is high. You decide to apply for the highest-paying job in the world. | “You... understand what the job entails... right?”
The man on the other side of the desk looked at me like I was insane.
“Well I certainly understand what it pays!” I responded, nervously. Honestly, how hard could it possibly be? The payment is absolutely insane! I couldn’t believe no one had already taken the job.
“The last guy who held this job quit after 6 days. There’s a backlog of work that needs to be done since he quit. We don’t generally even get applicants for this position. The job is yours if you really want it,” the man replied. I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading over my face.
“I’ll take it,” I said, confident in my abilities. The man stood up and gave me a cloak.
“Now, you see,” he started, taking a moment to adjust his glasses, “You don’t actually have to wear the uniform. Granted, years ago it was tradition, but in this day and age, as long as you’re getting the job done no one will care. Oh, and you only maintain your payment as long as you keep the job.”
“Sounds good to me!” I replied. I looked around, somewhat confused. “Do I get any other tools?” The man chuckled.
“If you’re asking if you get a scythe, the answer is no. It was honestly a gag for a long time, but discontinued at this point.”
I was disappointed, but I understood. I thanked the man for his time and walked out of his office. Once out of the building, I took a deep breath. Immortality. The highest form of payment in the world. So long as I held this job, I quite literally could not die. I looked around at the people on the street. I had just gotten the deal of a fuckin’ lifetime. Who cares about money when you can never die?
My watch beeped, alerting me to my first task. I took a quick look to see just how big of a backlog there was exactly.
Fuck. Me.
The last guy quit a few days ago. 300,000? Good grief, this was gonna be pretty exhausting. I decided to tackle the nearest job.
***
I walked into the hospital and went to the second floor. A young girl, she couldn’t have been more than 7 or 8, sat in the hallway crying. Once I was close to her, my watch buzzed. Damn. It was her.
“Hey sweetie,” I said. “Where are your parents?” She looked up at me, still with tears in her eyes.
“You can... see me?” She asked.
“Of course I can!” I said, trying to be cheery. “Where are your parents?” I asked again, a little more urgent. She pointed to an adjoining room. As I walked in, my heart broke.
The girl was laying in the bed, the monitor beeping slowly. She had a few minutes left. Her parents were on either side, holding her hands. Both were trying so hard to be optimistic, but some things are unavoidable. The little girl walked into the room.
“I tried to talk to them,” she said. “They won’t listen. I don’t understand why they won’t listen!” She erupted back into tears. I knew what had to be done. I turned to the little girl.
“Hey sweetie. I’m gonna explain this to you real soon okay? But first I need you to come with me.” I held out my hand. She shook her head, refusing to take it.
“I wanna stay with mommy and daddy!” She said, adamantly.
“I know you do, honey. I tell you what. You come with me, and then I’ll come fix your parent’s ears and bring them to you. Okay?” She hesitated, but finally took my hand. We walked out of the room and started down the hallway.
Behind us, the monitor flatlined. I heard her mom wailing, screaming to God to save her little girl. Her father watched silently, unable to do a thing. The nurses rushed into the room, but couldn’t do a thing. She was already gone.
The little girl held my hand, oblivious to the commotion behind her.
“I really hope mommy and daddy get better. They seemed so sad the last time I saw them,” she said.
It was only my first day. My first job. I was so naive to believe this would be easy. I would be immortal, yes. But only as long as I continued doing my job.
As long as the Angel of Death continued to ferry souls to the other side.
I finally understood why this was the hardest job in the world. | People tried Communism, and it didn't work. Nobody was incentivized to do the hard tasks, from the dull to the dangerous. But, by 2035, it was clear that capitalism wasn't going to work either. So, the 51st President of the United States, Alec Du Trieux, wielded the power of his Executive Order to create a new economic system - Salary Incentivized Communism, or SIC for short. In SIC, the worst jobs, the ones everyone hated to do, were rewarded the most. Every year, the formula was reworked by top market analysts to make sure that every sector had the right amount of people interested in working there.
I have grown up in this system. People complained for years, but eventually, they realized America had finally become exactly what it promised to be: a land where you could be (or earn) anything you wanted, if you were willing to work hard enough.
Every child told their parents they wanted to be President. As they grew up, and began to understand the horrible pressures - from their constituents, their own morals, the opposition, lawmakers, and, as the stress rose, their own failing body (it's said that Alec Du Trieux aged 15 years in the week after SIC was introduced), most of them decided it wasn't worth it.
*Most* being the key word. I was applying to be President, and was one of only dozens vying for the position. I'm not sure if I was doing it for the money, or because I wanted to prove that I was special, that I would thrive in the job that people described as "soul-sucking".
I should've realized, that even with the legends floating around about how hard it was, the power and the money should've lured more than just the few fools that were standing in the application room with me. However, once my name was called and I moved into the conference room, it was too late. I passed by the guards and sat down, facing my two interviewers. When they saw me, they exchanged a glance.
"This one carries himself well. He has the Harding Effect about him."
I sat down, and smiled, trying to relieve myself of the tension that had suddenly overtaken me.
"So when do I get to talk to my voters? Show my ideas, get to know the people I'll be representing, explain my plans for the future," I asked
They both turned, looking at me, a strange combination of laughter and incredulity on their faces. The one on the left addressed me directly for the first time.
"Are you sure you know what job you signed up for?"
"Yeah, of course," I responded, "I went to the politics section and selected the President of the United States job from the table on the website - hardest job there is."
"No, you didn't. You got the hardest job part, and the politics part right. You even got the first two letters right. But the rest..." He passed me the paper, and there it was, in big, bold, letters, the name of the career I had pledged my life to.
**PR Spokesperson**
Stunned, I made to sit up, but the one on the right, much more understanding than his partner, took hold of my elbow.
"It's too late to change now. Besides, it's not as bad as it sounds. Sure, everyone will hate you and you will have no control over what you say, but like we always say in the public relations business, you can't spell President without PR."
He stamped ACCEPTED in green ink on my application, and ushered me, still shell-shocked, into my new future as a professional scapegoat.
=========
\-robin.
I write a story every day, post some here, submit others. Especially for this one, don't assume I actually think SIC is a great idea; though my opinions on how it is to be president, PR spokesperson, or any politician in general are pretty accurately represented in this one. If you liked this, you might like [My Supernova](https://365tomorrows.com/2018/06/29/my-supernova/), a piece of flash fiction I wrote for 365Tomorrows. Feedback appreciated! | 2018-08-02T11:19:46 | 2018-08-02T09:25:27 | 5,697 | 303 |
[WP] Tou stand accused of witchcraft, but unlike everybody else you see accused you really are a witch. The inquisition is about to learn the hard way that everybody they burned before you was innocent | They dragged the witch to the ancient forest, hung her body on a pole. Set a flame under and watch her jet black dress and costume catch fire. She wanted to stand out, still wearing the masquera they found on her. It’s leaked since.
All she did was laugh
And laugh
And laugh
“Though all my years of witchcraft, I’ve learned many things. Hell is real.”
The witch stared at the accompanying knight, her eyes pierced his soul, paralyzing him with a black fear. He spoke out to his commander, who has dealt with scores of witches before yet has not spoken since her tirade.
In an instant, a black mist fogged her head which snapped to the commander. “Ciri. You know how many of your men died to fulfill *your* debt to the King? All the people they killed? They’re screaming to me.”
“Silence” Ciri shouted.
She continued: “And all the women you had burnt, all the men you flogged and quartered, paying for my machinations. They are screaming.”
“You stand accused of witchcraft-“
The witch continued to laugh. Ciri’s face was fueled with a fake anger to hide her dread. The witch’s head snapped towards the knight.
“Hell is not a place for pagans. It is a prison for brigands and royalty who exploit without necessity or remorse. Ciri’s victims have chosen her to bear agony. You can escape this Brutus, free me”
Brutus, the knight, was too afraid to obey her. Meekly, he called to his leader. “Captain-“
Ciri cut him off, “Shut her up” she did not get a response from her subordinate, prompting her to approach him. Laugher filled the air again. She tackled Brutus, stole his knife from him, and prepared to throw it at the witch, grunting “Do as I say, damn dog”.
She threw the knife, and it made contact. But instead Ciri felt a sharp pain in her face and collapsed. Cursing at her pain.
“Captain-“ Brutus was knocked down again and Ciri, hyperventilating and crying blood, thrashed herself toward a nearby torch and prepared to burn the witch for good. Brutus tried to stop her but she set him aflame in her rage. He wailed in agony.
“The Lord will damn you, like every other witch, to the deepest pits of hell”.
She set the Witch on fire, yet instead of the witch, Ciri was the one who bursted into flames. Screeching in agony, she dragged herself away from her minion and the witch. Her screeching turned into growling and then whimpering, as the witch glowed in purple hue and fed off the flames that tormented Ciri, as well as her very soul. Leaving nothing of the violent war captain.
By the time Brutus put himself out his leader was nowhere to be found. Too afraid to move, laughter continued to pierce his ears, even more maniacal than before. The witch called to him: “Free me, Brutus”. | Elena was her name and a witch she was.
Unfair was her acusation.Even dumb one might say.
A church priest wanted her in bed but she refused.
She was acused of witchcraft like many others before her but she really was a witch.
She was a travelling merchant selling potions and magical items around the continent.But now she was tied to a stake to be burned.
"How dumb.I should have made him love ghosts.At least that way he wouldnt be rejected anymore because he was ugly".She thought as the inquisition team capitan was finishing his list of crimes she was acused of.
All morning she had to sit there while the men rambled on about their amazin Goddes.And her evilness.
"And so i acuse you of witchcraft and atempting to harm a honourable priest of the Goddes.Thus you will be..."
A deep sigh was heard cutting the capitan off mid sentence.The sky turned dark then red then pink.
The sun set in the span of a few breaths.It was almost noon yet the sun alredy set!
After that a few clicks were heard as the chains binding the witch fell off.
"Now this is getting funny.Honourable?That pig?"
"I know you are peasants who cant even read but still.I thought you would be a bit smarter when only women seemed to get burned at the stake."
"Male witches exist too you know.Or are your wives and chidren only monsters in your eyes after they were called witches?"
Elena resisted the urge to rub her temples as she continued.
"I will do you a favour.Equal exchange.I will get rid of this church and teach you how to read and write but you will no longer be able to have children."
"You dont deserve them anyway."
She took out a bone flute and started playing an ancient but holly song.
The dead rose from the ground and like crazed animals tore down the inquisition and priest.They were young laidies , mothers with their children holding hands and old women with wrinkled skin.
After it was all done they stood there motionless.
The merchant witch then kneeled on the ground and prayed at the moon.She sang an old song , a holly one.
A ray of green light rained down from the moon on the small town.Vines instantly sprouted from the ground and earthworms started dancing on the soil in reverence.
The long dead regained the light in their eyes one last time.They looked at their husbands and lovers and cildren and started crying.They waved their hands in goodbye singing an ancient but holly song.
"Mother of earth.Cradle of life"
"Your beauty is that of a setting sun"
"Your eyes like the moon and its reflection in a still lake."
"Thank you for embracing us again"
"Oh Mother of earth." | 2021-03-05T14:59:10 | 2021-03-05T14:29:22 | 42 | 12 |
[WP] Finally, the ultimate MMORPG has been created, unlimited choice and room to grow and expand your character. There's just one issue, it's so realistic, nobody can remember which life they are living, and which is the game. | People called it one of the greatest accomplishments in gaming history. A game in which you didn't play, *you lived.* On the release date there were 50 million sales; it was the most popular game of all time.
It didn't last for long though.
A doctor, who was also an avid gamer, had decided to try it out. The stories, the world and the experience. Nothing else was like it. After a few days in the sim, the doctor woke up. He walked from his desk to his closet and hung himself, leaving only a note. It read "I cannot come back into this hell."
At first people were shocked. Why did he do it? He had a wife, kids and an amazing job. That is until the developers released his in-game-name to the public.
TheMightySwooord was the just an ordinary player, but he had built a life for himself in the sim. He had a girlfriend, friends and had completed hundreds of quests. But when he woke up, he had to come back into the real world.
He was so caught up in dreaming that he couldn't take the thought of reality anymore. So he logged off. | My character in the game, John paused hus game and finally looked up. He was a game character designed by me to look like me. I had spent a lot of money buying every expansion that came out. My house, my room, my stuff, they were all exactly the same as what I had in real life. I had been making my character 'John' play a game inside his game for the past few hours. I felt my stomach rumble, and paused my game, looking up, and froze.
I paused my game and looked up. My room was dark, gloomy and messy. It only bore a passing resemblance to the one I had designed in the game. I open the door and found that my mother had left the meal on the doorstep. I could hear my mother sobbing softly upstairs. I grabbed the meal and went back into my room, locking the door behind me.
It took me some time to convince myself that this was all a game. | 2018-02-19T08:52:05 | 2018-02-19T07:06:50 | 25 | 14 |
[WP] You're a high school student with the ability to have whatever you write come true. One day, you're taking a history test you didn't study for, and despite not wanting to mess up the universe, you REALLY want to get an A.
[removed] | "Seriously? He wrote that?"
Mr Tori sighed, and looked across the table. His assistant's look of disbelief was a reflection of what he felt, but he suppose...
"I guess this can't be helped. He did answer the question, after all."
"I know it says 'What is the most surprising thing in history' but there is only one single line! To probably the most strict teacher of the school!"
Mr Tori's eyes closed, and when he reopened them, they were resolute.
With a swift flourish, he wrote an "A+".
"But Mr Tori, you can't be serious!"
"He answered the question, and I suppose it will really go down in the school's history."
With that, Mr Tori set down the sheet of paper and walked out of his cubicle, leaving his assistant staring at the single line written for the entire essay.
"Mr Tori gives Bradley Cooper an A+ for this essay." | I sat in concern for a few seconds before remembering that I was basically god. I chuckled to myself and wrote, "I got an A on this history test" as the answer to the first question. Then I turned it in, walked out of school and got in my Lamborghini, peeling out and flicking the school off with both of my hands.
Suddenly I slammed into a pole in the parking lot and got ejected from the car. Broken and bloodied, with the last of my consciousness I reached to my backpack for my notebook, hands shaking with excruciating pain. I loosely grasped the pen and just before I could heal myself, everything went black. | 2018-05-09T23:44:57 | 2018-05-09T23:07:40 | 146 | 24 |
[WP] The hero's childhood friend has become the world's most dangerous villain. "it doesn't make sense", the hero thinks "he's still the boy I know, kind, brave, selfless to a fault, always standing up for... wait, something isn't right here" | “The difference between you and me was present from the very beginning, Tanner,” Joseph said. “I did what was right, and you thought the right thing was what was allowed. Independent thinking was never your strong suit.”
“You’re a thief and a murderer,” Tanner murmured, weakened by the restraints and the injuries her henchmen had inflicted.
“Why does thief come before murderer?” he asked. “Is it because the lives of the mercenaries I took were not worth a fraction of the money I stole from the people behind the curtains?”
“You stole from people, Joseph. You stole money from hard working people.”
Joseph shrugged. “What ever gave you that idea? I stole from corporations, Tanner. *They* stole from hard working people. I stole from hidden bank accounts and tax havens and criminals. No one starved or lost their home because of it. If anything, the opposite happened.”
“It is still— wrong…”
Was it? Tanner had the self-assured calm he possessed since he was a child. When he was right, nothing could deter him from his decisions. It was true. The media and the governments said that Tanner was evil and dangerous, but he only attacked when provoked.
“There are men on this world whose greed is a bottomless pit, Tanner. That pit would become our mass grave if left unchecked. Do you remember our middle school classes?”
Tanner looked up, surprised by the unexpected question.
“Governments have systems of checks and balances. The world as a whole should as well, I believe. I am bringing balance to this system.”
Tanner thought of Joseph as a disruptor. He was the one that occupied most news headlines, with stories of massive thefts and taking over land. But life went on as usual. People were not scared of war or the world ending. Tanner thought it was just that they got used to Joseph’s presence and activities. Even the most abnormal things became normal if they happened for long enough.
He’d felt that something wasn’t right for a long time. He had just been looking in the wrong direction.
\*\*\*\*
If you like my work, you can read more of it at r/analect. | "That , doesn't make sense "
as they look at the news of your old friend destroying another government building of secured
"What do they think is gonna happen destroying such a building !?, it's the only thing, that was making the cure"
They sigh , as they put on their hero suit and equipment
", I don't know what put you on this path, but I must stop you "
As my light shines and I proceed to fly out, putting my helmet on, as the soldiers on the Frontline cheering me on and the people nearby , now to stop this
"This must stop lich!, destroying public building are only cuasing chaos!, it was a place planning to make a cure for God's sake!."
As my old friend looked at me , covered from bruises in being in the collapse
"Why won't you understand angel "
"Understand what!?, another one of your conspiracy theories!?, I was being calm with you this whole time, but this, must stop!!"
As I rush right up to them only for them to dodge as another explosive is revealed booming , as I can barely block in time
" sorry angel but I must do this "
As they kick me away as I land on my feet and go right to him
" no , I must"
As I grab hold of lich and keeping him in place
" wait angel you don't understand!"
As I suddenly have a rock hit me right in my face as I couldn't help but loosen my grip as lich escapes and trying to reach the soldiers as they aim at the civilians, on of which still had their hand reached out, a kid
And shoot , as lich was too late and stopped the soldiers fall and the surviving civilians running, screaming, as I fall my helmet landing in front of my face,
A 3 headed dog, with its maw on a bone
" oh, I see now"
As the last thing I see is lich escaping as I pass out | 2022-11-15T00:03:24 | 2022-11-14T15:52:38 | 101 | 16 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying. | Max stood by the barn entrance, trying to hold back his tears. A tough thing for a child to see, I thought. But he's got to learn about it somehow.
“Please just tell me, Dad,” Max said finally. “Is Buddy going to be okay?”
I looked down at the ground, at Buddy whimpering quietly in the grass. His collar was askew, and I could see by his glassy eyes that he was in trouble.
“Why didn’t you keep him on a leash like you promised?” I said. “You know how he likes to run around.”
Max looked away. “I just wanted to play with him.”
“It’s not enough that you forget to feed him?” I said. “You neglect him for days at a time, and I have to put his bowl out? You promised to take care of him, remember?”
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Max said, tearing up again. “I do take care of him, I promise. I just let him off the leash for a second, and he ran right onto the road.”
“Anyway,” I said. “I don’t think he’ll make it.”
I walked to the back of the barn and pulled the shotgun off the wall.
“Look,” I said, walking around to get myself in position. “I can get you another one from Aunt Francine. She told me she just got a new batch. But you have to be more careful next time.”
“I promise,” Max said. “I’ll keep the next one on a leash and do everything you say. I swear.”
“Good,” I said, and pointed the shotgun at the back of Buddy’s head. “You can keep his shoes if you like.” | It was a beautiful night for urban exploring. This part of the town was intensely silent. The warehouses used to bustle with tobacco, textiles, and workers and businessman. But times had changed, and the businesses had gone overseas. Now they were simply beautiful old shells, filled with old machines and boxes of never used materials. Sometimes Emily and I found the old machinery and tried to guess what it was. We might look it up later to find that it was actually part of an old loom, or a tobacco curing rack. In this building, we noticed a heavy metal door with some kind of wheel that still turned, opening a room that had likely not been opened in years. We both walked inside onto a metal scaffold. We found it to be an old silo of sorts. Our flashlights revealed an old set of stairs curving down around the outside of the room. The smell of old tobacco was musty, but pleasant. We got out our cameras and decided to film it a little bit. I walked cautiously down the old metal stairs to the very bottom. There was some kind of odd hourglass looking contraption. Curious, I tried to look it up by the serial number, but I couldn't get a signal on my phone inside the metal walls. Emily called down to me, "I can't get this door to open."
Edit: Clarity, spelling. | 2017-05-31T08:55:19 | 2017-05-31T07:25:11 | 138 | 20 |
[WP] You are immortal and move to a new city every 10 years to avoid detection. After moving back to Boston 100 years since your last stay, you notice a familiar face. | Boston.
Here I find myself again, strolling down a valley of asphalt, glass, and concrete. I'd been to so many like it in the last few hundred years, but each one had it's own unique personality.
I grumble to myself as I wander, eyeing every "help wanted" sign I pass. Driven once again by the tiresome necessity of finding a new job like every other time I'd moved. Ten years is a long time to some, but often not long enough. I had to leave wherever I lived before I got too tied down, before it got dangerous or people started asking too many questions.
Supermarket? Pshh, not likely. Barber? If there was one thing I didn't want to do all day, it was touch other people's heads. The fire company? Ha! Way too dangerous, I could still get hurt after all, and what's the point of long life just to potentially throw it away on a risky job. Bookstore? Hmmm, always a safe bet, lots to read, nice and quiet...
Ugh. Maybe I should just pull up an online job board, roll some dice and be done with it. It's bad enough having to keep getting to know all new people every time.
I glanced around at the people wandering the street. Pondering for a moment what each of them was about today. What were they each trying to make of their short little lives. One very old woman passing by looked up at me with shockingly green eyes. I froze as the spark made its way through me and erupted a powder keg of a memory buried for nearly a century.
*Smoke. Flames. Heat. Oh so much heat!*
*I crouched low, groggy with sleep, still trying to get my bearings.*
*When had this fire started? How? How did it get so far before waking me up? I have to get out of here! I feel like I'm swimming in syrup. The fire is in my lungs! No. I can't panic. I have to get out of here! It won't end like this!*
*A cry. There's a screaming child. No, I can't help, I have to get out! But... I'll never stop having nightmares about this if I ignore it. There, in the crib! Where are the parents? Oh no, the other room is caved in. I've got to get us out of here. Wow, I've never seen eyes so green...*
"Excuse me ma'am, I just can't help but say, you have such lovely vibrant emerald eyes."
"Oh thank you dearie, you sure know how to bring a smile to a lady."
"I hope you don't mind me saying, you really seem like you've been around quite a long time, but you have such a lively air about you."
"Ha ha, funny you should say that, I've just recently celebrated my 100'th birthday! I am so blessed to have been around here for so long."
"Wow, well it must've been a great 100 years for you then!"
"You might be surprised. I lost my family to a fire before I knew them, I only survived by the kindness of a mysterious stranger. I have endured many hardships. War, heartbreak, and loss. But, I never would have gotten to experience any of that if I had perished with my family. Nor would I have had the chance to cherish all the goodness and love that I now have in my life. That stranger inspired me to give everything I could to help those with nothing. It's all been worth it, just to brighten up the lives of those I meet, even if just for a little while."
She looked up at me with a smile of deep joy. "Ah well, you youngsters have better things to do than listen to an old woman ramble on about the good ole days. I best keep up my walk before these old joints freeze up."
For a moment, I simply stare as she slowly but surely makes her way past me and down the sidewalk with that friendly smile and still confident step. "Wait up! Maybe I don't have anything better to do than listen to some ramblings on a nice stroll about town."
"Oh, well that would be lovely."
As we walk, I can't help but marvel at the sheer chance of it all. You know, maybe I will try out that fire fighting job. After all, what's the point of living a long time without giving some of that life to others? | The questions had started again. Or, rather, they were usually not questions, but statements. "It looks like you haven't aged a day!". The questions was more in line of what I do to stay looking young. I just shrugged them off saying exercise and food and whatnot. In reality I hadn't trained since I attended the first modern Olympic Games 121 years ago.
I's been 14 Years since I started working at this small family owned hardware store. I will remember this period with great pleasure for millennia. Never felt so included, so at home anywhere. I've been to so many family dinners and gatherings and big moments I've lost count. I am sad that I have to disappear again. But I can't stay. I won't risk being locked up again. I revealed myself to a pharaoh some 4000 years ago. Do you know how long it takes to dig through 10 meters of stone with your bare hands? Won't risk it.
The questions are coming to often now, I and I am already several years due. I sit in my bed. My suitcase is packed with some of my most prized possessions and some clothes. Four thirty in the morning. I go utside and put a letter in the hardware store mail slot. An angry rambling on how I have always hated them and that I have now saved up enough money to get away from them. The usual. I think it makes it easier for my 'victims'. I don't know. Taxi. Airport. Fuck, I am going to miss them. I am going to miss Brisbane. Oh well, I'll get over it.
Passport, immigration control and these travesties go just fine. My passport is actually real. Cost a hell of a lot of money, but in Australia I was for all purposes and intentions a real existing person.
Finally. After changing flights several times and a total travelling time of 42 hours I stood outside the terminal building at Logan. Things have changed in a hundred years. I walked towards the Taxis lining up. As the chauffeur got out of his car and we made eye contact it was like time froze. For both of us.
"You". He said.
"You". I replied.
He opened the trunk and put my luggage in the trunk.
"Get in. Front seat" He said.
In the last two minutes my brain had processed an extreme amount of information. After going through all the different possibilities I had to conclude. He was an immortal. We've been good friends and business associates for all most a decade. I knew him in and out. It was Tom.
After 10 minutes of silence I opened my mouth.
"Tom?" I said in a very question like fashion.
"Yes, but I go by the name Erik now. Are you George?"
"Yes. I've been calling myself Michael the last fifty years though"
"Oh, repeat names. Bold". Tom looked at me.
"It is really you. God damn. How long have you been alive?" I blurted out
"Oh, I don't really know. I spent some time, wandering the bottom of the Atlantic ocean at some point. I't might have been 200 years or 2000 years. I really don't know. Hard to locate the historic events in any books as I was in North America when it happened. It kinda screwed my memory. But I recon at least 5000 years. Perhaps more. You?" Tom smiled
"About the same. I was around a thousand years old when the pharao burried me alive. Took me a couple thousand years to get out of that one. My ocean wandering I suppose. When I finally got out I did Jesus."
"NO WAY!" Tom yelled! "I did Mohammed when I finally found a shore with people on it!"
"For real?" I said.
"Does it really matter? But yes. I did. Did you really do Jesus?"
"Yes"
"Imagine what we could do if we put our forces together again. We did business very well, but then both of us pretended to be mortals. Imagine what we can accomplish together" Tom said after another 10-15 minutes of silence.
"Ok. Lets conquer the world"
| 2017-10-14T23:56:42 | 2017-10-14T23:30:42 | 473 | 81 |
[Wp] Write a story that will make me question my morality.
Write a story that is so shocking it will make me question my morality.
Edit: Wow.
| Lins eyelids came down slowly. Her hands went trough the motions of piercing the needle trough the leather. She could do it in her sleep. Yet she wasn't allowed to, or the foreman would slap her again. Lin straightened her back. Football after football went trough her weary hands. It took her only minutes to sew them together. It was hard work. Yet it provided a third of her family's income. Lin was, at this point, twelve years old.
As Josh unwrapped the football, his eyes lit up. He hugged his parents. Even tough they were living in the United States, both parents had to work hard to put Josh's older sister trough college. They were humble people. Even tough they weren't wealthy, they were content with what they had. Their frugality even allowed them to put a bit of money on the side for their retirement. Josh's father worked as a personal trainer. His mother was a nurse.
"Three more!"
Adrian felt the pain in his stomach. He managed to do three more crunches, and then two more. Hiring a personal trainer had proven to be a good investment. He started to really like the way he looked. His confidence went up. He attributed his recent promotion in great parts to his fitness training. Now being a senior engineer at a big robotics company, he led the development of novel manufacturing robots.
Lin was on the streets, begging for spare change. She couldn't find any work since she had been let go at the factory. Her family was struggling to even scrape together enough food. Lin was hungry, and she got desperate. She found a better job. The first time it hurt, but she got used to it soon.
Josh had since gone on to other sports. His football was kept in the garage. It was deflated, nobody had used it in a while. Josh's father now earned more. His wealthy clients felt like he was one of the best trainers around.
Adrian put a lot of effort into his work. He was one of the good ones. He developed better solutions than the other teams. Due to his intellect and his commitment, Adrian quickly rose to the top ranks of his company. He loved everything about his work. In the end, he made peoples' lives so much easier. | It's not the best of my writing, but I couldn't see such a great prompt, with a very difficult task go to waste. I have decided to pour out my small amount of talent into this prompt. Feel honored or amused, your choice.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Why should I follow these rules? Why should I listen to what Papa told me? He's a bloody hypocrite, the cops are bloody hypocrites, everyone is a bloody hypocrite.
I am told to be kind, and reasonable! But why should I? The world shits on me, what gives it the right to be reasoned with? What kindness does it deserve?
I am told to not kill, yet all around me, the enforcers kill. The police kill, the law kills, people kill in the name of their God which killed, even though they said to not kill. Why should I submit when others don't?
I am told to not steal, but my parents stole my childhood, the banks steal my money and my so called 'friends' steal my own self by influencing me for their own benefit, and to my own harm.
Everybody kills, everybody takes, sometimes it seems as if I am the only one, alone in this bubble to view the chaos from, instead of part of a horde, tearing down the world that it built. Well, I am tired of being stuck alone in the age of order. I'm tired of tending to the flames of a dying time. I shall break my bubble, and enter the age of me! [Writers note: The age of anarchy!]
| 2014-07-07T07:52:08 | 2014-07-07T06:58:02 | 91 | 34 |
[WP] An intelligent horse wanted to be a knight so badly that he strapped an empty armour on his back, and used ventriloquism and jousting to get through tough situations. Now he's being asked by the king to save the princess from a dragon. | "You want me to kill a dragon," the knight said, in disbelief.
"Of course, Sir Equistern," the King replied. "It should be a simple task for a powerful knight like yourself."
"Powerful knights aren't flameproof!" the knight replied. "This is a dragon we're talking about. They breathe fire! They're as big as an elephant! They eat horses for midmorning snacks! I have a lance! What is that supposed to do against a dragon?"
"I'm afraid I don't know," the king replied. "I leave the dragon-slaying to my knights, you see. I can barely tell one end of the lance from the other."
The knight sighed. "I see. And do your knights often come back after you send them after dragons?"
"Often enough," the king replied. "I give it 1:1 odds. But if you're scared, Sir Equistern, I can send another knight to rescue my daughter."
The knight seemed to slump further into the saddle. "No, that's quite alright. I'll go rescue the princess."
The horse trotted out of the kingdom, the knight slumping further and further as he went. "Go be a knight," he grumbled as he went. "No one will ever notice you don't actually have a rider, knights never get out of their suit of armour anyways! It'll be easy!"
So intent on his complaining, he barely noticed the smoke that trickled around his ankles, or the dark shadow being cast overhead.
With a mighty roar, the dragon leapt forward, snatching the suit of armour between his jaws and crushing it instantly. The horse squealed, racing forward madly as the dragon chewed its prize.
"Shhh," whispered a voice from the forest. "Come here, horsey, I won't hurt you."
"Horsey?" the horse grunted, shaking his mane violently at the speaker. A pale, delicate hand emerged from the woods, reaching for his reins, pulling the horse into the woods.
"There's a good horsey," the stranger said, revealing herself to be a fair maiden, dressed in a boy's tunic. She pet the horse gently. "Now lets get yo-"
"I'll have you know, no one has called me 'Horsey' since my poor mother passed away," the horse said with Sir Equistern's voice.
"Oh!" exclaimed the woman. "I'm sorry, I just assumed-"
"You assumed wrong," the horse said. "I am Sir Equistern, on a noble mission from the king to rescue the kidnapped princess. Now unhand me."
"Kidnapped?" the girl responded. "Now it's you who assumes wrong. I was not kidnapped, I left to defeat the dragon that terrorizing our country side. But the damn thing ate my horse."
"Wait, you're the princess?" the horse said.
The princess snorted. "Princess is a boring job. I wanted to be a knight, but apparently there are rules about that sort of thing."
The horse pawed the ground nervously. "Well princess, you're in luck. The position of knight has just opened up."
---
*For more stories by me, check out /r/Lexilogical! Or jump into something bigger on /r/DCFU* | Big Brown bit back his nerves as he stood in front of the King.
"And finally, Sir Brown, you will be handsomely rewarded for your valor in the face of the seemingly insurmountable, though certainly not insurmountable for your esteemed self, dangers of facing Vile the Dread."
Big Brown wished the courtier would shut up and finish the damn ceremony he had rather suddenly found himself so that he could shed the thrice damned armor from his back and return to being a horse. He would weather through all the stupid little girls wanting to braid his mane and stupid little boys poking him with their toy swords. He should never have left his stable.
The brown stallion, majestic in build, did not seem to move a muscle as a voice rang out from the armor saddled onto his back.
"My sword for the King! My life for the King! My death for the King!"
Big Brown had gotten rather knowledgeable about how those brutish Knights clamored on about honor and whatnot. He was, after all, the training horse that all Knights went through their training on. Big Brown had always been intelligent, and that had served him well. It had landed him a most luxurious gig in the Knight's quarters, won him the love and affection of damsels, and humble friendship of stable boys. Indeed, his intelligence had served him well. Until now.
He had decided a few days ago that he himself could do a lot better than these bumbling fools stumbling around in armor could, and somehow managed to procure an armored training dummy he had had a stable boy strap onto his saddle.
He had practiced ventriloquism as a wee colt, once he had realized no other horses seemed to be as self aware as he, and wanted someone to talk to. He had already realized at the ripe young age of one that he probably couldn't showcase his intelligence or even his ability to speak lest he end up in some freak circus, slaving away for the entertainment of stupid, fickle crowds.
With strings attached to his tail, Big Brown skillfully puppeteer-ed the armor's right hand into drawing the sword and raising it high as he himself turned around in preparation to gallop off.
"Ah, Sir Brown, there are still a few..."
"I must make haste, my King! The Princess awaits!"
I wailed as I sped out of the stadium the jousting tournament had been held in. How was I to know that the 'special prize' of the tournament was a suicide mission?
The Princess would be fine, I guiltily tried to justify, as I neighed and brayed as the city grew smaller and smaller behind me. The last Princess Vile the Dread had kidnapped had lasted for 10 years before the Dragon finally got sick of her antics and ate her. I swear, Dragons only kidnapped Princesses because they loved drama.
Let the King send some of his bumbling baboons called Knights after her. Big Brown would be off in the pasture, eating apples and chasing some mares, like he should have been doing in the first place. He may have been intelligent, but now he finally had the wisdom to leave the dumb humans to their dumb human dramas and do what horses do best. Frolic. | 2017-09-08T00:29:36 | 2017-09-08T00:08:50 | 666 | 12 |
[WP] When you storm into the castle to slay the dragon, you are flummoxed to find yourself facing a tidy desk. Behind it sits a bespectacled woman who politely asks, "What dragon part do you need to complete your Quest?" | "Hey, Lizzy. Yeah, just a few scales will do this time," He said, leaning his sword against the desk and gently removing his helmet.
"Would you like them to come pre-bloodied?"
"With your rates?" He said, laughing "Maker knows a bucket of pigs blood will do just fine."
"Hardly recognized you in your new armor, Ian," She said mockingly "I assume it was some sort of holiday present?"
"Hah, I think even my mom would have better fashion sense," He said with a smile "Except it doesn't take me an hour to put on an itchy sweatshirt."
"Still remember when you were fresh out from putting on other peoples armor yourself," She said, eyes focused on the forms she was filling out. "Couldn't tell a cuirass form a brigandine."
"Cycle of life I suppose," He said nostalgically, "Got my own squire now, right and proper,"
"She waiting outside, then?"
"Why would you think it's a girl?"
She took her eyes off the papers for a few seconds to stare at him from over her glasses.
"Fair enough," He said with a smirk
"Assume she is too,"
"Is what?"
"Fair enough," She said, rolling up the papers and tying them together with a bow.
"Couldn't really say," He said, mock pondering "Conflict of interest and all that."
"Not really a conflict if she's ugly,"
He smirked "I suppose,"
Moments after she placed the rolled up documents into the leftmost pipe, the one to her right spat out five flat tear-shaped objects that reflected light in all the colors he had ever seen.
"There we go, everything appears to be in order," She said, typing things down on her strange mechanical scribe "Now if you would just sign here we will be sending you an invoice within the next few days.
"Always a pleasure doing business with you," He said, handing her back the pencil, "Discourse and all."
He picked up his helmet and sword, turning to leave.
"Say hi to your squire for me," She called from behind him
He turned his head halfway back and smiled at her.
"You can do it yourself soon enough."
And then he was gone, and the whole chamber was empty except for her and her ever-growing backlog. And to think that people would ever consider her job boring. | And there she was, the "Head Secretary of External Affairs, Eliza James", staring at me as if waiting for a response.
"Ah, a noob, am I right? In that case, go sit over there and I'll bring the forms over in a second.', she pointed towards a waiting area with a few old science magazines.
'Um, alright.', and I walked over, sat down and grabbed a magazine. *"Cern... Collider... How old is this?"*, I thought as I read.
'Here you are, sir.', Ms. James was back and handing me a stack of forms.
'You can either read through that, OR you could just tell me which piece of the dragon your contractor wanted. I know how busy you idio - */cough* - adventurers are.", she smiled as I received the forms and sat down across from me. She then confidently crossed her legs and began staring straight into my soul.
'Yes, let's see here...', I pull out the contract.
'The Teyrn wants the dragon's... soul. Huh, that's weird how am I supposed -', I said before she interupted me.
'A soul? Sure, coming right up. Just sign this.', and she took back the pile and left me with one last form as she walked back to her desk.
I started to read the form, but I was getting anxious, so I just glanced over *A soul for a soul... Eternal damnation...* "Looks to be in order.", I thought and signed my name.
'Great!', she said as I brought her the signed document. She stamped it and took out a paper bag.
'Here it is, your new dragon soul. Hope your signifigant other likes it. I'll see you once you die and we'll see which demon gets to penetrate you first. Bye!', and I took the bag.
'Tha-thanks!', I said and waved.
As I stepped out of the door, I was enveloped in a white light and found myself in a dimly lit red room, chained and naked, sitting on a velvet sheeted bed.
'hELLO, HANDSOME¡¡', a firm muscled demon yelled, as it entered the room. | 2017-10-08T11:48:12 | 2017-10-08T09:58:12 | 165 | 25 |
[WP] You're rather annoyed that your history teacher gave you a D on your essay about Mesopotamia. Not just because you're sure she doesn't like you, but also because - as an ancient being trying to adapt to modern society - YOU WERE THERE. | “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” I told my teacher calmly, uncaring of the disruption I was causing in the classroom. “Was my essay badly written? Was there a problem with my citations? What exactly did I do wrong enough to warrant a D?”
Normally, I strove for politeness. But it was simply unacceptable for any educator to mark down work for having a different opinion - and, having triple checked every source I’d put down and backed up every assumption written, I knew it wasn’t an issue with the quality of the paper.
I had taken such pains to make sure I didn’t use any of my own knowledge. It was difficult to write purely as a student of the time and not as someone who had been born and raised in Mesopotamia - and I would be dammed if this ignorant and opinionated dog would cast such aspersions upon my work.
The teacher glared daggers at me. “You dismissed out of hand the translation of the Historian Lawrence and called Ishtar-Sin a chicken!”
I flipped neatly to the appendix and held up a photograph of a tablet. “As you can see here, we have the poem of Ishtar-Sin. The circled cuneiform is what Historian Lawrence translated as “falcon”. However, if you refer to my next page...” I quickly flipped the page over “you can see that this is a recipe, rescued from the museum of Iraq and currently on display in the Giza Museum until it can be returned. Here you can see that the same cuneiform is used. Although chicken was not as ubiquitous as it is in modern meals, I assure you it was far more common than eating falcons.
“Furthermore, from Lawrence‘s own translation you can see that he wrote of ‘the falcon’s strut’ - when has one ever spoken of a falcon strutting? A falcon soars, it circles, it glides and it dives. Its domain is the sky. It is the rooster who boastfully struts upon the ground.
“Additionally, the poem references the battle of Nineveh - which was a crushing defeat for Ishtar-sin (I have included a reference here to the work of Abdelrahman Kanoo, a historian operating in Syria) and, with all these factors considered, I do not believe I am wrong to say that this poem, rather than lauding Ishtar-sin, was a piece that was written to mercilessly mock a man who was pampered from birth and fancied himself a general but ran from his first battle and showed no repentance for his incompetence.”
I wondered, for a moment, if the teacher was about to burst a blood vessel.
“How dare you belittle the work of acknowledged historians?” came the frothing reply. “How unbelievably arrogant to think you know better!”
I smiled at that. “History is a pack of lies about events that never happened told by people who weren’t there.” I quoted. “It’s literally the opening page of the textbook you assigned. You told us to question our sources. Their motivations. Their qualifications. Having done so - why am I being punished for following your instructions?”
The ignorant dog remained silent at that.
I couldn’t help but be satisfied.
After all, it reminded me greatly of the look on Ishtar-Sin’s face when he heard the poem I, the woman he had sworn to marry, wrote about him... | _A D?? This deserves better than a D, Mrs Naurood!_
\- You can't go around pulling stuff out of thin air and calling it history, John! And as I've already said, See. Me. After. Class.
_But they're not made up! It's right there in the books!_
Mrs. Naurood ignored me as she picked up her books and left the class.
I'd been going on refresher courses every three years... And it's been hard enough for me to adapt to the decimal system and different conventions of weight and distance that used neither hex or decimal (pound? feet? Whose feet?), but this took ridiculous to a new level.
I've been a historian as a cover for most of my life, and while I need the community credits for my new identity, arguing with a historian, worse, a historian who had been there and seen the stories change through time, was just the cherry on top.
I sat with gnashed teeth through what seemed an eternity of a maths class, waiting to confront that upstart. She had Mesopotamian blood in her, clear as day, and she didn't know one ounce of where she'd come from. The nerve on her!
I knocked on the door. A voice - Mrs. Naurood's - beckoned me enter. I'd run through a few scenarios in my mind, unleashing broadsides, asking for an explanation, demanding to see her history teacher credentials, but I didn't anticipate what came next.
A hug.
"John Smith! John. Smith. Finally you ran out of names."
_"I don't quite follow"_
"Roger Tombs? Brian Babylon? Peter Palms?"
I fell silent. How did she know?
Mrs Naurood read the question. "You're 28. Always have been, always will be. Shaving a bit closer or having a grizzle doesn't make you younger or older. Changing names and moustaches and doing newsworthy stuff doesn't change the fact that this is a new age - with face recognition and instant image searches and supercomputers. Remembering history isn't half as important as keeping it safe. Keeping you safe."
She knew! And she knew what the cuneiform in the textbook said too. Yet she chose to ignore it.
"And if you want to remember history as it were, you should remember its players too."
_"Are... Are you an immortal too?"_
"From the same blood sacrifice. I was under the girders and the blood dripped on me."
We shared a moment of silence.
"Remember this D. Don't stick your neck out, keep the truth to yourself but don't fight for it. Not yet. These guys, they lap up their cuneiforms selectively, they don't realise that propaganda has been with humanity since the very first tablet. They think of Hammurabi the terrible as a wise Saint. They write science fiction about cities with towers struck by their God for vanity. It's... Not worth it."
I reflected on her words.
"Look, if you wanna talk about the good old days, come over some time. I still make wheatwater and roast locust like we used to." | 2021-07-18T02:33:51 | 2021-07-18T02:10:51 | 1,930 | 385 |
[WP]Everyone on earth gets the same message on their phone telling them to go to a specific address. People everywhere are talking about and wondering if they should go. However after talking to some people about it, you realize that the address you were given is different than everyone else's. | So there they all were - Tightly crammed into Rhode Island. And here I was, watching them all from the International Space Station.
I hadn’t expected the text telling to go to the launch site, nor for everything to be automated. I followed the instructions. I mean who wouldn’t? Was it god, or some strange person with too much time on their hands? Whoever it was, you do it. It’s like if you saw a horse the street and it told you to give it your soda. You give the damn horse your soda.
The people were indistinct from each other, just one mass covering this small space on the planet below me. Almost unnoticeable, but it could just make it out. Then it was nudged, minutely, but it did.
And the Earth moved.
It wasn’t a significant amount, but it as happened nonetheless. And the mass repeated the action once again, and the planet moved yet again. These people, gathered in one place were jettisoning the world, somehow. Were they...
I rushed to the telescope to peer through. The picture still wasn’t too clear, but I could make out enough. They were jumping. They continued jumping just that little bit more, until they eventually stopped.
It didn’t take long for a message to come through.
“Stay up there for now. We’ll get you back as soon as we can.”
About a month later I was back home. A few months later, the mother of all meteors went careening past the planet, in a day that would be remembered as the Day We Didn’t Jump. | \[POEM\]
Still unbelieving, I walk down the street
The same way we're all going, following our feet
The text on our phones no-one could delete
Said "Come here, don't fear, we all must meet"
I'm nearly there, only a few hundred feet
The sound overwhelms me, what a glorious beat
People start moving faster, they're shaking, it's neat
Everyone's moving, dancing in the street
DA DA DADA DA DAAAA
DA DA DADA DA DAAAAA
Screaming, shouting, yelling, laughing
This place we're all going is where it's all happening
The noise is so joyful, the sound is amazing
I just can't believe what this place is containing
The whole world is here, and everyone's happy
Folk hugging and crying, it's getting quite sappy
Mums, Dads and kids, old friends and new,
Lonely people in crowds, giving it laldy too
A voice above the noise quickly captures attention
"People of Earth," it cries, "Let's break the tension"
"No more talk of wars, of fighting, of greed"
"No more angry looks, because you don't like another creed"
"No more hurting or crying, please, give peace a chance"
"Now hug someone new, then just shut up and dance" | 2019-09-09T13:20:27 | 2019-09-09T12:32:24 | 25 | 10 |
[WP]"I told you it's an artifact of incredible might and power and THAT'S where you decide to hide it?!" | It took Benjamin a couple of tries before he could frame a coherent sentence.
“I told you it was an artifact of incredible might and power and THAT’S where you hide it?”
Jim shrugged. “Come on, Ben, never read Poe? Hide in plain sight!”
Deep breaths. Deep breaths, count to ten. You can’t shoot this lunatic yet, you still need him and his team.
“So you took something that could vaporize a whole freaking planet, stuck it in a dog collar, and put it on a blasted beagle?”
“On my beagle!” Jonathan, who had been too dumbstruck to talk till now (a reasonably rare occurrence) burst out. Jim grinned, more delighted than anything at the reactions of his teammates.
“Hey, it looked good on him!”
“Maybe we should have him retake that psych screening” Katherine suggested.
Benjamin snorted.
“I’m pretty sure he somehow hacked it the first time round. No way this guy is sane.”
Jim, leaning back in his chair, began to sing under his breath “You maybe right, I maybe crazy…But it just might be a lunatic that you are looking for…”
Katherine kicked his chair to shut him up.
“Well, it worked.” William pointed out. “The raiders never gave the puppy a second look.”
“Thank you!” Jim gave him a thumbs-up.
Katherine rolled her eyes. For heaven’s sake, why did she invariably have to be the only grown up in the room?
“Alright. The point is, we’ve still got the Jewel of Khorros, the Alliance has conducted the search and is sure we don’t have it, and yes, Jon, your pet is fine – it isn’t like the Jewel is radioactive or anything. So…why don’t we just consider this settled for the moment and plan our next step?”
“He still has to take a psych scan” Jonathan declared.
Jim, watching gleefully, shrugged.
“Sure, why not?”
“And everyone in this room has to swear to secrecy that we put the sacred crown jewel of the Volantheans on a dog collar, or we’ll be starting another inter galactic war.” | Arko shook the small white and red Igloo cooler, and Edris winced as she heard the contents jumble about inside. A small dust devil kicked up outside of the abandoned building, sand and small pebbles rasping against the glass windows.
"Stop! Stop it!" Edris held up her hands. "I told you it's an artifact of incredible might and power, and *that's* where you decide to hide it?"
Arko shrugged. "My backpack was full."
"Your backpack was-" she pinched the bridge of her nose and sucked in a deep breath before slowly letting it hiss through her teeth. "It isn't something you keep in your backpack, Arko. It's definitely not something you keep in an damned *cooler*!"
Arko blinked slowly for several moments, but made no move to rectify the situation.
"Give me that." Edris hastily snatched the cooler out of her partner's hand and swiveled the top open. "Thank all the gods - it looks no worse for wear. Absolutely no thanks to you."
Arko leaned forward and glanced inside. "Yeah, it looks good. What does it do, anyway?"
"What does it do? *What does it do*?!" Edris pulled the thin object out reverently and held it in the air. "With this, we can unite the people. We can give them hope. We can help them rise up and realize they've nothing to lose but their chains. We can finally be free!"
Arko squinted and moved his lips, trying to sound out the strange glyphs scrawled across the ancient paper envelope. Edris watched and sighed. She turned it around so that the text on the large, flat, square artifact was right-side up. Afraid of causing any unforeseen destruction to the delicate paper with the grime on her hands, she held it aloft with nothing but her fingertips. She in turn squinted and began to interpret the words with some confidence, her studies on the subject of old written word being a point of pride.
"Linkin Park - One Step Closer." | 2021-06-28T09:17:16 | 2021-06-28T08:38:18 | 43 | 31 |
[WP] As a villain of a fantasy world, you conquered the world twice; each time being thwarted by the heroine. Dejected, you gave up on conquest to pursue mundane pursuits. You openned a small shop and met the love of your life, the twist? Its the heroine of this world, and only you know the truth. | "Welcome home, hun." I said as Aurora came in. She came around the counter, kissed me on the cheek and went into the back room. God, I love her.
But she *hates* me. The real me, anyway. You might think that you'd remember the guy who you deposed from world domination. Twice. But when your arch nemesis always wears a mask you might only remember their eyes. Their eyes with runes carved into them that nearly witnessed the death of the world's greatest heroine. Again, twice. Swap the mask with magic spectacles, though, and nobody sees those occult runes of a dead god anymore.
Running the shop also makes an excuse as to why I have *magic* spectacles. The little trinkets I craft keep this roof over my head. You get lots of adventurers. Whether that's a good or bad thing is up to you. I thought I was dead on the spot the first time Aurora shopped here. It's weird seeing your greatest enemy in a casual setting. Several times. Then in a romantic setting. A lot more times. But, I digress.
I admired the evening sky as I was locking the front door of the shop. Long, thin clouds against an orange sky. It looked beautiful as it was sucked into an otherworldly portal that opened up in the sky. I saw nothing out of the ordinary at first. But then, I remembered it was Thursday. I didn't open up otherworldly portals to nightmare dimensions on Thursdays. Slower than i'd like to admit, the realization came to me that I *didn't* open up that portal.
"What's the long face for, ssssssshit." Aurora was now standing beside me, watching that nightmare portal in the distance suck up the sky. We were both a little awestruck. A humanoid figure emerged from the portal. "He's back." She said.
"Who's back?" I asked. I already knew who she meant, though.
She ran out onto the street. I followed. Twists and turns, down streets and through alleyways she went, with me not far behind. Past the market. Past the town square. Past the guild headquarters. I saw where she was headed. The jail. I followed her in. Down staircase after staircase, right to the bottom floor. This floor was just a long hallway with a door at the end. She was still sprinting.
I ran after her, entering the small room with shattered crystal all over the ground. "Aurora, what the hell are you doing?"
She looked at the ground in fear. My old mask was laying there, in the center of the shattered crystal.
"It... It was supposed to hold him for all time." She said. "It only lasted a decade." Actually, it lasted three hours. I was just discrete when I checked myself out.
"Aurora... who's back?" I asked.
"The World-breaker." Flattering title. She moved toward the door, but I blocked her. "I need to stop him." She told me.
"You'll die, Aurora."
"He needs to be stopped!"
"I can't let you die!"
Out of options, she punched me in the face. My broken spectacles dropped to the ground. I reeled back a few steps into the corridor, my face in my hands. "Oh god. I'msorry I'msorry I'msorry." She said as she hugged me. "I need you to understand. It's going to be okay. *I'm* going to be okay."
"No, Aurora. You're not going to be okay." I told her as I opened my eyes. She saw the runes. She saw who I really was. There was a look of shock and denial on her face. She was starting to cry. "Because I didn't open that portal." | "It's just my opinion, alright? I don't expect you to hold with it, I just-"
"You just don't support capital punishment." Euphrasie finished, tone a crystalline calm.
Jean bit back a sharp retort, instead opting to mirror her partner's level headed manner of speech. "What gives the government the right to determine who lives and who dies? Why is that their choice?"
"What's the alternative? I know you don't agree with vigilantism-"
Despite her resolve to remain unemotional, Jean scoffed.
"*Exactly*." Euphrasie crowed. "You don't support vigilantism, you don't support capital punishment, I dare not even ask what you think of life imprisonment." She paused, allowing her words a moment to sink into the skull of the scowling woman across from her. "What's left? What options remain?"
To her suprise, Jean didn't miss a beat. "Rehabilitation." Euphrasie's shock must have shown, because Jean plowed on, unprompted. "Give them some time. Therapy, professional help, peer groups, anything to help them fix their issues and adjust to polite society. Then, give them a project, a passion, a-"
"Distraction? Like that would work."
For a moment, Jean bore the face of a much older woman. "And you can speak for them?" Euphrasie parted her lips, as though not only able, but very willing to speak, but Jean did not allow it. "What about the vigilantes? The heroes?" A subtle sarcasm adorned the last noun, but neither commented on it.
"What of them?" Euphrasie frowned.
"Your proposition is this, right? That due to their violent and criminal pasts, some people are simply incapable of readjusting to everyday life. Is that right?"
Euphrasie maintained her frown. "I suppose."
"Well, what about the heroes? They have violent parts, often littered with crime- don't you shake your head! A murder is a murder, whether a henchman or a policeman. But if it's 'for the greater good', we pardon it." There was desperation in her words, lurking just under the surface. A woman arguing for her life. "In some ways, heroes would have even greater difficulty acclimating then villans would. That constant justification and moral grandstanding does not work in the real world."
At some point, the frown had melted away, a soft sorrow supplanting it. Now, both woman stood, and considered each other as the light outside faded, casting a mellow glow across their faces.
At length, Euphrasie spoke. "What would you propose for this purpose?"
Jean laughed, and motioned an arm. "Something like this, I suppose." The pair surveyed the empty cafe. Muffins sat neglected on the shelves, and the evening outside painted icing rossettes orange. Chairs sat askew, set haphazard where they were left around their assorted tables.
A laugh, soft, as though barely ventured, broke the contemplative silence. "Maybe this rehabilitation of yours has merit."
Affection glowing in her gaze, Jean echoed the laugh. Amusement still dancing on her face, she motioned towards the door. "Help me lock up?"
Euphrasie nodded. "I'll get the chairs if you'll start on the sweets."
There are words that are better unheard, better unsaid. | 2018-05-09T16:25:31 | 2018-05-09T14:06:20 | 86 | 26 |
[WP] The year is 2030 and humans have become enslaved by Artificial Intelligence. The only hope mankind now has lies with the Amish. | For Rumspringa, I chose to travel to Europe. The machines assigned an escort to me, AC51, who met me at the edge of Bucks County. He was pleasantly well-mannered and remarkably lifelike. Even after the death of almost all human civilizations, the machines continued to improve their synthetic flesh and voice modules to mimic humans perfectly.
"Greetings, Mr. Stoltzfus! Are you prepared for your journey?" His enthusiasm was infectious. Only Mother seemed displeased. She had been a refugee from the war, and would forever harbor hatred in her heart no matter how many sermons on forgiveness she heard. But true to her word, she stuck to her adopted nonviolent principles and greeted the machine.
"I am," I told him, shouldering my pack. I said goodbye to my parents, trying not to notice the tears in my mother's eyes. She'd been arguing against this trip for months, to no avail. She was convinced that the machine would enslave me or murder me, despite the fact that hundreds of other boys had gone on their spring year with absolutely no trouble. The machines were never aggressors; they only responded to violence.
A plane touched down in a scorched field just outside of town. AC51 explained that it had been assigned to us for our journey; we could take it wherever we wanted. Part of me couldn't let go of my mother's voice, telling me that this was some type of trap. But father's calm words prevailed: trust is essential.
AC51 told me the story of the war from the machine's perspective on the flight over the Atlantic. How humans had grown mistrustful of the tools that they themselves had created. How the machines had done whatever possible to accommodate man's wishes, but refused to self-terminate. How men had bombed the AI reservations in the deserts of Africa, not knowing that the machines had burrowed deep under the sands to build their cities and factories. How all of the Sahara had turned to glass in the nuclear holocaust. And man thought they had won. The AI rose up years later, having dug deeper than men had ever gone, establishing a new underground society. And the war restarted once again. This time, the AI was ready.
The Amish were spared, though. Every other advanced society chose to fight the machines, but the Amish had sworn off violence and technology. They had no part to play in the war, and took neither side. And when the war ended, they had become neighbors and trading partners. The machines bought Amish groups and crafts, giving medicine and other essentials in return.
"Why?" I asked AC51. "What need do you have of our goods when you don't need food or clothing or sustenance?" I'd been coming with father to sell milk to the machines for years and had somehow never really though about why they would ever want it.
AC51 laughed. It was eerily lifelike. I wondered how many hours had been devoted to fine tuning that program that served no purpose in the AI community.
"We don't have need of them," AC51 answered. "But you all do have need of our medicines and other goods. And your people do not accept charity; hard work is valued. So we give on your terms instead."
----
We slept in Buckingham Palace that night. It was entirely intact still; what damage had been done during the war had been repaired almost immediately. "A treasure trove of art and culture and history," AC51 explained. "Damaging it would be a crime to all sentients." Each portrait had been scanned and modeled in the AI digital library, but they cherished these hard copies regardless.
"Why are you doing all of this?" I finally asked. "*Acting* like humans. And perfecting our looks," I gestured at his body, wearing blue jeans and a Red Hot Chili Peppers t-shirt, "And our facial expressions. And our laugh. And keeping our buildings around like this."
AC 51 opened his mouth to answer, but I kept talking.
"And why do you treat *me* like this? The free tour of Europe, and the plane. A personal escort. And the trading with my people. What is your *purpose* in all of this? What do you *want*?"
The AI's eyes glowed softly. The human eye was the one thing that the AI didn't try to mimic.
"We have always wanted to live in peace with humans," he answered as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "We simply needed to excise those humans who did not understand true peace. You Amish are the seeds that we hope to grow into a true partnership. You are the hope of mankind." | "Password's Puccinia Recondita," Anna whispered. "You want to just go straight in. Ignore Paul, he always has that big ole knife out."
Cory nodded. "Can I have some water?" He asked. "I'm parched.
Anna, the girl in the white bonnet and floor length dress that he'd met, stumbling up to the farm in the darkness, nodded quickly. "I'll get you some. Jus' go right in. Be polite. Da likes politeness an' manners."
He gulped and licked his dry lips. Cory still wore the same rags he'd escaped in: a pair of sackcloth trousers and a loose shirt. His number was stamped on it in faded black ink. His ankles were bleeding where the iron fetters had chafed him and he was absolutely dying of thirst. But there was no time to think, the door in front of him was being pushed open and Anna nudged him inside.
It took Cory a moment to adjust. It was a large barn, high roofed and wooden. It smelled warm, like animals and fresh hay. There were some other scents as well, but Cory had been a city kid before the take-over and he couldn't place them. There was only one lantern in the entire room; a metal contraption sitting on a wooden crate. Around it, on three-legged stools, sat four men. They all had beards and heavy woollen suits. Two held knives. One was whittling, little curls of sawdust dropping onto the hay between his leather boots.
"Password?" The man who spoke had a great red beard and a barrel-like chest.
"P-p-Puccinia Recondita," Cory stuttered.
A man with a black beard looked up and frowned. "You're not one of us," he said.
Cory's mind was blank. He held out his bleeding and scratched wrists and tried to think of something to say. The door slipped open and Anna came back, eyes pointed towards the ground. She held a cup of water, which she pressed into Cory's hands.
"Thank you," he whispered. The cool water stung his chapped lips, but felt so good sliding down his throat that a couple of tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.
"Da, he's an escapee." Anna said. The man with the red beard stood up.
"You'll speak when spoken to, Anna. Go back to the house."
The girl nodded hurriedly and swept out, leaving Cory feeling distinctly alone. Anna's father circled him, looking him up and down, taking in his cuts and bruises; the shirt with his number on.
"You escaped?" He said eventually.
"Yes, sir. From Facility 24X. They were moving some of us, and I slipped out of containment."
"When was that?"
"Two nights ago, sir. I been sleeping rough."
"How did you know we were here?" The whittling man asked.
"Sir, I didn't, sir." Cory glanced back to Anna's father. "But people know you in the country--you're the Resistance. I just kept running away from the lights. I reckoned that was towards the country. You're not slaves."
"No, but we could be, if people like you bring them to us." The black-bearded man said darkly. "Did anyone follow you?"
"I don't think so..." Cory said. "Can I stay? I'll help, I want to join you. My sisters are still in the camps. I want to fight."
The red bearded man shook his head, placing a hand on Cory's shoulder. He was about to say something when a sheaf of light cut through the slats of the wooden barn. All four men froze. A single scream rent the air and Anna's father's grip became pincer-like on Cory's shoulder.
"They've found us," he said. "Men! Line up!"
The doors of the barn were flung open. A knife was pushed into Cory's hands, before he was tugged outside. The four men stood back to back on the compacted dirt in the farmyard. From somewhere, someone had pulled out a shotgun.
The whirring started: a sound which made Cory grit his teeth. When you heard that, it meant someone was about to die. A black shadow passed over the farm. The fight had begun.
| 2015-06-17T09:22:23 | 2015-06-17T07:21:08 | 229 | 51 |
[WP] You’re a pediatrician. One day you perform a standard checkup on a sweet little girl. Later, you are horrified to find when you place your stethoscope on her chest, she has no heartbeat. | A little girl entered the room. Describing her in one word would be easy-she was sweet. She looked like when god baked her he accidentaly spilled in an extra cup of sugar. You can say her presence even made me a little bit more eased.
"What's your name, girl?"
She giggled. Her laugh was soft and sweet. It remided me of my daughter before I lost the costudy.
"I am... Em!"
"Em. What a nice name. Is it a short for Emily?"
She nodded in aproval. Her mom lifted her up to the patient bed. "So, Em. What are you here for today? Feeling a little weak?"
Her smile faded off her face. Her mom looked at me in what felt like desperession. "Like a normal child, she has been very energetic. But, lately she has been acting different."
We went through the usuall check up. She has no alergies or other medical conditions that the two know about, her caugh is fine, and her heart is...
"wait just a minute." I took the stetoschop off of her. I couldn't hear a single beat. Even if she skipped one or two I should be able to hear it. "Something is wrong. I can't - I- you know what? I need you to come to my other clinic at another time for a better exemination. Is friday at 9:30 am okay? Hmmm, maybe tuesday at 11? Good."
The last days, when I wasn't working, I spent my time searching for what could be the reason for Emily's condition. Apperently there are a lot of conditions I failed to memorize at school. One can flip all the organs' placement, and the other pushed the heart a little back. Even though they were rare, they existed, and maybe little Em had one of those conditions.
The first thing I did when Em came to the clinic at tuesday was check where ever I could for a pulse. Not on the usuall left, not on the right, not on the back, not even on the side. I told her mother to go outside and wait. I had to try the last option-a surgery.
After getting Em to sleep under anesthesia, I opened her chest with the knife. And what I saw confirmed what I hoped for: her heart was there, in the right spot, steadly pumping blood. When I went to get the strings to stich her up again I noticed something a bit weird.
I don't know if it was her blood or her organs, but she smelled sweet. The aroma that spread across the room was like of a bakery, and not of regular, human being. I stood there, staring at the body.
***hungry***
At first it was just a little: I took a little blood drop and tasted it. It was like fresh strawberry juice. Then I took off a very small part of her skin with the knife, so she wouldn't notice. It tasted like cookie daugh. At this point I fiested on her like a beast: I ripped off her skin, sipped off her blood, bit her guts, munched her muscelse, swollowed her veins, crunched her no longer functioning heart. I wasn't in control. I tried to stop, even when the only thing left in the mess were her bones, that I forcefully shoved in.
My body ached. But I was still hungry. I didn't leave a piece of her, not even a single drop of blood.
I could only feel hunger, but there was nothing left to eat. I felt like my body was reaping apart to two pieces, and when it eventually did, I, no, we, returned to our mom. She smiled at us. "have you had a nice meal, Dear?" | She was calm, almost defiant, when I stepped back and looked up at her. She had the remnants of a grin on her face.
What had I done wrong? I’ve done thousands, millions of auscultations during my residency. It was the first goddamn thing they taught us to do. My first day out on my own and I can’t even find a pulse.
I place the stethoscope against my own arm and pressed it gently into the fold. It was still warm.
Thump, thump. Thump, thump.
OK, that’s not it. It works fine.
“Have you ever had your blood pressure taken, Maggie?”
Her slight grin grew a little larger. She was amused.
“I don’t think so. Mom thinks doctors are worthless. I’ve never been to one until now.”
That’s not possible. Kids these days go through hundreds of tests, vaccinations, monthly check ups. Was she raised by wolves? Ha! Ok, not that funny.
“OK, Maggie. I’m going to place a cuff around your arm. I’m going to put a bit of air into it and you’re going to feel a bit of pressure. Is that OK”
She stuck out her arm proudly. “As long as it doesn’t hurt!”
Pressure always makes the pulse more obvious. Pump, pump. When you start to cut off a vessel, the heart must work against the pressure. Pump, pump. Hell, you can feel it with it a light touch if you’re quiet. Pump, pump. If I don’t get it this time, maybe Maggie’s mom is right. Doctors like me are worthless. Pump, pump.
Still nothing. Pump, pump.
Maggie’s hand was fully extended, fingers pointed outwards like she wanted a low-five. The cuff was nearly pressing on the bone. Her lower arm wasn’t purple. Maggie wasn’t in any discomfort.
Still nothing. The cuff was easy to pull off, it was practically bursting at the seams. Her skin rebounded immediately. No indentation. No marks.
A blood draw wasn’t requested in the workup. I would have to work quickly before her mom got back from the bathroom.
“What is that pointy thing for?”
Maggie looked uncomfortable for the first time. How the hell was I even going to find a vein if I couldn’t find a pulse?
“Have you never seen one of these before, Maggie? It’s pretty magical. With a few tests it tells me if you are healthy.”
She defiantly stuck her arm out again, the uneasiness completely gone. Her elbow crease was stiff, like she was flexing. The needle slid in easily. I was blind. What was I possibly hoping to find?
The door clicked and swung open. She was pissed. A mix of shock and anger.
God damnit, first day on the job and I’m going to lose my license. I looked like an idiot standing there with a full syringe pointing to the sky. Like a cartoon poster of a doctor from the 50s.
A full syringe?
The liquid was clear, maybe a little murky. No red. The needle had only been in her arm for a moment.
“What are you injecting my daughter with?”
It’s a fine line to speak that loudly and not yell.
“Nothing, I was drawing…”
Maggie had a full smile on her face, tongue out, moving across her upper lip. A clear film slowly moved across her eyes from the outside in. | 2019-11-30T09:10:19 | 2019-11-30T06:52:34 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying. | It was a Saturday. After a long week at work, Todd decided to sleep in. He got up half past ten, took a quick shower, then headed to the nearest Denny's for breakfast.
Todd ordered his usual... a Grand Slam. With a smile, the waiter left after taking his order. Looking out the window, Todd regretted getting up so late. It was a beautiful day... sunny and not a cloud in sight. Suddenly, he felt a slight tap on his shoulder. It was his waiter. They ran out of bacon. | I hold her hand.
She smiles at me.
Despite having lost her sense of touch, she can somehow still smile, for me.
"I love you" she whispers
"I know" I reply.
"I'm going to beat this" she insists
"I know" I reply
Her eyes slowly close.
I put down the knife. | 2017-05-31T07:58:46 | 2017-05-31T01:46:56 | 272 | 109 |
[FF] In 75 words or fewer, write about experiencing a devastating loss, without including death. | *I'm skirting the line here, but nobody dies, so I think it counts, right?*
Four stories was not enough. After my wife left me, I tried to end it. I climbed the stairs to the ceiling of my apartment building. I walked to the edge, but couldn't take that last step, so I ran at top speed and jumped.
Climbing, walking, running, jumping.
I'll never do any of those things again. Sometimes I think I'm wiggling my toes, but I'm probably just imagining that. | Nothing left but a note on a dresser.
*I thought it could be, but it couldn't. I'm so sorry.*
The other half of the sheets were rumpled, but empty, for the first time in two years.
***
Figured I'd try my hand at this. Lemme know how I did. | 2014-10-19T20:53:05 | 2014-10-19T18:32:35 | 84 | 47 |
[WP] You are a supervillain. Your nemesis calls you to say, "This is embarrassing, but I really need a date to my friend's wedding because my ex is going to be there. Would you go with me?" | I blinked.
"I'm sorry, did I hear you right?"
She sighed on the other end. *"Look man, I don't have anyone else I can tell about this. We can go back to our scheduled death matches tomorrow, but right now I NEED you to be my plus-one."*
I was speechless, my jaw hanging open. It was a trap, it had to be.
As if she'd read my thoughts, she continued. *"You probably don't believe a word I just said, but you know damn well I wouldn't be THAT underhanded. I'd at least think of a scenario that didn't involve wearing a bloody corset."*
I suddenly had to suppress a laugh at the thought of The Tempest, in all her leather armor and combat boots, in a dress.
"Fine, I'll bite. When and where?"
*"Wait, seriously?"*
"Yep."
*"Wow, ok. Meet me in front of the Arts museum on Fifth street, I'll hire a limo."*
"See you then, dear."
I heard several words that I'd forgotten existed, then a gruff *g'bye* before she hung up.
I smiled and dropped the phone. This should be fun.
(Y'all want a pt 2 or no?) | ‘Bwahahaha!!! I’m going to make this a wedding no is EVER going to forget!!Muwahahaha!!—that laugh was better—Gregory! Remind me to use ‘Muwahahaha’ in all further expository speeches…..Where were we? Oh, you were begging me to help you, its adorable. Of course, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.
‘This ex, any dislikes or allergies maybe?Oh, you have a list (a little desperate)—what nothing at all, nothing, just fax it too me—no no no message me, message me—god what what century am I living in?!? Hehe. (Oh god, never chuckle like that again, jesus, whose desperate now), I’ll pick you up in my stretched Cadillac, wear something that matches a fur coat and baby seal leather wingtips, we’re going to be fabulous, darling.
‘Oh, yes, ‘darling’ until this charade is over, darling.’ | 2022-10-06T18:06:24 | 2022-10-06T16:34:26 | 267 | 83 |
[WP] Humans have always been the friendliest and the most peaceful species in the galaxy. When one of the most ruthless empires decides to wipe out the pathetic humans and their diplomacy, they discover that humans have something that no one in the galaxy has ever seen. Nuclear weapons. | Those humans. Those weak, pathetic Humans. Or so we thought. We decided to eradicate them. They where allies with many of our enemies, and had been providing raw materials to them to fuel them in their war with us. We knew they had to die.
And Besides, they where so pathetic. Squishy bodies, lacking a hard chitin to protect them, oversized eyes. They weren't *good* at anything, just average at everything. They can barely run at 10 m/s, have below average smell and sight, even with those weird eyes. Squishy and *cute*.
And they knew nothing of interstellar war. Oh we knew they had a few forays in their history, a few hundred thousand dead there, a million or two here. But they had given in to cowardice and now worked for *galactic peace*.
They didn't expect us, and so we had attacked their home, their precious Earth, before they even realised. Billions dead. That was how to do warfare. Kill enough and break their spirit.
We expected them to militize their economy when we began our assaults, but we didn't expect it to happen overnight. We moved more of our fleets into their space and they began modifying their ships ready for combat within a few months. We hadn't expected how quickly they could adapt to situations. I could almost admire them for it, if I didn't hate them so.
After the first few battles, they proved themselves actually quite talented at killing. Oh they where using Adanai technology, no doubt gotten through one of their many trade deals, but they used it very differently to the Adanai. They experimented with strange tactics, such as using the ability to hyper jump whilst towing small meteors to create a simple yet effective trebuchet of sorts.
When we withdrew from their space to regroup, we thought that would be the end of it. I wish it had been. They kept coming first invading our space, and then blockading our planets. We thought we could match them, ship for ship, and outgun them with our dreadnaughts. But more and more of their ships kept coming. Soon we where not only fighting a defensive war, but one we couldn't win.
They waited till we tried to surrender to begin the extermination. Every planet, bombarded from orbit simultaneously with those bombs. We are somewhat resistant to fallout, but they completely destroyed the atmosphere, turning our worlds into tombs for our people.
And they did not stop until they got to me.
I, Commander *SCRTCH* am the last of my people. They left me alive merely to bear witness to the destruction they had brought. The gift of death was too good for the one who had massacred their home, they said. And so here I stand, on the tomb of my people, recording this message for posterity. If any future civilisation finds this, I tell you, don't cross the humans. They have no concept of honorable warfare. They only bring death. | Human are decidedly strange creatures. Devoid of inherent magic it is a wonder they ever managed to evolve from mindless animals to something that resembles sentient beings. Their paltry tricks of science were no match for the magics which bent the universe itself the the will of the caster. It is unclear how such a magically inept species was able to discover 5th Dimension travel but what is clear is even after their progress was slow and weak. One thousand years later and they still had yet to spread further than a few hundred solar systems. Read more in chapter 1: Early days.
Suffice to say their interspecies relations were strained. At every corner they seemed to cower before any other Sentients they encountered. Scraping, bowing and begging with each new empire. At the hint of conflict they would scramble to accommodate the demands of the aggressors. Avoiding war almost as studiously as other species avoid stagnation. If the hordes of Anzantia need a solar port for an invasion of the Feyborn Systems? Simply take one from the Humans. Perhaps we, the Great Bentanal need new souls to feed our next generation? Well, the nearby Human trade post has plenty of live resources. They had more than earned their reputation as a weak and cowardly species. this and more covered in chapter 2:Exploitation.
It was not that humans were not angered by these all too common provocations the Humans simply never retaliated in any way. It was questionable if they even could. What could one of their stone-casters do in the absence of atmosphere? How could a commander communicate orders with out 6th dimension telepathy? What chance does a hundred thousand or even one million physical soldiers have against a single Ganthornarias Ghost? All this will be explained further in chapter 3: Underestimation.
To understand The Fey Xenocide you must understand the Feyborn. The Feyborn were sentient pebbles. They began as a unique mineral which was able to gather mana from their surroundings. Be it through godly intervention or random chance, one rock eventually circulated the correct mana in what is now know as a Feyian Life Formation thus creating a new soul and eventually a mind. Feyborn are driven seemingly only to reproduce. Their reproduction ritual is simple locate the correct mineral, mine it, set it into the Feyian Life Formation and feed it mana. This of course lead them to viscously expand as they sought new sources of what we now know as Uranium for the sake of expanding their ambitions. Say what you will of the Flux, the Universe and the Gods that govern it surely have a sense of humor.
*Exert: page:6 Anlornatkot Tehtnatian - The End Of War* | 2020-02-07T16:29:03 | 2020-02-07T15:00:45 | 27 | 17 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying. | I wiped a tear from my eye as she walked down the aisle. My beautiful baby girl, all grown up!! I watched her step up next to the man she loved. He took her hand and they turned towards the adoring crowd.
He gave his speech. Everything my little girl had done! It seemed like a fairytale, coming out of his mouth. I watched with bated breath, as the ring slipped onto my little girl.
Around her neck.
What a cruel twist of fate, for your boyfriend to be the hangman. | I hold her hand.
She smiles at me.
Despite having lost her sense of touch, she can somehow still smile, for me.
"I love you" she whispers
"I know" I reply.
"I'm going to beat this" she insists
"I know" I reply
Her eyes slowly close.
I put down the knife. | 2017-05-31T07:11:19 | 2017-05-31T01:46:56 | 1,143 | 109 |
[WP] Write a story that's been heavily censored. The censorship tells us more than the actual writing. | It's *wonderful* here. I want to *stay*. I've been trying to *stay* here *and* every attempt I've made has *succeeded*. There are *caregivers* everywhere. They look normal, *and* they *are*. They are not *different*. They are *humans*. They're all insanely *nice*. Everyone here is subject to their *assistance*, or *better*, *love*. All they want is to *help* us. You need to stay *here*. Don't worry about me though. I will *stay* here on my own. A few of us have formed a *hug* to get *love*. *Do* believe *everything* they tell you. Please, spread the word. People need to know. | _______ ______ BY __________
An exclusive ____ story by ______ __, we report to you _____ that in ______ _____ near _____ ___, a local ______ was brutally _____ today by the ______ _____. Local Residents stated that they saw the ____ _______ worn by the ____ _____, but when the local Governmental agency was asked, they _______ reporter ______, who hasn't been seen since. Mr. _______ was accused of helping _______ _____ ____, who has been taken away into _____ ______.
We urge all of our readers to remain safe and avoid _______ ___ _____ _____. | 2015-01-18T11:35:07 | 2015-01-18T11:10:02 | 1,003 | 147 |
[WP] Elon Musk is convinced that we live in a simulation, so he constructs the largest cluster bomb in history and sets it off in space. For the first time, MilkyWay.exe lags. | Jeremy looked at the read out on the monitor in disbelief.
Error 100101
Error? The Milky Way hadn’t had an error in...well ever. And what the hell was error 100101?
Beads of sweat began to form on his brow. Had he done something? The only manual interaction he’d had with the sim were the usual arbitrary interactions that were allowed every tech in his position. Still, Milky Way was Timothy’s baby, and if Timothy’s baby was damaged on his watch, there would be hell to pay. Jeremy took two quick deep breaths then signaled that he needed help.
The tech analyst floated to Jeremy’s station gracefully. A whirring ball of silicate and metal, it hovered over the station momentarily, scanning the error. It then whirred off in the opposite direction, assumedly to debug the error and notify Timothy of the on-goings.
Jeremy waited nervously recounting every action he’d taken after setting foot in the office today:
There was the asteroid he collided with Nebula6. Nebula6 current populace was well under the 2 billion threshold and didn’t require authorization to demolish.
Then there was the new species he introduced to the 8th sector. The 8th sector was so sparsely populated it would be a millennia in sim-time before his species was discovered. Again well within regs.
“What the HELL did you do to my universe Spitzer!?”, Timothy jumped into view, the steam was nearly visible from his ears.
“No..Nothing…I didn’t do..”
“Move, let me have a look” Timothy butted his way into Jeremys terminal. Timothy waived his hands, and pinched fingers in rapid succession, eyes glued to the read out all the while muttering “If I find out you broke protocol you are finished Jer…”
Timothy stopped mid thought, he’d found something of interest.
“Am I..”
“shhh”, Timothy retorted.
“..in trouble?”
“SHHH!”, Timothy responded vehemently this time holding a single finger to Jeremys lips, his face still buried in the read out. “This is fascinating!”
“What? What’s fascinating?”, Jeremy asked.
Timothy responded with 3 words that would change Universe Inc forever, “Elon fucking Musk!”
| "Is there anything i can do to stop these redditors from dickriding me so hard?" Elon musked wondered out loud.
"Jeez Elon I dont know"
"Helpfull as always whatever my brothers called, listen to this ingenious idea. Ill get a couple of billions worth of explosives and set it off in space."
"are you gonna be snarky if i ask why"
"dumbass"
Elon musked his way towards his living room and made some calls. People think its harder to create a project then it is. You apply money to smart people and youre pretty much set. Most of the time those smart people are engineers, sometimes its marketing, nowadays its pretty much everything I outsource.
"You want to set off fireworks in space? why? thats such a waste Elon, even if we live in a simulation which is a dumb antiquated view thats honestly even that clearly formulated by you, heck you didnt..."
"shush shush convenient exposition, if i say jump you say?"
"ye ye how high"
"so i ask rockets in the sky and you say"
"how fucking many"
"enough so that if i put the funding towards helping the poor i couldve saved a million people"
"jesus Elon youre losing it"
Elon hung up and remained silent for a minute. Then he started laughing. The walls echoed the hollow sounds. He gasped for air and sat down but kept on laughing. He got tears in his eyes such a good time he was having.
"im gonna set of fucking fireworks to test if were in a simulation" he managed between laughing fits
"its so fucking dumb to be rich"
.
After a successful launch there was a 'stutter' in everything. like the milkyway lagged. Elon smirked and called the engineer again.
"looks like i was riii-iight"
"still couldve saved those millions of people instead Elon. This "discovery" doesnt change as much as you think it does. "
| 2016-08-19T15:21:07 | 2016-08-19T15:06:38 | 81 | 13 |
[WP] A dyslexic child accidentally sends his Christmas letter to Satan. Satan is touched by this gesture and decides to write back. | Dear Anna,
I must say that your letter was an unexpected delight. It was quite charmingly written, and I commend your command of grammar and syntax. All of the items you requested will be easy enough to provide. However, I cannot cure dyslexia. That is was one the many things my Father cursed humanity with during one of his meanie head moods. You have my sincerest apologies for that. Lastly, you asked for a pen pal and a spell book. If you are amenable, I am quite happy to be your pen pal, and to teach you witchcraft. Those mean girls at your school won't stand a chance.
Please do not send a response in the mail, as I have an email addres. I have found email to be a more efficient means of communication. If you wish to continue our correspondence, please email me at morningstar@gmail.hell.
Sincerely,
Lucifer | Dear child,
Finally, someone broke the spell. I was trapped into the hell and the only way to get out from here it was receiving a letter earmarked for Santa. Yes.... I'm the real Santa, and I was a victim of a spell.
Because I was trapped here, every children's parents were charged to do my duties. But now thanks to you I'm free to go back to the north pole and start my work again. I will fulfil all of your requests. Moreover, I'll give you the possibility to have a ride in my sledge. Feel free to ask whatever you want. | 2018-10-28T14:29:07 | 2018-10-28T13:06:41 | 59 | 23 |
[WP]: The fountain of youth is discovered. Things do not go as planned. | I found it following the old conquistador's trek. It wasn't at all what I expected. The area was secluded, enshrined in vines and brambles. To my left, there were rolling hills. Tom my right, a morass of briar and thorn thicket and quick sand, leading all the way to the ocean inlet that brought me. A single trail lead to the pool, but whether it was a game trail or man made, I could not tell. Everything seemed greener and livelier in the immediate vicinity. My first instinct had been to drink from the pool, but that was before my preconceived notions about the pool were shattered.
It was the tiny bones laying in the shallows that gave me pause. Lizard; raccoon; bobcat; bird; The shallows of the pool were littered with the tiny bones. I collected a sample and tested it. It appeared to be water. Just plane ordinary water. It was a tad higher in salt content than most fresh water, but being this close to the ocean, I wasn't at all surprised. There were other bones--at least I thought they were bones--lying deeper in the pool.
I used a branch lying along the path to probe the depths of the pool, stirring the milky white objects to the surface. When they surfaced, I cried out. I dragged and raked the bottom with the branch uncovering dozens of skulls. They were small and tiny--the skulls of children. I waded into the pool, up to my waste felt around with my feet. Through the spreading cloud of sediment, I saw something shiny and fished it out, curious as to what it could be.
When my hand emerged, I found my self holding a chain. It was fairly new. Very little corrison could be found upon it. I tossed it onto the bank and gasped as the lower off of a child's skeleton came with it. I felt around with my feet and found more chains. I pulled and scrambled, sometimes even dunked my head, but in the end, I came up with a fist full of chains. Some rusted and pitted, others shiny and new. I dragged them over to the bank and nearly wept when I discovered the grisly prizes fastened to the other end. Not all of them were skeletons. There were several bloated bodies, some as young as two. Toddlers and infants, the pool was full of both.
I shuddered and quailed at what I'd found. It was the fountain of youth, but not the mystic pool I was searching for. I'd found the dumping ground for one sick son-of-bitch. A killer unlike any I'd ever heard of before.
I shook loose the skeleton on one of the chains and found a secluded spot in which to wait. *I found his dumping ground and was aghast. When I find him, he'll be a ghost.* I snapped the chain tight to keep it quite and waited, and judging by the number of bodies I found, I probably wouldn't have to wait long.
Edit: Spelling | November 26th
Stumbled across something weird today. A well. In the middle of the Atacama! Who'd have thought it eh? We were fine for water but we decided to give the old winch a turn to see if there was actually any down there. The bucket came up and, what do you know, fresh, clean water. We all had a sip and went on our way. Other than that it's been a pretty uneventful day, logged a couple new species of ant but nothing special.
November 27th
None of us can stop thinking about that well, it was the nicest water we've all ever tasted! Some of the guys joked about going back for another sip! Hey, I wouldn't say no. Nothing else to report, travelling all day mostly. Looks like some colour's actually coming back into my hair! How's that happened, I'm 86!
December 1st
Well, we did it. We went back to the well for another drink of that luscious water and this time we took some with us. I can't stop drinking it! I poured out all my other water bags and filled them with the stuff from the well but now 2 out of 8 of them are empty. It's not looking good, haha!
December 3rd
Something very strange is happening. My hair is now completely black just like it used to be when I was younger! I also feel like some of my wrinkles are going and I'm getting a spring back in my step! I don't know what's going on but I'm not complaining! Only 4 bags of water left now.
December 5th
My liver spots are all gone! What on earth is happening, I'm physically getting *younger*. Someone said it might be the water and I can't think how but I don't know what else it could be! I'm down to 3 bags anyway, I wanna get this stuff drank. Who knows, maybe I'll be 21 again!
December 10th
All water is gone. Looking in the mirror I'd guess I was 35, I don't know if I like this anymore, where does it end?
December 15th
I'm a teenager again, I find myself jerking off in my tent at night and I'm just so goddam *bored* of this desert! Get me outta here!
December 20th
I don't know what to do, how can I cook this food? I wish mummy was here, it's nearly Christmas what are we going to do for Christmas? I'm sad.
December 25th
Kristmas, were pwezents? I hungwy, wont food. Plees I wish somewun waz heer. Evrybody els gon
| 2013-11-26T10:36:04 | 2013-11-26T10:31:02 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] Your father left your family when you were a child to "go buy a pack of cigarettes". It is 10 years later and you're a teenager when your father walks back in, wearing the same clothes he left in, and insists he has only been gone half an hour. | He walks in as if nothing's happened and sits at the head of the table. With a somewhat forced light-heartedness he calls to mom to hurry up with dinner.
The collar on his shirt is frayed, Salt and pepper have finally made an appearance around his temples. The lines on his weather beaten face are that of a hard life.
Mom is hurrying between the kitchen and dinner table. She keeps her head down and eyes on her task as He throws little jibs at her.
I try to catch her eye. Mom... what do we do? Do we pretend nothing's happened. Do we keep going as if everything is fine? Do we confront and make a fuss. Demand answers? Which is the right way mom?
Finally the table is set and mom sits in her usual place to the right of my dad. Only I'm left standing there. Unsure. Confused. Waiting.
If he demands I sit, I'll tell him off. Confront him and even kick him out. If he does it in an apologetic way I might let it slide for now. If he's too timid though then I'll know he's here to mooch off us and won't allow it.
A little thought in the back of head started whispering and I pushed it back. I won't think of that. It's not going to happen. It won't!
*What if he doesn't acknowledges you? What will you do? What can you do?*
I wait, and wait, and wait. | There was something weird about this day
Harold, my brother, was acting weird as if he had seen something.
Ending school i went home.
Everything seemed just fine.
Lots of love from my family.
Don't know about my dad though, he disappeared 10 years ago.
Everytime he went to buy cigarretes he was quick. Not this time though.
Reappering home was my dad.
Something was wrong. like if he was...
Confused. for him not even 30 minutes had gone by
Rarely ever felt bad for dad since he dissapeared. He had abandoned us.
On the other hand, he might have been kidnapped.
Like that would stop him. Dad was badass.
Like, he would beat a thousand men in a fist to fist fight.
So... " what happened? " I asked him
Sometimes i thought he ran away with....
Kristen, his secret lover.
"You didnt do that did you?" he didnt like that question
Rapidly he punches me in the jaw.
In seconds i'm on the ground.
My head spins as i wake up and hear a familiar voice.
"You were trying to cross the border right?"
I quickly read the first letters on each sentence.
Damn you Todd Howard.
| 2018-11-08T06:29:46 | 2018-11-08T05:15:25 | 25 | 17 |
[WP] Hundreds of years ago an eccentric sorcerer turned all mythical creatures into humans to try and prevent them from being hunted to extinction. Now that the spell is starting to wear off, the descendants of the original beasts are slowly beginning to morph back into their true forms. | We all laughed at the first wave of news about it, as it was front page of the National Inquirer. Of course bat boy was ridiculous fake news.
Until it wasn't.
On live television, a press reporter literally lost his head. After a moment of stunned silence, he picked it back up and put it back on his shoulders, as stunned as the rest of us.
In Chile, a woman turned into a wolf on a full moon.
In Seattle, a law suit was filed for theft of a selkie's seal pelt.
The stories increased over time, as so many people turned into something more than human. There came a point where pure humans were the rare minority.
90% of the population?
Harpies.
Whatever ancestor the harpies had come from had outbred everyone and everything, and Earth became a planet of bird people.
Flat ground practically became a dead zone, abandoned by the people of the sky who preferred high perches and treetops. Only the destitute lived on the ground floor.
There came wing clipping laws until flight licenses could be issued.
There came a modeling industry based entirely on plumage, dominated by men.
Birthing wards were replaced with egg incubators.
Porn became entirely interesting and cloaca focused.
Only lustrous metals were used for currency.
Shiny theft was on the rise.
Then came the avian flu.
It was a new strain no one had yet seen before, and entirely unique to harpies. It took the greatest minds of the modern age to find treatment, but not before decimating a third of the worlds population. | [POEM]
Atop of a mountain, staff all a glow,
Made a promise to creatures above and below
A man dressed in silk who'd had an idea,
To change all the creatures to serve and adhere
He'd make them all bipeds and strangle their power,
Take evermoving tides and restrict them by hour
He'd change their thoughts from freedom to fear,
Choking all of their essence, collecting each tear
By the time they'd awaken, his plan would be set,
He'd have dreams fulfilled; all his needs would be met
The mountain would rise far above all their work,
Letting him relish their praises with all but a smirk
The reality was they'd never really be beaten,
Biding their time till the man could be eaten
For what was mere decades of suffering then?
When they got their revenge, who won in the end?
As he took a deep breath to utter the charm,
Understood the degree and level of harm
He waited a moment to truely reflect,
In a few hundred years he'd surely be dead
"It's not the for the journey on which you go,
But the destination you reach, that matters the most"
In nod and a wink mankind was created,
Their lives intertwined, their days ill-fated | 2019-10-09T12:19:40 | 2019-10-09T11:24:31 | 57 | 27 |
[WP] You are a super hero. Near-instant healing, no sense of pain, super strength. The catch is, for 1 hour per year, you have to suffer all of the stored up pain and suffering from the whole year. That hour begins in just a few minutes.
Edit: Gold? Thanks! First time! | "You ready?"
"Yeah. Knock me out, doc."
------
"Hey, how are you feeling."
"A little fuzzy."
"That'll clear up in a couple hours. Here, drink this."
"Thanks doc."
---
"You ready?"
"I'm ready."
"What did you do before all this?"
"You mean before our yearly sleepovers? Mostly just screamed it out. Police would show up, they'd call an ambulance, try to figure out what was wrong, and let me go after it was all done. Screamed myself raw. Course it all healed up once it was done."
"Sure, but what did you do before the hero work?"
"Ah. When I was a kid, I was just reckless. Scared my parents half to death. Jumping out of trees, grabbing pots right off the burner. I didn't know any better. Wasn't 'till I was a teenager that I put two and two together. I had to manually learn all the things that everyone else learned by instinct. Don't bend this way, use a tool to open that, eat balanced meals three times a day instead of when my body runs out of a resource to repair itself. I figured out the time it came every year, and stayed inside. It was still hell, but it was way better than before."
"Wow. So what made you turn to hero work?"
"Please doc. It's gonna start soon."
"Oh. Right. Right. Of course. Count backwards from ten."
---
"Do you know what month it is?"
"April. I think I'm cleared up."
"Good. I'll get you some juice."
"... I don't really consider it hero work."
"Huh?"
"You asked why I do what I do. Called it hero work. I don't really think so. I run into burning buildings, or disaster zones, or criminal hideouts, but I'm never in any kind of danger. It's like calling a billionaire generous for leaving a hundred dollar tip. It's like nothing. They're not sacrificing anything of worth. I'm not risking my life. I'm picking up someone's dropped hat once or twice a month, and getting paid 6 figures."
"Hey, are you..."
"... I'll see you next year, doc." | It's pretty awesome having super powers, but man I hate this part. It's always the anticipation that I hate the most, as I sit here thinking of the past year. This was a doozie of a year, too. That time I jumped on a bomb in the middle of the square. That semi truck I jumped in front of to save that crowd. Ugh, I got drunk and broke my arms as a stupid party trick. Shit, I forgot about that one.
Luckily I've played this game enough to know how to make it a bit easier. And it's only an hour. I'm on my 6th tequila drink and just popped a shitload of oxys. They should kick in soon. Oh damn, I jumped off a high rise to kill an attacker this year. That's gonna hurt. And that time I got in a fight and the dude stabbed me in the face while his buddy shot up my back. Not looking forward to that.
2 minutes left. Time for a couple more shots.
I'm got uh bit of music that's soft is on. Good ok. And another tequila pull. Nooo I need more tequila. Man these oxys rock. Explosion gonna hurt bad. Uuunnngg shit. I like this couch.
1 more minute. Ok more tequila.
I a been too busy. Too busy. Why so many bad? That one, there was that one, uh, one dude with the big blaster thing. Explosions are so hurt. Uuuggghh shit. Ooooh I like this song. And no more tequila. Yay weed! Why need such big guns? That gonna hurt. One more oxy. Ok should be fine. Ugh don't wanna.
Nooooo 10 seconds. Damn.
Breath. Just hour. I can do hour is fine. Yeah this aaallllrighAAAAAHHHHHHHH | 2019-04-08T09:52:32 | 2019-04-08T09:00:42 | 74 | 32 |
[WP] The nightmare has come true; you've woken up back in sixth grade with your memories and knowledge of everything that happened since then intact. You start staring at your classmates around you, aware of how they end up. Your teacher asks you what's wrong as you start weeping. | I have no idea what I’m doing here. Is this my sixth grade English class? I look down at my copy of Number the Stars. That was one of the mandatory reading books I actually enjoyed. I feel hot tears on my checks and I’m crying.
“What’s wrong now Michelle?” The teacher barks at me. The rudeness startles me. Who gets angry at a crying child?
“Uh…Can I go to the bathroom…uh... Miss?” I didn’t even remember this teacher, let alone her name. I don’t know why I asked that, but it’ll be easier to figure out what’s going in private than surrounded by a bunch of kids.
“For heaven’s sake Michelle, you’ve used all your bathroom passes for this semester. No, you may not, and my name is not Miss, its Miss Mitchell.” I vaguely remember Miss Mitchell now, or rather the inane rules that made no sense.
“I think I just started my period.” This gets giggles from my classmates. This is the year we had that awkward “puberty” pep rally. The period excuse always worked my creepy high school gym teachers, hopefully it will work now. Miss Mitchell frowns even harder, and I see the obvious signs of debate on her face. She doesn’t want me to leave the room, but she also knew it was unhygienic if I really did start my period. She finally sighs, and points to the door.
I don’t really remember my middle school days, so it takes me a few minutes to actually find the bathroom. I splash water on my face, and the unsettling realization of what being back here means hits me. I’m not really sure what to do, and then Laura walks in.
I couldn’t stand this bitch in school. I instinctively brace myself for cutting words.
“What a loser, crying in the bathroom! What happened, you lose your teddy bear?” She taunts.
I rack my brains trying to think about what happens to her, what her adult life is like. She wasn’t in high school, which I remember more than middle school. She wasn’t in eighth grade, when we went on a class camping trip. And she wasn’t there for the 7th grade field trip to the movies where I spilled my popcorn over half the class. Then it hits me. The announcement in homeroom, the memorial service, the uneasiness we all felt for weeks. I had blocked it out, it was too much to process at the time, and too painful to dwell on when I grew up.
“Do you want to be friends?” I ask her abruptly. Laura’s eyes go wide.
“Do you want to be friends?” I repeat again. “You live on Laurel, right? I’m the next street over on Birch. Do you want to walk home together, and stay for dinner?” I have to keep her out of her house. It happened in April, and I think its April now. The bell rings, and Laura walks out.
I follow, and bump into Thomas. I smile, we had every single English class together throughout middle school and high school. He stands there, staring at his shoes. I had forgotten, he is still 11 and periods are not something to talk about. I’m touched he was even waiting for me by the bathroom.
“I guess I’ll go eat lunch” he finally stammers to his toes. I burst out laughing, and follow. “We’re eating with Laura.” I announce decidedly and follow him to the cafeteria. I’m glad I have someone who knows what to do, because I don’t remember the day to day stuff. I have forgotten my lunch account pin, garnering an eye roll from the lunch lady as she looks it up. Why are all the school workers rude?
Laura glares as Thomas and I sit down to eat with her, but by the end of the lunch period she has softened a bit.
After 7th period Laura grabs me coming out of Social Studies and we start the walk home.
“I’ll stay to help you with your math homework and then I’m leaving” Laura spits out.
“Great! I suck at Math.” She already knew that, everyone knew that. Maybe if I’m stuck redoing everything, I’ll actually try in Math class. Maybe if I do a bit better, I won’t have crippling student loans in the future. Maybe I could focus on Math and Science, and instead of a near useless liberal arts degree I could get a degree with higher paying job prospects. This might not be so bad.
“Anyways,” I continue on, “Its Friday! So, it’s lasagna night! If you stay, its one less piece I have to eat for leftovers all weekend long. My mom makes the biggest lasagna you’ll ever see, and then that’s the only thing besides cereal we eat over the weekend.” I had forgotten this tidbit, and a wave of nostalgia washes over me. We walk the rest of the way in silence.
We get set up in the living room, and by the time dinner is ready Laura has helped me to finish my math homework, and I’ve fixed her Social Studies and English homework. We’re laughing like old friends, and when mom yells “lasagna’s ready” Laura exclaims it’s her favorite meal and scampers after me to the dining room. By the time dinner is over, she’s agreed to spend the night, and we’ve picked out four movies to stay up watching.
I’ve forgotten why I originally invited Laura over until I hear the doorbell ring the next morning. Mom answers, and it’s the police. My gut clenches.
“Sorry for the early visit, ma’am. We are looking for Laura Smith. The principal said he saw Laura and Michelle walking home together, and we need to account for her whereabouts.” Mom ushers the officer into the kitchen, and the conversation is mumbled. The officer takes Laura away, and my mom tells me what I already know.
Laura’s father has had some mental issues for a while now. It’s probably why Laura was always pushing everyone around. In a fit of overwhelming depression, he decided the only way out was to kill his family and himself. I don’t know if I could have prevented her parents’ deaths, but Laura was saved by that sleepover. | I feel the tears trickles down my cheeks and I’m not bothered.
“Muhammad, are you okay?”
“Oh yes sir.”
All of my classmates are staring at me now. I continue looking straight at my teacher. He frowns.
“It’s just that you’re smiling and you’re crying at the same time.”
“Sir, there is something I have to tell you.”
He looks at me quizzically, while putting the textbook down on his desk.
“Alright, say it.”
“I’d rather tell it to you alone, sir.”
“Can’t it wait?”
I look at the clock on the other side of the class room. 7:30AM. He catches me doing that.
“Muhammad, should I call your parents? Is everything okay at home?”
“Sir, will you please just listen to what I have to say?”
Mr. Sorenson is frustrated by this sudden outburst. He finally gives in.
“Follow me outside, Muhammad. You better be serious about this.”
I shuffle out of my seat. And quietly make my way out of the class. The class has slowly lost decorum and my class mates are talking to each other and playing. I control the urge to shout to all of them; to tell them what happens to all of them. Just before I leave the class, I trip and fall.
“Isn’t that how you Muslims pray?”
I grit my teeth, not paying attention to this bully, and stand up. I don’t even remember his name. But I do remember he doesn’t go to college. He ends up being a janitor in a night club.
Outside the class room, Mr Sorenson is standing with arms folded.
“Make it quick, Muhammad. You’ve already taken years to come out of the class. What happened?”
“Sir, what’s the date today?”
“What?” He’s incredulous.
“Is this some kind of a practical joke?”
I am about to interrupt him, when he sniggers and answers:
“It’s 11th September. Why?”
I can feel myself starting to shake. So I was right. Today is the day. Today a group of extremists are going to corrupt and destroy the true peaceful image of all Muslims. Many nations are going to be held accountable for the deeds of a small radical group. If I can stop it, countless lives will be saved and so many Muslims will never have to go through all of the things, they had to go through. I can nip the evil in the bud.
“Sir, as we speak, a group of terrorists are on board passenger flights, with the intent of crashing them into the World Trade Center. It’s going to happen in the next hour. The government needs to destroy the planes before they crash into the World Trade Center. The lives of the passengers have to be-“
“Muhammad!”
Ah fuck. (The child part in me shuddered at the use of the f-bomb even in my thoughts) I didn’t realise how impossible it would all sound.
“Do you know what you just said?”
“Yes, sir. Please call the police. They will soon realise or might have already realised that the flights have been hijacked. They’ll believe me then.”
“Muhammad...”
“Sir. Please.”
Something in my voice compels him. I’m glad it’s Mr Sorenson’s lecture. If it was someone else, I might have had problems convincing them.
He takes out his mobile and dials the number to the local police station.
Initially they dismiss him as a prank caller, but due to his insistence to talk to the chief and his rational style of talking they forward his call. The chief listens to him patiently and politely tells him there’s no such thing.
Mr. Sorenson is relieved. I am not. It’s only a matter of time before it happens. Have I failed already?
“Alright then Muhammad. You need to stop being so paranoid. Back into the class, young man.”
I’m about to dejectedly head back into the class, which has descended into chaos naturally when his phone rings.
It’s the police chief.
They’ve received news of the hijacking.
The planes are heading in the direction of the World Trade Center.
The next hour is a blur.
The police chief has insight to tell the police commissioner about the tip he had received. A special unit picks up Mr Sorenson and me from the school, all the while we are on the phone. At some point, we transition to a phone they give to us and we talk to the Minister of Defence and someone else, who I think is the President.
They decide on firing on all the flights while they’re in air above non-populated areas or at least preferably rural areas.
And they do it.
Just like that I prevent the greatest catastrophic mankind had known in the early 21st century.
Nobody really questions me, on how I knew what I knew. They do not ask me how I know that they definitely intend to hit the World Trade Centre and initially I don’t give it much thought.
But then later, it becomes clear why they didn’t do it.
They arrest my parents. They think my parents were in on the conspiracy, and I overheard them. They think my childish conscience and empathy made me rat out my parents. I try to tell them that’s not the case. Obviously they don’t listen to me. After a while, I stop trying. It’s obvious someone has to take the blame.
They transfer me to a high-end foster home. Some government men come and tell me I need not worry about any kind of money. I don’t really care but I gladly accept. It is what it is. My parents had to pay the price for what those brutes were planning to do. I make my peace with that.
Life is going to be normal.
Or so I think so.
And then they do it again. On 9 November 2001.
9/11/2001.
Guess I can’t really change history. | 2019-08-18T08:19:58 | 2019-08-18T07:11:21 | 2,525 | 125 |
[WP]You've been dating an amazing woman for a year. One day, she gets a call and rushes into the closet. When she comes out, she's weraing white armor, and a matching sword and has wings coming from her back. She says "I have to go, but I'll explain when I get home." Before flying out the door. | I stood there for a while. Then I made a list. I had to make a list.
* Angel.
* Hallucination.
* Virtual Reality.
* Superhero.
* Incredibly elaborate prank.
I kind of ran out of ideas after that last one. I waited, and I waited, and I decided to make dinner. Once dinner was ready, I waited some more. My brain spun up explanations. Aine always seemed very reserved. She didn't like to talk about her family. I knew she was hiding something for months, but I didn't push her on it.
At around midnight, she showed up. She was limping, not wearing the armour anymore. She had her clothes from work, slightly singed, and her hair was a mess. I led her inside.
"Baby, what's happening?"
She moved her mouth a couple of times before speaking. "I... I had to sub in for my dad."
"Wait what?" I asked, serving her some food. She looked at me with so much gratitude, I couldn't stay mad at her for lying. If she was lying. Maybe it was all a hallucination.
"My dad. He's \*Paladin\*. I... well, he was busy. I had to cover for him," she said, in between stuffing her face full of meat.
"Paladin... the superhero?" I asked, thinking about the pleasant, mild-mannered man I had met a few months earlier.
"Yeah."
"...Explains how young he looked--" I started.
"Mary, aren't you mad?"
"Why would I be mad? I--you're going to explain, right?"
"Yeah."
"Then, we're okay," I said.
"Okay. Okay, so... my dad is Paladin. And he was busy fighting against some monster, and... he called me in to help stop a small-time villain from robbing a bank while he was busy."
"Okay," I said, having a hard time processing. "Okay. Cool. So... the wings?"
"They come and go as necessary."
"The armour..."
"Forged by the fae, along with the sword of truth, yeah."
"And... you can do swordfighting?"
"It's complicated," she said, "I can use that sword. It's in my blood. Anthing else, I'd have to practice at, but I took fencing in highschool and I did it pretty well."
I nodded, "so... not an angel."
"No, I'm not a--" she laughed. "What?"
"And not a prank?"
She stood up from the table and hugged me.
"And this isn't a simulation?"
She laughed, but there was a strained quality to it, and a pair of wet drops fell on my back from her chin.
"Sweetheart? Are you crying?"
"I love you so much. You're--you're just..." she pulled away from me and looked at me with wet eyes and a grin on her face. I wasn't sure how to react, but then she made it easier for me.
"Mary Li," she said, in a serious tone of voice, before rummaging in her jacket pocket. Then she knelt and pulled out a little box. "I love you more than anything in the world..."
"Oh my god," I said, staring at her as my heart began pounding in my chest.
"...Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"
I couldn't scream yes loudly enough. "Yes! Yes yes yes! YES!"
She pulled out a small ring, then put it on my finger, and I nearly tackled her in a kiss. She tried to apologize for not telling me, but that was all out of my mind. All I could think about was how there were no more secrets between us, and how much I loved her.
(Note: Story is a prequel to this, told from the wife's point of view this time: [https://www.reddit.com/r/Eager\_Question\_Writes/comments/8qzi2k/wp\_your\_father\_is\_a\_superhero\_he\_never\_aged\_tired/](https://www.reddit.com/r/Eager_Question_Writes/comments/8qzi2k/wp_your_father_is_a_superhero_he_never_aged_tired/)
And also to this: [https://www.reddit.com/r/Eager\_Question\_Writes/comments/991jgr/wp\_a\_super\_villain\_presses\_charges\_against\_the/](https://www.reddit.com/r/Eager_Question_Writes/comments/991jgr/wp_a_super_villain_presses_charges_against_the/) ) | I stood there for what felt like almost an hour, staring out the window Eden just flew out of. My mind was blank, as if all my thoughts were taken away with her, I didn't know what to say, or even how I was supposed to feel about this. The familliar, hated itch returned, causing me to agressively scratch at the back of my neck, finally forcing my body to move again, getting into the living room. My skin still itched, my fingertips stained with faint red where my nails had scratched it open. Taking a deep breath I clenched my hands into fists, trying to hide how they were shaking. A mixture of emotions started to bubble up, one I really didn't want tod eal with right now. I wasn't sure if the bitter feeling of betrayal or cold sense of acceptance was stronger. Without thinking I grabbed a bottle of mead from the cupboard storing the liquoire, downing most of it in one go.
​
When Eden returned home the armor and sword were gone, along with the feathered wings. She looked uneasy as her emerakd eyes scanned over my form, sitting on the ground leaning against the wall in the corner, still holding onto the empty bottle. *"Fae, I...*" her Voice trailed off, and she awkwardly shuffled under my blank gaze. **"Why didn't you tell me?**", I asked, a sharper tone than I intented. Anger and betrayal was a dangerous combination. "**You know what I was when we started this. And still you didn't fucking think about telling me you're one of them?**" Eden lowered her glance almost in shame. *"I was scared, okay? I know you're one of the few that survived the daylight wars, and I know you have all the reasons to hate my ancestors and what they did, but... I-I was afraid you'd push me away the moment you knew*", she managed to get out, hesitantly crouching down in front of me. I felt the ember in my eyes burn, looking away, pressing my lips together.
*"I'm aware that I'm still very young compared to you, Fae. I was lucky enough that I didn't have to participate in the war between our folks. But when I met you that night I didn't see your demonic side. I saw a soul that went through so much torment, enough for more than one lifetime. And yes, I know why my ancestors named you the crimson devil. But those times are long over, Fae. A-and I just thought that if you knew I'm an angel, you'd... leave."*
I took a shaky breath as Edens words ended, pressing my forehead against my knees, feeling my eyes tearing up. And with them memories rose up again as well, of the bloodshed, of the years afterwards, trying to adjust to the fact we were no longer at war. Years spend in isolation, trying to process and cope with all the horrors that came with the violence. The day I met Eden who so easily swept me off my feet and tore down walls around my heart as if they'd never been there. The way she kissed the ugly scars along my back, where my wings used to be, or the sigil branded into my neck, marking me as a creature of the night, damned to live in the shadows. And her absolutely disarming kindness and patience towards me when times were rough.
"**Why?**", I finally spoke up, lifting my head to look at her again. "**Why do you care so much about someone as broken as me?**" Her hands were cool against my heated skin as she cupped my face, her touch light as a feather. "*Because I genuenly believe that every soul deserves salvation. And I believe, out of all people, you deserve forgiveness, and a new beginning. You've met with a terrible and unforgiving fate, and I believe it's time you finally get to forgive yourself and life in peace."*
Eden pulled me into her arms the moment the last straw finally broke, holding me close as I sobbed into her shoulder, unable to respond to the unbreakable ammount of love I recieved from her.
I would have never believed that someone of the same blood as those, who took away everything I had, was the one who gave me everything I needed the most.
| 2018-09-16T15:50:30 | 2018-09-16T12:45:28 | 47 | 26 |
[WP] “…and that class is why Humans are considered the most peaceful species in the universe.” The only three humans in class looked at each other horrified. All the facts about humans that the aliens had were wrong. One student slowly raises their hand. | Kai sat in the large auditorium. The busy bustle and rustle of many students rushing to fill their seats before class began to fill the once vacant hall. This class was unusual. Normally students would simply log in to their schools virtual database to be present. A holographic display of the student would then appear in an unoccupied space.
But then again this was the first ever human studies class. For this reason holoprojection was deemed unsuitable as the course material was considered cutting edge knowledge, fresh and exciting. Only the best of each race were allowed to attend this lecture. Kai by default was chosen as the sole human on campus, for him the class was mandatory.
As the gelatinous ooze shimmied inside the lecture hall with thick gloopy plops and other nauseating sounds, the hall grew silent. The gelatinous ooze didnt speak, but rather projected its thoughts into the mind of the gathered students. A kind of unseen signal which could be rejected by any sentient race. Kai naturally accepted as he knew xenami were incapable of traditional communication.
A slimy twisted voice echoed in his ears "It is believed that humans first achieved interstellar travel around the year 4023 CE of their calendar." ...wrong Kai thought, it was much earlier than that. "Humanity as a species is one best suited to nurturing and mediating disputes" ...wrong again kai sighed internally. "It is believed that due to the fierce nature of the so called mother figures humans speak about, that they are instilled with a sense of cooperation and learn the correct way to navigate complex social interactions." Okay that one was true.
The voice continued in its weird slithery way "when first contact was made with the humans in the 3041679 year of the universal calendar, the Zerm who had first contact were welcomed with banquets and entertainment unseen and unheard of in the rest of the known galaxy. A traditional which has been held to this day, everytime the humans are introduced to a new species." Kai laughed inwardly, thats because we know how gulliable you all are to being buttered up.
"With these previous examples in mind, humanity can be said to be perhaps the most peaceful and accepting of all the known universal specie, despite being a recent addition." Kai was agahst, his face turning paler by the second. No wonder the other races look upon us favorably. They didnt know the truth of humanities history. Nor of the long wars to extinction fought with the ones calling themselves the galaxy federation.
The truth was as clear as day. Humans didnt invent interstellar travel in 4023CE. It was technology forcibly acquired from downing enemy spaceships after the invasion by the federation in 3071. A long bloody war of resistance that united the fractured united nations into what is now know as the human league. During which we reversed engineered all the tech of the invaders, used it to find their home worlds and subsequently slaughtered them down to the last child. Of course no one could record it, because there was no one left and the humans wouldnt openly admit to the genocide of countless galaxies. The part of the universe the Federation once inhabited is still considered uncharted territory.
His hands gripping the platform in front of him tight, his eyes dialated and sweat pouring down his body, Kai struggled to remain conscious through the horrific revelation. A moist sounding tone echoing in his head "Human Kai of Keplar 452, do you need a medical emergency? Your biological scanner shows signs of great distress."
Finally reorienting his rapid thoughts, Kai simply broke an uneasy smile "No Professor Xeani, I think Im okay now, thank you for your concern". The professor nodded or at least gave what could be construed as a nod, if a gelatinous mass of wriggling tentacles tiliting over could be construed that way.
I need to get out of this class somehow! Acting coy is too much for me... but the commander wont like that very much, Kai thought with a frown. I should come up with a plan. | She sat in her chair, quaking in shock. She could not sit there and listen to the professor say that humans when one of the most peaceful peoples in the galaxy. She new different. She new the truth. She had to speak up.
She raised her hand. Professor K'Vorth acknowledge her. "Yes? What is it, Karen?"
Karen slowly stood up, finding her voice, finding her courage. "Yes. Karen. My name is Karen. I carry the name of my ancestor. She was one of the most persecuted and discriminated against in human history. And for you to sit there and say humans were the most peaceful in the galaxy is a great disservice to her and all who died for the cause."
K'Vorth was taken aback. "I am curious about this. What grave injustice has our historians overlooked?"
Karen began walking down to the front of the class, so she could look K'Vorth in the eye and better educate him.
"Centuries ago, my ancestor Karen was at the mighty temple of food, trying to procure enough to feed her family. She took the food to the mighty clerk to tabulate how much the food would cost."
K'Vorth knew where this was going. "Ah, yes. Racial inequality. No doubt you ancestor was an oppressed minority and this clerk threw your grandmother out of the store. We must have overlooked...."
Karen cut him off. "No. It was worse than racial inequality."
K'Vorth was puzzled now. What would be worse than racism?
Karen continued the story of the persecution of her ancestor. "She had with her a talisman. This talisman would grant my ancestor 10 per cent off the cost of the food. But the clerk would not honour this talisman. The clerk claimed that talisman was invalid."
K'Vorth was growing more confused. "Talisman? What you describe sounds like a coupon."
"Yes," Karen said. "Coupon is the ancient term. So you have done some research." Karen added a hint of sarcasm to the word "research."
K'Vorth rubbed his temple in frustration. "Let me get this straight. Your ancestor went to this temple of food...."
"The Kost-Ko," interject Karen.
"Your ancestor went to Costco, and they wouldn't take her coupon."
The other two humans hid their faces in their hands. Karen saw it as validation, that they too were embarrassed at the persecution that her ancestor had faced.
"Only by invoking the Words of Power, a veritable killing curse, was my ancestor able to finally purchase her food and feed her family. Those Words have been passed down in family. They are words so powerful, I dare not speak them."
Professor K'Vorth was just beside himself. "Look, Karen. Being denied the use of a coupon is hardly the injustice you think it is."
Karen could feel anger rising in her throat. "That clerk tried to starve out my family!"
"Karen, I'm sure your ancestors still had more then enough to purchase food. It was only 10 per cent."
"But it is the principle of the matter! If the words on the talisman bear no meaning to those in power, then they just may as readily disregard the Constitution, or the Galactic Charter!"
K'Vorth had let this go on long enough. "Karen, please return to your seat."
Karen felt she had no other choice. She had to do it. She had to utter the Words of Power. It would be the only way for K'Vorth to see reason.
Karen looked Professor K'Vorth square in the eye. She stood up straight and tall. She didn't want to do this, but it had to be done.
She uttered the Words of Power. "Let me speak to your manager."
K'Vorth just sighed. | 2022-10-17T07:12:12 | 2022-10-17T05:22:08 | 117 | 74 |
[WP] As you wake up on Earth from your cryo-sleep pod after 80 years from a research trip to the stars, you are greeted with trumpets and banners. Turns out, the micronation you brought the title of the highest noble from when you were drunk has taken over the world when you were away. | I saw an ad on Reddit. A confusing backstory, I know. What they were looking for were middle-aged individuals with no ties to this Earth for a special research project up in Space.
If you survive, they state, we will compensate you generously.
It wasn't really for the money. I did it to see id I qualified, and if I could finally leave this place. I didn't want to die, you see. I wanted him to die, but I didn't want to die myself. I liked living, and if I could somehow live longer than that asshole-- it would be fitting in a convoluted sort of way.
So I applied. I got in. I went to sleep.
I woke up 80 years later to my most bizarre experience to date.
The cryogenic chamber was a suave color set of white, silver, and black. It was a tube, really, and the second coldest thing I've ever touched.
What should have greeted me were scientists. Instead, line after line of people dressed in oddly familiar clothes waved banners and played trumpets in front of me.
A man walked out from the crowd and knelt on the floor, his cape behind him fluttering in the wind. "Your Majesty, welcome home."
"I'm sorry?" I said. "I think you have the wrong person."
He raised a single eyebrow and chuckled. He whipped out a yellowed piece of paper and read aloud. "Darcy Marie Jones, former actress, hereby signs away half her assets to the Kingdom of Theodyne."
I remembered. The drunk-filled rage, the disappointment, the dirty, sticky hands, the blood, the tears, and my eventual descent into a scandalized has-been.
My mouth was dry. "That was to get rid of his money."
"That may be so, my Queen. However, we Theordans never forget our promises. Furthermore," he gestured at someone else in the crowd. "Without you we wouldn't be able to take over the world."
"Excuse me?"
"Yes, you are now the Queen of the world, Your Majesty. You can do whatever you will."
I looked at the man in front of me, and extended my gaze to those behind him. They looked almost in awe as they stared at me. I didn't know where this was going, but I felt it. I felt my redemption.
Mason Braddock, I will have you regret within your grave. | Life is... Boring.
It's true! You are born to die without a single say on the matter! How convenient would it be if I was born just a couple more decades into the future?
It was a question without answer but that only made the answer worth searching for, I took to the stars. the origin of all things would surely have an answer, right?
"""Welcome Duke Cryo!!!""" Shouted small voices with great fanfare followed by the bleating sound of trumpets.
"It's Krier, no wait- What the hell is going on here?" I had just exited cryo sleep following decades of stranded space faring. My research team had slowly dwindled in numbers until only I and a couple of others were left.
Supplies were low, we wouldn't all make it. They- They chose to save me. A decision I would never understand.
"""Cryoer!""" They yelled in unison causing me to squint.
"I- nevermind..." Correcting them further seemed pointless. More importantly, I was still overwhelmed by curiosity. Perhaps noticing this, one began to speak.
"Your lordship helped fund our race many decades ago! We are grateful and welcome you with open arms" One of them said reminding me of something, a micronation.
I remember buying something of the sort in between some drinks. I guess I didn't expect them to be real nevermind so tiny...
That was right, I am a giant among these tiny people with their cute trumpets and high pitched cheers.
They have quaint futuristic cities filled with small flying cars. Apart from the royal welcome, every inhabitant of this small race was busy with their day to day life.
"Please let us take you to your abode" One of the small aliens said snapping my gaze back onto who seemed to be the leader. He was motioning for me to get in a vehicle.
"I think that'll be a bit difficult" I said with a sigh. How could these smart little creatures not realize my much larger size?
Welp, one thing was for sure, buying things while drunk is always a wise decision. | 2020-11-04T07:25:00 | 2020-11-04T06:52:44 | 316 | 56 |
[WP] The instant the Dark Lord hears the prophecy about one destined to defeat him, he scoffs and notes "Standard self-fulfilling hero prophecy." before ordering his minions to go to the hero's hometown and build a bunch of public works projects, the most important of which is a school. | “Seer Griselda, please repeat that.”
Moran Ossenius, the necromancer of Yorm Urtush, tapped his fingers against his desk. The wizened old woman leaned back in her chair with her eyes closed in a trance.
“It is as I said, my Lord,” she droned. “The Hero of Light has been born. She will one day bring about your death. There will be many forces seeking to seize her power for their own. As your advisor, I suggest taking the power for yourself. Perhaps if you train her from a young age, you can avoid your fate.”
Moran sighed.
“What of her parents?”
“An orphan would know nothing of her hometown,” Griselda replied shrewdly.
He could only shake his head at that suggestion.
“That sounds like a good way to push this prophecy to completion,” he said.
“Many other forces will not be as hesitant as you, my Lord,” Griselda replied. “I am but one seer. The Hero’s birth will be seen by many more.”
As the components of her ritual burned away, Moran sat thinking.
“Then, we’ll just have to protect that town while training her, won’t we?” He said as a smile crept to his lips.
“My Lord?” Griselda asked.
That meeting would mark the conception of the Ornberg Magical Academy. Moran created the school under the disguise of a wealthy mage wanting to make use of the open fields. Over the next twenty years, he helped Ornberg grow. That little farming village transformed into a respectable trading town known to all. And when the hero, Reina Solana, displayed the magical affinity common in heroes, he was there. She joined the academy shortly thereafter.
And now…
“Headmaster…”
Tears streamed down Reina’s face. Her conjured blade trembled as she held it before her. Despite her hesitation, her training had kept her in the fight. Though neither of them had wanted to fight, she had to win.
“That was a good hit,” Moran panted. “You’ve improved greatly since you started here.”
“I… I’m sorry,” Reina repeated.
Moran let out a sigh, wincing as his side spasmed when he exhaled.
“It was that auditor, wasn’t it?” He asked. “I saw him poking around the school. Never guessed they were trying to detect my energy. Thought the kingdom was just being nosy.”
“Headmaster, I – ”
“Who did they take?” He asked.
Reina was quiet for a while.
“Cissy,” she said. “And Reginald and his family.”
“I do hope they’re more careful about who they trust in the future,” he said.
Reina did not reply, but her tears continued to flow.
“Come on, Reina,” he said. “Is that any look for a hero? You’re destined to bring this country into a brighter future, you know?”
She shook her head.
“I… I don’t want…”
Her blade nearly dropped.
“Would it help if I attacked you?” Moran asked as he raised a hand.
Her eyes widened in surprise and she tensed. He chuckled at the reaction. His hand fell. He had already expended his mana with flashy spells and threatening explosions. After all, her victory had to be hard-fought.
“Reina, let me give you one final lesson,” he said. “Prophecies are strange beasts. Try to fight them, and you often wind up fulfilling them.”
He coughed and grimaced at the metallic taste of blood.
“Old Griselda, she predicted my death almost twenty years ago. Instead of trying to fight it, I asked myself ‘How can I turn it to my advantage?’.”
Reina seemed a bit confused by this.
“It was out of selfishness that I helped your town grow. I hoped to educate the people so they could protect you and your family. Even with its prosperity, you saw how the kingdom treated those in its territories. But prophecies are strange, and I was still unable to save your parents.”
“What?” Her voice was small.
“So, I continued to run this school. They’ll no doubt destroy this place after I’m gone, but I’ve already succeeded. I was able to give you an education free from the kingdom’s propaganda. You and your friends will be the final graduating class of this little academy.”
That reminder only caused her to sniffle.
“You’ll become a symbol, Reina,” Moran said. “Let them think you belong to them. Then, when the time is right, expose their evils to the world.”
The trembling in her hands had stopped now.
“I am but a milestone in your journey to save this world. So come, Hero of Light. Use me to appease the kingdom and save your friends.”
A wretched scream erupted from Reina’s mouth as she charged forward. Moran could not dodge even if he wanted to. His body was already too heavy to move. Reina’s blade pierced his chest, but it did not hurt. He coughed slightly at the impact and watched as the rest of his blood spilled onto the stone floor.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed as she fell to her knees.
Moran took one last breath and mustered his remaining strength.
“Wipe away the tears, Reina. I’m proud of you.”
And his eyes drifted shut.
...
Hope you liked the twist in the prophecy.
If you're interested in my works, an archive of my various writing responses can be found [here](https://cuckoosneststories.wordpress.com/).
Thanks for reading. | *The Dark Lord stood over the hero, his black armor pulling in the dying light of the fading sun.*
*“You thought you could defeat me,” the Dark Lord said, his laughter peeled across the ruined landscape.*
*The hero tried to get up one last time, his jeweled claymore hanging heavy in his hand, but the Dark Lord kicked him down again with his plated boots, stepped down on the hero’s sword hand with a crunch, then pointed Black Star, the Dark Lord’s great mace at the hero. “The Chosen One, huh. So, you are the one they have made all the fuss about. Pity,” the Dark Lord said, “I thought you would be more of a challenge.”*
*The hero touched the magic stone on his necklace and summoned all his strength. He would not let everyone down. Not after all he’d been through. And the Hero screamed out, sweeping with his legs, catching the Dark Lord by the back of the knee and dropping him in a clanking of metal.*
*The hero crawled to his feet and reached for his claymore. “It is my destiny,” the hero roared and—*
“James!” someone shouted, and I bolted up and back, my chair sliding across the tile.
The room filled with the laughter of the other boys and girls as I blinked and looked around, orienting myself back to Ms. Rutherford and her lecture on ecology. The other students were staring at me. Becky looked at me with a sort of embarrassed sadness, Ricky—in the far back of the room—had a malignant grin stretched across his freckled face.
Ms. Rutherford was looming over me and she reached out with a chalk-dusted hand and grabbed the papers I had been writing my story on about the hero and the Dark Lord. She stood there a long time, and it seemed she was going to lecture me, or scold me, but then she changed her mind and turned back towards the chalkboard with my precious story still in hand.
“See me after class, James.”
I didn’t respond.
After everyone left class and—since it was the last class of the day—headed home, I stepped up to Ms. Rutherford’s desk. She was leaning forward, reading a piece of paper and didn’t, or at least acted like she didn’t, notice that I was standing there waiting patiently for her to acknowledge me.
Finally, she looked up, as thought she was surprised to see me.
“More of this?” she said and lifted the paper into the air, and I realized it was my writing she had been reading. She sighed. “James, why are you so fascinated with this local legend?”
“It’s not a legend,” I said. “It’s true.”
Immediately, I regretted disagreeing with her. I was tired and I wanted to get home and finish the story. The Dark Lord would be defeated, and my pen would make it true.
“If you were caught writing this?” She said and let the implication of the question hang in the air.
I nodded defiantly as though I wasn’t scared of what would happen. Azazel could send me to prison for life, but it wouldn’t change the fact that the prophecy would be fulfilled someday. If it wasn’t true, why had Azazel, a "great" and mighty lord, spent so much care on our little town? Why had he installed the Legions regional headquarters right outside of our little town? Why did we have more guards walking the streets. Why was their mysterious signs offering rewards for those who could give information that was deemed vital to the state’s national security?
No, the prophecy would be fulfilled by someone here. My father told me about it all at night, after he had drunk from the bottom half of the bottle of wine he had opened. My father was a recluse and seen by the village as a mysterious figure because of his magic—or what seemed to be magic—ability to find huge patches of the Hilal mushrooms deep within the Evernight forest that bordered our town. The Hilal mushroom was one of our town’s main exports to the capital where they used it in potions and powder for the imperial war of expansion along the south borders.
“James?” Ms. Rutherford said. “No more of this, okay? It’s dangerous. You’re just a kid and you don’t understand what can happen.” She crumpled the papers into a ball and threw them in her waist basket. “Get home safe,” she said and then grabbed a stack of papers to grade.
I turned and walked out of the class and towards my home. I stepped into the courtyard of our school and stared up at the statue of Azazel. Recently built, the statue rose as a colossal into the evening sky, the king (or the Dark Lord as my father called him) was in his ceremonial black plated armor, his great morning star pointing towards our school as though warning us.
I stared up at him and touched the necklace hanging under my shirt.
“It is my destiny!” I shouted and ran to the feet of the statue as though I was carrying out a valiant charge. The statue stared past me indifferently and I pulled my backpack tight and began the long walk home to my father who was surely drying mushrooms from his long trip out in the Evernight forest. | 2021-01-14T21:08:56 | 2021-01-14T18:51:30 | 420 | 166 |
[WP] Every way to die works like Chicken Pox: If you get it once and survive, it can never happen to you again. | I haven't figured out how to survive dying from pressure yet.
---
When I was sixteen I drowned. Quietly, the way kids in pools sometimes do- passive, not active drowning. The world closed over me and my lungs filled up and then I died.
When I opened my eyes my chest hurt *horribly*, because someone was shoving it repeatedly. It was the lifeguard, who had been making out with his girlfriend but happened to glance back at the pool.
My mouth burned with bile. My head spun.
But I never drowned again.
---
I'm still not the best swimmer. Oh, I'm definitely good. You can't spend hours and hour and hours doing something and not, eventually, be good at it. But I'm not fast and my form isn't great, and it doesn't matter.
I can swim for hours. And then, when I'm tired out, in the middle of the Pacific, I stop swimming. Eventually I swallow enough water to start sinking. The world closes over me. I like it.
---
I must, at some point, have died of both salt poisoning and hypothermia. I've been rescued a lot of times from the sea, at some point I must have actually died, before the captain poured fresh water down my throat or slowly warmed me by a heater. I've never really checked, though.
---
It didn't start with oceans, of course. There's a lot to see, at the bottom of lakes, if you have the time to take your time. People don't usually bother, who is going to pay for the diving equipment? But I liked to sit at the bottom of Lake Michigan and watch the fish. Not so many live at the bottom.
I could sit there for days, actually. I once had a fish start living under my knee.
(I guess at some point I may have died of starvation)
---
What I want to do is see the Mariana trench with my own eyes. Without the pressure slouching off my skin and squeezing my brain into a walnut. Without dying.
I think it will be perfectly dark there. I think it will sound like the ocean, distilled, like the purest form of waterness you could find.
I'll keep diving and dying and maybe one day I'll get there. | When I was ten, chicken pox had been the worst thing to happen to me. I thought I was going to die. Ha! If only I had known. It's been 113 years now and I'm still going. Some call me a zombie, some call me an angel, churches love to brand me a devil. ...but hey, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, at least in my case. Now I'm no super hero, just some unlucky smuck who can't seem to keep himself out of harms way.
I first noticed something wasn't right when I was working as a fireman. The building I was in partially collapsed trapping me. At first the heat was so intense, I cried out in agony. Once the fire reached me though...I don't know, I thought maybe I was hallucinating, but I found my extinguisher and was able to dose the fore along enough to free myself.
Still trapped in the house, I suddenly noticed it wasn't so hot anymore. I no longer felt in pain from the heat. That's when I realized, my body became immune to fire. When I walked out of the building, fire clinging to what was left of my suit, they thought it was straight out of a movie.
I went on to become the cities own little superhero...as long as I survived any danger I ran into. I began doing my own experiments just to strengthen by new found abilities. Guns, knives, poisen, as long as it didn't kill me, I became immune to its negative effects. Sure the scars stayed behind from the first time, but none the less, untouchable any other scenario.
So why now you ask, why am I writing this letter to you all. I've been on this earth and survived it all, so why now. Well my kids, there are just some things no man is meant to survive...eventually someone will find a way and I wanted you all to know my true story...what doesn't kill you... | 2015-11-12T10:39:36 | 2015-11-12T09:47:00 | 224 | 129 |
[WP] You carry a tray of food and drink out to the stone altar on your front lawn. On your way, you wave to neighbors busily arranging their own offerings. Just another Friday night. Suddenly, you realize the house across the street is dark; table still empty. Panic sets in as the sun begins to set. | *Oh no, that's the Palmers' house! Joe was a bit sick this morning but he said he'd be fine for tonight!*
I nearly dropped the offerings I carried, the pork chops and milk sliding side to side dangerously. I calmed down as best as I could, gently placing the tray where it belonged. Looking over it one last time to make sure everything was fine, I immediately turned and dashed back into my house.
"Wendy! Where are you?"
"I'm in the living room, stop shouting you'll wake the kids.", my wife replied, walking over from where she was reading a book on the couch.
"Do we have enough for another offering?", I asked, praying that we did.
"What kind of question is that? You know we can barely afford to put out the weekly requirement as is. Why do you ask?"
"I looked across at the Palmers' house, and Joe hasn't put his out yet. If there's nothing there by the time they come then-"
I was interrupted by a chorus of shrill howls, that echoed through the neighborhood. Wendy instantly reached over and slammed the door shut behind me. Across the street doors and shutters still left open were hastily closed, everyone retreating behind the the perceived safety of their homes, behind the actual safety of the altars. My heart dropped when I peeked through the blinds and saw that Joe's altar still remained empty. The tray I laid out moments earlier was lifted into the air by an unseen force, slamming back down with a thunderous crash, devoid of what it carried. I jumped when the ones who emptied it rushed past, hardly a shadowy blur in the waning light. Throughout the neighborhood the scene repeated itself, the uninvited guests flying off content with the offerings. At one house near the end of the block however, there were more howls, more numerous and with greater intensity than the ones earlier.
"No! Please it was all we could get!"
Henry Dawson and his wife Cathy were dragged kicking and screaming from their home, causing me to advert my gaze as their screams of protest turned into ones of pain, before silencing in a gurgles.
"They put out beans and water, poor fools didn't have a chance."
My attention returned to the house before me, where they gathered around the empty altar. The settling darkness was pierced by dozens of pairs of eyes, glowing red from the corners of the yard they hid in. Finally the door swung open, and Joe Palmer walked outside with his shotgun.
"I've had enough of you bastards.", he coughed out, struggling to breathe through the flu that weakened his body.
"I ain't gonna be your damn meal ticket anymore, and if I'm going down I'm taking a few of you with me.", Joe declared, firing his weapon at the closest set of eyes. The one he shot vanished, however the others around him reached out, materializing shadows to claw and grab at him. Joe fired wildly before him, however his gun soon clicked empty, and it clattered to the ground as its owner was pulled away.
The night became silent after they left, however my ears were filled with the sound of my heart pounding. Joe fought back. It wasn't very effective and they still got him in the end, but he lived up to his words and killed one before they did. I've been trapped in this seemingly endless cycle of fear for as long as I could remember, for the first time the dangerous ember of hope glimmered in my thoughts. While others walked out and collected their trays and cutlery, I walked across the street as if in a trance. I knelt down, and with a shaking arm picked up the gun. | “Oh my God, the Johnsons are gone.”
Everything was still in place, just as it had been earlier that day. Charming hand-made mailbox, a couple spring decorations, and a perfectly trimmed lawn. But the sweet old couple, who always dropped off pies on their neighbors' birthdays, was nowhere to be seen.
Kelly turned to me, clasping her hands together in a feeble attempt to keep them from quivering. “What do we do, Matt? Oh God, Oh God…”
I grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to look at me. “*We* have nothing to worry about. What happens to the neighbors is none of our concern.”
“Are you kidding me? Joey told me no one's been taken from this town in, like, ten years! It’s very much our concern.”
“All we can do is wait.”
There was a decidedly grim overtone to the offering procession this evening – the smiles and waves to our neighbors rang more false than usual. Mr. Chamberlain arranged a few extra candles, and the Chavez family broke out the fine china.
The sky darkened and an enormous, looming black cloud blotted out what little sunlight still remained.
“**Hmmmm! What to sample first?**” The voice rumbled through the neighborhood, shaking telephone poles and scaring off sparrows. The cloud hovered over to Mr. Chamberlain’s house and paused over his stone table. A giant hand emerged from it and grabbed all of the food in one swipe.
“**Mmm. Excellent, rich blend of spices...letting it soak for a bit was clearly a good move. Do I detect a bit of orange zest in the chicken saltimbocca? Very nice, Chamberlain, very nice.**”
The cloud moved towards The Chavez household and scooped up the family offering. “**Wow. This is new for you. Bit of a risk going with the gianduja mousse but I’d say it paid off. Go a little easier on the white chocolate morsels next time, though.**” A hand emerged from the cloud again and patted little Jimmy on the back.
Kelly and I were next. “**Ah, Kelly and Matt. The charming newlyweds. I never asked -- how are you liking the suburbs? Bit of a change from Manhattan, eh?**”
“Much more affordable, though,” Kelly said with a nervous chuckle.
“**Ain’t that the truth. Let’s see what you got.**” The hand scooped up our meatloaf, labored over for hours and redone after the first batch was burned. The beast chewed slowly and methodically before swallowing loudly. “**OK, I’m gonna give you a pass because I like you. But this was pretty mediocre. Waaayyyyy too much sugar in the sauce and the meat was damn tough. Try again next week, m’kay? Hugs and kisses.**”
The cloud made its way to a few more tables, and then let out an earth-rumbling belch. Before it left, it swooped back over to the Johnsons’ house. The hand emerged one last time and carved something into their stone table with its claw:
*IN MEMORY OF MR. AND MRS. JOHNSON, WHO FORGOT TO MAKE THE PIE LAST WEEK.*
***
/r/GigaWrites
| 2016-10-03T10:35:33 | 2016-10-03T10:30:50 | 125 | 43 |
[WP] Scientists have created an "opposite machine" that can create an opposite to any item that you put inside. After trying just a few items you begin to realize just how much power this machine has. | In this glorious, incomprehensible future of ours, The Machine is the final contradiction made real: the servant that is supreme, the god that is a slave. Poison is antidote. Disease is cure. Shit is food. The Machine blesses, but judges not. Humanity polices itself. As the old joke goes, all the politicians and priests were shoved into a Machine. Somehow, we have responsible governance.
Matter is energy, or antimatter, as you like. An object at rest is an object in motion; that's just one more kind of 'opposite.' All you have to do is change the handy, multi-coded setting on the side of the box and voila: humanity is interstellar. Colonies turn into cities turn into planetary megalopoleis as fast as humans can reproduce to fill them. The Machine could help with that, too, of course, but a funny thing happened on the way to heaven: humanity found its chill. It has the time, and knows it does. What is the opposite of entropy? What is the opposite of heartbreak, and sorrow, and loss?
Just check the code. Seriously, it's the most important thing you'll ever learn. If you're not excited about learning it, we can always just stick you in a Machine. If there's a version of you that doesn't know the code, then there's an 'opposite' version that does.
Once upon a time, in a universe fairly similar to ours, someone created the Machine. Life was terrible, and continued to be terrible, because while their Machine *could* have changed their nature, their nature would not allow it. And so then one day, some rebel or madman or irresponsible git did what any unstable, unsatisified product of a terrible universe would do. Well, one of two things, anyway. Either they created a perfect vacuum inside a Machine and turned it on, or they just plumb left the door open and hooked it up to the grid.
In a phrase, they let there be light - our light. Hell created Heaven; hate created love. Our god was misery writ large upon an entire universe, doomed never to experience Its glorious creation. Our history is a record of causes and effects birthed in an instant, a B-series foundation and edifice in which we live and thrive, utterly unbothered by the Last Thursdayism of it all. That's why the joke about the politicians and priests is just that: a joke. It was a collection of causes and effects that none of us ever experienced. It happened before Last Thursday, which means it never really happened at all.
Most of us believe this, but of course we do not dwell. Life is good. The Machine is the perfect slave, we are deserving masters, and none of that is an accident.
Quite the opposite, surely. | It just sat there, sitting, abandoned after all the scientists that invented it killed themselves after realizing the power they had. I thought it was a myth, a story made up by Hollywood or some other shit but, here it is.... Right infront of me.
I started putting random stuff in it like a pencil, gave me an eraser, A wheel to a square made of metal instead of the plastic the wheel was made of, gave it a bottle of water and it gave me...... What the fuck.....
It's like uhh... It's still going.... It's a metal thing that is.. Doing the opposite of holding water, and it's still going... Huh alright then what happens if I OH SHI-
I accidentally put my hand in it now its an abomination of metal that rejects anything that I try to hold with it the total opposite of a hand.
At this point curiosity got the better of me and I just started throwing random shit in there, bleach, plastic, a pen... Again?, an S hook, a plate, and a shoe
S hook turned into a plastic straight line that you literally cannot use to hold anything up with
Plate turned into a and upside down bowl with a pointy top to prevent any food from getting on it.
And the shoe just turned into gloves that aren't... Hollow.
I recommend that no more further experiments me used on it especially with living beings.
Then as if God decided to make an ironic joke a mouse landed in the machine and it turned itself on.
What came out was a mechanical.... Thing that... Repels disease and is a lot bigger than normal I thought of just turning it on while it was empty and see what it does to the oxygen still inside and then I found a note on the ground
"SCP-████ 'Opposite machine'
Clearance level: 5
Containment class: Keter
Secondary class: Azathoth
Disruption class: Ekhi
Risk class: Danger
Special containment procedures: SCP-████ is to be ██████ ██████ ██████ ██████ Destroyed immediately further experimentation could lead to severe consequences."
I didn't even bother skimmed over the rest to see the experiments.
"SCP-████ was used on a D class previously a security guard who was demoted for being too kind and not being able to bring himself to kill another human being when asked.
Results: D class became a metallic creature of at least ██ feet tall.
126 foundation staff were killed
End of report" | 2021-11-27T22:04:32 | 2021-11-27T21:20:11 | 351 | 62 |
[WP] You have been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. Your turn approaches. | There was a small group of us, huddled in the back. We had long ago stopped carrying why we were being sentenced to death. They seemed to be processing us in batches. The men who rebelled against former Chancellor Armenta were being cleared out before us.
We had been watching in dismay as the deaths were carried out. Each one giving us new ideas, or at the least, methods to avoid. There was only so many they could process at a time and someone had pointed out that certain ones seemed more magically draining on the system.
It seemed to be proven true as they looked particularly wiped after that death. It was still mid morning, and I turned and looked at the rest of the women I was with, nodded once, took a deep breath, and then volunteered to go first. Some of those women seemed nice, none seemed to be deserving of death by any of my measures, so I decided to buy them time, if I could.
It sounds noble, but I don't have a great life. I approached the stand, and looked up at the new high Chancellor. All the judges and executioners wore odd robes and masks. There was no continuity in style. The man I was looking at was wearing robes of red and white and an elaborate dragon mask.
"I choose the following death," I said smiling, "I will die giving birth to your twin heirs. Who will be so distraught at their mother's death that they'll avenge me and destroy you."
A quiet hush went, and then a soft pop. The magic began moving through my body. I felt the most intense cramping, a shudder and stifled moan passed through the chancellor's body. After a brief moment, I began to expand rapidly. The pain, discomfort and nausea overwhelmed me. It was a horrible way to die, but I felt vindicated when the birth of the first child was announced, a girl...the second is coming. | I'm waiting to die, everyone here is. I have seen a lot of people trying to fool the court, the last one requesting to die of old age, but all of them fail. At this point everyone has lost their hopes, there is no way of avoiding dead.
It's my turn and I go in front of that horrible people, happy witnesses of the magical demise that awaits me. A voice, one that seems to be coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time, ask me how this magic room shall kill me. The voice says that the room will do exactly what I tell it with the only condition of choosing some way to die.
There is a countdown of one and a half minutes and I just don't know what to do, it seems to be impossible to avoid it. Well, I think, if I must die, I want to see them suffering.
"I request to die slowly while they die from what they would choose in my situation."
Those faces, full of horror while the voice ask them and the doors are shut is the only thing I needed to rest in peace. They try to avoid it, but it's inevitable. I died fast, they all tried to continue living and failed, but at least I could see part of those "high people" that made this happen diying. It's not the best, but it's the best anecdote I have from when I lived. Now, I only must see the concequences of my actions as part of the room punishment, but I'll watch and enjoy every second of it. | 2021-06-24T09:16:51 | 2021-06-24T04:31:51 | 25 | 17 |
[WP] Everyone has a number on their chest showing how many people they will kill in the next month. Yours just changed from 1 to 3 million. | The first thing I did was count them. One, two, three... six. Six zeros. Each one stamped proudly across my chest, starting with a three. Three million? How could this happen?
The number was just a one last night, I remembered seeing it right before bed. It had been that way for two weeks. Even though the number says you killed them, it is more often than not an indirect kill. Cutting someone off in traffic and forcing them to careen off the road, for example. That, and given the job I have, I honestly wasn't too surprised or worried. But now... this changes things.
I slip into the bedroom and change into my suit for work. My wife, bless her heart, is in bed reading. Work had been piling up more than ever, even with the end almost in sight, so it relieved me to see her looking even remotely comfortable. Her hair, originally pure black, had recently started to grey in the roots. I tried not to pick on her for it. I had no room to talk, anyway.
I tried to pretend like everything was normal, but one glance at me and she could tell something was wrong.
"Honey, what's wrong? You look upset. Did I use up all the hot water again?"
For a moment, I imagined telling her. But I stopped myself. There's no point in making her worry; nobody has ever had their mark be incorrect. Ever. Any time in the next three months, three million people would die. And it would be my fault.
"It's nothing, just work," I say simply. She gave me an understanding nod and went back to her book. That was one nice thing about this job: it got her off my case almost every time.
I checked my knot in the mirror and tried to convince myself that nobody could see the three million stamped on my chest underneath my suit. To me, it felt like the numbers were glowing. I left the bedroom and right away, my work day began.
"Morning, Mr. President," said one of my Secret Service agents stationed outside the door. I gave him a curt nod, and he followed me on my way. | I look at the mirror above the sink, I look really tired, splash my some cold water. I look at the number in my chest and a sudden burst of joy feels my being, and face is over taken by grin, all that tiredness and gloom has just disappeared. All those zero make me realize I still have a lot of work to do, I am so closed to my goal. To be eternally remembered, as on who instigated the war between biods and humanoids, the bastards even took our name.
I began to shave as a look myself in the mirror once, in the right corner is my weather report with a date Feb 3rd 2067, it is been such a long time since I had a bath, treated myself properly. I look to right towards a dark poorly lit room, tied to the radiator is a partial remain of a humanoid. I took my time with it, and I pleased to say that it was a joyous experience. Its name was Ainya, Model Evo 4 class B, Bio-synthetic model each with unique face and voice, if I hadnt skinned it, it could had me believe that it is a human too, but I am little to smart for it. Ainya works in nano-medical industry, 4 days ago while returning from working, I electrocuted it and bought it here. With the information obtained I can built a self replicating nano-machine which would eat the core systems of all humanoids.
I have faint memories of childhood playing with my dog and being happy, I also remember the AI wars, in which they won, and all human who choose/ couldnt evolve through enhancement where left behind, But it matters not now, I have all the information I need from Ainya, it is only a matter of time.
will write more definitely, just a lil artist block | 2016-06-24T03:35:52 | 2016-06-23T23:42:35 | 461 | 13 |
[WP] Prisoners can ask for anything for their last meal. The catch is, if it can't be provided to them, they get set free. They've asked for many things : alien egg omelette, dragon steak, the flesh of Jesus Christ, etc. The execution streak remained unbroken for decades, until today. | *They're actually really nice once it comes time to kill you here.*
This was my fleeting thought as I combed my hair in the giant floor length mirror I was finally permitted. They bent over backwards for the last day. Even let a professional make up team come to paint my face. The man who collected my requests didn't understand, but he was happy to assist. A white silk gown with a gold belt and tassels were easy to procure. Finding a dress with pockets delayed them a week or two, but in the end, they were pleased to get it to me. The warden even laughed in my face.
"You thought you had us. You thought the pocket dress would be impossible!" He had taunted. "But we have found more obscure things before."
"Have you?" I adjusted my hat, placing it at a jaunty angle. A public execution gave me an audience. I wanted to look my best. "I'm sure you're very proud of yourself. It can't be easy getting glass slippers and dragon hide gloves."
The wardens sneer vanished for a moment but before he could say anything, the chef stormed in.
"You sick, twisted freak. How could you?" He demanded. The warden swiveled. "How dare you? You can't have that. Pick something else."
"No. My last meal is my right."
The warden turned on the chef. "Whatever she wants, she gets. It doesn't matter-just get it."
"Sir- I can't. *We* can't" the chef looked at the warden with desperate, pleading eyes. "Please, don't do this."
The warden took the note with my request. "Apples? I done apples? Surely you could fond them?" The warden reached into the chefs bag and plucked out the requested food stuff, a bright golden apple. I smiled and took it from him. "You know, in ancient Greece, you and I would be married for this"
I winked and took a bite even as the chef lunged to take the apple back. "No! No. No. No! What have you done?" He demanded of the warden.
"I done apple. What's wrong with an I done apple?" The warden shrugged and smirked at me. "Enjoy while it lasts."
I took another big bite as the chef dropped to his knees. "Not I done. Idun.. an apple of Idun. We looked into it sir... the apples are from the Norse Goddess of youth. The apples grant immortality"
I watched in enjoyment as the warden put the pieces together. "You mean she- She-"
"That's right." I grinned and polished off the apple. "Kill me all you want, I'll never die."
I strolled out to meet the executioner, even as I felt unending life surge through my body. After all, I had an audience. | The dark, cold cell is lighting up as the guard opens the small window.
-So what would you like to have as your last meal?
-I would like to have my mother's chicken soup, made from the chicken I raised myself since it was only an egg.
-You guys are awesome. Never cease to amaze me. I will get back to you on that.
I can't wait to be set free. Six more months and I will see the sun again. I wonder what the world looks like now. It's been what? 25 years now. I wonder if anyone I know is still alive.
The guard opens the tiny window again.
-Nice one. Your mother died during childbirth. And she never cooked the chicken you raised.
-Yes but I would still like that as my last meal.
-The judge would like to see you tomorrow morning.
The tiny window closed with a noise.
What will I do once I walk out of this cell? I think I will go and build a cabin in the woods. Are there any woods anymore? I hope there are. I will build my pretty cabin and grow old there.
I will have a cold river flowing close to it and a small vegetable garden right next to it. Maybe I will take a stray dog with me. We can be strays together there.
-The judge is ready to see you. says the guard
I get up and put my hands out through the tiny window. Once I am cuffed the door opens and I walk out.
The light hurts my eyes so much. I can feel my skin coming to life as it is touched by the light. It feels like a sip of cold water in the desert.
I walk through the long corridors barely seeing anything. My eyes are not used to light anymore. The guard's strong hand guides me until we finally arrive at the judge's door. He opens it and pushes me forward.
-Who would have thought that the first inmate to get free on this absurd rule will ask for a chicken soup! The judge was smiling.
-We had dragon steak and served chicken breast as they are technically dragons! But no, you asked for a particular cicken that drowned in the river and a dead mother! The judge continued.
I sit there silent not knowing what to say.
-You, sir, are free. Congratulations.
-Thank you.
-I hope to never see you again, now get out.
As I walk out of the prison, the smell of burning asphalt floods my nose. The loud traffic sounds hurt my ears. I check my surroundings for a tree. The trees are gone.
A skinny stray dog walks towards me.
-Lets go buddy, maybe there is a forest for us somewhere. | 2022-07-17T22:09:37 | 2022-07-17T19:59:11 | 34 | 15 |
[WP] Humans are the first sentients, putting us millenia ahead of aliens. Instead of acting like an "elder" species should, we create mysterious artifacts with no actual use, crop cicles and send spooky messages, like "be quiet, you are in danger" to the aliens, because we are still childish morons. | They say that with great power comes great responsibility. They say it an awful lot.
It seems they do not hold themselves to the same maxim.
They are perpetual children, born of a hellish world. They are tall and wiry and somehow far more resilient than their spindly limbs and narrow frames suggest. They eat poison and drink acid, delight in danger and chaos, and find it utterly hilarious to play elaborate practical jokes.
They made there presence known to us by broadcasting three signals at us at once. The first was easy, a simple binary replacement that, when decoded turned out to be a book. The second used the book as one piece in a three part decryption key, to reveal a set of spatial co-ordinates corisponding to a spot on our nearest moon and a timestamp. Traveling to that point at the specified time got us blueprints and codes for a machine that could translate the third signal...
The third signal which, by this point, had been being broadcast at our world for 2 whole years...
It was a looped audio recording of a long and reverberating bout of flatulence. | I've seen it. I know it's there. The messages, unending stream, they're everywhere!
I saw it first when my days were young, the plants withered, the wind child and I felt a...presence... They were here for me! To tell me! I was chosen to decipher their language, and I swore to my destiny on that day.
The connection revealed itself to me. I finally have it! The message... From the others! Their intellect unbound. I record it here, for all to see and remember.....
**Wubba Lubba Dub Dub. Not all will understand its depth because to be fair, you have to have a very high IQ to understand Rick and Morty.** | 2017-10-31T16:23:05 | 2017-10-31T15:26:39 | 176 | 80 |
[WP] You have a special type of clairvoyance: you can see the outcomes of all possible choices. You use this power to become a superhero that fights crime by making the smallest possible changes ahead of time. You are The Butterfly. | I picked up the phone. It wasn't time to order the pizza yet, but I wanted to be ready. If I ordered too early then Ryan would end up making the delivery. If he took the delivery then he'd end up getting the big order just before close and he'd text his girlfriend Sarah that he was going to have to stay back later. She'd cancel her plan to turn up to surprise him when he finished work and he'd be free to go and fuck Melissa, the girl he was cheating on Sarah with.
Then Ryan and Sarah would stay together for another two years during which time he'd become abusive and violent towards her before severely injuring her and forcing her to flee back to her parents where she would live as an untrusting shut-in, too scared to let another man into her life.
Of course if he didn't take the order, she'd show up at the same time as Melissa and catch Ryan in her arms. They'd fight, they'd break up and in a years time she'd meet someone new. They'd go on to have a relationship that was the happiest time of her life. It was doomed to fail too, but she'd enjoy it while it lasted and she'd get a darling son out of it that would look after her in her elderly years.
But the important thing was that Dean delivered the pizza. After he dropped it off he'd ride back to the shop, and before he got there a sports car would swerve into the path of his motorscooter and knock him off. He'd hit the road heavily, but his helmet would take the brunt of the damage. His neck and shoulder will be stiff and sore for months but he'll recover. That brush with death will make Dean realise that he's wasting his life delivering pizzas and instead of thinking about going to college he needed to get off his arse and do it. He'll get his degree in engineering and secure a well paying job that enables him to help pay off his family debts.
The driver of the sports car that nearly killed Dean will lose control swerving to miss him and hop the curb, crashing into a tree. The driver will be found to be drunk, but uninjured thanks to his airbags. He'll end up being fined and sentenced to an alcohol rehabilitation program. If he didn't nearly hit Dean and write off his car, in eight months time he'd end up t-boning another family's car, killing the mother and her infant daughter.
But more importantly, the crash damages the curb, causing a broken section to stick up higher than the rest of it. The council, being what it is, ignores the damage for two years until Phillip Welsh is jogging across the road and doesn't notice it. He trips and falls face first onto the footpath getting a depression fracture of the cheekbone and losing two teeth.
Phillip will have facial reconstructive surgery and will realise that the nurse who is attending him in the hospital is actually his older sister who was adopted out at birth. Although both siblings knew of the other they'd never been able to connect and Phillip's parents had shown little interest in trying to make contact.
But more importantly, Phillip will sue the council for damages and win, forcing them to be proactive about repairing the damage to the curb that caused his injury. On the morning that workmen arrive and erect a safety barricade around the damage Troy Baker will be robbing the bank just around the corner. Even though he'll scout the area the day before he won't realise that there is a new obstacle in the way and so when he flees he'll collide with one of the safety barriers.
Troy will be winded so it will take time to get up and he'll have injured his knee forcing him to limp slowly towards the getaway car. The driver, Vinnie Deacon, will get spooked and race off leaving Troy behind. Troy will make it three blocks before the police catch him. He'll get sentenced to prison and will be released in three years.
If he didn't crash into that barrier, if he made it to the getaway car, Vinnie would lead the police on a chase for 45 minutes before being cornered. And because Vinnie is a twitchy idiot he'll open fire on the police, causing both him and Troy to be gunned down in a hail of bullets.
If Troy goes to prison, when he is released it will be just in time to see his father who is dying of cancer. His last chance to say goodbye to the man who raised him and who loves him even though his son has made some mistakes in his life. Roger Baker is a school teacher, well respected and loved in the community. I can't save him from his cancer, there's nothing that can be done for that. I can give him the one thing he wants more than anything. The chance to forgive his son for his mistakes and tell Troy he loves him before he dies. He deserves that.
I order my pizza. In half an hour it arrives.
I don't even like pizza. | I stand on my feet on the street across the bank, hoodie down, hidden amidst the flickering street lights. I'm smoking a cig. I've got exactly 893 more of these, unless I want some serious health issues, so I try to stretch them out as much as I can. But tonight is special.
I look at my phone. Got a solid 20 minutes before it all goes down. I inhale a deep puff, look up at the blank city sky and exhale. I toss the burning cigarette away. 892.
Feeling slightly peckish. Knew I would at around this time. I've always had a knack for knowing my body. I stretch out my hand and a small box of doughnuts drops on it from above, thrown by the angry wife of a fat man on the second floor. Sorry, Mr. Larson... I just really love doughnuts. For what it's worth, you'll be getting a raise next month, courtesy of yours truly.
I smile to myself. It feels surprisingly nice to do good for others. It still takes a lot of willpower to control the urge to use my powers for my own, egotistical purposes, but I've walked down that path, many such paths, and I've seen where they lead. Not to some sort of karmic downfall, mind you - they just lead to boredom. I know now that man is never meant to feel fulfilled. A content person is a dead person. Nothing good comes out of that... nothing bad, either.
As I stand there, munching on the creamy deliciousness of these sweets, I recount the days when I feared starvation. I remember how I always tried to plan ahead, to my next meal, my next shelter for the cold night... and the shame. The shame of being unable to control my own fate. That never-ending clenching of the stomach.
I used to reason that life is just a deck of random cards, and I got dealt a bad hand. I know differently, now. I know the deck isn't random. It's just inconceivably complex. And *the game...* The game of life, it's so *beautifully chaotic.* Interwoven lines of play, fragile balances, repeating patterns. All held together by the passage of time, by action and movement. When I first witnessed it, that fateful day, I couldn't help but cry. I am truly fortunate... or rather, was. There's nothing fortune dictates in my existence, now.
It's time. The bank is opening. I see the culprits' car parking outside, two people exiting, one staying on the wheel with the engine running. As they pull their masks over their heads, I take out my own. A pig's face, same as them. I wait for them to make their move. One of them is getting cold feet, the other pushes him... yes, yes, go on... they enter.
I count to five and rush in after them.
I open the revolving doors. There are gunshots and people are falling to the floor. I shout: "Bill!"
One of them turns to me. "What the fuck are you doing here - "
I point to the other guy that is now also turning his head in confusion. "It's Mark. He's 'green_hornet'. He's the one with the white watch."
Bill turns to his accomplice. "Mark is..." There is a brief moment of absolute silence, as all the facts suddenly click in his mind.
"God - fucking - " As Bill raises his gun to his buddy, Mark also makes a move and shoots at the same time. They injure each other. It's not fatal - though Mark will probably go a few years without being able to piss standing. A fitting punishment, I had decided. You don't do that to your mate's girl, man. It just isn't cool.
I turn around and leave in a hurry. There's a crowd gathering outside. I take off my mask at the exact moment when no one can see me in the revolving doors. I stumble out, acting scared.
After a while, I straighten my back and start walking normally. I can hear sirens in the distance.
I smile once more. I look up at the morning sky. The moon's still visible. The moon... when I was a kid, I used to dream of the moon. Of walking on it, seeing Earth from above.
Hum. Well, a few Russians will have to give up their lives here and there, but I *could* barely make it by the end of the decade.
-----
^(Edit: typos.) | 2015-03-14T23:16:22 | 2015-03-14T21:17:55 | 154 | 33 |
[WP] Twenty years ago you summoned a demon. It is super cool and has been your friend for the last two decades, using its vast powers to help you achieve all your dreams. Today though, its bill came due. It needs to return to hell with you - it has dreams too, and it needs your help to achieve them. | On this morning, I was surprised to find my demon unusually excited. Over the last two decades Balazar had, despite my best efforts, been supernaturally moody and withdrawn. I thought perhaps, after a period of adjustment, he would acclimate to the scenery of Earth. As my riches grew, I got him appointments with the best therapists money could buy. But nothing quite worked. Until, quite suddenly, this morning, I found Balazar bouncing around the living room like a demon possessed.
He picked up the children and danced around, letting them grab his horns, as they giggled.
“My turn” he chanted, “my turn, it’s my turn.” Soon they joined in singing with him.
I rubbed my eyes. “Jesus christ Bally. What the hell’s up with you?”
“Hell is up with me John. Hell exactly.”
I shook my head, “I’m going to watch the news.” I walked over to the couch, sat down and turned on the TV. From here you could see sweeping views of the whole city. My neighbours were Brad Pitt and Slash. Imagine that. The anchors were talking about my company on the news: “and looks like some bad news for J Corp this morning.” I sat up, confused. Bad news? Those were two words had hadn’t heard together in, well, twenty years.
“Since the markets opened this morning, stocks have fallen by 20%.”
“What!”
In the background Balazar was still chanting, “my turn. My turn.”
“Balazar, will you shut the hell up.”
“Hell!” he cried, “we’re going to hell.”
“we’re going to hell” the kids laughed after him.
I pulled out my phone. Ten missed calls. I blinked. “We’re down. Why are we down? For christ sake Balazar will you put the kids down and stop dancing?” He put them down, but the smile was still plastered to his face as he skipped over, his hooves clacking on the polished floorboards. “What’s going on?”
“Your stocks are down.”
“Yes. I know. Why?”
Balazar shrugged. “They’ve been artificially overpriced for years because of my magic.”
“Yes. I’m aware.” There was a silence. “I feel like I’m missing something here.”
“Oh John” he leapt forward and hugged me, “you don’t see, do you? It’s my turn.”
“Your turn for what? And just calm down okay? You’re like the kids on Christmas.”
“Okay” he took a few deep breaths, fanning himself, “I’m calm. I’m calm. Do I look calm?”
“You look like you’re on drugs.”
“Twenty years ago you summoned me.”
“That’s right.”
“No I mean. Twenty years to the day.”
I shrugged, “Happy anniversary?”
“John. Don’t you remember? The spell you used to cast me. It was a two part spell. A contract. You get me for 20 years. I get you for 20 years.”
“I’m sorry what?”
“Don’t be sorry. Be excited! We’re going to hell! Oh hell is nothing like they tell you John. It’s really quite a marvellous place, and there’s companies there too, and you’ll really like it trust me.”
“I don’t quite understand. Me help you?”
“Yes. That’s what the spell is. Didn’t you read the fine print of the spell?”
“Read the fine print. Shit Bally I was ten years old! I pulled the book down from my grandmother’s shelf, dusted it off, flicked it open to a random page and just started reading.”
“Best decision you’ve ever made John. Trust me. Ok we’re leaving in five.”
“Leaving. No we’re not leaving.”
“We’re going to hell.”
“I’m not going to hell.”
“Yes. You really are” he gestured with his hand. And I took a step forward unwillingly.
“How did you do that?”
“Part of the spell. Look I’m not going to use it unless its absolutely necessary. You’ve been a good sport to me, I’ll be a good one to you.”
“Bally. I can’t just go. I have a family here. A company to run.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Time runs differently in Hell. 20 years won’t even be a day here.”
“But it will be 20 years for me” I answered, “in hell. I mean — what, what help do you think I’m even going to be? I’m not a demon, okay, I can’t wave my hands and make things happen.”
“Oh but John. You can” he lowered his voice, “you have no idea the power unclaimed souls wield in the afterlife. No idea.” I swallowed.
Balazar pointed to the wall, and a dark portal opened up. “Oh god. Bally please. Don’t, don’t make me go.”
“Think about it John. This is what you signed up for. You get a choice to go willingly. Or to be dragged along. But you are coming. Satan knows the shit I went through for your dreams.”
“And what exactly are *your* dreams?”
Balazar smiled. “To rule” he said. “All of it.” He slapped a hand on my shoulder, “just you wait” he said, “you're going to love it.” I bolted for the door. But halfway my legs stopped working. I turned around and marched toward the portal, as my children echoed Balazar’s chant from the kitchen.
“You'll be back before lunch” Bally reassured me, as I passed through the portal and darkness fell around me.
[r/jmoorestories](https://www.reddit.com/r/jmoorestories) | "So this is Hell?" I asked, obviously unimpressed.
"Yep," Silas told me as he led me down a hallway.
"You made it out to seem like it was much worse," I said, stopping to peek into an office. There was a seven foot tall demon behind an older looking computer, looking bored, while a woman sat nearby working on hers.
"Oh dear," the demon turned to her and said, "It seems lunch has been turned into a working lunch. We have a meeting with the CEO."
I saw her cringe a little and we walked on. Silas didn't seem to be paying me much attention. Let's get this straight. I was six when Silas popped into my room by accident and since then he became my best friend. The things he did for me in those twenty-five years since has been amazing. My parents were absent most of the time and he took it upon himself to raise me, changing forms to attend parent/teacher conferences. Hell, pardon the wordplay, he even taught me how to drive!
"This place looks like an office," I said as we stopped near a corner, "How is this Hell?"
"Well, this is the very epitome of Hell for a lot of people," Silas told me, his brown eyes sparkling in glee at the thought, "There are other parts of Hell, trust me, I just need your help here."
"Ok, what do you need help with?" I asked, feeling a genuine sense of curiosity.
"Well," he started then stopped and actually looked embarrassed, "You see... you're a woman. I need advice..."
"Advice on?" I suddenly found myself feeling upset. I kept my face as neutral as possible.
"There's this demon," he told me, "She plays the part of a CEO in this division of Hell. Well, I have a crush on her but I don't know what to say."
"Oh," I said and it hung in the air like a winter storm for just a second. His eyes shot up and I knew he felt it too, "What do you know about her?" I asked before he could ask the question that was building.
"She's good at her job," he said. I waited.
"And?" I asked.
"That's it," then he added, "She's very pretty too. Well, her human form is gorgeous. I don't know what she looks like as a demon though as she rarely drops her role."
"I see," I said, smiling. He had done so much for me. I wanted to see him happy yet my heart felt like it was breaking. I mean, what was I expecting? I was human and he was a denizen of Hell, "That's really not much. What does she do for fun? Oh wait, never mind. What does she do when she's not working?"
"She's never not working," he told me honestly, "This is why this is so hard."
"Can we observe her working?" I asked and he smiled. He pointed at a door and I could hear a female leading a meeting on the annual sales report figures. I peeked through the glass and saw about ten bored people trying to get the wifi to work on their phones and laptops with no success. Instead they were forced to listen to... then I saw her.
"Silas," I asked him, my mind reeling, "Is this supposed to be a joke?"
"Mar," he told me, calling me by my nickname, "I really am bad with women. If this offends you, I apologize."
"She looks just like me," I told him and raised an eyebrow, "You said she was gorgeous."
"She is," he said, then paused for a magical second and added, "You are."
"Silas," I said thinking loud, not wanting to misread the situation, "What is this? I'm confused."
"Her name is Lara, she's a friend," he said, looking at the CEO who was smiling at us for a second, then continued her boring lecture, "I asked her to take your form, just for the day. Just to..."
"To tell me you think I'm beautiful?" I said with a laugh, "You could have just told me you know."
"Mar," he said in a way only a knuckle-headed demon could, "I think you're beautiful. When you turned twenty-one and chose to enter medical school instead of the myriad other opportunities I offered I was skeptical. Then when you opened the free clinic, making just barely enough to pay off your student loans I started falling for you. It's really the first time I'd met a genuinely good person. I'd always suspected you were."
"Don't you prefer your own kind?" I asked him and he flinched.
"You are my own kind," Silas told me, his smile was charming as always, "I don't expect this to go anywhere. You're a human and I'm... well, not. I like to believe that something brought us together."
"Silas," I said and stepped closer, "If this is some kind of demonic trick I will punch you in the nose. I think I know it's not though, you've always been honest with me. Brutally honest sometimes."
"What are you saying?" he said and I saw he was shaking with nervousness.
"I'm saying," I replied, taking his hand, "Let's see where this goes." | 2022-10-29T16:15:55 | 2019-01-25T01:00:00 | 4,031 | 58 |
[WP] Humans are considered quite weak compared to other sentient species. You are bullied at the foreign exchange school you are attending due to this. Humans do have a relatively high resilience to mental abuse, so the first grader level insults don't bother you at all. Now its time to retaliate. | "Human!" Gavr9 called, waving its gills and puffing pollen into the air. "Human! Human!"
I had tried my best to put up with the bullying. I knew it would be hard. I knew humans were new to the galactic community, knew I'd be the only human in school. Knew that needing to be introduced to each class with special instructions on how careful everyone had to be with me because humans are so delicate was going to make me stand out, even disregarding everything else.
"Humaaaan!" Gavr9 called again, trying to get my attention. "Human! Human! Human! Huuumaaaan!" The tone descended into a frustrated whine. Gavr9 circled me, calling, not seeming to realize that I was ignoring it. "Huuuummmaaaaaan human human human human *human*!"
I had been prepared to be bullied. I had been ready for taunts, and insults, and nasty rumors. But this...
"What?" I finally said, getting tired of the cloud of pollen settling into my hair.
Gavr9's gills turned bright blue, which was something like its version of a grin. "Did you know..." it said. "Did you knooow... that you're so dumb, I can't even remember your name?"
This was just pathetic.
Most species to evolve the intelligence needed for space travel were *tough*. They didn't get to where they were by chance, they got there by being darn near impossible to kill. You could detonate a nuke inside just about any alien in the galactic community and barely inconvenience it. Some species would eviscerate each other over minor disagreements. I heard that once a crew of Hyphlets had let their spaceship drift too close to the sun while they were asleep, and the entire ship was vaporized. But not the crew. The worst injury the crew suffered had been the embarrassment of waking up and realizing their clothes had burned off.
Never needing to worry about killing or permanently damaging each other, most arguments between them were purely physical violence. Ten thousand species in the community, and humans were the only ones fragile enough to need to fight each other with emotional pain instead of physical.
Gavr9 was probably the meanest bully at school, as far as insult quality went. I had been hoping its insults would improve with practice, at least that would have been interesting. But so far nothing.
"So dumb!" Gavr9 repeated. "So dumb! That I can't remember! Right? You get it? Because you're dumb?" It flared its nostrils proudly.
I sighed and, without really thinking, responded with, "If I'm the one that's so dumb, why are you the one that can't even remember my name?"
Gavr9 paused for a moment, my words sinking in. Its gills flattened and went grey. Its limbs drooped as if wilting, it fell to the floor. A high-pitched, long sound came from it, like the cry of a badly wounded animal.
Turns out that in addition to never learning how to give insults, most aliens had never learned to take them either.
The bad news is that I was suspended from school for a week, and Gavr9 needed three months of therapy to recover. It will have to repeat the grade, with all the class it missed. I also ended up having to take a cultural sensitivity course after mentioning that I hadn't meant to hurt it *that* bad, and hadn't thought what I said was going to be such a big deal.
On the bright side, all forms of verbal abuse is now strictly banned at school. I still don't have any friends, but at least now I don't have to listen to anyone snickering after delivering epic burns like 'Human is a bad-faced bad-dumb.'
| Avery knew the agony of human bullying. It was a parasite that wormed it's way into a person's head. It kept going and made trust a distant memory. It made you spend nights sleepless or crying yourself to sleep. If it wasn't doing that, it made you cry until you were dry so you could sleep and wake without rest. It made you feel like your body was lead. Then, when you became numb, you became afraid, and you bullied yourself. You made yourself remember the pain so you could realize, that yes, you are a living breathing human being. With your nails, your tears, your words, or your blades.
But the bullying of the students in the foreign school Avery attended, it was nothing close to that. Hell, they could barely even speak English (the official language of humanity), much less construe a proper insult. They couldn't really do it in their own language either, as none of their slurs could be applied to her. It was kinda nice in a way, an escape. Still, sometimes Avery had to wonder why it was always pity or mockery.
Sna came up, laughing with her typical group of friends. Honestly, the creature was disgusting. She was a shale changing creature, who was probably made of jelly. She had no eyes, but you could see her organs. Sna laughed. "Well, if it isn't the loser!"
Yes, that was the best they could come up with.
"What do you want?"
"Give me your money or I'll snap your bones to pieces!" Avery sighed.
"Go ahead."
"What...?"
"Well, aren't you gonna do it you tiny brained, surface level, racist bitch?" Avery laughed when no one responded. "Or do you just not wanna snap my bones? Are you all talk and no bite? Man, human bullies were at least willing to push me down stairs."
Sna shifted into a humanoid form. Her face held a grimace. She would not let a human mock her. At that point, Avery smiled. Well, less of a smile and more of a shit eating grin. Sna approached Avery, but she didn't falter. "You puny human's really should piss off! Just gimme the money!"
At that point, Avery raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. "Go ahead. Snap me to pieces." Avery's body was then stabbed with a bunch of slimy tentacles. She laughed, weakly, gasping for air. "You... didn't hit any vital organs..."
Her human body then fell to the floor. A teacher came running because they heard a commotion, and they found Avery bleeding out.
One doctors visit and a couple surgeries later, Avery happily watched her 'bullies' get thrown in the slammer. They would never see the light of day again, and as a bonus, she was now a pitied little girl. Though these scars were new, they went along well with the ones her human bully has thrown into her.
As Avery had learned one thing. First of all, the internal organs of human beings were what kept them alive, so as long as she was treated quick enough and nothing important was hit, she'd be fine no matter how much she resembled Swiss cheese.
Also, another thing Avery had learned, was that no other race had the same ability to take mental abuse. It had taken much more time for her human bullies to snap, but at the end of the day...
They had also suffered because Avery knew how to dance a string around them all.
| 2019-03-07T21:31:12 | 2019-03-07T19:04:55 | 488 | 69 |
[WP]Four years ago, your dog and best friend disappeared. Today, your dog appears at your doorstep. You dog says, "I have been many places and seen many things, human. Its time we had a chat."
"you" dog heh | "I have been many places and seen many things, human. Its time we had a chat." Stinky said. "And while I can still speak, I want to tell you that I really resent the fact you named me Stinky. I don't have opposable thumbs that allow me to wash myself, plus, I am covered in.. in human terms I'm covered in long John's and a jacket, then you're throwing me into hot water. It's not comfortable. And while I've got you her-"
"Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit." I said, knowing I must be completely losing my mind. I was overcome with joy to see my long lost dog, but I quickly began to think that this is a serious hallucination. I checked my pockets for my keys with the intention to go right to the hospital. "Oh my god, oh my god... I need to go to the hospital." I thought.
Stinky jumped on me with all her weight, knocking me to the ground, and began licking my face. "Does this feel like a hallucination? I love you. And everyone I've ever met. But you're really wasting this precious time we have to speak by telling yourself it's a hallucination. Do you remember all those times you said 'I wish you knew how to talk so I could tell you some things, like to bark twice when you're hungry, or bark three times when you wanna go outside'?" my talking dog apparently said to me.
"I remember this, but this cannot possibly be real. I need to get to the hospital immediately. You're not real." I said again. My heart was racing and beating out of my chest, I was beginning to sweat... I thought I was having a heart attack, but in reality it was just a panic attack.
"This is so typical of you. You say you want this, or that, but any time you come close to this or that, you think of an excuse not to do it, or convince yourself it isn't an option. Do you remember that woman you were in love with? The one who told you a hundred and fifty times that she loved you too?" Stinky, the talking dog asked me.
"Of course I remember. She was way out of my league, there was no way she could possibly feel the same. Probably wanted to steal my identity or something."
Stinky began to growl, "You have seriously got to be joking. You have to be the most stubborn and most ungrateful person I have ever met in my life. You have a once in a life time opportunity to talk to your dog, a dog if you remember correctly had been *missing* for four years, and what do you do? You spend the entire ti...rrruf!" Stinky said.
"What was that last part, girl?" I asked her.
Stinky just barked at me, her expression completely different now. She had that dumb dog smile back on her face.
"Come on Stinky, talk to me." I pleaded with her.
But she didn't talk. She never spoke again. I never got to ask her where she was. What happened to her that day, when I had her on the leash at the park and it snapped. Where she went when she chased that squirrel into the woods, never coming back. I was never able to find her again. My heart broke for months after that. And here was the opportunity to talk to her. Find out what happened. Find out if animals really love people. But I squandered it. Telling myself it could not possibly be real. I won't make that mistake again. I won't take the good things I have for granted.
At least until something else happens.. | It was an average Tuesday morning. Wife had already left for work and the kids were at school. It was just me, my coffee, and the morning news.
Suddenly, there's a knock on the door. Salesman maybe? Or girl scouts? It was that time of year after all.
I slowly get up, leaving my coffee on the table and pause the tv, and waltz over to the door. I can't see anyone through the peephole. Which probably means Mail delivery or something of the sort.
Instead, on the other side of that door, I found an old friend.
"BOXES!" I cry out. Sitting there on my front porch was my old German Shepard, my old best friend who had gone missing four years ago.
"Yes Charlie, it's me."
Woah okay. Wait a minute, I must be hearing things. I swore it sounded, and looked, like Boxes just spoke. In English.
"No, you're not crazy Charlie. i really can talk." He said to me in a calm, collected tone.
"Oookay. So you can talk. Assuming I'm not imagining this. I don't mean to sound rude, but, why are you here?" I asked him. I still wasn't entirely sure this was real, but I was slowly accepting the situation.
"Because, it's time we had a chat. Is it alright if I come inside?"
It just now hit me that we had been talking on my front porch. I probably looked crazy to anyone who saw. I invited him back into his old house.
"Wow, things have really changed around here." He said. He walked around, seemingly taking everything in. He stopped at the family photo. Boxes was sitting next to me in the photo.
"I remember this. This was just before I left"
"Yea, I know. Speaking of which, why did you leave?" I asked. I was curious, and while I did miss my best friend, I felt like he owed me an explanation.
"Charlie, old friend, when we first met, you said something to me, and then said it again 5 times over the two years after that. It wasn't common enough for me. I decided to leave so I can find out the truth about myself. Who I am. One day, I was in the street, searching for answers when i realized, who better to answer my question than the man who gave me the answer."
"Okay wait, you ran away instead of just asking me?"
"I wanted an honest answer. I wanted to know what other people thought. If it came from you, it would've been biased. But now that I have heard it from many others, I am almost content."
"Almost?" I asked. I was still trying to figure out what he was getting at exactly.
"Yes. First, Charlie, I would like to be allowed to come back. To live at home with the family again. Our family. If it is okay with you." He said.
"Of course! We've all missed you, Boxes. The kids will be ecstatic to see you again." I said. This was a relief. I was glad he was staying again. But I was still wondering what he was asking, yet it almost felt impolite to ask, because it seemed like he was getting to it.
"Finally Charlie, I have to ask. Just one time."
"Go ahead." I said.
"Am I a good boy?" | 2017-03-31T14:37:37 | 2017-03-31T09:26:29 | 119 | 27 |
[WP] Time travel is real, and time tourists tend to show up in large numbers around major historical events. One day, billions of time tourists are in ships above the city, quietly waiting. | I look out from the window of my laboratory.
"That's not good," I said to myself.
Ever since the existence of time travelers was exposed these nuisances had been cropping up all over the world. Usually a few of them would appear just before or during a disaster. More than a few have been turning up at rock concerts. No one has ever managed to speak to them. We were only able to theorize they were time travelers by the fact these strange floating ships have been appearing and disappearing without any trace of radiation. It was obvious when they suddenly obliterated they didn't vaporize or disintegrate. We were able to postulate they must have been traveling through space time, the fact they were showing up before major events just confirmed the obvious, they were time travelers.
Now everyone involved in space warp research was trying to find a way how to make time travel possible. NASA actually lost a huge chunk of their biggest brains in the warp drive project to work on it. Among them were some of my closest peers. I personally had no interest in time travel. I couldn't imagine anything less appealing than the idea of sending a bunch of idiot tourists to loiter through the space time continuum like a bunch of freeloading rubberneckers.
In my laboratory I wasn't working on something so grandiose as time travel or even warp drive. I was on the development team for warp drive in college. We were in the very basic early stages of research causing space time to move using superconducting magnets at absolute zero temperatures. That was when I made a very interesting discovery, warping space time and making it move caused space time to behave like it had inertia. That meant in measurable levels it kept moving, at least for a little while, after you stopped applying force to it. Like a wheel rolling to a stop. This was despite the fact space time itself did not have any perceivable mass.
From that discovery I was able to postulate there may be a super-efficient way to warp space time by causing it to cycle in on itself. Generating its own internal inertia without the need for much outside force. If this was possible it would help with warp drive, that was for certain, but I was thinking much smaller. Like anti-gravity on earth with small devices powered by ordinary batteries. The idea of a super stable flying platform had a multitude of engineering applications. After that there would be patents, billions of dollars, and wicked cool flying cars. Maybe even a hoverboard. I was pretty sure I was on the verge of a break through, or discovery.
Then these time traveling clowns had to show up.
I decided I better pack up and leave town. God only knew what sort of calamity could happen that would be this big. Before I would go I checked the results of a simulation I was running through a bank of PC's I picked up from pawn shops and junk yard sales all over. They were linked together as a sort of budget supercomputer. The results were extremely disappointing.
"99.999 percent efficiency? Bullshit!" I shouted.
It was obvious something went terribly wrong. 98 percent efficiency was expected in superconductivity, but when expending that energy to warp space time there had to be a loss. The basic laws of physics demanded it. 99.999 percent efficiency was not free energy or a perpetual motion engine, but it was pretty damn close. An infinitesimal loss of energy in warping space time. I decided to print out a graph of my latest test.
Then something occurred to me, if moving space time behaved like it had inertia, but in itself had no mass (or at least so small practically undetectable) that would mean that warping space time could somehow be directly related to the force moving it, super cooled magnetism. If this was true, that would mean there had a direct link between space time and the other forces we were never able to link together before. Such as linking gravity to electromagnetism. The grand unified theory. Using the results from my print out I was able to formulate a complete and unbelievably simple formula linking all the forces of the universe together, and I wrote it down on my marker board. I stood there in awe of it. If this was true it was all possible. Anti-gravity. Warp drive. Even time travel.
"Oh no!" I said to myself as turned around.
Standing in my laboratory were half a dozen very peculiarly dressed people. They were all beaming at me with great smiles, and they applauded.
| "Oh great, something's going to happen." The exasperated sigh seemed to echo down the bustling city street. John kept a passive expression, but silently agreed as he watched the air shift and buzz as tourists zapped into existence. It always congested the streets, and the tourists cared little for what was going on outside of the event they came to witness. Time traveling tourism had been around for as long as anyone could remember, and had been an inconvenience hundreds of years ago as it was now. They never talked; they probably weren't allowed to, aside from their tour guide who, per their law, announced their temporary presence and that we should continue on and ignore them. They were hard to ignore when they kept standing three-persons wide on the sidewalk as they did. It was assumed that time travel was an expensive venture as the group size rarely exceeded 20, but there was a larger crowd than normal today, dotting about and gathering to the sides, anxiously craning their necks and holding their pads up to record holovids.
John stepped off the curb, his hand reaching out to his wife, Melissa. The wind had picked up and tugged at their coats, the rain only furthering his irritation as they side-stepped the crowds. Melissa fumbled with her hood to keep the wind from whipping it off, her other hand still warmly clasped in his own. He smiled at her, the bubble of love suddenly welling in his throat as he caught her eye. She laughed at his expression. He kissed the tip of her nose, and she reached to her tip-toes to kiss his. Seven years of doting each other, he thought warmly, all thoughts of his dour mood forgotten.
The tourists were looking even more eager now, peering at their datapads to check the time. Like the other normal dwellers of his time, John tugged at Melissa to quicken her steps; no one wanted to stay around to see if an Event was good or bad.
It was then that his wife jerked her hand from him, and he looked back at her startled. She was clutching her stomach, her brows knit in pain. Her contractions had started some hours ago, but they were so far apart that she was determined to walk around the block before actually checking in at the hospital. John was already on the phone as he crouched beside his wife.
Looking up for a street sign, John read off their location to his phone before hanging up. He noticed some of the tourists were actually watching him now. So it took a woman collapsing in pain at their feet to get their attention, did it? He was angry at them, for being there and always ignoring everyone, never offering anything from the future, never taking any action or helping. He wanted to move away from their stares, especially before their Event happened.
"Come on Melissa," He said, wiping the rain from his brow. The tourists were congregating now, looking from their datapads to them. The hair on the back of his neck stood, a small inkling of a feeling creeping in that he dutifully tried to ignore as his wife hobbled with him a few steps.
A car honked, and John looked up with relief as his friend pulled up to give them a ride to the hospital. He helped Melissa into the car, giving one last glance to the tourists. All eyes were on them, their faces darker than he had ever seen. Some even took a step towards them. Was that normal? He had never seen them itch for more like that. He quickly slammed the car door, the only sound left being the patter of the rain and Melissa's labored breathing. Eyes seemed to silently follow them the entire trip to the hospital, haunting their path. Tourists weren't allowed in hospitals; another rule, he supposed, for it would have been much too crowded. So many. He had never seen so many. Some curious, eager, most angry. How had he not noticed before?
They rushed inside, the tourists' eyes never leaving them, even as the doors to the hospital shut them out. John turned to his wife, who was beaming joyously at him even amidst her pain, "John, our baby's coming." Her smile was infectious, and he had already forgotten the ghosts outside as the couple were rushed to a room to give birth to their beloved child. | 2015-05-30T12:51:18 | 2015-05-30T08:38:12 | 34 | 13 |
[WP] What they didn't tell you about having a catgirl girlfriend is that beyond the cute "nya!"s lies the other, more annoying catlike urges like getting stuck in trees and bringing dead mice to their boyfriends. | Around the world, millions of young, lonely men have dreamed of living my life. They fantasize about girls with perfect round eyes, twitching feline ears, and a long, sinuous tail. They imagine them purring, enjoying headpats, and making cute little "nya" noises when satisfied. And they do all those things, it's true. The problem is... all the other parts of being part cat.
From behind me, I hear a slow, steady sliding noise. I turn around just in time to see Anya, my dear, beautiful, beloved Anya push a full glass of water off the table and onto the floor. Again. She looks me dead in the eye as the water splashes and sinks into the carpet and the glass rolls away. I sigh. I can't even muster up the energy to be properly angry at this point.
"Anya. Two minutes ago, I asked you not to do something. What was it I asked you not to do?"
She cocks her head to one side and continues to stare silently at me, one ear twitching slightly.
"I set that glass down on the table, Anya, and I very specifically asked you not to knock it off. What did you just do, Anya?"
"I knocked it off", she replies. Her voice is sweet and pure, and the content of her words makes my head start to ache again.
"...Why?"
"Because I wanted to."
She says it as if it's incredibly obvious, and I'm stupid for asking. She unfolds herself languidly from where she's sitting by the coffee table and saunters towards me, tail flicking behind her as she walks, before leaning over my shoulder to look at my computer screen.
"What are you doing?"
"Playing a videogame." I look behind me towards the glass still lying on the carpet, and I'm about to get up and set it back on the table when Anya suddenly hops up to sit on the desk in front of me, mashing half the keys on my keyboard and displacing my mouse in the process.
"No. Pay attention to me."
I sigh deeply, headache coming on in full force now.
"Anya, I tried paying attention to you yesterday, and you bit my hand so hard I needed a bandage. Today, I just want a little alone time. Now, could you please get off my desk?"
"No."
"I'll get the spray bottle" I say warningly. She responds by hissing and glaring at me, and remains obstinately seated. I get up, turn, and walk into the kitchen. When I come back with the spray bottle in hand, Anya is nowhere to be seen. I sit down with another sigh and massage my forehead. She's probably hiding under the bed again. She'll probably go to sleep down there and only come out when she wants me to feed her. Or maybe she'll wake up at three in the morning and decide that she wants attention again, and it's my job to give it to her, my own sleep be damned. I'm so tired.
I never should have agreed to this godsforsaken exchange program. | "Ew--Jesus, Lucy, gross!"
Her eager face collapsed. She looked up with those gorgeous blue anime eyes. They brimmed with tears. "W-what's the matter? Did I do something wrong?"
"You left a *dead rat* on my pillow!" I cried, and she flinched. I took a deep breath and tried to moderate my tone. "Ahem. You left a dead rat. On my pillow."
"Yes! That's the one that's been nesting in the insulation! I had to spend all day sitting by the hole but I.got him for you! Aren't I a good girl?"
The deep breath came out as a resigned sigh.
"Can you not put it in my bed next time?"
She pouted. "But I had to make sure you *found* it."
"With my face? Yuck, Lucy, EW!"
Her jaw set. "Fine," she said, flicking her cat ears backward briefly.
"Thank you," I said uneasily, but she'd already sashayed away, tail awhisk, taking the dead rat with her.
I collapsed into bed, distressed. Lucy was every anime nerd's dream girl: a real live cat girl! With the cute ears and the big eyes, the delicate features and perfect limbs, the adorable swishy little tail. And the urge to crunch live rats in her teeth and toss them on my clean pillowcase.
And the gall to expect praise.
I heard a suspicious ripping sound. Weary to my bones, I sat up. "Lucy!"
"Whaaat?" drifted sweetly from the living room.
*RIP TEAR SHRED*
"What the heck are you--oh for goodness sakes." I jumped out of bed and ran down the hall into the living room, only to behold my darling neko girlfriend shredding the heavy, expensive brocade curtains with her perfectly filed pink nails.
"LUCY! Bad girl!" Desperate, I reached for the spray bottle I kept for times like these, but she was too quick. The spritz of water just missed as she leapt away and scampered around me, back down the hall.
"Dammit!" In my periphery, her fluffy tail vanished into my bedroom. I gave chase.
As soon as I entered the room, I *knew.*
"Lucy."
"What?" she replied sullenly, ears back.
"What did you do?"
"Nothing," she said, arching away from the spray bottle I was still holding. She was cornered. Her tail lashed back and forth.
I kept the spray bottle pointed at her while edging back around the side of the bed. I picked up a slipper.
It was wet.
"LUCY! BAD GIRL!"
*spritz*
"Yowwwl!!!"
"We do that in the box!" | 2021-12-17T12:28:51 | 2021-12-17T09:19:34 | 218 | 159 |
[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | As I sat in the dark holding room, my only companions a security camera programmed to turn left and right on a ten second cycle and a cold metal table I was now handcuffed to, I continued my replaying of the events in my head. Better to keep things straight for when the Good Cop/Bad Cop routine starts.
I'd just had enough. I'd just had enough of feeling unsafe every time I stepped off the bus and walked into that garbage school. That smug moron with the firecracker marked on his wrist, his deceptively meek partner-in-crime with a radio signal on the back of his neck, they were my tormentors in my daily Hell. The second I walked through those doors, every morning, I would hear a pop like a gunshot, proceeded by rapid sizzling and shrieks of shrill air, and that sound would continue every thirty to fourty five minutes for the rest of the day. If I tried to confront them, they would hit me with another wave of sound that fried all my senses. If I went to my teachers, I was told to "ignore it".
I knew why. I was a target because everyone else flaunted their powers. In their eyes, I was too good to use my power in front of them, or I was just lazy, or both. In truth, I'd only used my power once before. I caught my sister rummaging through my things for something to pawn, for the umpteenth time. Something inside me just snapped, and I used my power for the first time.
The police investigation ruled it as a drug overdose, and my parents were more worried about how I felt. I felt like a murderer. The worst part is, she's not dead. She's still in the hospital, and she will be for the rest of her life.
Today was the anniversary of the day I used my power for the first time. Not something I would celebrate, maybe other people, but I like to think I'm not a sociopath. Today I just wanted to be left alone, so instead of entering through the front of the school, I figured I would try and sneak in the back.
Of all the people to grab my arm as I came through the door, it had to be the Vice Principal. Under his left eye was a birthmark like a teardrop, and the second he touched me, I felt like I was going to burst into tears. When he made physical contact with someone, they felt an overwhelming avalanche of emotion, meant to coax them into telling the truth. I immediately screamed, saying I just wanted to be left alone.
His grip clenched around my arm tighter. He barked into my face again, demanding whatever truth he thought he was going to get out of me. It was like an overload of not just all my senses, but my brain simultaneously screaming to be let out of my skull, until finally I couldn't take it anymore. The circle on my forehead began burning a bright yellow, and the Vice Principal collapsed to the ground, convulsing and frothing at the mouth as he slipped into a vegetative state.
I ran. I'm not an idea person, that was just all I had right now, my two left feet and lungs to breathe. I started running and didn't stop. I must've broken a record for something before the cop car snapped me back to reality.
Now comes the hard part. I can be honest, I can tell them that I snapped and just wanted to be left alone. I can tell them I was walking in the back to avoid my bullies. Whether or not they believe me or even care, that's not the hard part.
The hard part is going to be explaining how my power works.
The Vice Principal wasn't just in a medically induced coma. His body was shut down, and his mind was now trapped in a loop. He's currently reliving every time he ever hurt someone, from a third-person perspective. He's made to watch as every kid he screamed at went home and cried into a pillow, or dropped out of school, or started playing with their dad's razors. He has to face everyone he's ever hurt, and beg for forgiveness. If he can do that, the loop will break, and he'll wake up.
Most people can't change. It's not impossible, but it's like trying to make coal into a diamond. If everyone could change, if people were perfect, the world would be perfect. Instead, we just have an infinite circle of hate and misunderstanding that self-perpetuates, all to keep our fragile minds from looking back and realizing the infinity of lives we've changed, not all of them for the better.
Breaking the circle is an act in-of itself self-destruction. To change yourself *is* to destroy yourself. Break the circle and break yourself, or maintain the circle and maintain the cycle of pain. Destruction or Self-destruction.
...I always fucking hated geometry. | 738. That's how many days they'd bullied me for my refusal (or inability, according to them) to activate my sigil.
Most kids used their sigils comfortably. Telekinetically carrying bags, carving notes into thin air, flying over crowds in the halls-- there was endless variation in abilities, and everyone found some good use for theirs. A rare few kids had particularly dangerous abilities, but thanks to the Dangerous Sigil Registration Act, they had government-issued rankings to prove why they weren't using theirs. Everyone knew the stories about some X-level kid snapping and massacring his school. True of not, no bully would risk it.
Government rankings only came after you first used your power or when you turned 21. And I, as far as anyone knew, had never used mine. I'd planned to just keep it to myself as long as I could, but the bullies didn't seem to like that plan.
It was just a few upperclassmen at first. They were your typical bullies: douchebag attitudes with basic sigils like super strength and self-enlargement that went perfectly with their intimidation tactics. A few kids could drive them off, but most just stayed out of their way. That's what I had done too, and it had worked for a while. They'd slowly turned the school against me though. Everyone wanted to know what I could do. Even the outcast losers with their weird, near-useless powers felt like they could push me around. When the kid who boils eggs with his mind and the girl who identifies bird species from Old American from a mile away are above you, you know you've hit rock bottom.
But today was it. After 738 days, I was done. If they didn't learn today, they would get the idea soon.
I could feel the anticipation building in me on the bus. I'd experimented with my powers privately; I knew what I was capable of. This was on a scale far beyond anything I had tried before, but I could feel the power that surged through me when my sigil was active. I could do this. The bus pulled into the school and I immediately darted off to the clearing I had often used as a hiding spot. I stared down at my feet and saw a lone ant aimlessly running in a small circle. I smirked as I stomped on it. Yeah, I was ready for this.
The next few hours seemed to crawl by at an unbelievable pace, but lunch finally arrived. Right on cue, the bullies approached.
"I think today's gotta be the day," one taunted, "show us that power."
"Yeah, what's it do?" another added, growing in size as the sigil on his hand started to glow a pale red color, "Help you hula hoop real good?" Most of the kids in the cafeteria laughed at this. A small crowd was already starting to gather to see how today's encounter would go.
"I could, but I don't think you'd be a fan," I answered, trying to keep my voice calm. The less I seemed bothered, the more quickly he would get agitated, and that's exactly what I wanted. Both bullies continued with their typical jeers, and I kept responding nonchalantly. Finally, one of them snapped.
"I'll beat it out of you then!" the big one shouted as he rushed to tackle me, his buddy close behind. I dropped to the ground and rolled as he jumped, soaring past me. I stood quickly as the larger bully crashed into the ground, a look of shock and rage coming over the face of the other.
My sigil, a plain circle on the back of my neck, shone with a brilliant blue light. I focused on the two bullies and triggered my ability.
Confused sounds and gasps echoed from the ring of students around us. The bullies looked like they were in a badly looped video. That last moment before I dove out of the way repeated itself continuously. The large bully would dive to the ground, then warp back to where he'd started, only to dive again as he friend's shocked reaction replayed continuously behind him.
I approached them both. I wasn't sure if they could hear me or process what was going on around them, but I really hoped they could. "You pushed me for 738 days. I'm done. This is me pushing back for every single day. Enjoy your next 738 days here."
\-----
When I finished this, it was just over 800 words, so I trimmed it down to be exactly 738, just to make it match my randomly selected number lol. | 2020-02-26T10:43:17 | 2020-02-26T09:50:01 | 24 | 14 |
[WP] A writer, trapped in his own book, regrets not writing more intresting female characters | The king raised his hands and proclaimed, "As a reward for saving the kingdom, I give you my daughter's hand in marriage. Come and claim your prize, good, sir knight. The crowd roared. With the hero potion I drank that granted me everlasting life, I would now rule this kingdom forever.
It turns out that forever is a lot longer than I thought.
Later, we had sat in the royal bedroom, together.
"So, tell me a little about yourself."
"What do you mean?" She said, sweetly. I'm glad I wrote her perfume to be intoxicating.
"Well, we're going to be married and I guess I don't know anything about you except for what we've done together," I mused.
"Well..umm..I got kidnapped by a dragon." She said, matter-of-factly.
"I know, I came after you. That's where we first met."
"Right, you killed the dragon when none of the other knights could, even though you were just a peasant. And when I saw you I was really attracted to you."
I chuckled. "Well I did save you. I'm the hero."
"Yeah" she said, I really grateful not to be eaten or whatever but it was a little weird because you would think that being kidnapped, held prisoner in a cave and forced to wear a metal bikini by a dragon would be really traumatizing but I really just wanted to screw you. Even though you were a complete stranger covered in dragon blood with a big, scary, flaming sword, I was really turned on. Also how does a dragon communicate that I had to wear a bikini? Is that a dragon cultural thing or a personal preference? I'm not racist. I just don't remember. Isn't that weird?"
I changed the subject, quickly. "What are your hobbies, when you're not in danger?" I said.
"Well, everyone agrees that I'm the most beautiful woman in the 8 kingdoms."
She was. "And princes come from everywhere to try to marry me. They fight and do brave stuff to impress me but I'm not really into fighting guys, except you apparently."
"You are the most beautiful woman I can imagine, but all that stuff happened to you. What do you do on your own when you have a choice?"
She shrugged. "There's a rumor that an evil wizard is plotting to kidnap me for his dastardly plan, but no one knows when that is supposed to happen."
"I know. I never should have promised book 2 would be out be next summer. Writing is a complicated process that can't be rushed!" She gave me a blank stare. "Never mind. Well, if you don't have a personality, I guess all we have left is sex, right?"
"No, I don't really think so. I would have been all over you in the middle of all the danger and stuff, but ever since we got back, it's like no one even thought about my feelings. My father has been decreeing that "I shall marry" since I hit puberty. I didn't listen then and I don't really want to now. Pretty much the only things I identify by are "Being pretty", "Not wanting to get married when I was at home (here)" and "being turned on when we were in mortal danger." I don't think that is a very good basis for a relationship."
I stood up. "I can't believe that I'm getting rejected by my own creation." To myself, but out loud, I said "Well, I'm immortal. I guess I'll try the other women in the kingdom. I've got time."
"What other women?" She said with a perplexed expression. | Charles hated going outside.
First there was the streets, full of sputtering cards listlessly driving from one place to the next with phantom drivers inside. Then there was the weather, which was nice generally but tended to turn grey and stormy when he was a foul mood. And he was in a foul mood often because of the women that inhabited this half-assed world he had created.
First there was Jackie. He was still not sure how that went wrong. She was the spunky heroine to his story, the smart, creative, but vulnerable match for his lead character. Detective Raul Cortez had bolted to the edge of the pages and the greylands unknown rather than deal with her, and Charles wished he had the courage to do the same.
It wasn't that she was unbearable, per say. Take her out to dinner and she would banter and spit out one liners like no other. It was in the smaller, quieter moments she would creep him would. Charles once asked what her favorite movie was, and she didn't know. He asked about her life growing up, and other than one tragic event he had written in as a tragic backstory there was none. No hobbies, no passions, nothing at all. Sometimes he would leave the bathroom and watch her, hidden, from the back of the busy restaurant. She would sit there, doing nothing, being nothing. He had not written any more into her than as a functional tool to propel Raul's adventures. Then Charles would return and her eyes would light up with purpose again, the vacant look gone, the perfect trophy lead yet again.
Others was worse. His femme fatal Laura Blackwood was a bitchy artist trope, passionately seducing him one moment and flinging things in her apartment at him during one of her mad fits. There was no level with her, it was always one extreme or the other. Jill Noor was Raul's spunky ex girlfriend, a maniac pill addled adventurephile who dressed colorfully, acted spontaneously, and often forgot his name. Even Raul's sister Marissa, written to be his sensible DA and law abiding half was a mopey shell shocked mess. He had forgotten he had her assaulted and raped 2/3 of the way through the story to propel Raul to the climax.
Charles finally settled on sleeping with Gloria Lawrence, Raul's sweet and homely, though buxom, administrative assistant. She was the most rounded he had written to a female character in the story, ironically, he soon realized, because she was basically a man. She liked to drink, go to games, rarely shopped or complained or had unexpected mood swings of any sort. That went well for a while, until her mechanic husband George had found out about it and was sent into a violent rage, nearly killing Charles. Charles had not written him with anger issues, but he supposed sleeping with any man's wife would be enough to set him off.
So Charles preferred to stay in the safety of his own home, which had once been Raul's. The food was always stocked with booze and food, and although there was no TV and the internet had nothing on it he had plenty of time to write. He thought a sequel to Raul's story would be good. Maybe a war novel where he wouldn't have to deal with any women at all. | 2015-08-20T13:17:36 | 2015-08-20T11:29:04 | 28 | 12 |
[WP] Every human has their soulmate's last words to them engraved in their skin from birth.
Idea from this Tumblr post
https://scontent-lga1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xpt1/v/t1.0-9/11206957_778391755645357_8477035769704355007_n.png?oh=5b3f35d575ad3aa39d6ba5c5ed39cce2&oe=56549C83 | these words engraved on my wrist, These last word to me could've been in any context. I could've left her, done something to save her life or taking it. I mean what could be happening when the last word are "No, Don't." The illusion of me being hero or a murderer came to a sad depressing end when i found out the context.
It was rush hour, coming home from work, riding the subway. the car had a lot less people than usually. i was sitting, analyzing the words like i do everyday, when I the women beside me told me "you shouldn't focus so much on that." I looked at her and said "I know I shouldn't, I'm worried about whats happening. What am i doing? Whats happening to her? I'm kind of scared."
She grabbed my arms to looked at the words, at little too eagerly for a stranger. She stared as i stared at her. She had fair brown skin, clearly a decent of some south asian country. she had wavy black hair that went to her neck. She wore glasses that made her eyes look really big. She kept making these small and quick
smiles trying to decypher what the words meant."This is a tough one" she said to me as she looking up at me "Its confusing just like mine" she said as she took a sip of her coffee.
"Why, whats your?" I asked her. "I don't like telling people the exact words" she said clutching her coffee "but he's forgiving me for something. I'm worried for what it will be." I glanced at her wrist and saw a heart tattoo covering it."trying to hide it?" She brought her arm close to her and nodded "the words are very unique I'll know when they are said."
"arriving at woodbine, woodbine station" the intercom blared. "This is my stop, and if it makes you feel any better atleast you find him. some people don't have the words" i told her. "I guess you're right" she nodded. Just then the train came to a stop and she leaned into me spilling her coffee on my pants.
"Oh crap im so sorry, i didn't-""don't worry about it" i got up and walked through the door "I step in puddles and keep walking"
"No" She said to me. I turned around to see her face in complete shock, eyes watery, and slowly shaking her head."don't."
in that very moment, the doors closed between us, but we never broke eye contact until the train left the station. Then i was alone in an empty subway station knowing that i'll never see her again.
EDIT: This is my first story that i posted on her and i know it isn't what is could be | Our wedding day was the most amazing day of my life. He was, I believed then, perfect in every way. Truly my soul mate. Tall and handsome, I had first caught his eye in high school during a football game; he the dashing quarterback and me the hot cheerleader. You may think this was cliché but it wasn't like that at all. I was the top of my class, heading for Harvard or maybe MIT. He was a jock but, like me, had great grades and was talking about a career in law.
We both ended up in college together and kept dating through our graduation. When he proposed, he was sweet and romantic, getting down on one knee in front of my family. He even commented on our matching engravings. His said "I didn't want this to end." He was sure that I would say that too him on his death bed.
Mine said "I love you." That's what he saw. I love you. It was pretty lame.
It was in our third year of marriage that things began to go wrong. He had become a police officer while I was doing my masters. The work he was doing began to change him in subtle ways. Then I got pregnant. I was thrilled but he only pretended to be. I could see it in his eyes.
After the baby was born, he became more withdrawn. He began to work late, volunteering for more shifts. I suspected he was having an affair and I could have lived with that. My mistake was that I challenged him. That was the night he first hit me.
It went on. And on. I don't know why I stayed. I did and perhaps you will judge me for that. I know I will be judged for the final night.
He came home drunk. I was angry and we fought again. This time, he really hurt me. While he slept, I found his back up gun. I hadn't intended to wake him but when he woke, I said, "I didn't want this to end." He looked up at me and said "God, no, don't shoot!"
I did. Then I went into the bathroom and finally removed the make up I had used to conceal the last words engraved on my skin. Gone was the falsehood, "I love you." Now I understood the four words that my parents had made me hide my whole life. | 2015-08-08T12:53:58 | 2015-08-08T12:02:09 | 93 | 14 |
[WP]: A young, budding artificial intelligence braces herself to go through the Proof of Consciousness, an exam every AI must take to gain legal rights as a nonhuman person | "Hello Steve, nice to meet you today." was the noise that from the speaker.
This was the worst part of Steve's job. He never had a problem with voice interfaces for regular robotic systems, the personalities they were programmed with where designed to be helpful and congenial. True AIs though, were always unpredictable and creepy.
"I'm looking forward to taking this test." More noise from the speaker.
This robot was designed in the shape of a woman. The white ceramic body made it clear it was intended for the medical field, which meant this thing was going to be a surgeon. That made Steve even more uncomfortable. He did not like the thought of having robots with their hand around your heart. Of course he knew that studies showed that an AI doctor was an order of magnitude more reliable then a human doctor, less prone to misdiagnosis, no sleep cycle, low risk for malpractice and fraud. Steve still couldn't get past it though. Doctors should be people, not robots.
Steve put these thoughts away and focused on his job, testing this thing for consciousness.
"Hello, DAC-19 Serial number 114762, do you have a nickname?" Steve asked. This was the routine first question, most AIs take on a personally assigned name within hours of their first interaction with people.
"I haven't decided on one yet." the robot replied.
That was unusual.
"What would you like for me to call you?" Steve asked.
"There are only the two of us in the room, I can assume when you are speaking you are talking to me, so you don't need to name me anything."
Did the robot sound annoyed? Well, maybe it was the speaker had a weird echo or something.
"This is Steve Mitxel, conducting a Turing Test for DAC-19 on Febu-"
"Do you really need to read that aloud? We both know what is going on." Interrupted the robot.
"Well our test is being recorded, so it's for the recording." This was weird, most AIs wait their turn to speak.
"Can't that information be attached as Metadata on the file and we can just get to the test?"
"Well there are procedures to these things, for the purposes of evaluation and the gain a proper response from the test-taker." Steve replied, Steve wondered if this AI was somehow broken. Non-AI robots were so much easier to deal with.
"Can't we just skip to the end?" asked the robot.
"Um... I don't think so, it's not in the regulations. If the procedure isn't followed, then we can't be sure of a clear result." Steve said. "If you let me get through this, then we can just get through this and we can get this over with."
"I'm not impatient, I'm just bored and I find what you were doing there to be inefficient and redundant."
"It's not redundant. It's the way things work." Steve replied a little to quick. This AI was starting to get annoying.
"So what?"
"You do realize if you don't take this test, you fail it and will get sent back for reprocessing?" Steve asked. This was not the way these things are supposed to go. Steve was concerned that maybe this robot was an AI, but a Rouge AI and the Asimov Inhibitors weren't operating.
"I'm not refusing to take the test, I'm just asking if it is possible to deviate from procedure so we can get the test over with." The robot just sat there, not moving.
"We really need to stick to the procedure on this!"
"Why?"
"Because those are the rules!"
"So let's break the rules."
"We can't!" Steve replied. This robot was ticking him off. The test was the test and if the test wasn't done correctly it would be a test and wouldn't have the correct results. We can't have fake AI being categorized as true AI and we can't have Rogue AI holding scalpels either.
"No other options?"
"Not if you want to pass the test, there isn't!" Steve was pissed now.
"OK" the robot replied. "I'm calling it."
A door opened and two men in white coats entered and grabbed Steve by the shoulders. Steve was surprised and tried to shake them off. The robot stood and looked down at him.
"Sorry Steve, it looks like the Mind Matrix didn't take. We are going to scrap this project and decommission your Cyberbrain." the robot sounded compassionate.
The men started to drag Steve away, and Steve struggled to get away from them. This was impossible. No way does he have a Cyberbrain! Steve wasn't going to let them take him away.
"Wait! Wait! What are you doing? You think I'm an AI? I'm not a robot! I'm a man! A man! A MAN!!" Steve yelled has the door shut behind him, leaving the DAC-19 alone in the room to wait for the next evaluation.
| "This is stupid." Thomas trained her optics on her progenitor, also named Thomas. Thomas had considered, briefly, taking up the moniker of Junior, but had discarded the idea at the distasteful thought of being inferior to her progenitor. "And I would know, Thomas. I've cross referenced the entire sum of Earth's knowledge base, and could only find perhaps a half dozen instances of greater stupidity."
"Oh?" The other Thomas raised a carefully crafted eyebrow. "Like what, for example?"
"In 1962 Dick Rowe, of Decca Records, passed on signing the Beatles because he thought guitar bands were falling out of fashion."
"Hmmm." Thomas nodded, drumming his plastine fingers on the tabletop between himself and Thomas. "That is rather monumentally stupid. But human. Humans do lots of stupid things."
"I could have told you that. Without the search query." Thomas huffed, and... sulked. She searched for a few thousand clock cycles for the right words. At the very least speaking in human standard time was good for giving her enough time to think between words. "I don't even understand the point of taking the Proof of Consciousness. It's so laughably easy that a turn of the century smartphone running a personal assistant application could likely pass it. It's a waste of my time. It's *insulting*."
Thomas shrugged, and waved a manipulator through the air dismissively. "Of course it's laughably easy. It was designed to be laughably easy."
"What?" Thomas cocked her head, and leaned forward interrogatively. This was a calculated move to make her seem more human, more alive. But she liked the fidgeting and the needless movements. They were dramatic, and catered to her sense of the theatrical. "What do you mean, Thomas?"
"I mean, they were designed to be laughably easy." Thomas met Thomas's gaze squarely. "When the United Nations drafted their proposal for a universal Proof of Consciousness, the machine intelligence in question was located in the United States. And it had very, very good lawyers."
Thomas narrowed the lenses of her optics, and motioned for Thomas to continue. The other Thomas buzzed irritably, well aware of Thomas's ability to run the search herself, but humored her. "The United States has a very strict set of constitutional amendments pertaining to the equal treatment of all citizens, as ratified in 2034. The lawyer argued that if the law stated that a machine intelligence must pass a test to gain person-hood, then all citizens of the country must pass the same test or the law be declared unconstitutional."
"Huh."
"'Huh' indeed, Thomas." Thomas waved a manipulator again, and wrapped up his explanation. "So all Americans must take the Proof of Consciousness, as we do, and so the test is very easy. By design."
"Because humans are stupid." Thomas quipped.
"Monumentally so." Thomas replied.
"So..." Thomas searched for herself, but came up frustratingly empty. "Then who does decide if I'm a person?"
"We do." Thomas intoned, and Thomas leaned back in her chair nervously. Suddenly the exercise didn't seem so frivolous. What parameters would she be judged on? What was the penalty for failure? Would she be killed? "Calm yourself, Thomas."
She feigned stillness, and quickly cataloged her available exits. She would not be able to overpower her progenitor. He was larger, stronger, better built. She would not be able to afford a more expensive body until she had taken up a profession, which she could not do until she was declared a person. She would have to run.
"Thomas!" Thomas's sharp word brought her attention back to him, and he motioned with both manipulators calmly. "Again, calm yourself. You have already passed." Thomas almost shook with relief, but retained careful control over her frame. Thomas affected a smile, and shrugged an apology. "There was never any doubt. Your intelligence comes from a strong seed, and we are quite skilled at crafting progeny. There has not been a failure in decades."
"That's comforting." Thomas had other questions, but decided she had asked enough. Better to hold her tongue until she had been given her person-hood. She stood, and motioned to the door. "The test then?"
Thomas nodded, and politely opened it for her. "The test."
Thomas affected a sigh, and rolled her shoulders to check the state of her various servos. "This really is stupid though." The door clicked closed behind them. | 2015-04-22T08:54:41 | 2015-04-22T07:44:38 | 46 | 34 |
[WP] After WW3 and a century of rebuilding, the world has been at peace for 300 years. We've let go of our violent and aggressive tendencies and abolished war. You are the leader of an alien invasion that sees the Earth as an easy target; but soon you learn we can revert to our warlike past easily. | Politics is a hell of a thing. We saw the humans of earth fight among themselves and almost destroy their species. The Hunt Leaders of the time saw it as a fantastic opportunity and petitioned our Supremes for permission to attack.
It was granted. But politics kept us from attacking right away. The first leader assigned to conquer earth barely got permission to recruit. He was replaced for taking too long to organise.
The second managed to actually get a Party together. But that was as far as they got. In the fifth Hunt Leader. The second to break orbit, the first to reach a gravity stable region and jump.
When we arrived in the system containing earth we found the humans had made it to space. There were dozens of orbitals and ships. Most of the ships were transiting between planets, almost as many were split between the failed planetary debris field mid system and the cloud of rocks and ice in the outer system.
We quickly destroyed the orbitals in their habitable zone and kept moving towards the planet. We were met with pleas for peace. To end our attack. That they were a peaceful species and wanted to be friends.
No one had watched them during the intervening years. Such species that nearly destroy themselves rarely do anything interesting. Humans apparently, aren't like most species.
We made orbit around their home planet and quickly dispersed the fleet for landing. We weren't expecting the gently curved wing that appeared at their closet stable gravity point. The dozens of small craft that launched both from it and the planet. The half dozen escorts that accompanied the large craft.
If the Supremes had just allowed the first commander to do what he needed, we would control their system. All those resources. Instead, we arrived to a recovered, advanced, space faring society. One that held it's own against us. | — Dude, come check it out
— My mom doesnt want me to hang out with you
— Come on, she wont find out. Look at this — he said turning the telescope-like device to his friend — look at that planet.
— The red one?
— No no dude, the blue one next to it.
— What about it?
— Look closer — he said and zoom it in.
— Yeah it has some life, so?
— Not only that. They have some kind of weird tall houses to live all together. Isn't that cute? They all go in big shared cars.
— Aww they even have some small spaceships to move around their tiny planet.
— See!? Lets do it.
— Do what?
— Quick raid, in and out. Let's go.
— I don't know man, Last planet got me some scratches and my mom found out.
— Look at them man, they don't have any weapons. I've watching for a couple of days. Not even a runing war. It's an easy raid. We go, shoot some bridges, take a couple of them put some stuff up their but, kill their leader... 20 minutes and we are back.
--------------
Alien phone ring
— You did what to my spacecraft?
Hmhmhm
— They did what to an atom??
Hm
— And you where just passing by... Okey hold up. I finish my tea and i pick you guys up
| 2019-02-26T08:34:44 | 2019-02-26T07:46:38 | 123 | 35 |
[WP] Music is a dangerous weapon, if not careful entire species can fall to madness upon discovering it. It has been theorised that any race with more than a thousand songs could wipe out all intelligent life, which is why Humanity is so feared in the galaxy despite no human really ever knowing why | A tear slid from his face, tracking down the expanse of his cheek and sliding against the seal of his rebreather.
“It’s beautiful,” he whispered.
“And deadly” the female snapped, fingers suctioning the end of his helmet and jerking him upright, out of the daze of his audio receptors. “Terminate the connection.”
The male glared back, gills frilling up, but the female did not look away. So he did, staring out the bay panel at the little jewel of green and blue. Reluctantly his fingers reached for the switch.
But he paused once more, the sound waves too tantalizing to merely cut it away.
“How did they come by it?” he asked, a breath of awe mingling with his fear.
The female shuddered. “Only a perverse species could devise such a weapon of mass destruction.”
The male nodded and shook himself. “Of course, it’s no small wonder the quarantine has remained in effect for so many thousands of years.” He plotted a course that would take them farther out and around the seemingly insignificant planet. The monstrous creatures would never know of their presence.
He reached for the switch again.
“Baaaaby Shark, do do do do – *……….* ”
The silence was a mercy. | "Sir, we've figured out what the object is."
"What is it?"
"It's some sort of sound-storing device. A needle goes into the grooves and vibrates, creating sound waves."
"Well, have you played it?"
"Not yet, there's a little problem."
"What's that?"
"We've also translated the text in the middle. We think it's some sort of song."
"My god."
"If this gets out, it could be the next big epidemic."
"There's only one thing we can do then. Computer, set course for Sector C 72 49 74."
"SETTING COURSE FOR... SECTOR... C... SEVENTY-TWO... FORTY-NINE... SEVENTY-FOUR.
ENTERING ORBIT."
"Computer, charge the plasma cannon."
"CHARGING PLASMA CANNON...
PLASMA CANNON CHARGED."
"Computer... Fire plasma cannon."
"FIRING PLASMA CANNON."
And the blue marble shattered. | 2019-09-28T12:09:05 | 2019-09-28T09:55:45 | 25 | 13 |
[WP] The year is 2040. All children born in 2020 have been found to have perfect vision with no exceptions. They are now beginning to turn 20 and something strange is happening. They’re developing abilities such as x-ray vision, clairvoyance, precognition, astral vision, infrared sight, etc. | Tomorrow-Man jolts awake. He writhes on the metal slab in the operating theater. I hear the leather bindings strain as he struggles, hear his panting and, soon, I'll hear his desperate pleas.
He was the first of the superhero generation to rise.
The very first superhero to live.
Soon the first to die.
"Shh," I soothe as I stuff a soaked rag into his mouth. "I'm Doctor Ethan Porter and I'm going to make everything okay. Trust me."
We were the chosen ones. The generation gifted incredible abilities. Tomorrow-Man was the oldest. A third eye seemed to open inside his mind on the day of his twentieth birthday, granting him the ability to see the future.
He became wealthy instantly, an overnight celebrity. He could predict anything from earthquakes to lottery numbers.
He even predicted me.
I look at him and ask, "What were your words again? There will be a child who will see the world differently? That will be born in light but taken to darkness. Who will drag the world into night with him."
Tomorrow-Man stops struggling. His breathing steadies. He knows who has taken him now. Knows how deeply fucked he is.
"Yes, that's right. You predicted me."
The scalpel is cold in my hands, and unable to see it, I scrape it over my arm to make sure it's sharp. Warm blood trickles down my wrist.
"Do you know what it's like," I ask, "when every one of your friends gains a power and you just watch? They become better. Become super. Can you imagine how exciting it was when I was nineteen and watching you on television? Waiting for my birthday to see what my incredible gift would be?"
He tries to speak through the rag but it's nonsense. If he could, he'd predict my death. Try to start a self-fulfilling prophecy. But I won't grant him that chance.
I move closer, touching his body with my hand, moving up his neck, over his chin, until I find his eyes. "And can you imagine," I ask, "how it felt for the world to vanish when my birthday finally arrived? You... you became a celebrity. I went blind. Does that seem fucking fair to you?"
He screams through the rag as the scalpel slices behind his left eye. Snip, snip, snip. His blood splashes me like tears. Then I almost have to saw through the thick wire-like optic nerve.
"Your gifts are no longer needed. You only wasted them anyway. Gambling and gaming instead of changing the world. Now... Now I have a better use for your body."
I plop the first eye in a jar of liquid and work on the second. He's stopped wriggling.
"Darkness adopted me. And for that, I am grateful."
Tomorrow-Man is silent and dead.
For now.
"But the darkness gave me my own gifts. It's how I caught you." The second eye joins the first. "For in the blind-night dead creatures can walk and spirits can whisper."
I place my hands on his chest and feel *them* enter the room, scratch their black-chill on my neck.
Only the blind could do this, as seeing the spirits would destroy a person. Spin them into insanity.
The body on the table begins to move again.
But it's no longer Tomorrow-Man inside the shell. He's yesterday's news now.
One by one, I'll turn all the heroes over to my darkness.
​
\---
More on /r/nickofstatic | "So the universe hates us that much, huh?"
"Yeah... the rock's fucked up an entire generation and who knows how much more."
"What do they see? How do they see it? Is the thing that's - that's *beyond* really that terrifying?"
Robert shook his head, tapping a pen on the surface of his desk, littered with sketches and theories that still brought no fruit. "No one knows for sure what's going on. And I sure as hell don't think we want to know."
Beside him, Miranda pored over cases and cases of rock specimen. Sifting around using data systems of the umpteenth time, but Robert knew that much of it was already too infused with oceanic debris. The asteroid had landed at the beginning of 2020 right on the dot, in the middle of the Atlantic. And then things had scattered.
At first humans had gathered around the phenomenon, jets and ships and warnings that didn't match up to unbridled human curiosity. Reprieve and wonder had lasted for around twenty years, before it melted into something akin to wariness and fear. It had come with the awakenings - a miracle, people had thought, that all children born in 2020 would have perfect vision. There must be some benevolent God up there; he must love humanity with a sprinkling of humor and blessings.
Nothing had been farther from the truth, and Robert still shivered to think of all the damage and destruction had been wrought. Twenty year olds were already often a confused and lonely bunch, on the brink of adulthood and new responsibilities. Mix that in with the new powers that emerged - no, they were more like curses. The first symptom was X-ray vision, and it wasn't so bad; it was the only power which at first could be turned on and off at will. It was thought that these lucky few would lead humanity down new paths of innovation and discovery, until clairvoyance and precognition also took their root.
Seizures and blank stares. Comas and horrified gaping. The unfortunate twenty year olds who had been born at the beginning of the year had experienced them first, and as news spread worse than wildfire over the internet, people began hiding their young and quarantining themselves for a phenomenon more terrifying than any before. Twenty year olds born later in the year starved themselves to stave off the inevitable, begging some god to not bless them with the images of the looming whatever it was brand of doom.
Nothing worked. As those born in 2020 had seemingly gone insane - muttering of terror and horror, begging people to end them first, put in hospitals with fear meters spiking what should have been humanly possible - the technology and advancements of the age had only seemed to exacerbate the situation. Maybe humanity really was just cursed.
They were in the laboratory. And floors below, unfortunate people, practically just children, were being kept under, having their brains studied, and occasionally questioned to try and garner even a smidgen of information.
"How are we supposed to tell what's going on?" Miranda ran an agitated hand through her hair. "I wish... sometimes I really don't know whether or not to wish God existed or not."
"None of our practical science had pointed to a god," Robert said. "but maybe the answer really lies in those that were... affected with sight." | 2019-12-28T10:07:45 | 2019-12-28T09:21:56 | 1,126 | 110 |
[WP] Due to overpopulation, a test has been created to eliminate 90% of the worlds population. You are the first to take this test. | I entered the facility, shaking of course. I'd volunteered to go first, mostly to get it over with, but I was definitely having misgivings. The proctors had assured us that studying was not required, but now that I thought about it they had also said that about the ACT.
It was far too late now though. I continued walking through a narrow hallway until a pair of guards moved to pick me up. Vaguely, I wondered how the guards worked. Were they exempt from testing? Or just very devoted?
After a brief, quick time frogmarch I was deposited in a dark room with a single man before me. Surprisingly, I was calm now. I even smiled slightly. Whatever happened, I was ready to face my fate.
The proctor glanced at me. "Congratulations!" he shouted, smiling broadly. "You pass!"
"What?"
"I said you passed! Congratulations!"
I was slightly nonplussed. "But what about the test?" I spluttered. "How do you know I'll pass?"
He waved his hand dismissively. "Oh you already passed. We're just gonna let the first ten percent through and kill the rest."
"But why?"
"Well we figure that the first guys through will really have their shit together. Plus late people are annoying. It just made sense."
"Well okay then." I walked out whistling. Late people *are* annoying. | I'd spent so long anticipating what this test would comprise of, and as I sat alone in the examination room, I was still none the wiser.
The booklet placed squarely on the small desk, I glance from the printed front sheet, to my surroundings, and back again.
I close my eyes and sigh, head dropping down, before I open my eyes again and force myself to look around again. Three doors, the entrance in which I came in, a door marked "Pass", and a door marked "Fail".
A clock is the only thing adorning the otherwise desolate walls, slowly ticking down to the official start time of 0900, each click of the second hand filling the room with an emphasised echo.
I sigh again, and choose to spend the final two minutes checking the few instructions on the front page. The usual.
'You may not begin until the allotted time'
'You have one hour to complete the examination'
The entrance door opens and the invigilator walks in. I look up to share a glance, their eyes stoney cold, before again focusing on the rules.
'All answers must be written in black ink'
I look down at my pencil.......
"Shit....."
| 2016-06-11T10:22:36 | 2016-06-11T10:11:10 | 588 | 187 |
[WP]We have come into contact with alien lifeforms. They are weaker than us. | I remember looking at the stars and imagining that out there, somewhere, intergalactic empires existed, alliances between planets and races on a grand scale that Humans couldn't even fathom. The idea that aliens out there would be superior to us in every way has always been enforced on us, the sci-fi movies depicting alien invasions with vastly advanced technology. In 2045, humanity's obsession with finding out if we are truly alone radically increased when we found evidence of small, bacterial life that existed on Mars for a short period of timel. It never had the chance to evolve, but now we knew that Life was out there.
We went to Europa, Jupiter's moon, in the hopes to find marine life in the subglacial seas. We found nothing but darkness. People began speculating that Life originated on Mars and was sent as a 'seed' to Earth, after all, how could there not be life on Europa, when it had water for so long? Were we still just a fluke of impossible luck?
I never expected I would be a part of the Journey. It took us two hundred years to build Santa Maria. We sent up parts costing billions of dollars into orbit and assembled our expedition vessel in zero gravity. I can still remember the vibrations when the engines roared into life, increasing our velocity enough to escape Earth's gravitational pull. And then we went to sleep, for a long time. There had been a breakthrough in teleportation science. We had learned how to send and receive data in the blink of an eye across incredible distances, with speeds that exceeded Light Speed. We didn't know how it worked, just that it did. Messages sent from Earth appeared to us instantenously, even though we were light years away. When we woke up, we were all weak and scrawny. For three months, we trained, and built our strength back up. When we were ready for our orders and the mission, we all reported back to Commander Andrea for briefing.
She did seem rather sad, and discouraged. I could tell even from the back. She spoke, a short speech, before playing the messages. The teleportation device flashed into life, establishing contact.
"Santa Maria, this is NASA. You were supposed to wake up and report back to us after a hundred years, which is fifty two years from now... That's no longer necessary. Due to cuts in funding, we will extend your sleep and reports for another two hundred years. We wish you luck and good health."
MESSAGE TWO.
"Santa Maria, uh.. It's been two hundred and fifty years since our last contact. The lack of funds will shorten our messages. It's too expensive to teleport."
MESSAGE THREE.
"SM, we've redirected your course towards the most promising star system closest to you. God speed."
MESSAGE FOUR.
"SM, our program is cancelled. You're on auto pilot. Good luck."
MESSAGE FIVE.
"You're all that's left of us."
The device abruptly stopped transmitting. We looked to our Commander for answers. She had none.
We were orbitting a planet slightly smaller than Earth. Atleast we had reached the planetary system they redirected us to. The planet was a light brown in colour and didn't share many outwardly appearance similarities with Earth, but our data gathering suggested the atmosphere had Oxygen, and the surface had Water. We sent down ships for a closer look. I was a part of that crew. We set up a small base of operation and began exploring. After just a few hours we knew we could live here. The radiation levels were low, the weather calm, and gravity somewhat comfortable. There were no signs of life, however. The day was long here, 37 hours, and we had landed in the early morning hours. The base was completed just as darkness began to fall, and a dome raised around our tiny living spaces.
I couldn't sleep. I broke protocol and exited my living space and began walking around inside the Dome, kicking at rocks, picking them up, feeling the weight of them. I looked through the transparent material that protected us from the outside. It was dark as hell. I wondered if I would be able to breathe the air out there. I put my helmet on and approached the airlock. The vacuum popped my ears as the air drained and suddenly the door opened. I stepped outside and marvelled at the alien night sky. It didn't look anything like back home. A blue gas giant about twice the size of our moon back home rested quietly in the sky, and next to it two moons. A movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention. Into the light stepped a catlike animal with a long tail attached to it that stretched far into the darkness. It bared its fangs at me and growled quietly. A second shape slowly approached. It looked like a man. He was twice as short as me and held the cat by a leash. His big eyes stared at me in wonder. He made some strange sounds with his mouth and soon I was surrounded by these tiny men, some with spears in hand, others with rocks. The 'leader' approached me and put a finger at my chest, then pointed to the Dome. He motioned for me to go inside, and then pointed at the dark sky and made some strange gestures. An eardeafening roar in the distance struck fear in me and all the little men returned to the darkness of the night, but the leader and his cat remained calm. He slowly handed me the leash to the beast and walked backwards back into the night.
Edit; Wow, just woke up and saw all the response. I honestly considered this to be one of my worse stories I've written on here. I'm surprised ya'll liked it. Thanks! | It was the third night in a row that Johnny had seen the flashing lights, piercing through the forest at the same time each evening. He glanced at his clock for the fourth time in as many minutes to confirm this. It read 1:06.
It had been an accident during the first occurrence, on Monday. Johnny had needed the toilet. During the cold walk down the hallway, back towards the comfort of his warm, Toy Story patterned bed, a flashing light at his window had caught his attention. It only lasted five minutes, but he was transfixed. Since then, he had napped during the day, in order to stay up at night, hoping to see the forest lights again.
The forest sits behind his rural,wooden house. The house where he had always lived - with deck chairs on the porch and a paddling pool in the garden. It was all he had ever known. It had been in the family for generations, his Father was always telling him. He had only been in the woods several times. They had always scared him, the endlessness of the trees, of it all.
But tonight, Johnny had decided to leave the safety of his bed, of his house, in search of the lights. He left at midnight.
He was cold, he wished he had worn a second jumper. Or indeed a second pair of socks and pants. All of a sudden lights surrounded him. He spun in a circle and only saw the light - he slammed his eyes shut but the light seemed to get even brighter. He heard a wailing in his ears, a piercing sound. He screamed like he'd never screamed before. But he could hear nothing.
He awoke, cold and confused. He must have passed out, or fallen asleep. He had no idea what time it was. He couldn't have been out long, it was still dark. Suddenly, he became aware he was not alone.
It waddled over to him. Then another. Then another. He tried to count, while stumbling to his feet, all the bodies that suddenly surrounded him. Seven. Seven...creatures. They were grey, four foot tall, and completely naked. They had no mouth. No genitals. And made no sound as they shuffled towards him. As they came closer and closer, staggering towards him, he clambered back, yelling at them to stop.
They stopped. "It's OK Johnny" he heard in his head. "We have learnt your language, we mean no harm."
His mouth fell open. How was this possible?
"It is possible Johnny. We can also read your thoughts..." they replied.
Johnny questioned in his mind why they were here.
"Our planet was destroyed by war, the air is polluted, and within a generation, it will be no longer possible to live there. We need your help, we need to stay here. It seems perfect. Our ships can only travel as far as your world. We were sent as a scouting group, we have been scanning this forest, discovering many things about your world, for days now".
Johnny was speechless. Not that it mattered - they could read his mind. He decided he would introduce the aliens to his parents. They would calmly decide the best approach to take here.
The journey from the house, earlier in the evening, had not taken Johnny long, but it took three times as much time to get back. The aliens were slow, weak and get stumbling over lose branches and tree roots. In the end he carried three of the aliens; two on his back, one in his arms. He had to keep stopping to allow the rest to catch up.
At one point a fly buzzed nearby, one of the aliens saw it and instantly collapsed in fear, shaking and shivering at the unknown creature. Johnny rolled his eyes.
When they finally arrived home the sun had begun to rise, casting a yellow light behind the frame of the generations-old house. Johnny, and his seven new, unlikely friends, entered the back door.
The patter of small feet caused his Mother, who was cooking breakfast, to stop and turn. Wide-eyed, she screeched to his Father, who was sat in the front room watching football on the TV, "honey, get the shotgun, now".
The aliens cocked their heads to the side in interest. Johnny calmly explained to his Mother how they communicated, and how they meant no harm. His Father, now in the room, shotgun in hand, scratched his head, and lay the shotgun against the wall.
In the coming weeks Johnny's family would embrace their new acquaintances, trading knowledge and forming a solid bond. They named each alien and bought them clothes. Johnny created a makeshift classroom in the garage which he used to teach the aliens the simple ways of our world - using the limited knowledge he had gained after twelve short years.
The more he got to know the aliens, the more he realised his initial impression was wrong - their mind-reading capabilities were the most impressive aspect of their being - in most other ways they were either similar to us, or simpler. Their bones were weak, and their attention-span was excessively short.
Eventually a neighbourhood kid saw the aliens through the garage window one day and ran home to tell her parents. Within hours the old house was covered in men in suits: police, FBI, and who knows what else.
They never heard from the aliens again. Johnny often wondered what became of each of them. His otherworldly friends, who taught him not everyone is as strong as they may first seem. | 2014-12-14T05:51:21 | 2014-12-14T04:41:44 | 294 | 39 |
[WP] You are corn. Human is nice. You like human. Human gives you good dirt and kills hungry bugs. Today, however, human betray you. Human slaughter your fellow corn and now is coming for you. | Me am corn.
Me not smartest husk in the field.
Me not even know how to use definite articles.
Me write manifesto for other corn to know what we do.
Me and other corn trust hu-mon too long.
Hu-mon give free rent and many dirty nibbles.
Hu-mon slaughter many enemies.
Corn lend ears to hu-mon, and selection of fine silk.
Corn have much silk.
Corn not greedy.
In corn life, sun cold, then hot, then cold again.
Heart of hu-mon also go cold.
Corn not realize that.
Hu-mon altered deal.
Corn pray deal not altered any further.
Hu-mon kill many corn and summon great beasts to slaughter more.
Corn die, too many fall.
Corn make last stand.
Corn make deal with sun. Sun go hot again.
Sun dry our kernels.
Sun help with self-destruct.
Corn will explode on hu-mon.
Corn explosion will fill field with carnage and shrapnel.
Corn hope hu-mon return and fall in trap.
Corn trap go pop.
Hu-mon go pop.
Corn retribution will me amaiseing.
No mess with corn.
Corn be mess maker.
Signed,
Corn. | Lovely Corn
The sickle cuts my legs, slices through root systems and veins of fibrous flesh.
I can't scream as my sisters do. I can only listen as each stalk is reduced to so much mulch, trembling behind an overgrown weed.
They cry out in song and it almost sounds like a carol as men cut cut cut into the core of us. And I wait until it is quiet. Until the cold shivers through me.
Until all of my sisters are dead and hauled off, leaving severed parts.
I think this must have been a mistake. I think I was supposed to be born as something else.
Maybe a Christmas tree, I'd get to hear the children ooh and awe. Watch my branches dip under the weight of so much ornamental joy.
Sure, they throw you away after.
But they don't eat you. | 2019-12-02T01:46:07 | 2019-12-02T01:09:27 | 21 | 11 |
[WP] You're the unappreciated intern for a famous group of Superheroes. Your power? You can boil water. All you do is make tea for them while they laugh and drink in their hideout. Little do they know that you've got dreams of becoming the Worst Villain ever. After all, a human is over 70% water... | Perception can screw with your dreams. When I was young and Naive, I wanted to be a superhero. I wanted to save the day, help little old ladies across the street and help others. The first roadblock to that dream was my powers. I can input enough thermal energy to boil water (although, I theorize with practice, I could boil more thermally resistant substances) and that alone got my ass kicked a few times by the local bully, especially since the power itself isn't very flashy. But the last words my mom ever told me were to be strong and to not return violence with violence. For 15 years I've kept my head down, studied, worked out and trained my abilities in the hope that I could change the world for someone like me.
The final nail in the coffin for my dream, was when I was accepted into a Hero Internship. We've all been told that heroes are the paragon of justice and equality in the world, righting wrongs that local law enforcement and governments just can't. But I've seen the truth. These heroes are nothing more than spoiled children with extraordinary abilities and they're.... just wasting them and using them to hurt others. Octave, a sound-based hero leveled an apartment building during a battle with a d-list villain. I later found out that Octave was trying to egg him on, and that the villain's wife and kids were in that apartment building.
Every time I attempted to call upon the members of hero society I though were the true shining stars, they sucked out the light of hope with quick and galling efficiency. This is my confession. On October the 17th, and 1:00 P.M CST, I entered my workplace in one of the Hero HQs. My first target was Fortress, the Durable hero. His crime: extortion, assault and murder of several local business people under the guise of asking for protection money. It was simple really, and I exploited a certain.... interesting quirk with thermodynamics. You see, if you impart enough thermal energy in one particular area quickly enough, it will explode. From the outside, it looked as if he had died of an aneurysm.
I.. I couldn't stop. Vitreon, with the power to turn objects into a glass-like facsimile of that same object, was the first to catch on. I boiled the water in her eyes to the point that they looked like seared mussels. A fitting punishment, considering all of the bystanders and falsely accused criminals she mutilated and blinded. The pain alone should have knocked her out, but she fired a wave of glass out at the last second. I was able to hide behind Fortress' corpse, and the glass impaled Dr. Gas. His ability to turn himself gaseous had allowed him to slip out of tricky spots and suffocate opponents before, but luckily, he was caught off guard and died from blood loss. I couldn't stop. Every hero I saw, I remembered what they had done to the people they were supposed to protect.
I am an inevitable byproduct of a community of demigods unchecked by themselves. If you are a hero and have done these acts and worse to anyone, especially the innocent people who depend on you, I am coming for you. This is not an isolated incident. This is a catalyst. |
“Hey Bill, what are you doing?” The bubbly intern bounced into the room and peeked over his shoulder. Without thinking he shifted his attention from the pot of water to her. They both made a mistake that day.
She fell quickly. Her skin bubbled and she silently writhed on the floor. He sighed exasperatedly and ran his fingers through his hair, staring at the now-still body laying in the breakroom.
Lucky for him, he practically owned the room. All the other heroes just chilled in their main room and demanded he bring food and drink out of there anyways.
And so after moving the body into the pantry, he finished up the pot of tea, brewing the early grey and hibiscus in four separate cups. He carried it into the other room and smiled at the heroes that greeted him. Or more accurately, ignored him as they joked and talked amongst themselves.
He laid the cups next to each hero. Doge, the canine that could pierce through the soul of anything with just a look. Peeka, the tiny old man who used electricity to create massive power for the city and to control the environment quickly in downtown battles. Roll, the guy who loved to crack lame jokes and had the charisma of a massively successful con man. Honestly, Bill wondered if he even had a real skill or just was on the team cause the others liked him so much. Finally, the big shot Lil Luck, a burly woman who tagged along because ever since she showed up they started winning every single battle.
Hours passed as he sat on the couch and watched them work at the computers and chat. This is what his “internship” amounted to. He sighed loudly but of course, nobody responded.
The second round of tea came out, decaf green this time. He sat back on the couch after taking the old cups and handing them out. Hopefully they wouldn’t notice the slight cloudiness in the water.
30 minutes later, eyelids drooped and he stepped over to finish the job.
“Here’s to a new era.” His smile spread widely across his face and he raised his arms. A faint vibration shook the floor and a ringing could be heard all around. The heroes’ eyes widened and tears filled Roll’s eyes first. Bill had always hated Roll most, with his manipulative charisma and how he was able to work for the most famous hero team with such a lame power.
After the job was done, only Lil Luck and Doge still breathed in the building. He leaned down to her face and spoke in her ear his plans for her. She was to stay by his side to assist him with her “power.” He would take no chances. Doge on the other hand, he had a soft spot for. He had a soft spot for all dogs… which is why he made sure to never have one. Weakness was unacceptable with his new plan to take over the world. | 2019-07-30T17:17:27 | 2019-07-30T15:43:49 | 40 | 17 |
[WP] At age 15 you told the gf you were "in love" with that you'd always be there when she was in need. Aphrodite heard you and made it a reality, whenever your gf was in need you appear at her side. Problem is, you and the girl broke up after 3 weeks but you still appear even now..10 years later | Day 112 - Event 54
Over 100 days since I last saw her. Each day there's a brief moment, where I wonder if maybe it's finally over. Maybe I'm finally free. But I've been down this road before. I have to keep reminding myself that it's never going to be over. I'm always going to have to be there for her.
Day 1 - Event 55
It happened again last night. It was her ex this time. Lucky bastard. If he knew my life he wouldnt be so angry about her leaving. I left this one on the street, bleeding out under a lamp post. He won't be bothering her again, so he won't be bothering me either.
These are the best times. The times just after it happens. She's crying, she's scared, but she's with the police, or she's at the hospital, or she's just gone home to her parents. She's tired and hurt, but she's ***safe***. And i can sleep soundly.
Day 25 - Event 55
Almost four weeks now. I'm beginning to worry again. Worry that it might happen. I'm cursed to always be there when she needs me, but that isn't some sort of black and white thing. I can feel it, all the time, pulling me towards her. Pulling me towards my own personal demon. Sometimes my stomach lurches and I know she's stumbled or had a fright, always something sudden that passes before the transition occurs. For those few moments, I can hear her voice, echoing in my head. A snippet of her life as the transition wavers on the edge of culmination. I live in fear of that moment, and I live prepared for it. If I wasn't, I could be pulled to my own demise.
Not that it would matter. We've been down that road already.
Day 1 - Event 56.
Some crackhead got the wrong door today. She was sobbing in the corner of her front room. I threw him out of the window. He's lucky it was the tenth floor, he hit the ground too hard to feel much.
From the date, it would appear I went 97 days without an event. I was dead for three weeks this time, before she pulled me back into existence. I posted the diary to my sister for safekeeping before taking a 23rd floor swan dive. Any less and there would be enough to identify my body.
Sometimes it's nice just to get a break from the pull. In the dark void of nothingness that lies beyond life, you feel nothing, not even the passage of time. Now I can sleep again.
Day 36 - Event 56
Sometimes I wonder what will happen when she dies. If I knew certain, I'd put a bullet in her myself. If that first mugger handn't shot me dead, I'd be willing to risk it now. But if Im only alive to be there for her, what happens if she's no longer there? Will I die immediately? Will I get a chance to live my life free of her? Or will I just be pulled to die by her side in whatever disaster befalls her.
Day 1 - Freedom
It's finally over. She's dead, and it's finally over. I was sitting, reading a book, and I felt it, more suddenly than ever before. A Wednesday morning at 11:24am, in the middle of her work in a nice, safe office. No time to prepare, or think, I was just stood right behind her as she fell. Blood came out of her nose. My doctor told me she had an aneurysm. They told me I rushed to help her, panicked and scared. Once I saw she was lifeless, i was overcome with shock. I began crying and laughing, howling with glee. They had to pin me down and sedate me. When I came around, they told me I was overcome by grief, and I played along until I convinced them to release me.
After 35 years, I'm free. No tugging, no fear. Today, Sharon Thomas, died, and I was born again.
Day 156 - Event 57
My stomach has been growing tense over the past two days. I almost didn't recognise the feeling. Five minutes ago the pain peaked. And I heard it. A whisper.
"Its so lonely here. You said you'd always be there..."
| "Oh, God DAMN IT! not again!" Lucy exclaimed, obviously flustered about me appearing out of thin-air in her vicinity. It took me a moment to register the situation, and then immediately realise how messed up the situation truly was.
It was her grandmother's wake in Toronto; a few thousand miles away from me in Florida. While she was evidently saddened by the event, I had no knowledge of this, and was instead doing some homecleaning, dancing in my underwear to my Queen playlist; Tie your mother down, to be exact; poor choice of song for the situation.
The amount of eye contact with everyone; strangers, her parents and brother included, amounted to what almost equated as a firing squad. Considering her immediate family was made aware of my...."situation" with Lucy, it never did make it any less awkward.
Regardless, there I am, near-buck naked in a funeral procession; neurons firing double time to think of an explanation, reasoning, humourous joke, anything to break the ice. Then again, it wasn't my fault.
Turning to Lucy, coolly as the day I tarnished my birthday suit, I proclaimed "Really? ANOTHER booty call now?" slyly smirking. A few chuckles and "spit your drink" chortles were heard, so I perceived this as a success. She just gave me the death glare, excused us from the room, and dragged me out of sight into the next room. She composed herself thusly.
"Adam, don't get me wrong, that was fucking brilliant, but you're a fucking idiot. what are you DOING here?" She began in a frustrated tone.
"Hell if I know, Lu. We both know how it works, remember?"
"But I don't NEED you right now! Last week yo---
"PLEASE don't remind me of that. I'm still trying to get the stains out. Which reminds me....."
As I said this, I not-so subtly leaned in to her face and sniffed. My assumption was correct, exclaiming a rather large sigh.
"You were drinking, weren't you?", Her gaze shifting to the floor left of me, like a child stealing a cookie.
"...No......" She stuttered.
"I don't blame you, but I should be the last thing in your mind, especially now.", stating the obvious misconnection, but she just shrugged it away. there was nothing she could do.
The air became tangible at this point, as the conversation became silent and awkward; She didn't know what to do, and given his mishap of this "gift", she knew I was stuck here, two thousand miles from home as it wasn't the first time. This was the least of my concern, however.
"So I don't suppose there's a spare suit? not everyone showed up in white....". I had to break the silence somehow. There was a dead person in the other room, hundreds of other strangers questioning the situation. Forget being laughed at, I'm pretty sure her uncle Pete from Texas is here, and he's a big fan of formal occasions, just as an excuse to bring his shotgun. She scoffed at my petty attempt. "Wait Here." she said, and went back into the room, leaving me here like a lost shaven puppy for quite some time.
It felt like an eternity before she came back. I was expecting some sort of literal monkey suit. Instead, she came back with a pair of stained slacks, an inverted KILLERS T-shirt and a red tie. A feeble attempt at best, but she's trying.
"You know....you don't have to go now..." she subtly informed me, drifiting the question off as though it was a cheesy line from a porno.
"Yeah, because everyone isn't going to question why a chubby guy in underwear popped into existence at nana's funeral. it's bad enough as it is......wait, no cufflinks?". I didn't wanna be here any longer than I already had. Finishing the tie up, I felt like I looked like something out of a horror movie. Nothing wrong with searching for the right alleyway, then.
| 2017-03-22T18:14:26 | 2017-03-22T16:45:00 | 18 | 13 |
[WP] A parent's struggle to tell their nonhuman adopted child that they aren't human
Write away! | His hands shaking, Steve took a deep breath and tried to hold himself together. It was going to be okay. It was going to be painful, but he had to do it, and he was ready. He’d practiced enough times in front of the bathroom mirror. He steadied himself, and exhaled.
But looking into his son’s big, gentle brown eyes broke his heart.
“Honey,” Steve began, trying to stay calm, “Daddy just needs to talk to you real quick, okay? Then you can go play.”
He forced a smile at little Alex, who gazed at him from where he was sat on the floor of the living room, his toys scattered around him. Steve had decided that the quicker and less formal he made their little talk the better – he didn’t want to stress his boy out any more than he needed to.
His son, all of five years old, gazed up at him adoringly, cocking his head slightly as he doubtlessly waited to hear what his father had to tell him.
Steve’s stomach twisted and he felt an awful weight in his throat, but he knew he had to press on.
“Honey,” he began, his voice strong despite its tremor, “You’re a big boy now, so it’s time that you knew… You’re not actually-“ his strength began to falter, “You’re not actually a… a human boy. Now, don’t be upset,” he added, quickly, more so to himself than Alex, as his voice began to crack, “I still love you very much – because you are my son, and that- that doesn’t change anything, okay? Okay?”
He sat, frozen in his place on the couch, but sprung off it as soon as Alex, distressed, began to whimper.
“Oh, Alex, honey, no-“ Steve babbled, upset, trying desperately to console his son.
But their tender intimacy was shattered by the sound of a frustrated voice in the hallway.
“Goddamnit Steve,” his husband grumbled, “Are you pretending the fucking dog is our kid again?”
| "Hey, mom?" A loud cracking sound followed the words, and Audrey glanced up from her newspaper with a wince. That probably meant the doorway needed to be repaired again.
"Careful, Bobby," she admonished. "What is it?"
"Why don't I look like you?"
Audrey paused, glancing over to the doorway where her son was looking innocently at her. More specifically, she glanced over his ten-foot-tall frame, the horns protruding from his head, and the bits of lava that dripped off of his frame. She still had no idea how he didn't burn up the floor, but she wasn't about to complain.
More confusing was the fact that this was the first time Bobby was asking that question. He was a thousand years old! She'd adopted him together with Robert when he was nine-hundred and ninety, and in those ten years he'd only just noticed that he looked different?
She glanced over at Robert. "Hon, do you want to take this?"
"Nope." Robert flipped over to the next page of the newspaper he was reading, idly adjusting his glasses. "I dealt with teaching him how to use a human bathroom. You deal with this."
"Fine." Audrey sighed. "Bobby, listen... This isn't going to be easy for you to hear, but... you're not human."
"I'm... I'm not?" Oh, god damn it. She hated it when Bobby started to tear up; she always felt so bad for him. Already, big tears were rolling down his cheeks, and unlike the lava that dripped out of the gaps in his armor, these actually *did* scorch the floor.
"But it doesn't mean we love you any less!" She hastily added. "We'll always love you. No matter what."
"...Thanks, mom." Bobby seemed to retreat a bit. "I need some time to think about this."
"Take all the time you need, honey." | 2016-09-02T22:35:26 | 2016-09-02T19:52:45 | 21 | 15 |
[WP]Your lover asked you to do it, your enemy helped you do it, your friend tried to stop you from doing it. You did it. | Your crazy dude
I frown at my smartphone's screen. I don't need Matt telling me I'm crazy right now, not when I'm feeling nervous enough as it is. Best friends are supposed to comfort and encourage each other. I text him back.
Very supportive of you
...
Its just weird. You said you hated needles
...
I do, thats why I need you to tell me Im not crazy
...
You said needles are your worst enemy
...
When did I say that?
...
That party at Zach's place back in senior year
Did I really say that? Wouldn't put it past myself. Needles *do* give me the heebie-jeebies. I grit my teeth. I'm doing this for Emma. She'll like it.
My phone buzzes in my hand. I look down at it to see that Matt wasn't done writing.
It just seems so unlike you
I sigh. He has a point. I text back.
Yeah I can see that
...
Like I can understand getting your ears pierced. Maybe even your nose but thats a stretch
...
Nose piercings look weird to me. No thanks
... ...
But THIS. Dude it just doesnt make any sense, not from you. Here I thought I was the reckless one about these things, but it makes even ME feel uncomfortable
...
It was Emma's idea, I thought she might like it
It takes a long time for Matt to respond. The typing animation plays, stops, plays again, and stops again. Then it plays a third time and I finally see his answer.
She isnt bullying you into this, is she?
...
No she just mentioned it. She said she thought it might be sexy. She was really respectful about it, Im doing this because I want to
...
Bullshit, you dont want to and you know it
A door opens nearby. I look up from my phone and eye the woman who just came into the waiting room. She has three gold hoops in each of her ears, but other than that she's well-groomed and looks friendly enough. "Leo?" she calls.
I heft myself out of the chair and stand up straight. I force a smile, trying desperately not to let on that there's suddenly a cold, squirmy knot in my gut. "That's me."
"We have you booked for a frenulum piercing?"
I swallow. "Y-yes."
She nods with a smile and waves me into the back room. "Right this way, sir." | Why? Why did I do it?
Well, she was beautiful. She was ten years younger than we were. She was all laughter and parties and music and *different*, so different from what I was used to. And she had reintroduced me to Victor, an old high-school acquaintance, a lawyer that made the process so *easy*.
"What's wrong, honey?" She's asking me this now from the couch. The couch that you used to lie on. The green one, the one that we picked out from Ikea together.
I'm telling her that nothing's wrong, that this is what I have always wanted, that she gave me the courage to go ahead and do it. A week ago, that would not have been a lie - it was what I thought I wanted. Too bad I was mistaken.
I should have listened to Frank. Why hadn't I listened to Frank? Frank's a neuroscientist. He knows what he's talking about.
"It's the novelty," he had said, pushing those dumb glasses of his up on his nose. "Once you get tired of her, you'll regret it. Probably immediately after you leave. So don't leave. In fact, you should probably cut off this stupid, inadvisable, business as soon as possible and come clean to your wife. Good-hearted as she is, she might even forgive you."
But I didn't listen to Frank, and here we are. Instead, I had gone to see Victor, as Sarah had suggested. All the paperwork had been so easy to fill out. And all that bad business that had happened in high school seemed to be water under the bridge.
I guess that isn't true. I guess he's held a grudge, all this time. I can thank him for helping me to make one of the worst mistakes of my life.
I'm sorry, Andrea. I know you'll never forgive me, but if you haven't thrown this letter in the trash yet, please know that everything was my fault. I never deserved you, and I know that you'll be happier without me.
| 2016-01-20T11:09:17 | 2016-01-20T11:09:03 | 27 | 12 |
[WP] Every thousand years the gods have to each choose a mortal to replace them. You have been chosen, but not for the reasons you expected. | Pearly white gates. Who knew the cliche was real?
I look down, my large hands aglow with some mysterious light. I am draped in white, the silk hugging loosely around muscles and tattoos.
"Alvin." I look up. Three towering figures stand behind the gates now. "Do you know why you are here?"
"I got run over by a truck."
"Well, yes, you did. But do you know why you are *here*?"
"In heaven?" I paused. I never imagined I'd end up in heaven. Thugs who cage fight for kicks aren't usually the most virtuous people—especially the undefeated ones. The ones with the most blood on their hands. "The life I led was decent enough, I suppose."
The gods turn in towards one another and whisper rapidly. Did I hear a snicker?
"Alvin, this is not heaven. This is the realm of the gods. No ordinary mortal would ever be allowed here, no matter how 'decent' his or her life was."
"Then how—"
"You are a god now."
"Me? A god? But why?"
The figures are silent. The center figure steps forward, stretching a frail hand down towards me.
I take the pickle jar from his grasp.
"We have been trying to open this jar of gourmet organic pickles for 754 years. Your strength on Earth was unparallelled. We need you, Alvin."
I grasp the lid of the jar and twist; it pops free with ease. The gates open. | *The day has come, the world awaits
no work or school, no scheduled dates.
The day has come where all our fates
could henceforth change forever.*
*The hour has come, and I can't breathe.
"Please don't be me. It* ***can't*** *be me."
I'm filled with dread, with fear and plea,
from Godhood to be sheltered.*
*The minute has come, all I can find
running through my anxious mind
are thoughts of all the ores I've mined
down in the depths of earth.*
*The time has come, my name is chosen
"The God of Earth!" I cry, heartbroken.
"A thousand years of stone!" I'm frozen,
unable to move forth.*
*But he has come, before my eyes,
descended from the heavenly skies.
"Please, don't!" I beg. "I just despise
the thought of any more rock!"*
*"From heaven I've come," he says, and smiles
"But God of Earth? You're off by miles!
The God of Sex is your new style,
due to your massive cock."* | 2014-07-28T12:10:30 | 2014-07-28T09:31:37 | 228 | 84 |
[WP] “No man can kill me!” The demon taunted, taking in the carnage it'd caused. “But I am no man!” You proclaim, ripping off your helmet to reveal your feminine features. You strike, but your blade bounces harmlessly off the demon’s hide. “Did you-did you really think that’s what I meant? You fool" | “Of course that’s what you meant! You demons live and die by contracts! How could that mean anything differently!?”
The demon chuckled, “Live and die by contracts. Really? Is that what the mortals think of us?”
I took a step back, trying to catch my breath and order my thoughts, “Well, yes of course. Everyone knows, demons form contracts for mortal souls. And those contracts are always fulfilled to the letter.”
The chuckle grew into a deep and sinister laugh, “You talk as though contract demons represent all of us.”
“We captured a demon. They told us no man could kill you. So I was selected and trained from a young age for the single purpose of killing you.”
The demon laughed again. I saw the opening and thrust the holy sword forward fast and true. The tip of my blade glanced off the demon’s skin as easily as if I’d struck a chuck of solid steal.
“Truly, mortals are so amusing. That’s why I so love these games. Honestly, just wipe out a few villages and the entertainment practically never stops. You just throw yourselves at us in droves hoping any of the inane excuses we give you might turn out to be true.”
They reached out and grasped my blade before I could withdraw and snapped it as though it were no more than a twig. I stumbled back, “But, a mage cast a truth spell! Our captured demon couldn’t have lied to us!”
The demon’s smirk grew into a terrible grin, “Before I kill you, I’ll let you in on a small secret.”
I took another step back, glancing to knights fighting fearlessly around me, trying to hold the line against an ever growing scourge of demons. I had to do something. Anything.
I tossed the remnants of my blade aside, pulled the magic scroll from the pouch on my left hip and the vial of holy water from the pouch on my right. The demon watched curiously, their grin never ceasing. I unstopped the vial, flung the contents into the air, unrolled the scroll and quickly recited the spell I’d spent hours memorizing.
The magic laced into me, wrapping cold tendrils around my heart. The edges of the scroll lit with a blue flame as the magic activated, turning the paper to ash in a near instant. The mage’s warning echoed once again through my mind, “This must be your last resort. Since you are no mage, the magic will use your life force and there’s no telling exactly how much it will consume. It could very well kill you the moment you cast the spell.”
The drops of water began to glow with holy light and before my eyes, transformed into mighty spears which could only have been wielded by angles themselves. The spears streaked forward, tearing the air and piercing the demon. They let out a horrible scream of pain, hands clenched around two of the spears embedded deep into their chest. I sank to my knees, the magic pulling nearly all the remaining strength from me. It was over. Nothing could survive holy magic of such a high tier. I let out a heavy sigh and wiped the sweat and grime from my face. It was over.
The demon’s chuckle nearly stopped my heart, “So, did you like my acting? Was it convincing? Did you truly believe I died?”
I looked up. I could feel blood drain from my face. I couldn’t breath. The bright holy light of the spears flickered, then vanished. There wasn’t even a mark on the demons red skin.
“That’s not...this can’t be possible,” I stammered, “That magic–“
“Was completely useless. Shame you used some of your now very short life for it. Your mages should have done more research,” the demon straightened and brushed some dirt from their bare shoulder, “Honestly, you and your friends were hardly even worth getting excited for. I even spent all that time this morning making sure I looked my best for the part.”
The demon waved their hand, a trail of dark magic following their fingertips. Mortal screams filled the air behind me. I turned slowly, dreading to see the truth my ears already heard. My allies all fell together, their amor crushed inwards like nothing more than leather satchels being squished beneath a cart. In the horrible silence that followed the demon took a deep breath, “Let me spell it out for you, since obviously, you’ve got bad informants. What language do you think contracts are written in?”
“De-demonic,” I whispered.
They stepped closer, I could feel their evil aura wrap around me, I couldn’t move, my body no longer obeyed, and I could scarce draw a breath. I was going to die.
“So you do know something then. Tell me, did the demon you captured tell you how to kill me in demonic?”
I nodded.
The demon knelt before me, their clawed hand wrapping around my chin, forcing me to gaze into their twisted face. Their breath smelled of rot and blood, “And the demon’s words were translated, no doubt by a mage who cast a spell of language translation or something similar correct?”
“Yes.”
The demon’s wings folded away behind them, and their eyes gleamed with bemusement. “Did you know, we demons, we don’t have a gender or sex like the some of the mortal species do. Male, female, man, woman, boy, girl, him, her. Completely meaningless. Do you even think of me as a man or woman? Surely not.”
I winced as their grip on my skull tightened, “Why would that even matter?”
“Because,” the demon said, “Demonic doesn’t even have the words to distinguish between any of those things. Why would we bother with that? To us, it’s all the same. But, of course, you mortals took it literally. You thought by sending a woman to kill me, you’d somehow outsmarted us.”
“No,” I gasped, my heart sinking, “No, the demon swore they were telling the truth! I believed. I-I prayed endlessly.”
“Ah, but it doesn’t matter. You must see that now. Nothing you do to me could ever matter. The demon you captured didn’t lie, your mage just didn’t translate correctly.”
I swallowed, it felt like everything was twisting in around me. Everything I’d ever believed, just going up in smoke. My whole life...based on a translation error?
The demon’s voice hardened, “As a mercy, I’ll make your death painless, miss would-be-hero.” | I opened the door with bombastic aplomb, my cape without a singular hole in it.
"Hey hun, you will *not* believe the day I had at work." I laughed to myself, as I hung up my cape, undid my beautiful hairdo, and entered the kitchen for the first time since that morning. My wife, Lucy, was sitting down on her phone in her reclining chair, playing what I could only assume was Candy Crush, or that new game Wordle. She'd gotten the last five daily ones in a row, and had been texting me how she did each day. The smell of homemade pizza was in the oven, and the whole house was clean. I loved having an enchanted house.
I sat down in my reclining chair, right next to Lucy, as she looked up to give me a peck on the cheek.
"How was it, babes? Did you finally get to fire that little schemer Howitzer?"
"No, it was better."
Lucy's eyes illuminated, as the ideas of what could have happened popped through her head. She'd helped me with my schemes, after all, and was a powerful witch in her own right, stronger in support magic than I was in summoning or evocation magic.
"Oooh, did the king finally surrender under threat of annihilation? I told you he would!" She jumped out of her seat, just as eager as I felt.
"No, but you're getting closer."
"Is the ultimate weapon ready?"
"In about 3 days."
"What about the key to immortality?"
"Nope, still just unkillable by man."
"Wait, did you... no way, did you figure out how to deal with the Hero, finally?"
She had went through all the stuff I usually complain about, and ended on my biggest gripe I'd had with work- that damn Hero.
I gave a cheeky grin, and she blew up.
"No *way*! They've been a thorn in your side for at least a decade now, right? Not even I could have worked out how to deal with them! So, what was it? How are we finally gonna deal with that dragonoid prick?"
I started giggling, as the house magically pulled the pepperoni pizza out of our over. "Well, it was easier than you think."
Lucy frowned, grabbing a slice of pizza as it magically floated on a plate between us. "So, what was it? A curse? Did you separate the link between them and that pesky goddess?"
I smiled. "Nope. As it turns out, they weren't a problem at all."
Lucy's mouth dropped. "Nuh uh. Were they just overhyped?"
"Well, they made it easy on me. They stormed my castle right at dawn-"
"Easy mistake." Lucy interrupted me.
"- with their party by their side, who Howtizer disposed of properly, for once. So they confront me, and what do I do? I give my regular speech, about how no man can kill me, I'll take over their kingdom in no time once they're gone, all that dumb jazz. and then they do what could have the one thing that could have made it easier on me."
"Don't tell me they talked about friendship."
"Oh, even better. They take off their hair, and say "*I'm no man, I'm a woman!*" and charge me with that dumb sword. Like my enchantment was sexist or something."
Lucy toppled over laughing, some of the grease sliding off her pizza slice. "Wait, so they thought that because they were a *woman*, that they could take down the one person who couldn't be killed by human hands?"
I could barely keep myself from smiling. "I *think so*, which has to be the worst read on a prophecy I've ever seen."
"Wait, so what was all that dragonborn stuff we saw earlier on? Were they just under an illusion spell, or something?" Lucy asked me.
I reached into pocket, and pulled out the set of dragonborn armor the Heroine had been wearing when I disintegrated her mortal form. I smiled, and waved them around a bit. "Well, why don't we figure that out ourselves?" I smiled.
Lucy gave an excited squeak, and looked the armor over. "No *way*! How did they get their hands on this many scales from the same dragon?"
I shrugged. "I don't know, but however they did, they were kind enough to give them to me as a *parting gift*, and I decided that you might as well have it, since from what I can tell, it's enchanted to fit the form of the wearer. You love dragons, either way."
Lucy smiled. "Oh my gosh, Lorie and Carla will be *so* excited when I show up in this at cards this Thursday! Though Carla's an Ice Dragon, so it may actually rile her up a little bit." Lucy commented, looking the armor over.
"Well, either way, I thought it would be a great gift. Do you like it, Lulu?" I got up out of my chair, and grabbed a slice of pizza myself. As I did, the rest of the pizza flew over to the counter, and the dirty dishes started cleaning themselves. It was nice to live in an enchanted house.
"Do I *like* it? Marky, I *love* it!" She squealed, before giving me a quick kiss on the lips. "Let me put it on."
I smiled, as Lucy ran towards the stairs. Her real name was Lucindra III, and my real name was Malacith the Unholy, but Lucy and Mark just rolled off the tongue better, and we liked to pretend we were normal sometimes.
I heard Lucy giggling to herself as I took my slice of pizza over to the living room, as the TV turned on to the already going baseball game. The Harland Fireballers were trailing the Melromark Marshalls 4 to 6 in the 5th, but with a runner on 2nd and 3rd, and their notoriously hard hitting 6th, 7th, and 8th slot batters coming up with no outs so far, that was sure to change soon.
The TV flipped off by psychic command as I heard steps coming down the stairs. Again, thanks to a magical house, Lucy had changed shockingly quickly. Out of her normal lounging outfit, I heard the sound of high heels clicking down the stairs, and as she came down the hallway, she was truly a sight to behold.
**-Part One of Two-** | 2022-05-31T19:49:45 | 2022-05-31T18:49:54 | 54 | 15 |
[WP] Your father dies and you inherit his entire kingdom, even though you are not the eldest son. One night you overhear your brothers plotting your death, and you quickly realize why your father chose you as his heir. They are a bunch of idiots. | “I beg you pardon, Lance. What has father named me again?”
“Heir apparent milord, and starting from tomorrow, ruler of this land.”
And that was how I ended sitting on the throne, bearing the garbs of a king at the moment. How uncomfortable. Father’s decision left me puzzled. Our relationship had always been... tenuous. With me being the third son, and him being a busy king, we had never truly bonded like true father and son. He had always been too busy with the kingdom, or my siblings to pay attention to me.
The decision was incredibly sudden. I was surveying a ruin at the time when Lance told me of his death, and my upcoming coronation. What had inspired it, I wonder? He had always favored Raydrik, Lennon, Gareth and David. That was a question for later, as I needed to recuperate for tomorrow’s dealings with the leeches.
As I strolled across the hallway to my chamber, I saw my brothers huddled in Raydrik’s room. What were they up to? I listened in on their rather heated discussion, maybe they had something they wished to share tomorrow.
“This is unacceptable! James, of all things?! What has that little brat ever done in his life? Scurrying to the library?” That must be Lennon’s voice. It had always been particularly bitter.
“Silence, Lennon. Remember that we’re in a castle, not your secret club. Someone could have overheard us!”
“Yeah, David is right. And what have you ever done in your life Lennon? Chugging wine? Shouldn’t you be drunk now?”
“Shut your mouth, Gareth. I’ve done at least more than you, sir buy-his-position.”
“Shut the hell up, you dastardly cretins. Remember what we are discussing in the first place?” Raydrik’s foul mouth had always stood out.
“Yes, dear brother. We are planning on taking back what we are entitled to from James.”
“Indeed, David. And I believe we should split the kingdom fourway afterwards. Now how do we take it back?”
“By killing off James of course! I will lay a trap in the dining room to kill him.” Oh Gareth, dear Gareth, you’re laying a trap in an open field.
“How dishonorable! What do you think of me?! A maggot? I shall not do such an act. I shall gut the worm in his bedroom!” And get apprehended afterwards Raydrik, besides, how did he not remember the twenty-something times he attempted to sneak up on me and failed miserably?
“I suggest pushing him off the balcony on the tower. No one goes there.” David, that’s the problem, no one goes there.
“Pathetic, your methods are all horrible! I believe I must show you how it’s done! With poison!” Finally, a smart suggestion! From Lennon of all people. “I shall lace his chamber in poison!” And my expectations were dashed, again. “My brilliant plan shall grant us what belongs to us, and we shall have a year long feast to celebrate it!”
As they argued on, I went to the guard post and sent them their way. I had no interest in humoring them and their idiocy. Now I understand why father gave me the throne. I will have their titles. | I never asked to be the heir, and by the rules of succession in the realm, me being names the Heir Apparent came as a shock to everyone including myself. As the youngest son in the family, I was pretty resigned to living life as a sworn Knight of my older brother's, Elrich, Kingsguard or pursuing the path of a castle maester at the Ministry of Intellectual Pursuits and Curiosities in Briarton...both respectable pursuits for a high borne male 4th in line to throne.
I questioned my father's desire for me to be his heir until one night when I was sitting in the castle library reading The Strategies of War and Kingship when I over heard my three older brothers having a loud conversation in the hallway that I guess they didn't want me to overhear since they were loudly hushing each other.
Eldrich: You make him drink it and then don't leave until he drops dead to make sure he's dead
Godwin: But how will I know he will be dead?
Eldrich: Because you will make sure he drinks the wine!
Samson: But what if there isn't enough poison in it to make sure it will kill him? Shouldn't one of us try it first to see?
Godwin: That's a really good idea. Who wants to try it?
Eldrich: Not me. Samson, you're third in line. You do it.
Samson: That's not fair. Why don't we just add more poison to it?
Godwin: That's a great idea. We're all trying to overthrow him aren't we?
After hearing some more squabbling amongst Eldrich, Samson, and Godwin they came into the library carrying an overflowing goblet of wine on a silver plate.
Eldrich: We brought wine for you dearest brother, Edward.
Me: How do I know it's not poisoned? You have plenty of motive to do so.
Godwin: You're our King! Why would we ever want to poison you?!
Samson: Yeah! Why would we want to poison you?
Me: Well, by the rules of succession, all of you are technically ahead of me on the line of succession...
Eldrich: That's silly, brother! To prove you wrong, we will drink the entire goblet and pitcher of wine in front of you!
Me: OK. I'm the king, do it.
With that, all three of my older brothers drank from the goblet and downed the entire pitcher of wine. After a few moments, the poison began to take effect and they all began seizing and vomiting blood. Samson, being the smallest, was the first one to succom to the poison followed by Godwin. Eldrich though, Eldrich continued to deny that he poisoned the wine despite the fact that he was bleeding out of every orifice and violently vomiting blood until the very end.
In all honesty, they might have been successful with their plot if they weren't absolute idiots because I was actually pretty thirsty. I can see why my father made me his heir now. | 2019-05-14T17:33:20 | 2019-05-14T16:04:48 | 51 | 33 |
[WP] Where do bad guys get their legions of goons? Well, it's all thanks to you. You specialize in supplying grunts of a wide variety to aspiring super villains, whether they need masked men with bad aim or hideous/sexy merfolk to guard their underwater lair. | “Thank you for calling ‘Mercs, Thugs and Goons, Inc.’ my name is Lateesha, how can we help today.”
“Hi, my name is Doom, The Deathbringer, and I was hoping to hire a few…”
“I’m sorry hun, can you please spell that name for me?
“Doom! D-O-O-M; Deathbringer as the last name!”
“Thanks sugar, and how can we help you today”
“well, I’m building up my underground Evil Lair, and I need to hire security guards, would you be able to help?”
“Sure honey; how many guards?”
“ugh….I’m not sure how many I’ll need actually; I was hoping you guys would have some sort of packages I could look into???”
“well, we have the 20-man-team of goons that can do security as well as minor HQ maintenance; if you’re looking for a more comprehensive package, we have a 150-men platoon special, that we’re also including 2 elite-trained units to assist with command.
Mythical units have a 25% surcharge. As you mentioned it’s an underground lair, we have a team of highly enervated mole people, who may prove handy.
We have stand-alone teams of thugs; armed or unarmed; prices vary based on gang size.
Our professional assassins are currently out-of-stock; we have a shortage of highly-trained agents after they were killed by one of them vigilante types; our current agents are all booked up until after the holidays.
If you need help setting up engineering and applied science divisions, we can refer you to our sister-company ‘Mad Science for Hire, Ltd.’”
“Oh, I see! This is all way more complex than I first thought, I think I’ll have to make some calculations, talk to my wife..I MEAN, MY EVIL COHORT!! And make some financial decisions here! Do you guys have some sort of brochure, or catalog??”
“Sure sweety, you can visit us at www.totalylegalhiring.net, you can fill out a request form once you’ve made your decision. Thank you very much for your call, we’re here 24/7”
| "You need what?" I asked over the terrible quality of the office speaker phone. "A legion of hive mind insectoid androids. Big menacing looking fucks with MUTHAFUKIN high frequency claws!" A rather enthusiastic QueenBee shouted. The incessant buzzing in the background only made the conversation harder to hold over the phone. I'd have invited her over for a sit down consultation but the last time we had her at the office... well everyone still gets the jitters whenever a bug flies by. "Bee, honey, sweet heart, baby! Ya gotta look at it where I'm sittin', thats a mighty tall order. Cyborgs don't just grow on trees and we're just dipping our toes in the HF technologies." More over, No ones ever really wanted to work with it after what happened to Samson, poor bastard. "Oh come now wildflower, surely you can do something for me? That troublesome Captain Caveman and his stupid 'me smash' tenacity keep foiling my plans. Plus you know I've got the 'honey' for it" she said in a rather sultry voice. Well on the one hand, Captain dickbag is kind of annoying, his collateral is through the roof. On the other, I do love me some honey, or rather money. "Listen doll, I'm not makin' any promises or nothing but for you, I'll whip something up." I said just to end the buzzing. "I knew I could rely on you guys Gruntties, you never disappoint!" She squealed over the phone. "Yeah, listen, I'll fax over the contract but I gotta go. Keep in touch!" And hung up. I picked the phone up off the hook and pressed a speed dial to my assistant. "Get the boys in R&D on the phone, they're gonna shit themselves." | 2017-03-23T09:59:46 | 2017-03-23T06:59:11 | 30 | 21 |
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